Feathers and Freckles - AnchorsOutAtSea (2024)

Chapter 1: Evil Doesn't Take a Break

Chapter Text

“I’m burning, I’m burning, I’m burning for you.” Dean sang along to the Blue Oyster Cult song that blared from the Impala’s speakers. He had the windows down as he looked over the car for the third time that day. Baby was clean enough to eat off of, but Dean was so bored. He and Sam hadn’t had a case in a little over a week, and the lack of something to do had Dean’s skin crawling. There was always a case, even if it was on the other side of the country.

At first it had been nice. Dean and Sam never really had time to relax, and being able to kick back and watch Netflix and research the Mark of Cain had been a nice change of pace… for a while. After about the third day, Dean was losing his mind. He was beyond suspicious that things had been so quiet, the mark included. Sam had said that Rowena made sure to explain that the spell she used would only keep the mark calm temporarily, but Dean couldn't help but wonder at what cost. He could already feel the affects lesson with each passing day. His fingers were itching to curl around a gun, or a knife, or anything that could gank a creature that went bump in the night.

But here he was. Giving Baby a once over, once again because for some reason evil had decided to take a break. He noticed a little smudge that he had missed on the Impala's grill, and dipped the sponge in the sudsy bucket to try and scrub it off. He sighed, wiping away the last of it. Dean had half a mind to take Baby down a dusty road just to have an excuse to have something else to clean… but he couldn’t do that to her. He took the hose and washed away the bubbles, quickly towel drying the small area to avoid streaks. He circled the Impala one last time before nodding to himself, rolling up her windows, and heading back inside the bunker to find something else to do.

Dean opened the fridge, grabbing a beer. He sat down, kicking his feet up on the kitchen table, trying to think of something else that needed to be cleaned or organized. Sam had taken one of the Men of Letters cars and went on a shopping trip to stock up on food and supplies that they already had plenty of, and if he would have been at the bunker would have insisted that Dean do more research about the mark. Dean wasn't dumb. Sam had left because after blaming him for Charlie's death, killing each and every one of the Stynes, and attacking Cas, things were still more than a little awkward between them. Dean's mind began to wander, and he couldn’t help but wonder what Cas had been up to. Things were still a little weird with Cas too, but neither of them had brought up what Dean had done. Cas had been spending a lot more time in Heaven playing damage control, and Dean was starting to miss having him around. Occasional calls about cases weren't the same. He hadn’t heard from the angel in a few weeks, and he thought about calling him. He shimmied his phone out of his pocket, selecting Cas’ number. But then he figured that the dorky feathered guy was probably busy dealing with crap a lot more important than watching a movie or throwing back a few beers.

All that was left for Dean to do was more cleaning. He supposed the kitchen and living area could handle a little mopping, neither he nor Sam had mopped since they moved in. Dean finished off his beer and removed his feet from the table, standing up to find a bucket and mop. Generally, Sam was the cleaner of the two brothers. In fact, Sam chewed Dean out on numerous occasions complaining about his messy habits, complaining that the food in the fridge was growing bacteria not yet discovered by mankind. But something about having the bunker changed that part of Dean. Of course he always kept Baby clean, but now he found himself wanting to keep everything clean. Maybe it was the fact that he and Sam finally had a home, or maybe it was because he was having a good day pertaining towards the mark. Regardless, Dean found himself humming as he kicked off his boots and filled up the soapy bucket.

To Dean’s utter dismay, both rooms only took about 20 minutes, and that was with him taking his precious time pretending to be a rock star. He sighed, looking over his work. He decided to dump the now dirty water in the closest bathroom to avoid leaving socked footprints in the kitchen on the way to the sink.

Dean poured the water from the bucket slowly, trying to keep it from splashing up on his clothes. He had added a cleaner to the mop water, and he wasn’t entirely sure if it as bleach in it. Watching the steady stream of water, he started spacing out again, really thinking about calling Cas. He wasn’t really in a watch-a-movie-by-yourself kind of mood, and he knew Sam was going to stay gone for a long time because he went to a farmers market in bum f*ck nowhere. Since it would be awhile before Sam got back, maybe before calling Cas, he could look up some p*rn…

“Ugh!” Dean had distracted himself a little too much, and since he wasn’t paying attention, a ton of water splashed right out of the sink, all over his jeans. He poured the rest of the water down the sink haphazardly, muttering every curse word he could think of under his breath. He really hoped there wasn’t bleach in the cleaner, he was wearing his favorite jeans.

Dean stripped himself of his jeans, immediately bringing them to the washer, tossing them in, and hoping for the best. He could get blood out of anything. He would even deal with some holes in his clothing here and there. But once something had bleach on it, it went in the trash. He was not about to be one of the douchebags that wore acid washed jeans, even if it wasn’t intentionally.

Padding back to the living room, Dean heard “Long, Long Way from Home” by Foreigner coming from his phone. For the phone to be a cheap little burner, it had some killer speakers, and all the way down the hall he could hear every word. He found himself bellowing out the lyrics and dancing again. When he reached the living him, he put his hands on his hips, admiring how shiny the floor was. He wiggled his toes, remembering that he was in socks… in his underwear…. With a nice slick floor in front of him…

“Perfect.” Dean muttered to himself. He took off running, stopping himself and sliding the moment his feet touched the slick living room floor. He hooted triumphantly as he skated over the entire length of the floor…until he looked up and saw that Castiel, Angel of the Lord was watching him. Dean immediately tried to stop himself and ended up losing his balance and crashing into a bookshelf. The contents of the shelf toppled on top of him, and he groaned grumpily as one of the heavy books landed on his head.

“What the hell, Cas!”

The angel was leaned against the door frame that connected the kitchen and the living room. His arms were crossed, and though his facial expression looked curious, Dean could detect the barely-there smirk on his lips. “Hello, Dean.”

Dean stood up, tossing a few books off of his lap. “Don’t you ‘hello, Dean’ me! How many times have we discussed this over the years? Watching people is creepy! Let me know when you’re here, don’t just watch me until I notice!”

Cas rolled his eyes, like what Dean was asking him was completely absurd. Dean wondered where the angel had picked up that trait, and cursed Sam, thinking it was probably him. “What were you doing?” Cas asked curiously.

“I… I… it’s not important.” Dean stammered, feeling himself turn red. How in the hell had he not heard Cas enter the bunker? He could zap himself outside the bunker, but he still had to enter the door because of all the warding.

“Is the fact that you are not wearing pants also not of import?” Cas asked in his gravelly voice. The sass in his tone was not missed.

Dean looked down, having completely forgotten about his jeans being in the washer. If his face wasn’t already red from embarrassment, he would have blushed slightly, but he reminded himself that he had nothing to worry about. It was Cas. Cas was like family, seeing him sliding across the room in his underwear wasn’t the worst thing he had ever seen him do. “That’s not important either. What are you doing here, buddy?”

“I think I may have a case for you and your brother.”

“Really? Wrathful, badass Angel of the Lord can’t handle a little ghost problem?” Dean teased.

Castiel narrowed his eyes at Dean from across the table. The two of them had decided to wait until Sam returned before discussing the case, and now that he was back, Dean couldn’t help but wonder why Cas didn’t just handle the ghost himself. They were all sitting in the room that they normally used for research, and Dean had pushed all the books to one side of the table to give them some room.

“Of course I could." The angel replied, unamused. "But I figured you and Sam have had a long enough break.”

“Break?” Sam asked, raising his eyebrows.

The angel turned his attention on the taller brother. “Yes. You and Dean have been through quite a lot recently… I may have made sure that no cases reached you for a while so that you could ‘relax’ while researching the mark and searching for Rowena. That is why you're just now hearing about this case. I'm sure otherwise the algorithm Charlie set up would have alerted you by now.” Dean rolled his eyes at Cas’ air quotes around the word 'relax' before getting downright offended.

“Relax?! Do you know how bored we’ve been! I've been losing my damn mind-”

“C’mon Dean, give him a break. He was just trying to be nice.” Sam muttered, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck. Cas was staring at Dean blankly, and Dean was boring holes into the angel with his sharp, green eyes. Sam shifted uncomfortably at the static between them, and he wondered if they were as painfully aware of it as he was. Sam had always noticed it but just didn't think too much of it. Castiel had raised Dean from perdition. He had had to take his brother’s soul and then put it back into a body that he had to recreate entirely. That was bound to give anyone that ‘profound bond’ that they shared. Sam just wished they wouldn't bicker like a married couple.

But the part that perplexed Sam the most was that he didn’t think Dean or Cas noticed it. Or if they did, neither would talk about it. He had tried to ask Dean about it. There was this undying curiosity that had Sam wanting to know what it was like for Dean, to have been raised by an angel from the flames of hell, only to have that angel rebel against heaven for him. But Dean knew him too well, and anytime he tried to bring it up, before Sam could even open his mouth, Dean would be muttering about how there was no ‘chick flick’ moments, and would leave the room, before Sam could say a word.

Sam cleared his throat, interrupting the staring contest between his brother and the angel. Dean smirked and blinked. “Right. Well, what do you know about this ghost, Cas?” He said, yawning, just glad for a case. Sam may not want to accept it, but they weren't making any progress towards removing the mark despite how many of the bunker's books they read over and over.

“It’s in Quantico, Virginia, and it’s malevolent.” Cas replied simply. Dean scoffed. He hadn’t exactly expected Castiel to give every detail, but some elaboration would be nice.

“Well thanks for the case, Cas. How’s Heaven?” Sam asked politely, pushing a few stray strands of hair from his face, being the good friend that Dean was too far up his own ass to be.

The angels face fell slightly, something only Sam and Dean would have been able to pick up on from years of interacting him. “It’s… interesting. Difficult. Some of the angels want me to return permanently but many others think I should never be allowed to enter Heaven again.” Cas chose his words carefully, his eyebrows tenting in concentration.

Dean gave him a very sympathetic look, wishing he knew how to properly console Cas, even if he was kind of a dick that plotted with his brother behind his back. “Hey, buddy. You know you can always stay here.” He wished Cas would stay. As long as he was in the bunker, Dean knew he was safe and didn't have to worry about some winged bastard shoving an angel blade through his chest.

“Thank you for the sentiment, Dean. But Heaven needs me. After all I’ve done, cleaning up my mess is the least I could do.” Dean forced a smile at him, still wishing he would stay. “I’ll check in about the case.” Just like that, Cas turned on his heel and made his way to the door and out of the bunker. Dean scowled. He couldn't even flap out of the bunker and still managed to abruptly leave.

Dean took a sip from his beer and shook his head. “You get the feeling that him working cases has just been an excuse for him to get the hell out of Heaven?” He asked Sam. Sam sighed.

“If we’re being honest, yeah I do. I feel really bad for him. I can’t believe on top of everything else he’s doing upstairs, he's been working cases so that we could relax. He’s one of the good guys, you know?” Sam looked thoughtful and empathetic, tugging at Dean’s heartstrings.

“Yeah.” He said softly, chugging the rest of his beer. Dean Winchester would be damned if he didn’t make it up to his feathery friend. He would force him to come down and have a few beers or something sometime. Warrior of heaven or not, Cas deserved a break just like they had, even if he did have his mojo back now.

“I guess we should start to do some research on Quantico.” Sam huffed, pulling Dean from his thoughts.

“You research the town. I call violent deaths.”

“Great.” Dean muttered to himself. “I’m going to have to put on a monkey suit and deal with the cops.” He scrolled down the page, seeing if there was any more information he would need, and he noticed that all of the victims were male. He checked death records online, trying to see any deaths that happened in the same location in the past 100 years or so, but a lot of the files were locked. He groaned, knowing that probably meant more research in Quantico’s library if they were going to be laying low. He really wasn’t in the mood to sift through dusty books that listed the hundreds upon hundreds of deaths. Maybe he could convince Sammy to do it while he talked with the pigs.

There wasn’t too much about the case online, the town seemed to be keeping it fairly hush-hush due to a big tourist event coming up according to an article. Dean looked up to the sound of a thick book snapping shut as Sam entered the room. “Find anything interesting?” Dean asked, closing his laptop.

“So get this, Quantico has a massive military base, and is home to an FBI academy… which means posing as feds might be a bad idea. We'll have to be really careful with this one. But I couldn’t find anything supernatural about the town. It’s not really known for hauntings, or voodoo, or anything that could just awaken a malevolent spirit at first glance. We'll have to do more research when we get there.”

“Well, something had to wake it up. Turns out the spirit likes to make the deaths look like suicides, and only goes after dudes.” Sam sighed. The spirit was obviously going to be pleased seeing two more men snooping around. “Buckle up, Sammy. Looks like we’re going to Virginia.”

Dean’s fingers thrummed against the steering wheel along to Led Zeppelin while Sam’s eyes scanned over the map. They weren’t terribly far from Quantico, and Dean was starving, but he was too lost in his own thoughts to ask Sam if he wanted to pull over for a bite. They could always grab something once they were checked in to the hotel. “So what’s the hotel called again?” He glanced over at his brother, hoping for a welcome distraction.

“It’s called Briar Cliff Inn. It’s apparently one of the biggest hotels in Quantico, which is why I’m guessing they’re keeping the deaths so quiet. It’s where most travelers stay. I’m sure the owners aren’t too happy about the bad publicity.” Sam replied, not taking his eyes off of the map, seeming slightly disinterested in the conversation Dean was trying to make. Dean rolled his eyes. Why did they even still keep maps in the Impala? What year were they living in? He knew damn well both their phones had GPS.

“So what are you thinking? Someone died a violent death in the hotel and decided to come back and take it out on all the dudes staying there?”

Sam looked up, huffing a frustrated sigh. “Dude… you’ve gotta start being more thorough with your research. Yeah, the spirit has been going strictly after men. But it’s not going after all the men that have been staying there. This entire time I’ve been trying to figure out a motive, or at least a connection between the victims. I can’t think of anything, at least not without questioning the families.”

“Don’t be so moody, Sam.” Dean shot him a look before returning his eyes to the road.

“Sorry. I’m just hungry. And tired. And I can’t help but think we’re going into this case a little blind. Maybe it is suicides. It’s not uncommon for people to kill themselves in popular hotels. I mean have you heard of the Cecil hotel-” Sam folded the map and tossed it up on the dash of the Impala.

“If Cas says there’s a case, there’s a case.” Dean said firmly. Sam shrugged, leaning his head against the window and staring out at the open fields to their right. “Speaking of Cas, I’m kinda worried about him, man.” Dean added slowly.

“Why?” Sam asked sleepily.

“I'm thrilled he got his wings and grace back, really, I am, but it seems like he just hasn’t seemed like himself lately. He seems flighty. And all that stuff that’s going on in heaven…”

“He’s an angel of the freaking Lord, Dean. If anyone is up for anything, it’s Cas. But if you’re really that worried about him, just shoot him a text or phone call from time to time. He knows how to use technology pretty well now; he would probably love that. I know...I know you're still learning to trust us again. But I'm sure he misses you.” Sam’s voice was getting more mumbled and soft, and Dean knew he was probably going to end up dozing off. Dean let him.

As they pulled into Quantico, the clock had just rolled over to 8:30pm. Dean had no trouble finding the Briar Cliff Inn while Sam snored in the passenger seat. He pulled Baby into the parking lot, admiring the hotel. It was clearly old, and was much larger than the cheap, run down hotels that he and Sam were used to staying in for hunts. But it only made sense to stay at the hotel that all the action was going down in.

Dean got out of the Impala, trying to shut the door quietly. He was feeling generous, and didn’t feel like dealing with Sam’s bitch-face if he woke him up just yet. He pulled his wallet out of his back pocket, sliding out a fraudulent credit card. Today he was ‘Timothy Melbourne’, and Timothy had impeccable credit. Despite the nice digs, he would have no problem booking a couple of nights at the Inn.

When Dean walked inside, he immediately slid the lady behind the counter his credit card. “Can I book a room with two beds for the weekend?” He asked. The lady grabbed his card, nodding and smiling warmly. Dean couldn’t help but check her out. She was quite a bit older than what he normally went for, but he could tell that she was an attractive lady, and probably even more so back in her prime. She had dark curly hair that reached her shoulders, and bounced every time she moved. Her skin was a soft caramel, causing her hazel eyes to pop. Dean smiled at her flirtatiously, maybe she could tell him something about the case. “So, do you own this place?”

“I sure do, sweetie. My husband and I do. It belonged to my parents, and their parents before them.” She smiled back, and Dean noticed her eyes checking him out up and down. Damn it felt good to be handsome.

“So Briar Cliff Inn has been around for quite a while, eh? Well you and your husband have kept the place up great.” Dean ended the conversation there. Molly (Dean had noticed her name tag) was still eye-f*cking him, and her husband had finally come out of the room behind her.

“You’re just too sweet, Mr. Melbourne!” Molly’s husband shot Dean a look of pure disdain as she handed Dean two room keys. “Your room will be number 308, it’s on the third floor. If you need anything at all, just let me or Doug here know!” Dean nodded, thanking Molly, and giving her husband Doug a curt nod.

Dean slid the credit card back in his wallet, and slid his wallet back in his pocket as he made his way back to the Impala. He opened the driver’s door and tossed one of the keys at Sammy, causing him to stir awake. “Rise and shine, Sammy! We got an evil son of a bitch to kill!”

Chapter 2: Pride

Chapter Text

Dean fought against his restraints, his ankles and wrists rubbed raw from the constant friction. Despite Alastair’s teasing, his continued to scream and fight, because that’s what he did. He fought until there was nothing left in him, he always had to, and he wasn’t going to stop now. He felt blood running down his body, surprised that he could feel its warmth because of the heat of the pit. Flames licked around him, close enough to cause his skin to sting, but not enough to burn him.

