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Welcome Princes of HellIt had been a long time since he'd been in Hell and it was not something that he had ever planned on doing again. Rescuing that human, that weak pathetic Winchester boy, was the only time he had ever wished to be there.
With a demonic hand on each shoulder, they dragged Castiel down the hallway, his overcoat, suit, and skin all melting into one another and combusting in the intense heat. He couldn't keep from screaming as he was now tied to his vessel and everything that Jimmy could feel, he could feel as well.
The corridor was on fire and there were sharp metal spikes, like rusted over fishing hooks stemming from the floor and they would catch and rip at his legs as they were dragged over them, rendering them useless, just as the angel had been by his quickly fading grace.
It wasn't the torture that scared him, or the heat, or the information they would try to get out of him that scared him the most. He knew what they would ask and he had no answers for them. He had been ou
Omen of the Times part 2Cas moaned slightly, his head turning in the overly soft pillow from the hospital. It was a different kind of hospital, medical instead of mental, but the boys still didn't like seeing him there.
"Do you have any idea what the spear of destiny is?" Meg asked, her voice somewhat hoarse. She was still a nurse, at least technically, so she was the only nurse that had access to the dying angel.
"It's powerful." Dean sarcastically rolled his eyes, "And it's something that the enemy wants. Hell, maybe it's for hitting a God piñata!"
"It's the spear that pierced the side of Christ." Meg explained, although they already knew the lore. "It damaged one of the most powerful beings and because His blood is on it, it has become the most deadly weapon. It can kill anything. Luckily for us it wasn't stabbed into anything too vital."
She glanced down Cas, her clipboard in hand.
"What can we do?" Sam asked, reaching forward as if to touch his friend.
"I can take care of the vessel." Meg shrugged,
IowaIf you visit Iowa,
you'll call her fields empty,
but she wasn't born that way.
A part of her was carved out
when she was ripped between Virginia
and the purple mountains of New Mexico.
Her gold hair, she tore it out when she realized
it didn't make her a princess.
She laid her locks strung along every road
leading somewhere else.
White hairs on her cheeks
are scars from winter.
Her hair darkens with the dampness
of summer rains.
The storms are never silent,
but neither is life when there's a tear
in your childhood where
a parent ought to be.
I've been flooded by Iowa's sorrow.
The only way I can distract her from her own voided landscape
is if I hate myself harder than she cries.
She just wants to fly
and I want to bus or train,
not because I fear death, but because
I want to take living slow.
It's the only way I ever feel.
From the air it's hard to watch Earth's hips move.
But Earth can't compare to the country.
That's my girl.
Full grown even when harvesting season's j
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More