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“I can help you, Jim.” The angel whispers. Jim is backed against the wall, the cold of the concrete going right through his suit and to his skin, sending shivers down his spine. A firm hand splayed on his chest holds him in place. The touch isn’t painful, the pressure isn’t particularly unpleasant, but the force is absolute and immoveable. Still, he struggles weakly, tries to shake the man - the creature - off.
This is scaring him. This is unnatural, illogical and impossible. The thing standing in front of him shouldn’t - can’t - exist. He swallows, stills himself, wrapping his hands tightly around the arm that is holding him so strongly in place, trying to pry it off, getting nowhere fast.
After a few moments of struggling he realises that any further escape attemps would be just as fruitless as the rest, and he relaxes, finally. The dark room is silent apart from the echo of Jim’s ragged, desperate breathing.
“No one can help me, Castiel.” He says slowly, looking into his deep blue eyes, clawing at the arm that’s still restraining him. “Let me go.”
“Let me help you.” The angel responds, his voice soft and steady, pure and gentle yet with all the power of the Lord behind it. He moves his face closer to Jim’s, leaning right into his personal space, his breath teasing Jim’s lips, making him feel exposed and oddly enough, vulnerable. Jim feels dirty, suddenly, like an abomination. He’s suddenly hit with thoughts like ‘what have I become?’ and ‘how can I live with myself?’. He swallows them down, forces himself to be strong. The creature notices.
“You needn’t do that. I’m not here to judge you. I’m here to save you from yourself, before it’s too late.” He says cooly, loosening his hold, just enough for Jim to be able to breath properly again.
“I’m too far gone.” Jim says quietly, and it almost comes out as a sob because fuck, what was happening to him? He was too evil, he’d done too much, hurt too many people. He was far too deeply, deeply insane to be helped and even he knew it.
A hand touches his jaw softly, and a white hot feeling spreads through his veins. It feels good, amazing even, as if it’s washing out his system, silencing the unstable darkness and the entanglement of evil within him, replacing it with a sense of purity and cleanliness and goodness.It isn’t like anything Jim has ever felt before. His eyes flutter shut and he gasps. This must be what it feels like to be on the side of the angels, he thinks, what it must feel like to be Sherlock. Then, just as quickly as the feeling had come, it goes away again.
“Wh-what was that?” He stutters, his entire body buzzing with something.
“Grace.” Castiel says, still gently cupping his jaw, stroking over his lip ever so tenderly with the smooth pad of his thumb. “Let me help you, Jim.”
Jim blinks nervously, considers his options. And then nods.