Alastair was an artist when it came to torture. He focused on psychological torture just as much as he focused on physical torture, and that’s what the flames were about. Dean’s skin may not be burning, but he was. His entire body was on fire, white-hot flames of pain striking his body while his blood splattered, painting his restraints, the table, the wall behind him. Alastair’s laugh came slicing out of the shadows and flames, almost as sharp as his razor. Every inch of Dean is open and raw, exposed to the nerve, the muscle, the bone. His soul is flayed open as he gasps his final breaths, finally relieved for it all to end… only to feel the pull and formation of molecules and cells reforming until he’s whole again, once again Alastair’s play thing… and Dean sobbed, because this is the game that they’ll be stuck playing forever.

“Scream all you want.” Alastair sneered, sharpening his knife once again. “No one is coming for you. No one can save you here.”

Dean shot up in bed, his chest heaving and slick with sweat. He ran his fingers through his hair, steadying his breath and reminding himself that it had all just been a nightmare. He ripped off his sweat soaked shirt, tossing it to the floor. He heard a rustling to his right, and jumped, finding Cas staring down at him.

“Seriously, Cas?” Dean shot him an annoyed look. “I’ve told you, I’m not okay with you watching me while I sleep.” He kept his voice down, glancing over at Sam who was asleep in his own bed a few feet away.

“I wasn’t.” Cas replied simply, taking a seat next to him on the edge of the bed. “You prayed to me.”

Dean ran his fingers through his hair again, and drew in his knees from under the covers, leaning over them. “Oh. I didn’t know.” He said uncertainly. Of course it made perfect sense. Alastair had always mocked him, reminding him that he was never going to be free of the pit, no one was ever going to be able to save him. But someone had. Dean looked up at Cas, slightly amazed by how his eyes were shining bright blue through the darkness of the room.

“You were dreaming…” Cas pondered, finally realizing. “What were you dreaming, Dean?” Cas tilted his head slightly, causing Dean to roll his eyes.

“I don’t want to talk about it, Cas.” Goosebumps spread over Dean’s skin at just the thought of the dream, and he pulled the covers up around him a little more, suddenly finding himself shivering.

Castiel watched him curiously, and Dean adverted his eyes, painfully aware of the fact that the angel could search his mind for the topic he refused to talk about if he really wanted to. Cas reached out, placing his hand over the barely there handprint shaped scar on Dean’s shoulder. Dean jumped a little, surprised at how warm his hand was, how tender the touch was.He felt a dull itching sensation from the mark at the angel's touch.

“This scar has faded so much since I first raised you.” Cas muttered in his husky voice, admiring how his hand fit perfectly in place. His eyes flickered to Dean’s. “All things heal in time, Dean.” He added knowingly. Dean gulped, resisting the urge to lean into the angel’s touch. There was something so intimate about it, and regardless of how often Dean tried to come across as a total hard ass, it felt nice.

“Thanks, Cas.” Dean whispered. He wanted to continue, blurt out every single thing he was thanking Castiel for, but he stopped there. The angel smiled ever so slightly, and removed his hand, suddenly leaving Dean feeling much colder. “How’s Heaven?” Dean asked, taking the opportunity to change the subject. Cas shifted on the bed uncomfortably, so Dean pushed on. “You know you can come to me if you need anything, right? And you can stay here. You can even hunt with us if you want.” I’m worried about you. He thought. “Sam and I might need help with the case.” It was total lie. This was more than likely going to be a basic salt and burn, having a fully powered angel on hand would be total overkill.

“You and Sam are more than capable of handling a malevolent spirit, Dean. But I’ll check in tomorrow, if you would like for me to.”

“Yeah. Do that.” Dean breathed. Cas raised his index and middle finger, placing them to Dean’s temple. “Whoa, what are you doing?” Dean asked, jerking away uncertainly.

“Making sure you rest easily tonight.” Cas shrugged, another faint smile on his lips. “No more dreams.” Dean relaxed, returning the smile and allowing Cas to touch his temple. He opened his mouth to say something, but when he blinked, the angel was already gone.

Dean did dream that night, but none of it involved Hell. Instead it involved the sound of rustling feathers, and the sparkle of too-blue eyes.

Sam glanced over at his brother’s sleeping form that following morning, lacing up his boots quietly. He had never told Dean, and never planned to, but there were still nights when Dean woke him up while he screamed in his sleep. They had both been to Hell, and Sam was sure that he probably returned the favor just as often. They just had an unspoken agreement where they didn’t talk about it. There was no need to.

But last night, right as Sam was about to crawl out of bed and wake Dean up, he had heard Dean call out Castiel’s name. Sam had very carefully peaked through his lashes to see Cas appear as Dean sat up in bed. Sam knew Dean would kill him for eavesdropping, but what was he supposed to do? It’s not like he could get up and leave. All Sam knew was that he was immensely thankful for the trench coat wielding celestial being, for everything. Especially making his brother's life a little more bearable.

Sam hopped off of the bed, pulling on his jacket. He would let Dean keep sleeping for a while and go down to the lobby to grab them some coffee. He quietly opened the room door, softly shutting it behind him. Sam pulled out his phone, making sure he didn’t have any missed texts or calls and nearly ran into Molly.

He had met Molly last night as he and Dean hauled their bags up the stairs. Sam liked her. She was sweet and full of life. It was a pleasant change from dealing with his grumpy brother all of the time.

“Good morning, Molly.” He said pleasantly, politely sliding his phone back in his pocket.

“Jerry!” She responded excitedly. Sam winced slightly, remembering that Dean had insisted they use completely false names due to the FBI academy and military base in town. “I hope you and Timothy slept well?”

“Uh, yeah. We did. Thanks.” Sam tucked a few strands of hair behind his ear.

Molly bent over slightly, using her feather duster to dust off an antique clock in the hallway. “Are you and Timothy here in Quantico for the parade?”

Sam raised his eyebrows at her. He had no clue what she was talking about, but it seemed like a good excuse to grab on to in order to ask her questions about the case. “Uh, yeah, we are. How did you know?” He asked shooting her his best smile.

“Timothy just seemed to be the type is all.” Molly replied, smiling and stuffing her duster in her apron.

“Molly, do you mind if I ask you a few questions about Briar Cliff Inn?”

“Of course, dear! Ask away.”

“Uh, well, Timothy and I were a little hesitant to stay here…”

Molly frowned at him deeply, sighing and understanding immediately where Sam was going. “Those suicides are so tragic, aren’t they? I’m glad y’all decided to stay here anyway. I think quite a few people were worried that the inn might be haunted after all that. It’s so tragic…” Her eyes were beginning to tear up, and Sam gave her his most empathetic look. “I found the bodies, you know.” She added, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Really? I’m sure that most have been very hard for you. Are the cops certain that they’re suicides?” Molly fixed him with an annoyed look. "I mean, I just want to make sure you and all the guests are safe."

“Yes, of course. The rooms were locked from the inside, and I never saw anyone else. This place is old; we only have a few cameras. But not a single one picked up on anything. It’s so sad.” She pulled a handkerchief out of her apron and dabbed her eyes. Sam put a soothing hand on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Molly. Listen, this must be hard. We don’t have to talk about it anymore. I was just on my way to the lobby to grab some coffee. Would you like some?”

“No, no, help yourself, dear.” She crammed the handkerchief back in a pocket and smiled at Sam warmly.

“Thanks, Molly!” He shouted over his shoulder, heading for the stairs towards the lobby.

“Ugh, coffee. Thank god.” Dean said, grabbing the cup out of Sam’s hand greedily. Dean was already dressed and sitting on the edge of his bed, ‘not’ watching Dr. Sexy M.D.

“Didn’t get much sleep last night?” Sam asked, hoping his voice didn’t give anything away. To his surprise, Dean smiled.

“Not at first. But I slept pretty well towards the end.” Sam stared at him, and Dean dropped his smile. “But coffee never hurts. Thanks, Sammy.”

“No problem.” Sam replied, turning his back to hide his own smile, and putting some tourist pamphlets on the small round table in the room.

“You wanna grab some breakfast?” Dean asked, standing and taking a huge gulp from his coffee.

“I thought you would never ask.” Sam laughed, picking up a pamphlet for a diner that had delicious breakfast food all over it.

The diner was within walking distance to the inn, and to Dean’s complete and utter dismay Sam insisted that they should walk there. He ran his hand along Baby, muttering an apology to her as he walked by. Dean looked around. The town was nice, and quaint. But it seemed significantly busier than it has last night, and he noticed streamers and banners hanging from the telephone poles and lamps throughout the streets. Music was also now playing over the speakers. “Well this town is very… colorful.” Dean muttered, eyeing the rainbow of colors. Suddenly Sam stopped walking, his eyes wide and his eyebrows raised with realization. “Sammy? What’s wrong?” Dean asked, immediately stopping with him.

Sam suddenly bent over, laughing so hard that his entire huge shoulders shook, and his hair fell in his face. Dean looked at him in pure confusion, having half a mind to start searching for a hex bag. Sam stood up straight, wiping his eyes. “The parade that Molly was talking about, the one I was telling you about earlier in our room… it’s a gay pride parade.”

“…what?” Dean stared at Sam blankly.

“Molly asked if we were here for the parade, and I had no idea what she was talking about. Based on that pride flag over there, I think it’s safe to say that it’s a gay pride parade.” Sam snickered.

“Oh son of a bitch! Dammit, Cas! Our first case in forever, and its right smack dab in the middle of a Queer Eye episode?” Dean started storming towards the diner, and Sam followed him, still chuckling. A man walked past them, clearly eye f*cking Dean and he groaned loudly, making Sam start laughing all over again. “I’m glad this is real f*cking funny for you, Sam. I feel like I’ve been touched inappropriately with someone’s eyes.” Sam was laughing even harder, and Dean stopped again, narrowing his eyes and setting his jaw. “Wanna tell me what’s so f*cking funny?” The mark tingled slightly due to his irritation.

“Uh, Molly definitely thinks we’re here for the parade… she said that you ‘look the type’.” Sam grinned. “If you wanted to come out, you could’ve just told me, Dean. Making up a case and getting Cas in on it seems a bit excessive.”

Dean looked like he was on the verge of strangling Sam in the middle of the street. “Shut it, Sam. I’m going to kick Cas’ feathery ass the next time I see him.” He shoved Sam out of his way, relieved that they were almost at the diner.

Dean pulled open the diner’s door with a little more force than necessary, and immediately sulked off to a booth in the corner. He sat down angrily, and Sam rolled his eyes at his pouting. “This is a good thing, Dean.” Sam said sliding in the side of the booth across from his brother.

“A good thing?” Dean asked, not bothering to hide his frustration. “How could this possibly be a good thing?”

Sam leaned forward, ignoring how disgruntled Dean was, because suddenly the case was making sense. “The spirit has been attacking men, but not all of the men that are staying at the inn. What if the common ground was that all the victims were gay? It makes sense. I’m sure that some people were already here earlier on for the parade if it’s that big of a deal.”

Dean visibly relaxed over the discussion of the case. “So you’re saying we have a hom*ophobic ghost on our hands?” Dean grabbed the menu off of the table, his eyes scanning for the greasiest and most fattening combo that the diner offered.

“Sounds like it.” Sam replied, already having his mind made up. Dean wanted to gag, Sam would probably stick to yogurt. “I’ll go check out the bodies, see if there’s anything weird going on there. You stop by the victims’ families and see if you can find out if their sexuality was really the common ground.” Sam looked up at Dean sternly. “And don’t be a dick about it.” He added.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Dean replied dismissively, flagging down a waitress to order their food. The waitress was busy, but a waiter noticed Dean and waltzed over.

“What can I get for ya, sweetie?” He said softly, giving Dean a flirtatious smile. Sam hid behind his menu so that Dean wouldn’t see him laughing. Dean just gaped at the waiter, and shook his head.

“I’ll have a number four combo with coffee, black. What do you want, Sammy?” Dean nearly growled.

“Uh, can I just get the fruit and yogurt bowl? Extra granola. And a water.” Sam choked out between his giggling.

“I’ll have that out in just a second!” The waiter exclaimed, collecting the menus then giving Sam a wink before walking off.

“Is everyone in this town gay?” Dean shook his head in disbelief, causing Sam to explode into laughter. “That’s it.” Dean snarled. “Cas, get your feathery ass down here.”

There was the sound of rustling feathers and a gust of wind that caused a few napkins to go flying, and Cas appeared next to Dean. “Hello, Dean.” He turned his attention to Sam. “Sam.”

“Hey, Cas.” Sam spit out through giggles.

Dean leaned in close to Cas, glaring at him as Cas just stared at him blankly. “Do you want to explain to me why you sent us out on a case that involves me getting hit on every time I turn around?”

Castiel tilted his head, his eyes scanning over Dean’s face. “What do you mean, Dean?”

Sam laughed again. “Dean is upset because this case is taking place in the middle of a gay pride parade, and he keeps getting hit on by dudes, Cas.” Castiel looked over at Sam, and then looked down at the able, deep in thought.

“I am completely indifferent to sexual orientation, and so I did not realize it would be a big deal. Would you like for me to deal with the spirit, Dean? I can if you're that uncomfortable.” His blue eyes flickered back to Dean, and Dean groaned and licked his lips.

“No, Cas. We’ll handle it.” He muttered, leaning back in his seat.

“So it’s not a big deal?” Cas asked curiously.

“Guess not. I’m just kinda tired of getting eye f*cked by the local guys.” Dean looked over at Cas, momentarily getting lost in how blue they were.

Sam watched them interacting curiously, and was suddenly aware of how close they were sitting. Sam couldn’t see it, but he could tell their thighs were touching, and their faces were just a few inches apart. Sam furrowed his eyebrows, and tried not to laugh. No wonder people were getting the impression that Dean was gay.

The waiter came back with their food, almost dropping it when he saw Castiel. He looked over at Dean who refused to meet his eyes, and Sam picked up on the guy blushing bright red. Sam almost started laughing again, realizing that the waiter thought that Cas and Dean were together.

“Uh I’m sorry… I didn’t realize that someone else was coming.” The waiter managed, sitting the food down quickly. “Can I get you something?” He asked Cas.

“No thank you.” Cas replied politely, and the waiter scurried off without another word.

Sam went to open his mouth, but Dean interrupted him. “Not a f*cking word, Sam.” Dean shifted, putting a few inches between him and the angel. “So, after this I’ll go talk to the victims’ families. How many do we got?”

“Three as of right now. Hopefully we’ll figure out who the spirit is before that body count goes up.” Sam replied, mixing the granola and fruit in his yogurt. “This case seems simple enough. Once we identify the body and salt and burn it, we shouldn’t have any more issues.”

Dean grunted in response. He grabbed a piece of his toast, slathering jelly on it. Castiel abruptly raised his hand, dipping his index finger into the jelly. Dean froze, staring at him. Cas brought the finger to his mouth, slowly sucking the jelly off of it, and making a face. Dean exhaled, realizing he had been holding his breath, and watched as the angel sucked his finger clean.

This didn’t go unnoticed by Sam, and he narrowed his eyes at his brother even though Dean wasn’t paying any attention to him. Dean always had a staring problem when it came to Cas.

“I thought you said it all tastes like molecules.” Dean muttered hoarsely.

Cas leaned in to dip his finger into the jelly again, the inches that Dean had put between them now gone. And Dean was painfully aware of it. Any time Cas touched him, it was almost like a shock of static went through his body. He licked his lips, once again watching the angel lick and suck the jelly from his finger. Dean’s breath caught, and he cleared his throat. “It does taste like molecules.” Cas finally replied sadly. “But one of the things I miss about being human is the taste of food. I'm hoping if I keep trying it, I will become accustomed to it. Gabriel did and is quite fond of sweets. I suppose he had to adjust to it.” Dean cleared his throat again, shaking his head.

“Yeah, well if you want jelly, just ask for it. Stop molesting my toast.” He muttered, taking a bite out of it. He could feel Cas’ thigh pressing against his again, and a part of him wanted to move so that they were no longer touching. But he didn’t, because if he was being honest with himself, the contact felt nice. Dear god, I need to get laid. This is pathetic regardless of how warm his body is.

“Why would it be a witch?” Sam asked, taking a bite of his breakfast.

“I’m not feeling like myself. Could be a curse. Just seems witchy.” Dean said, his voice matter of fact.

Dean threw a couple of bills down on the dining table and chugged the rest of his now cold coffee. He glanced over at Cas, who was watching him carefully.

“Alright, so I guess we should go back to the inn and change into our monkey suits so people don’t wonder why we’re poking around asking questions.” Dean said, shoving his wallet into his coat pocket.

Sam nodded in agreement, standing up as Dean stood up, and realizing how sad Cas looked. He bit his lip, deciding to just wing it. “Hey, Cas… if you’re not too busy with heaven, why don’t you help us with the case? I’m not exactly sure how much you can help, but I’m sure it would be a great distraction if you need one.” Castiel looked up at him with wide, blue eyes, and then looked over at Dean.

“Yeah, buddy. You can help me question the families if you want. It can be pretty boring doing it by myself.” Dean said, patting him on the back as he stood up.

“Okay, Dean, I’ll stay.” Cas said, that too familiar barely-there smile dancing across his lips. Dean’s face lit up, and Sam smiled at the two of them.

Chapter 3: Guilt, Clarity, and Love

Chapter Text

Castiel was distractedly flipping through television channels as Sam and Dean changed into their suits. His mouth was pressed into a thin line, and his eyebrows furrowed as he rested on Jerry Springer, seeming to be immediately taken by this particular episode of trash tv. Dean watched him as he buttoned up his shirt, curious as to what could possibly being going through that messy head of his.

