Title: Ring Around The Rosy

Summary: He was a plague upon mankind, destroying all good in his path, and that night was proof. That night when his lips turned red with lust and he shed all protection form his body, when he found himself covered in ashes, and both of them fell. Dean/Castiel. One-shot.

Rating: PG

Warnings: Well, it's slash…

A/N: So, apparently there's a debate over whether the nursery rhyme "Ring Around The Rosy" is actually about the Bubonic Plague. Believe what you will…

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or its characters. Honestly, you guys, how many times do I have to go over this before you stop trying to sue me?

Ring Around The Rosy

His tongue came out to lap a quick ring around pink lips that seemed too dry. He didn't deserve this. He never had, never would. He didn't know why he was here, what he had done to wind up in this predicament.

Yet here he was. A plague upon mankind, killer of all things wholesome and good in the world. He had proven his worth, time and again. And still, here he was.

He knew it was wrong. He knew what it meant. And he was still doing it. He was doing it because he was what everyone- demon and human alike- had always told him he was. He was a destroyer of worlds. He was a monster. He was evil.

Those eyes bored into him, though, and that mouth spoke sweet lies that couldn't be. Because he couldn't lie, could he? Not yet. Not until they were done. After that, it was back to the way things had always been- a life full of promises made and broken, of lies whispered and kept. That was his life. That was his death.

He stripped his clothing, down to his boxers, watching the other man the whole time. That rapt attention. He enjoyed it. No one had given him such attention in a long time, and he had almost forgotten what it had felt like to be loved. He knew it wouldn't last, that it would all fall apart soon, but he didn't care. He lived in the moment.

His clothes piled on the floor. Jeans and jacket and t-shirt and hex bag. A pocketful of protection. Not that it could save him now. Not that it could save either of them.

He waited for the other man, urging with his eyes. He needed this. He needed confirmation. He needed, just once, for things to go his way, for someone to actually love him back- truly- if only for one night.

He was surprised when he got what he wanted, when he was met with another pile of clothing, another warm body on cold motel sheets. He was surprised when it happened. He'd been expecting something more, something bigger, something cosmic. Maybe a flood, or a plague. A giant bolt of lightning that would tear them apart, fry them both instantly.

Instead, it came at the moment he did, showering them both in a burst of feathers and euphoria and semen and ashes, ashes, we all fall down.

The end. There you have it. Tell me what you think :)