Rating: R
Disclaimer: I own nothing. I wish I did, but I don't.
Summary: "The mordant air stung my eyes with every step I took. I knew it would be difficult to attain him from the ruthless grasp of the butcher himself."
Notes: Written for the Quick Fire "Flash in the Pan" Drabble Challenge in deancastiel (April 17th - April 19th 2009). Prompt was: "Attain, Mural, Mordant, Commercial"

The mordant air stung my eyes with every step I took. I knew it would be difficult to attain him from the ruthless grasp of the butcher himself. I had heard stories from my brothers about his delight for bloodshed and torment; creating a mural from the very essence of the souls he tore apart. It was his art; his commercial skill. I knew that with him, I would find Dean Winchester.

With every step, the terrain got increasingly more jagged. I could feel the flames searing at my skin, but I could not falter now; not when I was so close. Just 100 yards from me stood our savior.

I watch him slice into a new soul, even now when the heat of my holy light is dissipating the darkness around us. As he raises his hand to bring his blade down once more, I gently grasp his wrist to stop him.

He whips around and snarls at me like a feral beast. He raises his knife and proceeds to stab me repeatedly. I know he is angry; wild; he needs to be tamed before he can be pulled from this wretched place.

He strikes me over and over until he collapses against me in exhaustion. He still weakly tries to attack me, cursing me even as consciousness leaves him. I wrap him in my arms and pull him flush to my form. I send a prayer to my Father and I make my way upward.

Demons tear at me left and right, desperately trying to keep me down here with them. They hiss and scream while they pull me down. I concentrate and let out a wave of searing light.

Being free once more, I double my speed. I sense fresh air as I reach the top of Hell. I speak in a language older than many of the evils festering here. I puncture the barrier between his world and theirs, and dart through.

I find I have reached right where I wished to be. I stand before the place in which his mortal form had been laid to rest. I ease him down and crouch beside him. I stay close because without a body, his soul will vanish into the very air he should breathe. To keep constant contact with him, I reach down and touch his shoulder. I whisper an apology to him when I smell his burnt flesh. It will be the only mark on his body once I restore him.

With my left, I gently touch his head, then his heart, and press a kiss to his cold lips. I pass some of my very grace into him and watch as every scar on his frame vanishes away.

Before I let his soul return to that which it came, I gaze lovingly at him and vow to watch over him always. The road ahead will be difficult for him; seemingly impossible at times. He will need someone to guide him and to remind him of his worth.

So when the time comes and my Father calls upon one of us to be his guardian, there will be no question in my mind that he and I are meant to be. With my grace inside of his very soul, we are forever bonded.

I kiss him once more and lay his soul down inside of his body. The force of the action levels every tree in a 10 mile radius. It is regrettable, but necessary. I smile when I hear his gasp of life, before I close my eyes and return to Heaven. I will see you again soon Dean Winchester.