But as Dean watched Cas, Sam was watching Dean, unable to hide the smile on his face. Sam has no idea what was going on between his brother and the angel. But there was obviously some untouched topic that the two of them. Sam had noticed it for years. He wished his brother would just grow a pair and apologize to Cas. Sam knew Dean well enough to know that when there was something on the older brother’s mind, it would eat away at him until he finally grabbed the bull by the horns. And Dean was obviously worried about Cas, and worried that Cas felt the need to go through all of his problems alone. Sam was hoping that maybe, just maybe, if Dean would actually bring all of this up to the angel, then everything could go back to normal, and this weird air between them would settle.

The bodies were still being held at the morgue, which was within walking distance of Briar Cliff Inn. Sam had decided to walk to the police department and then the morgue, giving Dean and Cas some alone time in hopes that Dean would actually talk to Cas about his worries. He knew that it was still a shot in the dark but Sam was still going to keep his fingers crossed. Sam said his goodbyes to the angel and his brother. “Let’s meet back at the hotel at around six, deal?” He stated as he headed for the door. Dean grumbled a response while Cas’ eyes stayed glued to the television screen.

Cas stared out the window of the Impala. Though it was getting late in the year and the outside air was chilly, it was a beautiful day, and he couldn’t help but admire how the light caught on the fields next to the strip of road that he and Dean cruised down. The first victim had lived in the countryside with his family, and it was taking Dean longer than he had anticipated in order to get to their house. Cas was quiet, his mind working even faster than the car he was sitting in. He should be in heaven right now. Even though some of the angels gave him full recognition for being able to find the way back into the holy land, Cas still felt like he owed them so much more, and a bad feeling was spreading from in his core like he was once again failing them by not taking their offering as leader of Heaven. He furrowed his eyebrows as his stared out the window, trying to place the emotion.

But then the sound of Dean’s humming filled his ears, snapping him away from his thoughts of Heaven. He didn’t turn to the hunter, but he did tilt his head slightly, listening to the sound. Dean’s humming was a little off, but it was still relaxing and pleasant, and Cas felt a smile tug at his lips. He was glad to be here with Dean, despite all of his concerns and worries.

“You’ve been quiet.” Dean observed, making Cas realize that Dean had been watching him.

“I’ve just been thinking, Dean.” Cas sighed, turning his attention to the hunter. The sunlight was illuminating the car at the perfect angle, catching Dean’s eyes and causing them to shine bright green. Cas smiled again. His father had made innumerable variations of the color green, but the color of Dean’s eyes was one of his favorites.

“Yeah? About what?” Dean asked, staring at Cas for a moment before returning his eyes to the road in front of them.

“Heaven.” Cas stated, shrugging slightly.

“Oh.” Dean’s voice was a little disappointed. He knew that Cas spent most of his time worrying about Heaven, and he really wished that the angel could at least relax a bit when he wasn’t there.

“I am… having mixed feelings.” Cas finally added.

“Oh? You wanna elaborate on that, buddy?” Dean was suddenly a lot more interested in what Cas had to say. It always fascinated him when the angel mentioned feelings and emotions because he remembered when Cas was once incapable of experiencing such things.

Castiel shifted uncomfortably in the passenger seat, causing his trench coat to rustle. Dean smirked. That was both one of the most annoying and comforting sounds to grace his ears nowadays. “I’m glad I’m here with you.” Cas finally said, looking back out the window. Dean smiled. I’m glad you’re here with me too, Cas. Cas sighed, looking back at Dean and continuing. “But… I feel like I shouldn’t be. I shouldn’t be able to enjoy spending time with you when I owe so much to the other angels, owe so much to Heaven. That should be my number one priority. I feel…”

“Guilty?” Dean suggested.

“Yes. That.”

“You shouldn’t feel guilty, Cas. You’re allowed to enjoy yourself from time to time, even if you’ve screwed up. We’ve all screwed up. You’re no exception just because you got wings.” Dean glanced over at Cas, and the angel didn’t look convinced in the least bit. He sighed deeply. “Listen…I'll always be a hunter. It'll always be my priority. But I still enjoy being with you. I don’t have to feel guilty just because I have fun kicking back from time to time. And you’ve done enough for the angels and Heaven. Hell, you’ve done more than your own father.” Cas shot dean a narrow eyed look because of his blasphemy. Dean smiled back at him sheepishly. “C’mon, Cas. Don’t worry about Heaven right now.”

“I’ve missed you.” Cas replied, smiling. Because that was one emotion that Cas had completely figured out. He knew that he missed Dean when they were apart for too long. “Thank you, Dean.”

“For what?” Dean asked, puzzled but returning his eyes to the road. He had started to swerve, his eyes resting on Cas’ smile a little too long.

“For being my clarity. I am… still becoming accustomed to certain emotions. I know what they are but don't always know how they feel. But you? You’re the epitome of emotion, of humanity. And I can always count on you to be my clarity.”

Dean snorted, but he was fighting the pleased smile threatening to spread across his lips.

Mrs. Brayden dabbed the tears from her eyes as she talked about her son Adam. It was times like this that Dean wished Sam were here. He had mastered being the empathetic one in their duo, and Dean had no idea how to properly console her. At least he was trying, when Dean looked over at Cas, the angel had his head tilted and was just staring at her in confusion. They were sitting on the couch opposite of her in her living room, watching as she grabbed one tissue after another from the tissue box on the coffee table separating them.

“Adam was such a good boy. I don’t understand why he would have done this to himself.” Mrs. Brayden sniffed and wiped her eyes. “I mean, he and his boyfriend had broken up recently-“ Dean flinched at the word ‘boyfriend’ and Cas shot him an annoyed look “-but he wasn’t very upset about it. He was the one that ended things.”

“Mrs. Brayden, did your son have any enemies? Was there anyone that might want to hurt him?” Dean asked.

“What? The cops said it was a suicide.” Mrs. Brayden narrowed her eyes at Dean suspiciously.

Dean shot her his best, most empathetic smile. “We just want to explore all of our options here. We don’t want to leave any stone left unturned.”

“No, Adam was loved by everyone. Of course there were the occasional people that didn’t agree with his, uh, ‘lifestyle-“ Yeah, like a hom*ophobic ghost. Dean thought. “-but he didn’t have any enemies.”

“Why was your son staying at Briar Cliff Inn?” Cas suddenly asked. Dean turned to look at him, the angel seemed generally curious and Dean was a little proud because he hadn’t even thought about asking the question. He was already emotionally drained and ready to head back to the hotel.

“Adam was a volunteer for the gay pride parade that’s starting tomorrow. He was really excited about finally getting off the waiting list and being able to help the cause, especially since he’s so young.” Dean glanced down at his notes and frowned deeply. The kid had only been 19. “He decided to stay at the hotel since it’s practically in the middle of the festival. It was easier than having to drive back and forth all weekend. The pride parade is a very big deal in this town, especially since this is the south. It was the first town in Virginia to hold a parade. People come from all over the state. Adam signed in a few days early to help set up the streamers and flags… he was just so happy…” Mrs. Brayden started crying again, and Cas’ eyes were wide, having no clue how to respond.

Dean stood up, and Cas mimicked him. “Thank you for your time, Mrs. Brayden. We’re so sorry to hear about your loss. We’ll be in touch as soon as we know something.” Dean attempted sweetly, reaching his hand out to her. She shook his hand and he flinched and made a face, realizing her hand was wet. He wasn’t sure if it was from tears or snot, and when he looked up, Cas was smirking at him.

“Well that was awkward.” Dean said, slamming the Impala door as soon as both he and Cas were inside.

“I don’t think so. She was just upset about losing her son, Dean.”

“That’s not why it was awkward.” Dean replied, shaking his head and starting the car. He saw Cas tilt his head out of the corner of his eyes.

“What made it awkward then?” The angel asked curiously.

“Never...never mind.” Dean said, looking anywhere but at Cas as he felt his cheeks turn red. He didn’t exactly have a problem with gay people, it just wasn’t his cup of tea, regardless of the inappropriate thoughts that sometimes snaked their way into his mind. And he knew that for a fact because there was that one time… Dean shook his head. He wasn’t going to think about that right now, not with a mind reading angel in his car next to him. Even if Cas has said multiple times that he didn't listen in on people's thoughts anymore.

“Are you uncomfortable because all the victims are gay?” Cas asked the question so innocently. It wasn’t in the way that Sam would have asked it. It wasn’t teasing in the least bit, and when Dean looked up to see wide, interested blue eyes, he found himself replying in spite of his will not to as he pulled out of the driveway.

“A little, I guess. It’s not that gay people make me uncomfortable. It’s just… I don’t f*cking know, Cas.” The angel observed Dean quietly.

“It shouldn’t bother you. The parts of the bible referring to hom*osexuality being a sin were added by man. King James to be specific. They’re not the words of God.” Dean’s skin was crawling in discomfort. “God only focuses on consent and love.” Dean looked over, watching Cas’ full lips form the word ‘love’ and he shuddered. Dean turned on the radio, relieved to find Boston on the radio to drown out both Cas and his own thoughts.

The next victim’s family wasn’t at home when Dean and Cas arrived, so after a moment of frustration over the wasted gas, Dean was driving them to the third and final victim’s home. On the way, Dean remembered that Thanksgiving was right around the corner. He frowned. It must be twice as hard for the families with their loved ones dying so close to the holidays. If hunting permitted it, maybe he and Sam could have a little Thanksgiving dinner and invite their friends, or what was left of them, over. And Thanksgiving meant pie. He glanced over at Cas out of the corner of his eye. He hoped that the angel really could get used to the taste of human food, because he was really missing out when it came to pie.

“Hey, Cas, how do you feel about Thanksgiving?” Dean asked, turning the radio down. Castiel tented his eyebrows, thinking for a moment.

“The true story behind Thanksgiving is very unfortunate. I like that humans participate in tradition, though the traditions often lose their meaning over time. It seems to make them happy.”

Dean slid his hands over the steering wheel uncertainly. “And what about you? Would it make you happy to participate in some, um, traditions?” Dean gulped.

“Are you trying to ask me something, Dean?” Cas asked, his big, blue eyes searching Dean’s.

“I was thinking… I was thinking if Sam and I didn’t have a case on Thanksgiving, we could get a few people together. I mean, I know you don’t really eat but-“

“I would love to celebrate Thanksgiving with you, Dean.” Cas interrupted, causing Dean to breathe a sigh of relief.

Dean smiled. “Awesome. Well, uh, I think this is the right house.” He changed the subject as they pulled into the driveway, grasping at the opportunity to change the subject that he had brought up. Cas leaned forward, looking through the windshield. “You should wear your seatbelt.” Dean growled.

Cas rolled his eyes. “I’m an angel. You seem to keep forgetting that.” Dean just shook his head, putting the car in park.

“Alright, angel. Well, let’s go interrogate…” Dean looked down at his notes. “Mr. Anderson’s… husband.”

Cyrus Anderson was even more beat up about his husband’s death than Mrs. Brayden was about her son’s death. With every question that Dean asked, he would only get a few words reply before Cyrus would be a sobbing mess all over again. Jesus f*cking Christ, I wish Sammy was here to deal with this sh*t. All they had been able to get out of him was that Sean was staying at the inn because they had gotten into a huge fight. Dean was growing increasingly more and more frustrated and uncomfortable, and Cas was picking up on it. Dean shot him a pitiful look, hoping that the angel had been around humanity long enough to handle this situation.

“You seem to… be having a hard time answering our questions, Mr. Anderson.” Cas tried. “Why don’t you just tell us about your husband, Sean?”

Dean watched as Cyrus took a deep breath. When he realized he was going to be questioning Sean’s late husband, he didn’t know what he was expecting. Maybe a pink house with rainbow colored furniture? Maybe he expected Cyrus to be wearing booty shorts and a crop top. He couldn’t help but think of any and all gay stereotypes that his brain could come up with. But it wasn’t like that at all. Cyrus, their house, everything was incredibly…normal. They had a nice home that looked just like any other home he had ever been in. Actually, it is different. This is one of the first houses I’ve been in that feels like a home. You can tell that Cyrus and Sean put love into the place that they lived.

And Dean should probably be listening to what Cyrus was saying, but he couldn’t focus on anything other than the fact that Cyrus didn’t look gay. Under different circ*mstances, Dean would have never assumed that he was. In fact, Dean had half a mind to ask him what sort of gel he used in his hair, because despite his hysteria, his hair stayed in place perfectly. Dean bit his lip, mentally shaking his thoughts away and trying to focus on what Cyrus was saying. He was expecting Cyrus to spew out the same crap that every loved one did under these circ*mstances, but when he saw Cyrus suddenly smile through his tears, he knew this was going to be a little different.

“Sean was…. He was perfect. Not in a way without flaws… he was just perfect for me. Everyone always talks about being lost before meeting their soulmate, but that wasn’t me. It was when I met Sean that I was lost. He turned my life upside down. I never expected to fall in love with him, he was just this dorky guy that stopped in at the store I worked at from time to time. But there was something about the way he smiled, it drew me in. Before I knew it, Sean was all I knew. Everything I owned smelled of him. Everything I did reminded me of him. When I was going through a rough part in my life, he was the reason I woke up every morning. He saw me at my worst and still thought I was the best. He just… he meant everything to me. He was always willing to give up everything for me.” Dean shifted uncomfortably on Cyrus’ couch, knowing there was a reason why that last sentence sounded so familiar to him. “Listen guys, I know you’re here to help. It’s just… this is all still too fresh for me. I haven’t even been able to sleep in our bedroom since Sean died. And I have no idea why he would’ve killed himself, he seemed as happy as I was. It was just a little fight... I…I just can’t talk about his death right now. It’s too hard.” Cyrus’ lip trembled and teared finally overflowed, running down his cheeks.

And suddenly, that empathetic kick that Dean wished he had earlier kicked in. “It’s okay, Mr. Anderson.” He reached in his jacket pocket, pulling out his fake business card and handing it to him. “We’re actually staying in town. If you can think of anything that might help with Sean’s case, don’t hesitate to give us a call, okay?” Cyrus nodded. He looked from Dean to Cas, and then back at Dean.

“I’m going to sound like such a cliché… but if either of you are in love, don’t take it for granted. Hold on to it. And never go to sleep angry. Sean was so angry with me, and I was so angry with him that he couldn’t even sleep on the couch. I was angry as he was leaving that I accused him of staying at the inn in order to hook up with someone else… and all of this feels like it’s my fault. I can’t believe accusing him of cheating was the last thing I ever said to him…” Cyrus was standing now, his entire body shaking. Dean stood up, placing a sympathetic hand on his shoulder.

“None of this was your fault, Cyrus.” He knew he should be remaining professional, and still referring to him as ‘Mr. Anderson’, but Dean would be damned if he didn’t feel absolutely horrible for the guy. He looked over at Cas. Between Cas and Sam, Dean knew exactly what it felt like to lose someone and blame yourself for it. “Just contact us if you need anything, okay?”

Dean and Cas said their goodbyes, and exited Cyrus’ and Sean’s home, their hearts feeling a lot heavier than they had this morning. When they got to the Impala, Dean immediately reached for the door, but Cas sort of stood there awkwardly, staring at the car before him.

“You okay, Cas?” Dean asked, worried.

“Yes… Cyrus really loved Sean, didn’t he?” The angel’s voice was incredibly somber.

Dean leaned against the Impala, folding his arms on the hood, thinking for a moment. “Yeah, man. I think they both really loved each other.”

Castiel’s eyes left the car, suddenly piercing directly into Dean’s own. “I hope you’re able to love someone like that someday, Dean.”

Dean licked his lips and nodded. He hoped so too.

Chapter 4: Can You Show Me Where It Hurts?

Chapter Text

Dean lied in his bed at Briar Cliff Inn that night, wide awake. He envied how easily Sam was able to fall asleep, and wondered if maybe he would be able to do the same if it weren't for the Mark of Cain making its presence known if he forgot about it for even a second. Sam was snoring not that far from him, the only noise filling the room. Dean turned, trying to get more comfortable. It didn’t matter what position he was in; his thoughts were keeping him much too alert to sleep. He looked over at Sam’s bed, admiring how soundly he slept. Light from the vacancy sign was peeking through the blinds of the room’s window, cascading over his sleeping form. Sam’s chest heaved up and down slowly as he slept in peace, and Dean smiled. At least Sammy’s getting some sleep. Dean rolled over. The hunter couldn’t stop thinking about what Cas said earlier, about hoping that one day he was able to love someone like Sean and Cyrus had loved each other. What had he meant by that?

The conversation had been playing over and over again in his head for well over an hour, and Dean was slowly but surely beginning to beat himself up over it. Castiel probably hadn’t meant a damn thing by it, and he was obsessing over it like a teenage girl. And why does it even matter? Because it shouldn’t. The more Dean thought about it, the more insecure he began to feel. I shouldn’t be obsessing over another dude period. Dean wasn’t gay. He just wasn’t.

Sometimes he noticed guys were attractive, but he wasn't gay... it was just...complicated.

Without meaning to, his mind began to wander to what it had tried to go to earlier in the car with Cas. Thinking about that could have led to Cas reading his mind, which could lead to him accidentally mentioning it to Sammy, which meant Dean would have to explain… and Dean wasn’t about to explain to his brother what went down when he had gone off to Stanford.

A lot of things happened when Sam went off to college, and Dean couldn’t think of a single one that he was proud of. If he was being completely honest, Sam leaving had destroyed him, and almost destroyed the relationship Dean had with his father. Dean would always love his dad. Despite being a drunk, sometimes abusive asshole, the man still did the best he could when he could. And Dean would always be forever grateful for that. But when Sam had left, the drunkenness was more than just occasional. They had tried to hunt together in Sam’s absence at first. But Sam was the glue that held the remainder of their family together. Once Sam was out of the picture, Dean and John’s relationship had become more and more strained every day. At first, they had tried to pretend like everything was fine, that they could function without Sam. They continued to try to hunt together like they would have if Sam was still there. But it rapidly became apparent that they were both taking the loss harder than they wanted to let on. John began drinking more and more, and eventually started blaming Dean for Sam’s sudden decision to give up hunting, and that was the last straw. Dean had missed Sam so god damn much, and Dean was not about to allow his father to make it hurt even worse by trying to put the blame on him.

And so Dean left. He could still hear his father drunkenly slur “So you’re going to leave to? You’re going to abandon me just like your brother?” The words still stung, even worse than the black eye John had given him. But he told himself that his father was just hurting, and that mixed with Jack Daniels created a very irate, very aggressive John Winchester. It took John over two weeks to pick up when Dean called, and he had called every single day without fail. Their conversations were short, but with Sam and Dean both gone, John was only left with his thoughts, and they eventually developed a mutual understanding and checked in on each other regularly.

But Dean didn’t handle any of it as well as he should have. He missed Sam. He missed his dad. He missed hunting with them, and missed the strange, f*cked up life they had created since mom had died. Hotel rooms had never been so lonely. It wasn’t the same without Sam’s snoring and the low hum of the television that John kept on as he flipped through his journal over and over, hoping he had missed some clue about the yellow eyed demon. And so Dean, refusing to have any chick flick moments, did the only thing he knew how to do, he shoved his feelings down and tried to bury them.

At first, he had tried to bury them in women. That worked out great at first, in fact it was fan-f*cking-tastic. Dean was an attractive guy, and charming on top of that. He never had to take home a chick that was less than a seven, regardless of how tipsy he was or how rough he looked from the latest hunt. But none of them dulled the ache or eased the loneliness that felt like coursed through his very soul. He had had a great time, and had stories of sex that would probably put a p*rn star to shame, but their bodies couldn’t warm the cold of how lonely he really was. So Dean turned to other methods.

Turning to alcohol as a solution had disgusted Dean at first, and only reminded him of the man that John had often become. He would get drunk a couple of times a week, especially after a really lonely night, or a particularly gruesome hunt. But a couple of nights turned into almost every night. And it wasn’t drunk like before, now the women were pushing him away, usually making snide comments about how he was probably too wasted to even get it up. What they didn’t know was that he wasn’t too drunk to get it up, and a guy named Daniel proved that one night.

Dean remembered Daniel well, almost too well, despite his inebriated state. Dean had been shot down six times that night, and he was growing increasingly frustrated. Even though his stomach was full of beer and liquor, he still felt painfully empty, and he had been hoping that maybe being drunk and burying himself balls deep in some chick was the perfect balance he needed. But none of the girls were interested in a guy so sh*t faced that he was one sway away from falling off of his bar stool. That was when Daniel came into play. He had noticed the guy earlier. He had been sitting by himself in a corner, playing on his phone and babysitting a beer. But suddenly, he was sitting next to Dean at the bar. Dean smelled him before he saw him. Daniel was wearing some sort of expensive cologne, and Dean would be damned if he said it didn’t smell absolutely amazing. When the drunken hunter spun his bar stool to face him and ask about the cologne, Daniel had had to catch him because he nearly fell out of his seat. The man grinned as Dean apologized and introduced himself, revealing sparkling white teeth that stood out brilliantly against his tanned skin. His eyes were a deep amber, incredibly similar to the color of the drink in Dean’s glass. So what if Dean was so drunk he couldn’t help but notice the guy was pretty good looking?

The rest of that night had been a bit of a blur. Well, Dean always tried to convince himself it was a blur. He was sure that if he tried to remember hard enough, he would be able to remember the entire night in detail. But he didn’t want to. It made him feel ashamed, and the kind of filthy that a shower couldn’t wash off. He had flirted with Daniel with little to no shame, because in his drunken stupor, all he could focus on was that Daniel was sexy, despite what was going on between his legs. Daniel just had that sort of sex appeal that Dean always tried to aim for himself, there was something classically charming about him. He had the kind of smile that made people melt. And it definitely worked on Dean.

It wasn’t long before Dean found himself stumbling to the Impala, dragging Daniel behind him. He had almost chickened out, and settled for lighting up a cigarette and offering his companion one while he mentally told himself to slow down and think about what he was doing. He didn’t normally smoke, only when he had a few too many drinks and the drag relaxed him. Many hunters smoked, bad habits seemed to gravitate towards the job. But it seemed stupid for Dean to pick up a habit that could make running difficult when he literally found himself running for his life on some cases. And yet here he was, sharing a smoke underneath a buzzing lamppost, leaned against his car and drowning in the intensity of Daniel’s amber colored eyes.

He never ended up finishing his cigarette, and Daniel never ended up finishing his. Instead, he ended up in the backseat of the Impala with his dick in Daniel’s mouth, his hands fisted in the other man’s dark, curly hair.

A particular loud snore from Sam jarred Dean from his thoughts. He felt sick to his stomach, and angrily flopped from his side to his back. He tried to avoid the memory of Daniel at all costs, because it reminded him of all the backhand comments John had made towards gay people when Dean was growing up. It wasn't that John particularly had a problem with gay people, but when he had made it abundantly clear that he didn't want that for his sons when he assumed that Dean was flirting with a guy as a teenager. He shuddered, remembering how the next day after Daniel, he had scrubbed the backseat of the Impala like someone had spilled a bright red slushie all over it. If only he had been able to scrub the memory from his brain.

Dean just wished that he could sleep.

Because things had gotten much, much worse with Sam and his dad gone. Much worse than drinking, smoking, random hookups and letting some guy blow him in the parking lot of a bar. He had done things that brought tidal waves of shame washing over him, things he could never let Sammy know about. It’s not that Sam would judge him. Hell, as much as he loved his brother, he still knew that he was the last person to ever have the right to judge someone. It wasn’t about that. If Sam knew about his past, he would know what a hypocrite Dean had been, he would know just how truly awful his brother was. And Sam looked up to him. He had admitted it himself, on more than one occasion. Sometimes Dean caught Sam looking at him with so much love and admiration that it made Dean’s chest feel tight. Sam had had faith in him when no one else had. Dean didn’t think he could take the hit of Sam no longer looking at him like he was actually worth something.

Dean had half a mind to call Cas down in hopes of distracting himself. But he tried to do that as little as possible. He wasn’t sure what condition the angel’s mojo was in despite having it back, and now he felt guilty because he hadn’t taken the time to ask. “f*ck.” Dean muttered, running his fingers through his hair in frustration. He guessed he was just going to spend half the night thinking about Cas, and the other half making himself feel like sh*t. But there was this strange pull he was feeling inside his mind, that maybe all of this was what he needed. He had spent so much time trying to push these thoughts and emotions down, that maybe his brain was sick of the sh*t and wanted him to finally figure it all out. Dean began to grit his teeth, took a deep breath, and finally let the memory he was avoiding seep into his mind.

Hooking up with Daniel caused Dean to freak out, more than he had ever freaked out in his entire life, because he had liked it. As much as he tried to convince himself that he didn't, it was often the first thing that would pop into his mind when he was jerking off, and even a couple of times during sex with women. He blamed it on the alcohol. Blamed it on young age (even though he was in his mid-twenties) and stupid decisions. But the next day when he woke up in the back of the Impala, hungover and exhausted, it didn’t matter how he attempted to rationalize it, it still happened. He had f*cked around with a guy. And he wanted to do it again. He ended up stumbling out of his car to throw up, not sure if it was because of the hungover or the disgust he felt towards himself.

It's not that Dean thought that two dudes fooling around was wrong. It was just one more thing that was too heavy for him to deal with.

Dean planned on walking right back into the bar and getting piss drunk all over again, but unfortunately, it was still too early. But Dean needed something. He missed Sam. He missed his father. He had seen things that other people couldn’t even imagine in their worst nightmares. And everything hurt. Dean collapsed against his car, every part of his body aching. Before his brain ever registered any of it, he was back behind the wheel of baby and driving. He wasn’t sure where he was driving at first, he just knew that he needed to. He took roads that he had never been down, but the names were somehow familiar. After almost two hours of driving, he realized why the names of the roads were ringing a bell. He was on the way to Stanford.

Dean whipped Baby onto the gravel shoulder of the road he was on, wincing when he heard rocks kick up against her paint. He had never been to Stanford before, but the moment Sam had left, he spent hours poured over a map, etching every possible route there into his mind. Because what if something happened to Sammy, and he needed to get there fast?

Dean put the Impala in park, running his hands over the steering wheel nervously. He could just call Sam, showing up might be a little…much. But would Sam even pick up? If he did, would he even want to talk to Dean? If he didn’t, did that mean he was in trouble? He could just pop in, just to make sure Sam was okay. He didn’t even have to say anything, didn’t even have to let Sam know that he was there… Dean was not okay, but he needed to make sure his little brother was. He exhaled a sigh and put his car back into drive.

As Dean walked past a pretty brunette, he grinned at her and looked over his shoulder, his gaze following the bounce of her ass. No wonder Sammy wanted to go to college. It had been incredibly easy to convince the school to give him Sam’s address. In fact, it had been so easy that it downright pissed him off. Who the hell did they think they were, just giving his brother’s address out like that? Did they not realize how dangerous that could be? He had half the mind to tell Sam about it, but then he reminded himself this was a quick in and out. He was just here to make sure Sam was okay, then he was gone and back to hoping that his brother actually remembered how to pick up a damn phone and call every once in a while.

Cutting through the campus was the quickest way to get to the apartments that Sam was staying in, and Dean took his time walking through the campus, wondering if in a different life, it would have been him going to school here. He couldn’t really imagine it, but then again, Dean Winchester couldn’t really imagine any life outside of hunting. Part of him was bitter that Sam had managed to, but an even bigger part of him was proud that Sam could look past all the bullsh*t they had been through and still managed to see a way out.

A familiar, too loud laugh jarred Dean from his fantasies of college right as he was passing a building that he was assuming was the cafeteria. He looked to his left. A couple of yards away was a sitting area with a smoker’s section, some benches, a fountain, and an obnoxious amount of shrubbery (Really? Who would spend so much time and money on bushes?), but beyond that was a building that was clearly a library. Dean froze. The laugh had been Sam’s, and he was coming out of the library, holding the door open for a cute blonde. Her curls bounced as she laughed along with Sam, looking at him like he was an absolute ray of sunshine. Dean didn’t know it at the time, but it was Jess. Dean’s eyes flew back to Sam, debating on whether or not he should hide. But Sam only had eyes for Jess, and he wasn’t going to be looking over in Dean’s direction any time soon. Dean breathed a sigh of relief, watching his brother. Sam was okay, and that’s all that mattered. But the longer Dean observed Sam, the stranger he began to feel, until finally it felt like someone had stabbed him in the gut, and had no shame in turning the knife.

Sam wasn’t just okay. Sam was happy. The grin that spread across his mouth as he walked and talked with Jess lit up his whole face. His gait was easy and worry free like Dean had never seen before. He had a book bag draped across one shoulder lazily in a posture he never used when it was a duffle full of guns and salt. Dean had never seen his brother so happy, and he had spent nearly every waking second with him for two decades. Dean gulped, his tongue suddenly feeling too large and cumbersome for his mouth, and his Adam’s apple bobbed almost painfully. He turned on his heel, and headed back to his car.

Maybe Dean was selfish. In fact, he knew he was selfish. Seeing Sam like that should have made him happy, it should have made him proud. Instead, it just hurt, hurt too much for words. Sam was okay, and that meant the world to Dean. But how was Sam so happy without him? Sam being away at Stanford was completely destroying Dean, Sam didn’t even seem to be bothered by the fact that he couldn’t even remember the last time they had spoken.

Dean shoved the thoughts and pain away as he shoved down on the gas pedal of the Impala. He knew how horribly unhealthy it was to be so codependent on people, especially when you were a hunter. You couldn’t have that kind of Achilles heel. But even with Sam at college, Dean still felt like Sam was all he had. Sure, he had his dad. But it wasn’t the same. John may have been their father, but it was Dean that had done most of Sammy’s rearing. Dean swallowed hard and blinked the stinging out of his eyes. Sam was okay and happy, and that’s all that should matter.

But as Dean drove on, the weight he felt on his shoulders only grew heavier. Sam is okay. He’s okay and he’s happy. He kept trying to remind his self. But Dean wasn’t okay. He wasn’t okay at all, and he certainly wasn’t happy… and nothing he did made that go away.

The Impala’s gas light came on along with a couple of beeps, and Dean cursed at himself for letting her get below a quarter of a tank, nevertheless hitting ‘E’. He saw a gas station a couple of lights away, and bounced his knee impatiently when he got caught at every single one of them. He knew his car easily had a few more miles to go before he needed to worry about gas, but he felt like he was abusing her by riding around without a full tank of gas.

When he finally pulled up at pump number one, he noticed how deserted the gas station was, especially for a college town. One look at the building itself answered any questions he had. It was run down with the outside paint peeling. The parking lot was covered in cigarette butts, and a used condom even caught Dean’s eyes as he walked up to the door. Dean grimaced in disgust, but went inside anyway. Gasoline was gasoline, and he wasn’t going to keep Baby waiting any longer.

He slapped down two tens on the counter and gestured to pump one. Yeah, gas was gas. But he honestly didn’t feel like this place was worthy of getting to completely fill up the sleek, black car, so he would top her off at a place that at least seemed cleaner and more welcoming. The cashier took his money without saying a word and shoved it into his register before going back to watching the small, outdated television he kept behind the register. Dean shot him a look and stepped back outside. Now he wasn’t the only one occupying the parking lot. There was a rough looking guy about his age now leaned against the side of the building, flicking his lighter over and over again, attempting to light up a cigarette. Dean watched him a few attempts before feeling bad for him, and offered the man his own lighter.

“Thanks, man.” He grunted. The guy was scrawny. His clothes were ill fitting, his shirt so large that the collar hung around his neck, revealing prominent collarbones. His jacket was equally oversized with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. He needed a shave and a shower, but he looked incredibly content, and Dean almost asked him how he managed that. Instead, he lit up a cigarette of his own, leaning against the wall. He wasn’t going anywhere near a gas tank with a cigarette at hand and Baby nearby. “You look like you’re having a great day.” The man finally offered, sarcasm sticking to every word

Dean laughed good naturedly. “Yeah… I guess you could say that. It’s just been a rough couple of months.”

“Yeah, I can tell. Same here.” The man shrugged. “I’m Ross.” He added, holding out his cigarette-free hand. Dean shook it, introducing himself.

They shared the next few minutes in silence, and Dean felt like it probably would have been awkward if Ross wouldn’t have been so relaxed and in his own little world. And that’s when it struck Dean… Ross was high. Feeling a little bold, and tired of the silence, Dean decided to bring it up.

“I can’t help but notice how, uh, relaxed you are.” Dean said with a smirk, taking a long drag.

Ross smirked back knowingly. “Hey, what can I say? Sometimes when life gets me down, I need a little pick me up.”

“Yeah? What’s your poison?”

“Depends on what you’re looking to buy, buddy. And depends on if you’re a cop. Are you a cop?” Ross narrowed his eyes, looking Dean up and down.

“I didn’t say I wanted to buy anything.” Dean replied sternly, narrowing his own eyes. “And just so you know, the whole thing about ‘cops can’t lie about being cops’ is a total myth. They don’t have to tell you sh*t.”

Ross suddenly laughed. “Well, I don’t think a cop would have fessed up to that.” He flicked his cigarette out of his hand, adding to the graveyard of filters that littered the ground. “But I’m not so sure I believe ya when you say you don’t want to buy anything.”

Dean bit his lip. This would be a good opportunity to fill up on pain meds for his first aid kit, he was running low after a particular bad case involving a werewolf a couple of weeks ago. But he had a feeling this guy was on a hell of a lot more than Vicodin. “Do you have anything for pain?” He asked carefully. He was a solid ninety-eight percent sure this guy wasn’t an undercover cop, but hunter’s instinct taught him to use caution in every decision he made.

Ross grinned knowingly. “Physical, or emotional pain?”

“Both.” The word was out of Dean’s mouth before he even realized he said it. He flicked his own cigarette on the ground, crushing it with the two of his boot and avoiding eye contact to hide just how uncomfortable he was.

Ross nodded, looking around before reaching in the inside of his loose fitting jacket. Dean almost wanted to roll his eyes at how cliché it was, the whole situation was like something out of a really sh*tty movie. Ross pulled his hand out of his jacket just enough to expose a little bit of what he was holding. At first, Dean thought it was a plastic bag, but then he realized that it was the plastic from a cigarette pack, burned at the top to seal it off. Inside was a very small amount of white powder.

At first Dean thought it was cocaine. Most hunters had dabbled in it when sleeping was not an option during a hunt, and could result in a very unpleasant death. But that wasn’t Dean’s thing. Having to do it was usually the result of a screw up somewhere, and if there was one thing that John had taught him, it was don’t screw up. Dean was about to give him the whole ‘thanks, but no thanks’ speech, thinking this dude was just trying to sell a little weed. But then he noticed the inside of Ross’ arm. He had track marks. This wasn’t even co*ke. It was heroin.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Dude, you got the completely wrong idea. I am NOT interested in that.” Dean shook his hands like Ross was the one that needed to calm down, and took a step back.

To Dean’s complete shock, Ross actually laughed. He tucked the plastic back into his jacket. “Suit yourself, man.”

Dean suddenly felt incredibly uncomfortable, and wanted nothing more than to just pump his gas and get the hell out of dodge. Ross must have sensed it, because he shifted uncomfortably himself. He abruptly mentioned having to be somewhere, and in the blink of an eye was hauling ass around the corner of the gas station. Dean sighed and shook his head. “Some people man…” He muttered, rubbing his tired eyes. When he opened them, something caught his eyes. Ross apparently hadn’t tucked his score into his jacket pocket far enough, and it had fallen to the ground in during his getaway. Dean crouched down, picking up the plastic and watching the white powder slide to the opposite corner. He went to throw it in the trashcan, what if a kid found that sh*t? But his hand stopped just short of the trash can lid. Heroin was a painkiller. A hell of a strong one. He could just keep it in his med kit for an emergency when OxyContin and Vicodin weren’t quite strong enough. It was hard for hunters to get pain meds without a doctor to hook them up, especially since pretty much any form of identification a hunter ever has is a fake.

Dean ignored the sick feeling, ashamed feeling in his stomach as he stuffed the bag in his pocket and headed for the Impala. He popped the trunk and reach for his first aid kit. I’m not using it. This is just an absolute last resort type of thing. There’s not a snow ball’s chance in f*cking hell that I would ever use this sh*t.

But that night, a very drunken, very depressed Dean Winchester changed his mind. He sat in his hotel room, angry that tears were somehow falling from his eyes. It was too much. All of it was just way too much. Hunting. Sam. His dad. Losing his mom. Everything. He gulped and shuddered, the thought of putting his gun to his head slowly creeping into his mind. No, f*ck that. He was Dean f*cking Winchester, and he wasn’t about to quit, about to kill himself. But it hurt. Everything hurt. And he wasn’t strong enough to do it alone, wasn’t weak enough to go someone as unsympathetic as his father, and wasn’t selfish enough to pick up and call Sam. But he was drowning. And despite how much air he gasped into his lungs, it was only met by sobs that shook his entire body, and pain like he had never felt before. He could deal with concussions. Being sliced open by a werewolf or chewed on by a vampire hurt, but it was bearable. Anything hunting had to throw at him, Dean could handle. But this? This was different.

Dean didn’t really remember setting any of it up. He didn’t really remember getting the awful plastic bag or syringe and needle out of his med kit. He didn’t really remember taking his belt off to tighten it around his arm. He didn’t really remember heating up the spoon. All he remembered was drowning. All he remembered was feeling like the entire weight of the world was attempted to make his chest cave in. Then he remembered a needle in his arm. He remembered a fleeting moment of regret and hysteria fighting against the overwhelming pain and loneliness… and then nothing. He didn’t feel anything. No pain, no doubt, nothing.

Dean sank back onto the stiff, unpleasant hotel bed. He was numb, and it was beautiful. It was like “Comfortably Numb” by Pink Floyd made perfect sense. His mind wasn’t racing with a million negative thoughts, his eyes were no longer leaking tears, his chest no longer heaved, gasping in air that didn’t seem to help at all. Dean felt warm, and euphoric, and completely relaxed for the first time since he was a child. Maybe for the first time ever.

Taking a few calming breaths, Dean chugged the entire glass. It burned, but helped loosen the knot in his throat a little. Suddenly, he heard a whooshing sound behind him. His heartbeat sped up, knowing immediately what it was, who it was. He turned around.

“Hello, Dean.” Cas said.

Chapter 5: Not Your Average Salt and Burn

Chapter Text

Dean jumped slightly and the whiskey he had poured sloshed around in its glass. “Hey, Cas.” He rasped, his voice rougher than he inttended. He was suddenly self-conscious of the fact that he was only wearing a tee shirt and boxers, and was hoping his eyes weren’t still wet and red.

The angel stared at him for a moment. He was doing his all too familiar head tilt and eye squint, and he was surveying Dean carefully. Dean felt like those eyes could see right through him, and sometimes he half expected them to turn red and literally go right through him like Superman or some sh*t. “Dean, I think I have found some information that could help you with your case.” He finally spoke, though he still had a strange, almost accusing look on his face.

“Oh yeah?” Dean said, trying to appear casual. He chugged the whiskey in his cup, and poured himself another glass. He brought it up to his lips, but instead handed it to Cas. To Dean’s surprise, Castiel took the glass as he grabbed another one for himself. “You wanna elaborate on that?”

Cas took a sip from his glass, grimacing slightly at the taste. “After doing some research, I think I know who the malevolent spirit is. The owner of the establishment… Molly, I believe?” Dean nodded. “Research revealed that her mother and father owned the Inn before she did.” Dean nodded again, Sam had already told him this information but Cas seemed eager to help. “But Molly was unaware of the fact that her father was having an affair-“ Dean choked on his whiskey a little, and played it off with a cough. “-but he wasn’t having sexual relations with a woman, he was having sexual relations with another man.” Dean couldn’t even cover up the choking this time, and at the glass down all together. After hacking up the stray whiskey and half his lung, he cleared his throat.

“And I’m guessing Molly’s mom found out about the affair?” He asked, gears grinding in his head. A gay affair could make for a pretty angry spirit.

“Her father admitted to the affair as her mother was on her deathbed. He felt like he wouldn’t be able to deal with the guilt if she died not knowing. They kept it from Molly.” Cas finished his entire glass with a single smooth swallow, leaning around Dean to abandon his glass next to Dean’s.

Dean exhaled a slow, quiet whistle. “That’s a hell of a way to bite the dust. Well, that explains what’s going on here.” Dean almost felt embarrassed. It was such a simple case, with such a simple explanation. How had he and Sammy not figured it out yet? Then again, ever since the trials and Gadreel, the Mark of Cain, and the Book of the Damned, both he and Sam had been a little off. Especially when it came to working together. Things were significantly better than what they had been, but there was still some unwanted tension between the hunters. And apparently it was starting to affect their hunting. Dean shook his head and cleared his throat. “Thanks, Cas. A quick salt and burn should do it, Sammy and I will find out where Molly’s mom is buried first thing in the morning.”

“You should do it now, Dean.”

“I know.” Dean sighed. “Can it not wait a few hours? It’s almost morning, and according to our own research, the spirit only attacks during the dead of night. We won't even have time to find the body and burn it before it'll be daylight and we'll have some serious 'splaining to do. Let's just let Sam sleep and do it tonight.”

The angel tilted his head slightly, his expression changing like something had just dawned on him. “You should be sleeping as well.” Dean shrugged slightly, distracting himself by pouring yet another glass of whiskey. As if wasn’t already in Dean’s personal space, Cas took a step forward. “Your eyes… they’re red. You’re upset.”

“I’m fine.” Dean replied gruffly, and probably too loud. Castiel opened his mouth to say something else, but Dean interrupted him, changing the subject. “What’s up with helping us out on the case? Thought you had angel sh*t to do in Heaven.” Dean’s voice was a little harsher than he attended due to Cas’ observation, but he hoped he knew it was a joke.

Castiel sighed deeply, jerking the glass out of Dean’s hands and downing its contents. Dean just blinked at him. “As you would say, angels are dicks.”

Dean almost laughed at Castiel picking up on his terminology, but the solemn look on Cas’ face suddenly had him worried. “Cas… what happened?” He asked softly. He took a step toward him, ignoring his own personal space rule. They were standing much closer than most people would have been comfortable with, but Cas wasn’t a person, and something about this wasn’t sitting right with Dean.

Shaking his head, Cas handed the glass back. “Find the body as soon as you and your brother can. You may have difficulty-“

“Talk to me, buddy.” Castiel narrowed his eyes at the interruption, but Dean didn’t care. He was clearly upset by something the winged dick heads upstairs had done, and it was already making Dean’s blood boil. Cas was one of the few good things left in this world, and Dean’s need to protect was suddenly making an appearance.

“It’s nothing, Dean.” Castiel wasn’t looking at him, and was shifting uncomfortably under his gaze. “I needed a ‘break’-“ Dean rolled his eyes at the air quotes. “-and so I decided to help you and your brother with this case.”

Dean huffed a frustrated sigh. It irritated him that Cas wouldn’t tell him what was going on, but it irritated him even more to know that he had picked that trait up from Dean himself. His eyes scanned up and down over Cas. He didn’t seem hurt, so it couldn’t be that serious.

“I’ll check in tomorrow to make sure the body is burned before someone else dies.” Before Dean could say anything else, Cas was gone. Dean ran his fingers through his short hair, his frustration building further.

“Thanks for the help!” He called out to thin air, rolling his eyes.

Dean would never admit it, but Cas had been right. He should have woken Sam up and immediately started looking for the body, because even though they started looking for the body that afternoon, daylight was quickly fading, and they still hadn’t found any record of the body. They had been looking through death records, obituaries, even random newspaper articles about Briar Cliff Inn, and nothing was pointing them in any sort of direction.

“Son of a bitch.” Dean snarled, slamming yet another newspaper down in the library. The librarian shot him a look that could kill, but he ignored her. He rubbed his exhausted eyes, and his mind wandered to whether or not Cas’ day was going as sh*tty as his. Hopefully the other angels were leaving him the f*ck alone, because Dean really wouldn’t mind shoving an angel blade in to something if they couldn’t find the body’s location soon.

Sam sighed, “We’re going to have to ask Molly where she’s buried, Dean. It’s almost dark. What if she attacks again tonight?”

“I know, I know. But how in the hell do we ask her where her mom is buried without seeming creepy as hell?” Dean brought his Styrofoam cup of coffee to his mouth and took a deep sip. It was cold by now, but he drank it anyway, the lack of sleep the night before was wearing him down. When he looked at Sam, his brother had both of his hands above the table. One was balled into a fist on its side, resting on the inside of his other open hand. He had a smug smirk on his face. “Oh no. No way. We’re not rock-paper-scissoring this one.” Sam laughed. Dean always lost at rock-paper-scissors.

“Fine. I’ll go talk to Molly.”

“Good. Use the puppy-dog eye thing. It works every time. I think most women need to change their underwear when they see you do it.” Dean laughed when Sam scrunched up his nose in disgust.

“Well, I found out why we couldn’t find any information about the body.” Sam said dryly as soon as he got back to the room. Dean motioned for him to continue. “She was cremated.”

“God dammit! Is it too much to ask for a simple salt and burn these days?” Dean growled in response.

“Looks like we better start scoping this place out looking for something the spirit could be tied to. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover.” Sam sighed grimly.

Dean exited yet another room, stepping into the hallway of the floor he was on. Darkness had fallen completely, and Dean was almost done searching his half of the inn with no luck. He hadn’t found a single item that Molly’s mother’s spirit could be tied to. He checked his phone to make sure he hadn’t somehow missed a call from Sam. He hadn’t. Apparently, Sam wasn’t having any luck either. Dean shivered, pulling his heavy, green canvas jacket tighter around himself. “f*ck…” he muttered. Cold spots. Not a good sign. A gust of wind came from behind him, causing the drapes on the hallway window. He slowly turned, knowing what caused it before he even looked. A loud cackle came from the grey, translucent figure hovering above the ground. Her hair and dress billowed out around her wildly, and she was eyeing Dean like Dean normally eyed a slice of pie. Aiming his shotgun at her, he quickly fired, but she dodged the salt round with speed he wasn’t expecting. In a blink, she was in front of him, and he took a step back, shocked by just how fast she was.

“Oh, this one is quite pretty…” She crooned. Her cold, barely-there hand caressed Dean’s face, causing him to shiver. He fumbled with his shotgun, trying to aim it at such a close range. “It’s a shame, really. You could have any girl you wanted.” Dean froze.

“What the f*ck are you talking about?” If there was one thing Dean had learned in his decades of hunting, it was ‘always keep the enemy talking’. It bought time and worked as a great distraction. He titled the barrel of his gun a bit, but with a flick of her wrist, it went skidding down the hallway. Okay, so this particular spirit is one of the stronger ones. Hurry the f*ck up and find what’s anchoring her here, Sam!

“Don’t play stupid, sweetie. I see the way you look at the dreamy blue-eyed hunk in the trench coat.” Dean blanched. “It’s absolutely disgusting. A sin. God intended for men and women to be together, not two men!”

Dean took another step back, but he was pressed up against the wall now. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. You got the wrong idea, lady. It’s not like that. I’m straight. Ya hear me? Straight.”

“I thought my husband was straight too!” She hissed, shoving a ghostly hand through Dean’s chest. He yelled out in pain, an icy shock vibrating through his body. The Mark on his arm seared to life, waiting for him to die only to bring him back with back eyes. “And when I’m done with you, you’ll kill yourself, and rid the world of your filth and sin!” Dean closed his eyes, the pain too much to bare as he started choking on his own breath..

The hand suddenly withdrew from Dean’s chest as the spirit screeched. Dean opened his eyes to see the ghostly figure go up in flames. “Sam…” he croaked thankfully, knowing that Sam must have found whatever was trapping the spirit. He slid down the wall, sinking to the floor. He shook his head violently, shaking off the cold feeling that had spread over his body, and the thoughts of what the spirit had said. “I’m not gay!” he screamed at the spot that the ghost had burst into the flames. “I’m straighter than the stick that’s up Cas’ ass.” He added for good measure, rubbing the Mark since it was still burning. Where is Sam? I need a f*cking drink.

Sitting in their room drinking whiskey just wasn’t cutting it, and Dean had convinced Sam to join him in finding a bar. There was one within walking distance to Briar Cliff, and Dean was pleased to see a couple of pool tables. They were running low on cash, and the current credit card he was using was starting to push its limit. It was time to get piss drunk and pretend like he was too drunk to play. Hustling was simple, and it would take it mind off of all the sh*t with the ghost earlier. Dumb bitch. Thought he was into Cas. Was she f*cking crazy? Yeah Cas was awesome,but he wasn't trying to bone him.

To Dean’s shock, after a few drinks, Sam was actually the one hustling. Sam often still had his moments where he preached about a ‘honest living’, and seemed to think he was above hustling some drunk bastards at a bar. Dean watched him proudly, making his way back over to the bartender to order another beer. He took a seat on a barstool, dizziness settling over him slowly. Okay, so maybe he was just a little more drunk than he was planning to be. But today had been rough, and he certainly wasn’t thinking about some ghost that just assumed everyone liked it up the ass anymore.

Dean heard a familiar whooshing sound to his right, and looked over to find Castiel sitting on the barstool next to him, his elbows on the bar and his hands folded.

“You gotta stop doing that.” Dean said sternly. “One day someone’s gonna see you zapping around and freak out.”

“We’re at a bar, Dean. Everyone is imbibing in alcohol, completely distracted. If someone had noticed, they would have just thought they had too much to drink.” Cas answered. Dean shrugged. He honestly couldn’t argue with that logic.

“What are you doing here, Cas?”

Cas looked down, avoiding Dean’s eyes. “I wanted to congratulate you on laying the spirit to rest.” Dean stiffened, but the angel didn’t seem to notice. “And… I needed some time away from heaven.” Dean wanted to, but he didn’t press the subject. Instead, when the bartender finally made her way to him, he ordered two beers instead of one, and slid one over to Cas. Castiel thanked him gratefully, taking a long sip from the bottle.

“Well, if you need time away from heaven, you’re always welcome to hang out with me.” Dean muttered, clinking his own bottle against Cas’.

“There’s nowhere else I would rather be.” Cas replied earnestly. Dean felt heat rise to his face. Cas was always saying stupid sh*t like that, it made him feel weird. Dean felt someone slide onto the bar stool to his left, and he turned to politely acknowledge the person. The guy nodded in greeting, waiting to order a drink.

“Get the Bud Light. They’re running a special on it tonight.” Dean offered good naturedly. The guy thanks him. He flipped his hair out of his eyes, and introduced himself. Dean didn’t quite catch his name over the loud music in the place, but didn’t bother asking him to repeat it and chose not to give his own name.

When the bartender came over to the guy, he purchased two Bud Lights and slide one over to Dean. “I know you already have a drink, but I figured you’ll eventually run out, right?” The guy laughed nervously. Dean looked at him in confusion, and then shot a glance at Cas who was observing the two of them with utter curiosity. “So what brings you here, freckles?” Dean choked on his beer. Did he just call me freckles? Is he f*cking hitting on me?

“Listen, buddy. Don’t call me ‘freckles’, got it? How about you go find someone else to give this beer to, yeah?” Dean snapped coldly, sliding the beer back over to whatever his name was. The man looked slightly confused. Had he really taken Dean’s beer suggestion as him being interested? What the hell. When the guy got up with both beers and walked away, Dean remembered that they were in town during the gay pride parade, and internally screamed. Of course the guy had probably assumed something. Dean was sitting next to nearly six foot of handsome, blue eyed angel that only had eyes for him. He shuddered and turned back to Cas. “Jesus, you can’t suggest a beer to someone these days without them thinking you want to suck their dick.”

“I don’t think he assumed you were going to give him fellati*, Dean.” Cas deadpanned.

“That not what I- Don’t call it- you know what? Never mind, Cas.”

“Do you not like your freckles?” Castiel tilted his head to the side, his blue eyes searching Dean’s green ones.

“What?”

“Your freckles. Do you not like them? You seemed angry when that gentlemen pointed them out.”

Dean felt a blush creep up his face, noticing that Cas’ eyes were jumping around his face, soaking in every freckle. “He was pointing them out as a way of flirting with me.”

“Oh.” Cas was now observing his beer bottle instead. He took a sip, then almost cautiously, spoke again. “But… do you like them?”

Dean groaned. He wasn’t drunk enough for this. “I don’t know! I’ve never really thought about it! They’re just there!” He snapped. Castiel suddenly looked very sad, and Dean wondered what the f*ck was wrong him. The angel took another sip of his beer, but he looked like he was about the zap out of the bar any second.

After a short, awkward moment, he spoke again, staring at his beer and not meeting Dean’s eyes. “I spent a very long time making sure every freckle was in the right place. When I remade your body after rescuing you from perdition, I wanted it to be perfect. I wanted everything to be exactly the way it was, if not, better. I thought the hardest thing to create would be a perfect liver after all of the damage you had done to yours after years of inebriation. But it was your freckles that were the most difficult. I… if I would have known that you didn’t like them, I would not have remade them. I am sorry, Dean.”

Dean suddenly felt like the world’s biggest asshole. “No, don’t apologize, Cas… Jesus, f*ck. I didn’t think ‘bout it like that. There’s nothing wrong with my freckles.” Castiel finally looked up at him, he big blue eyes still sad. Dean swore, he looked like a kicked puppy. “Really, thanks.” He reached out and put a hand on the angel’s shoulder and squeezed reassuringly. “I like them.” He said finally, and Cas seemed to perk up immediately.

He cheerfully took another sip of his beer. “I’m glad you like them, Dean. I like them as well.”

Dean felt heat rise to his cheeks, but he couldn’t fight the smile that spread across his lips.

Later that night, back at Briar Cliff Inn, Dean was in the bathroom brushing his teeth while Sam snored in the next room. He spit the toothpaste out and wiped his mouth, looking up at his reflection. His eyes were immediately drawn to his freckles, and he leaned closer to the mirror to get a better look at them. He had never really paid much attention to his freckles, but they seemed to be exactly the same as they were before he got dragged into the pit. A faint smile appeared on his lips as he eyed the freckles across the bridge of his nose. Cas liked them, and had worked hard on them, and the thought of that made Dean appreciate them a little more.

Chapter 6: Apple or Key Lime?

Chapter Text

REO Speedwagon’s ‘Back on the Road Again’ played through the Impala’s speakers, and Dean was more than relieved that he and Sam were, indeed, back on the road again. Being on another hunt after their break had been a relief, but the words from the malevolent spirit were still ringing in Dean’s ears, and he just wanted to get back to the bunker, drink some beer, watch some p*rn, and pass out in his own memory foam bed.

Sam had been peacefully snoozing on and off for the past hour, and even though Dean was starving, he decided to let him sleep. They could eat at the bunker. Real food too, not gas station snacks or microwaved diner meals. But with Sam so quiet, Dean was left alone with his thoughts despite the music and the hum of the Impala. And no matter how hard he tried to think about something else, anything else, his mind always wandered back to how the ghost seemed to think that he… liked Castiel. And sure, his eyes did linger on Cas’ a little too long. He had given Cas more chances that he would give most. He did spend a lot of time with Cas. But Cas was his best friend, and though he hated to admit it, Cas was right…they did share a profound bound.

But what did the dead bitch expect? Cas had saved him from hell. Angel or not, that’s not exactly something that just anyone would do, and it was something that Dean would always be thankful for. So yeah, maybe he did look at Castiel a certain way, the spirit wasn’t wrong about that. She was just wrong in her interpretation of it. I can’t believe she would think I was gay with Cas of all people. Wait, is Cas even considered a dude? Even if he wasn’t he’s not even the same species as me. That’s some Star Trek interspecies sh*t. No thank you.

Sam stirred in the passenger seat, and Dean breathed a sigh of relief. “Well good morning, sunshine.” He said sarcastically, flashing Sam his most obnoxious grin. Sam just rolled his eyes and stretched, yawning off his nap.

“We close to the bunker?” He mumbled, cracking his knuckles.

“Bout forty-five minutes or so away. Thank god. I’m exhausted.”

“How? You didn’t even do anything on the case. I’m the one that found the object the spirit was attached to.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Sammy. I wasn’t aware of the fact that getting attacked by that very spirit is considered not doing anything.” Dean snapped bitterly, turning his head to glance at his brother.

“She… she attacked you? Why didn’t you say anything?” Sam’s eyebrows were raised in concern, and he was looking at Dean with those stupid puppy eyes of his.

Dean shrugged. “It wasn’t that big of a deal. As soon as she did, you burned her sh*t, so I was fine.” Sam relaxed a little, but he was still staring at Dean. Suddenly Sam smirked, and Dean looked back at the road. sh*t. I should not have told him that.

“And why did she attack you, Dean? I was under the impression that she only attacked a certain kind of guy. I didn’t think you fit that MO.”

“I don’t, Sam.” Dean damn near snarled. “She just uh, knew that we were on to her. And when I aimed my gun at her, she went crazy. Tried to get me before I could get to her.”

Sam thought about continuing to tease Dean, but he noticed his brother’s face was contorted in anger and decided against it. Sometimes Dean Winchester couldn’t take a joke. Sam decided it was better just to change the subject. “Please tell me you’re cooking something good tonight. I’m starving.”

“We got some steaks in the freezer back at the bunker. Sound good? I know it’s not rabbit food.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Yeah, sounds good.” Dean turned right into a grocery store parking lot. “I thought you said we already have steaks back at the bunker…?”

“We do.” Dean replied, pulling into a parking spot and putting the Impala in park. “But we need pie.”

“You should invite Cas to dinner.” Sam stated abruptly. Dean looked up from the steaks he was cooking. Sam wasn’t looking at him, but was mixing a salad.

“What?” Dean asked, wondering why this had come out of nowhere.

Sam finally looked up at him and shrugged. “He mentioned he missed how food tasted when he was a human, and he seems pretty bummed with heaven lately. You’re fixing three steaks. With all this other food we have, did you really plan on eating two yourself?”

Dean glared at his brother. He actually had been planning on eating both steaks, but inviting Cas sounded like a better idea. And it meant he would have more room for more pie. “Sure.” He finally replied. “Hey, Cas! Get your ass down here.” Sam shot him a look and Dean rolled his eyes. “Please and thank you.” He added sarcastically. Dean smiled when he heard the sound of wings and the rustle of a trench coat. He stabbed a steak and placed it on a plate, turning around and holding it out in the angel’s direction. “Hungry?” Castiel just stared at him and tilted his head. Dean rolled his eyes. “You said you wanted to get used to eating food again… So eat.”

“Jesus, Dean. You’re a terrible host.” Sam said, laughing. He grabbed the plate and piled on all of the sides so the steak wasn’t quite so lonely, and then handed it Cas. “What do you want to drink, Cas?”

The angel looked completely confused by why he had been called down, but he remained polite. “Thank you, Sam. Coffee is fine.” The angel replied, sitting down at the dining table. Dean scrunched up his nose, and sat a beer down next to Cas’ plate.

“You don’t drink coffee with a steak, Cas. That’s gross. You drink beer. Like a man.”

“But Dean, I’m not a man, I’m an a-“

“Just drink the beer, dammit.” Dean huffed, sitting down next to him. Sam didn’t comment on how when it was just the two of them, Dean made a point to sit on the other side of the table. “How’s heaven?” Dean finally asked conversationally through a mouthful of food.

Castiel didn’t reply at first, but just poked at his food. Sam laughed and handed him a knife and fork before sitting down. “I’m thinking about leaving Heaven. Completely.”

Dean choked on his food. He coughed and chugged half his beer before being able to completely clear his throat. Sam shot him his best bitch face before responding to Cas. “Really? You know you can stay here, right?”

Castiel gave Sam a small, almost smile. “Thank you, Sam. But you know I do not require sleep.”

Sam shrugged. “I know. But we have the extra room. And you don’t have to sleep while you’re here. You can just sorta, you know, hangout. Right, Dean?” He kicked Dean under the table because he was just staring at Cas with his mouth slightly open.

“Uh, yeah, yeah. Definitely. You can move in tonight, Cas. I can show you how to watch Netflix and everything.”

Castiel looked over at Dean, his too big, blue eyes shining gratefully. “You really wouldn’t mind? I… I have to admit; it would be a relief to have somewhere to occupy my time while I make the decision on Heaven.”

“Of course, dude. You can stay here as long as you want. You can stay here forever.” The words sort of just tumbled out of his mouth, and Dean felt the color drain from his face as he realized how that sounded. He cleared his throat nervously, catching Sam smirking him with a quirked eyebrow.

Cas gave Dean one of those rare, true smiles. They almost seemed out of place on the angel’s all too serious face, but Dean couldn’t help his own smile that resulted because of it. “I suppose I could stay here.” He took a bite out of his steak, and Dean smiled even wider when he didn’t make a disgusted face.

After two plates of food, and a few beers, Sam told them he was calling it a night. “And don’t forget to set Cas up with a room.” He reminded Dean, stretching and waving good night. Cas looked like he was about to mention the fact that he didn’t need sleep again, but decided against it.

“So you wanna tell me why you’re thinking about ditching the holy gates?” Dean asked as soon as Sam was out of earshot. He leaned back in his chair and took a gulp of his beer, raising his eyebrows at the angel.

Castiel sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. Dean smiled at how human the response was. “I still feel as though I owe a great deal to my brothers and sisters. But I... I don't think I'm very welcome in Heaven. Those that want me there want me to be a leader. Regardless of what I choose to do, if I stay in Heaven I'm failing someone. I have to make amends for what I've done, but I'm no leader.”

“Sure you are, Cas. They all look up to you. None of them would have been able to get back into heaven without you. You’re a great leader.”

“Not by choice, Dean.” The angel dropped his eyes to his beer bottle, and started fiddling with the label. Well I be damned. The dork has developed a nervous habit. “That’s not all.”

“Oh?”

“The other angels… they don’t approve of the relationship I have with you.” Dean smirked and snorted at the way Cas worded the sentence, but when he finally looked up and their eyes might, Dean’s smile faltered. “They think you and your brother are bad influences, and they’re especially disproving of you. They think you cloud my judgement, and cause me to make decisions that make me less of an angel.”

Anger immediately flared up in Dean’s chest. He slammed his beer on the table. “Oh yeah? And who the hell are they to say what makes you less of an angel? You’re more of an angel than all of those dicks combined. You’re the only one who-“

“It’s not quite as overwhelming as it was. When I haven't been in Heaven or with you, I've been trying different meals off of the Biggerson's menu. I think you’re a good cook.” Cas pondered.

Dean laughed. “Thanks, buddy. I hope you have room for pie, because I bought apple and key lime.” Cas just stared at Dean, patiently waiting as always. Dean rolled his eyes and stood up to grab two plates. He rummaged through the cabinets, but there was only one plate left and he cursed Sam for not washing his own. He knew it would only take a second to wash up another dish, but Castiel was looking at him expectantly with those eyes of his, and he didn’t feel like taking the time to clean. He went over to the fridge, and after a while of trying to fit two slices of apple pie and two slices of key lime pie on the plate, he finally gave up with a frustrated groan and guessed they could share. He sat the plate in front of Cas and handed him a fork. “Be glad I like you. I don’t share my pie with just anyone.” Cas’ lips quirked up slightly.

“Dean, I could have had another plate clean in the blink of your eye.”

“Well it’s too late now. And besides, if you start using your angel mojo to clean the dishes, me and Sammy’ll get lazy and stop cleaning them ourselves.”

Dean was incredibly pleased to find that Cas liked not one, but both pies. And he had to admit, it was kind of cute to see Cas tilt his head and concentrate on the taste after every bite. He eventually admitted to liking the apple pie better, and Dean couldn’t have been prouder. Key Lime wasn't one of his favorites, but it was on sale. Once they finished desert (Cas insisted on cleaning the dishes with his angel mojo), Dean led him down the hallway to one of the spare bedrooms. It only made sense for Cas to have the room closest to Dean.

“As you already know, this is my room.” Dean said, waving a hand at his closed bedroom door. “And you can have this one.” He added as he stopped in front of the next room down.

“Dean, I do not require a room.”

“Yeah, I know that Cas. But if you’re gonna stay here, you’re gonna have a room, alright? You need a room of your own where you can relax and kick back and uh, be alone for personal time and sh*t.”

“Are you referring to masturbation?”

Dean felt himself blush bright red. “Jesus Christ, Cas. We are not going to have this conversation. Just know this is your room, okay?” He quickly turned his back so that he could open the door and had an excuse to not look at Cas. “It’s not much, but it’s pretty much like all of the other rooms. You can even decorate it how you want. Just make yourself at home, yeah?” Castiel thanked him again, and Dean showed him how to work Netflix. Even though the dorky trench coat wearing celestial being was clueless in most areas, he was a quick learner and had the entire remote figured out in less than five minutes. Dean sat down on the edge of Cas’ new bed, completely impressed.

“Can I use the library?” Cas asked abruptly.

“Dude, you’re moving in here now. You don’t have to ask to use anything, unless it’s something that personally belongs to me or Sam.” Cas nodded, his mouth a thin line of concentration. “You’re making me uncomfortable. You gotta relax, man. Here, gimme a sec.” Dean walked out of the room and came back a few minutes later carrying a coat rack that he had seen in the storage room of the bunker a few days ago. “Here.” He said, placing it in the corner of the room. “Now you can take off your trench coat and stupid suit jacket. You know, get comfy.” Cas hesitated for a moment, but eventually stood up and stripped himself of both jackets, hanging them both carefully.

“Better?” He asked sincerely.

“Much better. Now let’s do something about these sleeves.” Dean grabbed one of Cas’ arms and gently rolled up the sleeve of his button up. His fingers brushed against Cas’ skin, and he couldn’t get over how warm his skin was. He didn’t know what it was, but he always assumed with Cas just using a vessel, the skin would be cold. He gently let go of Cas’ arm to repeat the same action on his other arm. He smiled at the angel, ignoring his face growing hot. There was just something so intimate about seeing Cas not wearing a million different layers of clothes. “There you go. Isn’t that more comfortable?”

“I suppose it is.” Something softened in Cas’ eyes. “Thank you, Dean. For everything.”

“Don’t worry about it, buddy. Just let me know if you need anything, okay? I’ll be right next door.” He gave Cas a gentle pat on the shoulder before heading towards the door. He hesitated in the doorway. “G’night, Cas.” He shot the angel a final smile before closing the door behind him, and tiredly trudging towards his own bedroom. He was exhausted, but he knew he was too restless to sleep because whether he wanted to admit it or not, he was worried about Castiel. Once again the angel was willing to choose him over Heaven, and that drove a part of Dean completely crazy. Has he not figured out that I’m not worth all of this sh*t yet? The hunter just shook his head. His restlessness wasn’t something that was immune to being fixed by a little while on Busty Asian Beauties website. He locked his bedroom door behind him, and quickly stripped down to his his boxers before grabbing his laptop. He flopped down on his bed, placing the laptop on his left side on the bed. He leaned over, opening his nightstand drawer and pulling out a bottle of lube. Dean Winchester wasn’t a diva about many things, but when it came to using lube versus lotion, he would be a diva every single time. Lotion dried too quickly, and sometimes he wanted to do things nice and slow because it wasn’t every day that he had ‘me’ time.

When he logged into the website, he cursed angrily. The credit card he had been using for his membership had been declined, probably canceled by its real owner. Which meant that half of the website was closed to him, and only a few videos were available. He could easily pull out one of the many fake credit cards he had, but he was already comfy and didn’t feel like getting up and digging through his jeans for his wallet, so the standard p*rnos were going to have to work tonight. Nothing fancy or nothing kinky.

He decided to click on a video of a chesty woman giving a blowj*b. Haven’t had one of those in a while. Dean thought idly. Dean shoved his earbuds in before the video started. His dick had already begun to stir in interest, he was so pent up nowadays that that it didn’t take much. It’s not like he couldn’t get laid if he really wanted to, he just thought he didn’t have the energy or time to really invest in it. Dean knew he was a good looking guy, and it didn’t take too many flirtatious smiles or suave winks to get a girl, but there were other factors he didn’t feel like dealing with… such as the fact that he would never bring a girl back to the bunker, and when he was on the road he was normally sharing a room with his brother.

So yeah, maybe the fact that he was craving a blowj*b right now made him feel like a teenage boy. But that was what was making him hard at the moment, and that’s what he was going with. The video finally finished buffering, and Dean let out a pleased sigh when his ears filled with the sound of the female p*rnstar moaning generously around her costars co*ck. Dean freed his dick from his boxers and lubed himself up, making a loose fist around his own co*ck, and sliding his hand up and down agonizingly slow. He bit his lip, sighing into the feeling quietly as he watched her bob her head up and down, making obscene slurping noises that had precome leaking from his head.

A few minutes into the video, Dean’s hand picked up speed as he felt heat tightly coil from within him. But a few moments later, the video had ended, and he hadn’t come. He groaned in frustration, using his clean hand to restart the entire video. He imagined that he was the guy in the video, and it was his co*ck that the woman was drooling over and swallowing down. He imagined his hands fisted into her dark hair, pushing her head up and down, and a little moan escaped his lips. He was so close that he could taste it. But the video ended again, and Dean still hadn’t finished. He slammed the laptop closed angrily, maybe his imagination would help him better than the video. He tried to imagine the scenario more intensely, imagined her tongue swirling around the head of his dick, teasing the slit. He was so close… his free hands curled into his bed sheets, imagining that it was her hair, but the dark hair in his mind was suddenly a lot shorter, a lot messier, and before he knew it, his mind was imagining Cas’ mouth wrapped around him, sucking with fervor. Before he could even process that he was jerking off to the thought of Castiel sucking his dick, he was coming, his toes curling and his back arching as he thrusted into his fist a few more times. He moaned as his hips twitched, He collapsed back onto his memory foam mattress, his lungs heaving in air and his heart pounding against his chest. A sated smile spread across his lips as his mind swam with nothing but pleasure and relief. But the brain fog from his org*sm slowly began to lift, and a cold realization hit him.

Cas. He had come thinking about Cas. He grabbed some tissues from his nightstand, cleaning himself, his hand, and his boxers off. He tucked his spent co*ck back into his boxers. f*ck. No, no, no, no. It was just the dark hair, right? Made my brain all confused. And I’m really worried about him, so my brain must have gotten the two things mixed up. Yeah, that’s it. He got up to throw the tissues away, and stopped, looking in the direction of Cas’ room. He tossed the tissues in the trash and ran his fingers through his hair in frustration.

“Son of a bitch. I am so f*cked.”

Chapter 7: Finger on the Trigger

Chapter Text

Dean had expected Castiel moving in to the bunker to suck. He expected it to be complicated, and awkward. Maybe even a little annoying. But the thing was… it wasn’t any of that. It felt right. At first things had been a little awkward-all by Dean’s doing. He couldn’t stop thinking about the first night that Cas had stayed at the bunker, couldn’t stop thinking about what Cas’ mouth looked like wrapped around his… but none of that mattered anymore. Dean forced it in the closet of his mind and locked the door. It had only been a onetime thing, and it wasn’t going to happen again. His brain had just gotten things mixed up, that was all.

But once Dean had shoved his thoughts aside and piled a ton of denial on top of them, things were actually pretty… nice. Whenever he and Sam had to do research, Cas was always more than willing to help, and a third set of eyes that belonged to a being who spoke every language known to man sped up things tremendously. Even when Sam and Dean didn't need help, Cas was doing research nonstop on the mark. He was always polite, even sweet, to Dean's utter dismay. Cas never failed to compliment Dean’s cooking, even though his angelic taste buds were still fighting to break every flavor down molecule by molecule. He even insisted on doing the dishes every night, even though it only took him a split second to mojo them sparkling clean.

The best part was when Cas agreed to watch movies with Dean. Sam always threw a bitch fit about Dean wanting to watch the same movies over and over, but Cas hadn’t seen any of them. Metatron may have given Cas the ability to understand pop culture references, but one of Dean’s favorite things was quickly becoming the way Castiel’s face lit up when he made the connection between a reference and a scene in a movie. The downside of watching movies with the angel was the same downside as many other situations with him-personal space. Or the lack of. Despite the den having plenty of chairs, couches and recliners, Cas insisted on sitting right next to Dean on the couch. Every. Single. Time. He also always insisted that Dean make popcorn, and so Dean had to deal with seeing Cas suck and lick butter off his fingers during every single movie. Not that the distraction really mattered, because when he wasn’t distracting Dean with his obscene sucking noises, he was distracting Dean with questions, or commenting just how fictitious the movies were (“Cas, it’s just a movie. It doesn’t have to be 100% accurate.”) Dean didn't even want to think about the time that Cas brought home a copy of Brokeback Mountain and he had to explain to him that it did not count as a Western. Cas made it up to him by picking Back to the Future instead.

So all in all… it was nice having Cas at the bunker. Too nice. It was starting to make Dean uncomfortable that he was so comfortable having the angel around, because he knew it wasn’t permanent. Castiel always left. He always had some sort of angel calling, or some bigger fish to fry. So Dean knew this was all temporary, and to be honest… it f*cking bothered him.

They had just gotten done watching the latest Star Trek movie. Dean had made the mistake of telling Cas that he reminded him of Spock, and while Castiel was able to determine who Spock was, he didn’t understand why they were similar since he had never seen any of the movies. Dean had been turning him down to watch it for three days straight, trying to avoid him, but when the angel finally showed up with the dvd in his hand, damn near pouting, Dean caved in and said they could watch it.

“Told ya you are a lot like Spock.” Dean muttered when the credits rolled, stretching his entire body zealously until he heard his back pop. Of course that had caused his thigh to rub up against Castiel’s, the damn angel just had to sit practically on top of him.

“I suppose we do share a few similarities. Did you mean it as an insult? I quite liked Spock.”

Dean smiled “No, Cas. It wasn’t an insult. It was just an observation. I like Spock too.”

Cas just nodded. He stood up and grabbed the popcorn bowl from Dean’s lap, and Dean nearly jumped out of his skin when the angel’s knuckles brushed against his thigh. “I’ll clean the popcorn bowl.” Cas stated, his tone matter of fact.

“Just zap it.” Dean mumbled, shrugging. Cas wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“I think I will just wash it tonight, Dean.” Before Dean could say anything else, Cas turned on his heel and headed for the kitchen. Dean shook his head. That weird, dorky little guy gets weirder every day. And Dean tried to dismiss it, he really did. This was a golden opportunity to distance himself from Cas a little more. He could just go to his room and lock the door, not even bother saying good night. But why the f*ck did an angel of the lord want to hand wash dishes?

So Dean, being the hunter that simply could not let things go, got up to follow the angel to the kitchen. Sure enough, Cas was standing in front of the sink, a sponge in one hand, and the popcorn bowl in the other. What the angel didn’t anticipate was that once he turned the bowl over, it caused the water to bounce off and spray everywhere, soaking him and the floor at his feet. Dean took the opportunity to yell, just like he always did nowadays. “f*ck, Cas! For the love of god, watch what you’re doing.” He snapped shortly as he came to stand next to him.

Cas turned his head to glare at him, but there was something a little hurt in his eyes. Dean didn’t apologize. Good. Maybe if I’m a dick to him, he’ll stop f*cking looking at me like he always does, like I’m the most important thing God has ever created. Cas finished cleaning the bowl and started drying it, his lips pressed in a tight line of annoyance. And like always, Dean caved. “Why are you washing dishes all of a sudden?”

Cas sat the dish down, a disgruntled sigh escaping from his lips. “If I choose to leave heaven, I’ll be cut off from its heavenly grace...again. I’ll still have my own grace, but it’ll be significantly weaker. There is a chance the other angels won’t allow me to return to replenish it.” Dean just listened and nodded, hoping Cas would continue. “I should get used to doing things without my grace so I can save it for times when it’s really needed, Dean.”

Dean suddenly felt overwhelmingly guilty. “You don’t have to leave Heaven, Cas. Maybe the other angels are right. Maybe you should stay away from me.” Cas shook his head firmly.

“They’re not right about you, Dean. They never are.” He looked up, his soft, blue eyes searching Dean’s. Dean swallowed and licked his lips. “It’s not just about you.” Cas added. His eyebrows were furrowed, leaving deep creases across his forehead. Dean knew that look. It was the one that Cas always got when his own thoughts or emotions confused him, and he had no idea how to place how he was feeling.

“Cas… I’m not worth all of this. So if this is just about me, you can’t… you can’t do it. You constantly give up everything for me, and for what? For your grace to be weakened? For the other angels to treat you like sh*t? You would be better off in Heaven with them. Hell, you’d be better off anywhere that’s not with me.”

“Are you saying all of this because you want me to leave?” Dean’s heart shattered into a million pieces. Castiel was giving him the same exact look he had when he had kicked him out of the bunker as a human, when Gadreel had made Dean pick between him saving his brother, or Cas leaving. No angel should look that sad, that vulnerable and betrayed.

Dean put his hand on Cas’ shoulder reassuringly. “No, I don’t want you to leave again, Cas. Not ever. You hear me?” And maybe Dean should have said yes, maybe he should have been a dick and casted him out again. Because at least this time he was still an angel, and a part of him knew that as long as Cas was here, as long as Dean cared about him, he was in danger. Because Dean wasn’t allowed to have this, he wasn’t allowed to have simple luxuries such as friendship without someone getting hurt.

But the angel didn’t look convinced. His sparkling blue eyes were still wide and hurt, his eyebrows still tented in confusion, wondering what he had done wrong. “C’mere, you stupid angel.” Dean said, pulling him into a hug. A surprised huff of air escaped Cas at first, but he eventually hugged Dean back. Dean heard someone clear their throat. Dean immediately dropped his arms and turned to find Sam smiling at them. Dean wanted to say something to him, but the smile on Sam’s face wasn’t teasing or snarky, and so he let it slide.

“So get this, some teens have went missing in Bear Creek, North Carolina. Sounds like it might be our sort of thing.” Sam had been carrying his laptop and sat it down on the kitchen table.

“Teens go missing all the time. What makes this different?” Dean asked, heading over to the laptop. Castiel politely finished drying off the popcorn bowl.

“Well there’s this place…” Sam clicked a picture to enlarge it. “It’s known as ‘The Devil’s Tramping Ground’. It’s a circle about forty feet all the way around, and nothing will grow there. The soil has been tested, but the PH balance seems to be fine. No one can explain it. Apparently pets, such as dogs, will struggle to get away if they’re brought near the circle, and supposedly, any objects left in the circle overnight disappear. So naturally, teenagers feel the need to get drunk and investigate-”

“And end up going missing.” Dean finished Sam’s thought. Dean groaned. “Sounds like a Tulpa, doesn’t it?”

Sam grimaced. “It does. And you want to know what makes matters worse?”

“Not really. But tell me.”

“Well as you know, Tulpas are manifested by people focusing on an idea, or in this case, the lore.” Dean tensed. Based on the name of the area, he didn’t even want to hear about the lore. “The legend says that the reason nothing grows in the circle is because the devil himself paces in that very circle whenever he’s thinking, or plotting the destruction of the world.”

Dean bent over to bang his head against the table a few times dramatically. When he lifted his head, he saw that the conversation had officially grabbed Castiel’s attention. Dean looked back over to Sam. “So you’re telling me that we could be dealing with some sort of manifestation of Lucifer?”

“Not exactly.” Cas butted in before Sam could answer. “The way you see Lucifer is as a vessel, the only way you’ve ever seen him. But I don’t believe that the legend that goes with the tramping ground would follow that sort of description. It would follow stereotypical lore.”

“So you’re telling me a big, red guy with horns? Gets off by shoving a pitchfork up people’s asses?” Dean asked. That description honestly didn’t sound much better, though it was probably much safer.

“Something like that.” Cas answered dryly. He looked back and forth between the brothers. “But that wouldn’t make the Tulpa any less powerful. Stereotypical lore about Lucifer still portrays him as an incredibly powerful being. I shall go with you on this hunt. I do not like the sound of it.”

“Neither do I.” Sam agreed, sighing sadly. “Killing a Tulpa is always harder than chopping off a head or stabbing with silver or laying a demon trap.”

“Cas, you should stay here. Especially if you’re trying to save up your angel mojo.” Dean said sternly, using his my-answer-is-final dad voice that Sam rarely heard him use nowadays.

Castiel narrowed his eyes at the hunter. “I am not a child for you to order around, Dean. I’m perfectly capable of joining you and your brother on a hunt.” Dean rolled his eyes, not bothering to hide his annoyance. It was then he realizes that when Cas rolled his own eyes, he had probably picked that up from him, not Sam.

“Fine. But I’m teaching you how to properly shoot a gun.”

“I know how to shoot a gun. I also have my angel blade.”

“No, you know how to shoot a shotgun, and poorly at that. I’m going to teach you to use a handgun before we head out.” Castiel looked a little pissed, and it sent a shiver up Dean’s spin. Something about the angel being wrathful always did that to him, seeing Cas’ disposition change from dorky and socially awkward to towering and terrifying in the blink of an eye. “An angel blade may not cut it this time, buddy.” Dean added, trying to lay a sweet voice extra thick.

Cas huffed a sigh. “I suppose I can allow you to teach me to ‘properly’ use a gun of a different variety before we leave.”

Dean smiled. “I’m sure you’ll be a natural, Cas.”

Castiel was a lot of things. An angel of the lord, a warrior of heaven, a skilled and sure badass in hand to hand combat, a righteous and wrathful smiter… but one thing he was not, was a natural at shooting a gun. Dean hadn’t really expected much. Cas had only ever used a gun once, when Bobby had given him a shotgun. Shotguns had a wide spray, so Cas hadn’t exactly needed precision to cause a lot of damage. Handguns on the other hand were a little bit more complicated.

Dean and Castiel had been at the shooting range in the bunker for the past hour. Dean was leaned against the wall, giving Cas space to fire. The hunter bit his lip to stop himself from snickering when Cas missed the target again. Cas scowled, letting Dean’s favorite gun fall to his side, and Dean felt just a little bad. This was the first time Cas had ever gotten so frustrated over something that wasn’t the far too stubborn asshole currently laughing at him. Dean straightened his facial expression and encouraged the angel to try again.

Castiel lined up on the firing line again, and Dean observed him intently. While Cas’ posture was immaculate, his stance was rigid and stiff, his feet too close together. He raised the gun to eye level, squinting his incredibly blue eyes, and he pulled the trigger, the bullet once again missing his target. Cas let out and furious groan, and Dean felt static in the air like any second from now the angel’s wings were going to flare out behind him angrily. Dean sighed, approaching his friend.

“Cas, you’re doing it wrong.” He kept his voice soft, slightly intimidated by the raw energy coming off of Castiel as he removed the shooting range earmuffs from his head.

Cas spun to face Dean. “Well Dean, if you would just show me instead of just standing-“ Dean shook his head and pointed at the target. Cas’ shoulders slouched slightly but he reluctantly turned back to the target.

“If you wanna actually hit the target, you gotta do it like this.” Dean reached out, but his hands stopped a few inches from Cas’ hips. He took a deep breath and set his jaw, placing his hands. He rotated the angel gently so that he was perpendicular to the firing line. Cas let himself be moved with no resistance and Dean snatched his hands back. “Okay, now you gotta spread your feet apart more.” Dean slid one of his legs between both of Cas', pushing at one of his feet and forcing them to spread wider. “Yeah, like that. Good.” Dean took another deep breath and placed his hands on Cas’ shoulders. “Now your shoulders are WAY too tense. You need to have control but you can’t be so stiff.” Dean slid his hands down Cas’ shoulders and jumped a little because he actually heard the angel let out a content little sigh. Dean shook his head, not letting it distract him. “Alright, now raise the gun.” Dean instructed, his voice cracking a little. He cleared his throat as Cas followed orders, raising the gun and aiming it. Dean licked his lips and held his breath as he lined himself up behind Cas. He placed his hand on the angel’s shoulder, tightening his grip a little to encourage Castiel to relax a little more. His other hand slid along Cas’ dominant arm, his own arm lining up with it as his hand covered Cas’, both of their fingers on the trigger. He could feel the heat of Cas’ body, feel how firm and warm he was against him. Dean felt a little light headed. “Remember, it’s important to breathe.” He muttered in the angel’s ear, aware of the fact that he was also reminding himself. They both inhaled, perfectly in sync, and Dean pulled his trigger finger in. The shot rang out and it was deafening because Dean’s senses were heightened by the Mark, but the sound didn't hurt. Cas was staring at the target that now had a fresh bullet hole in it, his expression relaxed and pleased.

“Thank you, Dean.” He said softly, once again lowering the gun and turning to the hunter. He placed the gun on the table in front of them, next to the ammo. “It appears I’m not a very good shot.” Cas’ eyes dropped, a little disappointed. Dean rolled his own eyes. I don’t know who taught him to pout, but I’m going to strangle them.

Dean placed his arm on Cas’ shoulder gently. “Aw c’mon. Don’t be like that. You’ll get better, it just takes practice. I mean, you’ve had like millions of years of practice with your angel blade. You just started using a gun. It’ll get easier.” Castiel looked up at him, his lips quirking into a little smile. He took his own hand and placed it on the exposed skin of Dean's arm where the Mark of Cain was burned into his skin. Dean flinched. It was so intimate. Cas’ hands were cold, and the cool sensation against his burning skin felt nice, but underserved. Something about an angel, something so pure, touching someone as tainted and broken as Dean didn't feel right. Dean swallowed hard. Cas deserved better. He deserved an apology for all the times Dean had f*cked up when it came to him. But the words died on Dean’s tongue before they could leave his mouth.

The look Cas was giving him was enough to make his skin crawl. No one had ever looked at Dean the way the angel before him always looked at him. It often reminded him of how Sam looked at him when they were younger, like Dean was the most amazing and awe inspiring person on earth. But it was more. Like he was worth something, like he was loved. And Dean hated it. If he realized just how f*cked up I really am, he would never look at me like this again. Dean thought, finally dropping his eyes from their little staring contest. He cleared his throat. “Um, I think you got the hang of it now. I’ll just leave you to it, okay? Keep practicing as much as you want tonight. We’ll need you in tip top shape to take down that Tulpa.” Dean winked at Cas playfully before leaving him alone at the firing range. The door closed behind him.

Cas picked the gun back up, smirking ever so slightly. He aimed the gun and pulled the trigger, hitting the target in the dead center without any sort of hesitation or trouble. “You’re a good teacher, Dean.” He muttered to himself sarcastically. So yeah, maybe the angel had been faking it a little, and he definitely felt bad about it because it felt a lot like lying to Dean. But there had been this gnawing feeling eating away at the angel lately, a need to be touched. It had never been something he had experienced until he had become completely human. Touch wasn’t the same for angels. It was rare, usually only exchanged during things like the grooming of wings. Even then it was different. It wasn’t like the touch Castiel had experienced because of humans. It was something he had realized the first time Dean had hugged him. Humans liked touch. It could console, reassure, please. And slowly but surely, as an angel, Cas had learned when touch was appropriate, and picked up on the social graces of humanity when it came to touch. He finally understood why humans exchanged the contact, and while he didn’t experience it himself, he partook in it.

But then Castiel fell. And experiencing the contact as a human changed something in him. Kissing April had awoken something within him that he hadn’t experienced as an angel, and even if they wouldn’t have had intercourse, Cas was still sure that it would have changed his perspective of touch. It was comfort like he had have known before, and he fully realized it the first time Dean had touched him as a human. All it had been was a firm touch to his knee as Cas regained consciousness after a Gadreel-possessed Sam brought him back to life. But the feeling of the contact had been so reassuring, so intoxicating that Cas found himself craving it even though he was now an angel again.

And Dean seemed to have no issue touching Cas, or letting Cas touch him. It was usually just a pat on the arm, or a touch of the shoulder. But sometimes Cas would get lucky, sometimes Dean would actually embrace him, and it was something the angel found himself guiltily craving.

Castiel found himself smiling. Thinking about Dean had the tendency to make him do that.

Chapter 8: Dream On

Chapter Text

After about 1,200 miles and 19 hours on the road, Dean finally passed the “Welcome to North Carolina” sign, and he felt like he had never seen anything more beautiful in his life. Of course he had insisted that they not stop, and make the trip in one go. Despite switching off with Sam to drive on two separate occasions, Dean was still running on too few cups of coffee and fumes. He really wished Sam would have found this case before they had left from Virginia, so they wouldn't have driven all the way back to Lebanon.

Sam had his eyes closed, his head rested against the window of the Impala. He had his iPod in his hand with earbuds crammed in his ears. Dean couldn’t exactly blame him, the older brother did have the habit of listening to the same tapes over and over again. At least I don’t listen to Lady f*cking Gaga. So maybe that’s not what Sam was listening to. But that seems like something that loser would listen to.

Dean glanced in the review mirror. Cas had been quiet most of the ride, and though Dean didn’t mean for it to, it had really started to worry him. The angel was staring out the window, his eyes squinted at a cow pasture. He hadn’t said anything in hours. Dean couldn’t help but wonder if this was him pouting because Dean had refused to let him zap all three of them and the Impala to Bear Creek. Dean was pretty sure that would take a pretty large chunk of angel mojo, and now that he knew Cas’ powers were going to end up getting weaker, he couldn’t take that chance. Especially since they might need all the angel grace they could get their hands on to deal with a Tulpa that was manifesting as the devil.

“You’re quiet, Cas.” Dean finally commented gruffly. He couldn’t wait to finally pull into the town of Bear Creek, even his voice sounded tired. For a long moment, the angel didn’t respond.

“I’ve been listening to this song. I… rather enjoy it.” He finally responded, turning his head to the front of the car as his big blue eyes flickered to the review mirror to meet Dean’s green ones.

“Yeah?” Dean said excitedly, reluctantly pulling his eyes back in front of him. “You do?” Dean normally would have pointed out that he meant Castiel had been quiet most of the drive, not just in the past few minutes, but Cas just said he liked a Led Zeppelin song. “It’s called ‘Fool in the Rain’. It’s by the band Led Zeppelin.”

Cas thought for a second. “That’s your favorite band.” He finally responded.

Dean felt himself blush slightly, not expecting Cas to remember that. He kept his eyes firmly on the road. “Yeah, it is. Uh, this might be a weird question, but do you have one? You know, a favorite band, or artist? Do you even listen to music?”

“I enjoy all music. It’s one of my favorite things that humanity has created.” The angel’s eyes had returned to the field when Dean finally glanced back at him again.

“Oh. That’s cool, I guess.” Dean checked his mirror again.

Cas scrunched up his nose. “But I suppose I have… preferences. I enjoy your music more than I enjoy Sam’s. He’s currently listening to a woman who keeps talking about her poker face.”

I f*cking knew he listened to Lady Gaga. I just knew it! Dean laughed. “Yeah? Sounds like you like the older stuff better. You know, I have a record player and some records back at the bunker. If you ever want to, you can listen to them. Any of them. Uh, all of them if you want to. I just want you to make yourself at home, Cas.” Dean knew he wasn’t keeping his eyes on the road nearly as much as he should, but he couldn’t help but look back at the angel again as he was talking, and when he said the word ‘home’, he caught the angel looking back at him almost shyly.

Cas looked back out the window again quickly. “Thank you, Dean.” His voice radiated gratitude, and Dean felt his heart warm a little as much as he hated it. Before Dean forced his eyes back to the asphalt in front of him, he saw Cas’ lips quirk up and his eyebrows shoot up in excitement. He pointed out the window, the tip of his index finger leaving a smudge on the window. Dean flinched a little. “That is a very fluffy cow.” Castiel commented, clearly incredibly pleased by his find.

Dean snorted, unable to hide the huge grin that spread across his face. So maybe the way Cas got excited over unexpected animals was a little cute. “I’m pretty sure you’ve seen plenty of cows in your gazillion years of existence, buddy.”

“Yes, but that one is particularly fluffy.” Cas’ voice was absolutely fascinated, turning his head to continue looking at the cow as they drove past it.

“Yeah, they have the tendency to get pretty fluffy this time of year. It’s getting cold, they gotta stay warm. It's almost the end of November.” Dean’s grin widened.

This was one of Dean’s favorite things about Castiel. He loved and appreciated every single one of God’s creations, right down to the extra fluffy cow that was currently grazing in North Carolina. It was damn right endearing. The other angels constantly had something negative to say about Cas, constantly commenting that he wasn’t good at being an angel, or wasn’t good enough to be one. Dean thought they had it completely backwards. Castiel was the best angel. His fondness for all of the things his father created was what made him special. It was what made him Cas, made him Dean’s Cas.

Okay, so maybe referring to him as mine is a little weird. Dean cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Good thing you like cows, Cas. You’re gonna be seeing plenty of them in this state.”

The Winchesters were back to staying at cheap, seedy hotels, but Dean couldn’t care any less. He flopped down on the stained, springy bed fully clothes, and immediately closed his eyes. He inhaled deeply but immediately regretted it, his nostrils filling with the scent of dust, and stale cigarettes, regardless of the no smoking sign on the outside door.

“G’night, Dean.” Sam mumbled from his own bed.

“Get some sleep, Sammy.” Dean muttered back. And as Dean began to slowly sink into sleep, he was suddenly incredibly grateful for Castiel. While Dean and Sam slept, the angel had offered to sit quietly in a corner of the room and research Tulpas all night so that the brothers wouldn’t have to wake up earlier than necessary to do the research themselves. He wasn’t sure if Cas had offered so that he wouldn’t be bored while they slept, or because he knew how tired they were… but it was sweet. Dean fell asleep with a little smile on his face.

“Dean. Dean! Wake up.” Dean jerked awake, Castiel’s hand on his shoulder, shaking him gently. “You were having another nightmare.” Dean groaned sleepily. This nightmare hadn’t been about hell. Those dreams were always excruciatingly detailed, more like memories. This nightmare had been about getting incredibly drunk and sticking a needle in his arm. Dean shuddered, fighting to keep his eyes closed. Maybe he could just fall back asleep. The feeling of Cas’ hand left his shoulder, and a few moments later, he felt the bed shift. He immediately jerked wide awake and flipped over, to find Castiel sitting in bed next to him.

“Don’t be weird, Cas.” Dean groaned sleepily, looking up at the angel. He had taken his trench coat and suit jacket off and rolled up his sleeves since Dean had fallen asleep. He had also loosened his tie, and unbuttoned the first two buttons of his shirt. Dean swallowed. Hard.

Cas just rolled his eyes, turning a page in his book. Dean squinted, and just made out it was titled Tulpas: Believing is Seeing. “I want to be here in case you have another nightmare.” The angel replied, like sharing a bed with another guy wasn’t f*cking weird.

Dean let out a whining noise, but didn’t protest any further, knowing it was a lost cause. “How are you reading? It’s dark.”

Cas glanced down at Dean momentarily, muttering the word “angel” before returning his eyes to the page his was on. Dean watched him carefully through the dark, his eyes adjusting just enough to pick up on the blue in Cas’ eyes.

“Whatever…” he muttered, closing his eyes. He was too tired to try to wrap his head around how infinitely amazing Cas’ abilities could be. He thought he heard Cas whisper ‘sweet dreams’ as sleep pulled him back under.

Castiel finished the book on Tulpas and quietly sat it on the cheap, peeling nightstand next to the bed. He cracked his knuckles, a habit he had developed from time to time after watching the Winchesters do it if they had kept their hands in the same position for a long time. He shifted one of his legs, crossing it over the other. It made the bed move, and caused Dean to stir. The hunter made a sound of protest, and Cas froze. He looked down at Dean, curiously observing him. He uncrossed his legs, the movement once again getting a reaction out of Dean. This time, he shifted closer to Cas, and threw an arm across the angel’s lap. Castiel froze again, his blue eyes shot wide.

He knew this wasn’t really Dean. This was an asleep, possibly even dreaming Dean. Cas went to gently crawl out of bed without waking him, but he moment he moved, Deans fingers curled around his thigh and he snuggled against Cas’ leg. Castiel sighed softly. It felt… nice having Dean curled up next to him like this. As if Dean could read his thoughts, he was scooting even closer, until finally he draped one of his legs around one of Cas’. Cas felt his face flush, and debated zapping into the chair on the other side of the room, but then Dean let out a content sigh in his sleep, and the angel didn’t have it in him to leave him.

Maybe Dean likes this. Maybe he finds himself craving touch as well. Castiel scrunched his nose up. Denial. That was what this feeling was. He was trying to justify this, convince himself that it was okay because he wanted it. He glanced over at Sam’s sleeping form guiltily, a part of him afraid that Sam would wake and call him out for how wrong it was that he continued to stay there as Dean clung to him. Perhaps Sam wouldn’t care. Cas shook his head and started peeling himself away from Dean again, fully willing himself to break the physical connection.

“Cas...”

Castiel didn’t move another inch. “…Dean?” He called back nervously, his voice quiet.

Dean didn’t reply again for a moment before calling Cas’ name out again, followed by sleep slurred, unintelligible words, confirming that the oldest Winchester was still asleep. It completely threw Cas off. Dean was completely asleep, and yet he still called out to him, and it wasn’t even because of a nightmare. It was because he was finding comfort in Castiel’s presence, even if it was in his unconscious state. Cas swallowed hard. He wasn’t reasonable enough or strong enough to deprive Dean of this, to deprive himself of this. So instead, he relaxed into the cheap, worn out mattress, relaxed into Dean’s embrace.

Sam Winchester had seen his big brother in quite a few incriminating circ*mstances in all of their years together, but none quite like the one he came across a few hours later.

Sam had immediately rolled over to check on Dean once he woke up. It was a habit that both the brothers had, their first instinct when they woke up was to always make sure that the other was okay. What Sam had not expected as to find his brother completely wrapped around a very confused, awkward looking angel.

Sam pushed his hair out of his face and then rubbed his eyes. When he blinked (hard), Dean was still snuggled up against Cas when his eyes opened again. A smirk immediately spread across the younger Winchester’s lips. He slowly and quietly took his phone off the nightstand and snapped a quick photo, immediately texting it to his email since they never kept burners for long. The quality wasn’t great, but it was more than enough for black mail. Sam went to clear his throat, but then he noticed how Castiel was looking at Dean. Even though the angel didn’t seem comfortable in the least bit, he didn’t seem to care. He was looking at Dean like he was the most fascinating thing on the entire planet. His big, blue eyes scanned Dean’s face slowly, and if Sam didn’t know any better, he would swear that Cas was counting each freckle on Dean’s face, his lips lifting into a smile a little more with each one.

“Uh, Cas?” Sam finally spoke quietly, sitting up in bed. Castiel immediately tensed up, his eyes widening and shooting up in Sam’s direction. Sam gave him a sympathetic smile. “Is there a particular reason you’re in bed with Dean?” Sam’s own eyes suddenly widened “Um, I mean, unless it’s for uh- are you guys- I guess what I’m trying to say is-“

“Dean was having another nightmare. I wanted to be close by in case I need to wake him again.” Cas looked down at Dean. “I think he was having another dream and he… just ended up like this.”

“Oh!” Sam was shocked that he suddenly felt a little disappointed. If they were together then a lot that went on between them would make a hell of a lot more sense.

“I think he may be dreaming again. He occasionally says my name.” The angel stated innocently, his eyes flickering down to notice Dean grind against his leg ever so slightly.

Sam blanched. “Uh, yeah… um… I think he’s dreaming alright… I-I’m going to go get some breakfast.” He stood up so quickly that he almost got tangled in the bedsheets, forgetting he was completely clothed.

“Sam… should I have… gotten up when he did this?” Cas looked up at him. He was all sad, blue, confused eyes.

“Did you want to?”

“No.”

“Then I think you’re fine, Cas.”

“Then why are you leaving so quickly? I can sense that you’re feeling very awkward.”

Sam glanced down at his sleeping brother, making a face a pure disgust when he saw his brother’s hips move against Cas again. A breathy, quiet moan escaped Dean’s lips, and Sam wanted to jump out the window. “Because I am not going to explain a wet dream to you, and I am not going to be here when Dean wakes up. I’ll be gone for at least an hour, okay? In case you guys… never mind. I’ll grab you and Dean some breakfast too. See you in a bit, Cas.” Sam ducked out of the hotel before Cas could even reply, leaving the angel even more confused.

Dean sighed contently, somewhere between consciousness and sleep. Someone was in bed with him, and they were warm and soft and smelled amazing. The hunter was so comfortable, inhaling the scent deeply, reveling in the way that it felt to be pressed against the other body… especially certain parts of him. He was almost painfully hard, his jeans constricting his erection from where he had fallen asleep in them the night before. But whenever his hips would move, his hard co*ck would rub up against the other person. He did it again, and it pulled a small moan from his lips.

“Dean.”

Hearing his name said in a familiar, gruff voice had him thrusting his hips again, pleasure shooting through his body. But then consciousness crept up on him further, and realization slowly dawned on him. He was in Bear Creek, North Carolina. In a sh*tty motel. On a cheap, most likely soiled bed. Next to a very warm, soft, delicious smelling angel.

Dean had never shot up in bed so fast in his life. “WHAT THE f*ck, CAS.” The abrupt movement was something Dean’s sleepy brain couldn’t quite process, and he fell out of bed with a loud thud.

Cas shimmied over to the side of the bed that Dean had been lying on, and peered down at him with worried eyes. “Are you okay, Dean?”

“Am I okay?! No, I’m not okay! Two dudes don’t just share a bed all night, Cas!”

Cas narrowed his eyes at Dean. Dean stood up, uncomfortable trying to reposition himself in his jeans while being subtle about it. Apparently he wasn’t subtle enough, because Cas’ eyes were immediately drawn to his crotch. The angel actually blushed. He quickly adverted his eyes and muttered “You seemed to have enjoyed it.”

Dean’s mouth fell open, and he gaped at Cas. “I-what do you-it’s not what you think-it’s f*cking involuntary!” He stammered. “Sometimes that sh*t randomly happens when we sleep! I can’t control it!”

Cas looked completely unamused. “What about saying my name? Could you control that?”

Dean had never felt his face grow hotter in his entire life. “Oh wow, shut the f*ck up, Cas.” He snapped angrily. Cas just rolled his eyes, crawling out of bed and smoothing the wrinkles out of his shirt.

Cas’ face suddenly looked pained. “Actually, the more I read about it, the more I would prefer for you and Sam to stay behind and let me take care of it. I realize that it probably won’t manifest as Lucifer himself, but I still think this is far too dangerous and I do not wish for you and your brother to be in that kind of danger.”

Dean observed Cas’ earnest expression, his chest tightening a little bit. Castiel didn’t want him and Sam to be in that kind of danger, but was willing to throw himself in it. “No way, man. We’ll do this together. Just like we always do. Team Free Will, remember?” Cas smiled a little, and Dean grinned back. “We wouldn’t let you do this alone, buddy. Besides, this Devil’s Tramping Ground has got me pretty interested. Usually all of the leads we get in North Carolina end up being local tall tales. But I feel like this one is gonna be pretty serious.” Cas nodded. “Let's kick this Tulpa's ass.” Dean added playfully.

“Of course Dean. I just have one question.”

“Yeah, okay. What is it, Cas?”

“What’s a wet dream?”

Chapter 9: The Devil's Tramping Ground

Chapter Text

Castiel had been around since before the dawn of mankind. He knew that a ‘wet dream’ was a name that humans had given to dreams about sexual intercourse. What he didn’t know was what this had to do with him, or why Dean was so embarrassed…and he was beyond curious as to why.

“Oh, for f*cks sake.” Dean groaned, hiding his face in his hands before running them through his hair. “Look….wet dreams are sex dreams.” He answered, taking pity on Cas’ confused expression. Suddenly Dean schooled his expression from embarrassment to something that resembled achievement. “I was… I used to have this girlfriend named Cassie. I used to call her Cas from time to time too. I was dreaming about her. Yeah. Sorry about that, man.” Dean swallowed hard. Castiel wasn’t expecting the little pang of disappointment and jealousy at hearing that Dean had once given someone else the same nickname that he had given him. It wasn’t really surprising, Dean was someone who used endearments quite a lot. He even used one on his car. “Let’s just forget about it, okay? No sense in making things weird.”

Castiel sighed. “Of course, Dean.”

Dean rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “I’m going to go take a shower.” He muttered, not meeting Cas’ eyes.

By the time Dean was done with his very cold shower, Sam had returned with deliciously greasy McDonald’s breakfast and coffee. Cas was nowhere to be seen. “Cas isn’t here.” Sam said, replying to Dean’s eyes scanning the room for the angel. Sam narrowed his eyes at him. “What did you say to him?” He asked, not bothering to hide his suspicion and not even giving Dean enough time to cross the room to his duffle bag.

Dean made his way over to his bed and bag for his clothes, rolling his eyes. “I had to explain to him what a f*cking wet dream was, Sam.” He glared angrily at his favorite flannel like it had caused all of his problems and forced the blush down on his cheeks. Even though he wasn’t look at Sam, he could feel him smirking.

“Oh? And I wonder why you had to explain that to him… I’m sure it had nothing to do with the fact that you-“

“Shut the f*ck up, Sam. Just… shut up.” Dean hated himself for stammering slightly. “I was having a really great dream and Cas just so happened to be the unfortunate son of a bitch that was stuck in bed with me. We talked about it and he left. Guess he had angel sh*t to do.”

“Was that dream about Cas?” Sam had dropped his smirk and was looking at Dean with sincere puppy eyes that made Dean’s skin crawl. Dean knew what those puppy eyes were accusing him of.

Dean grabbed the remainder of his clothes, balling them up in one hand and not caring if they wrinkled as he used his other hand to keep the scratchy hotel towel around his waist. “It was about my ex, Cassie. Used to call her Cas too.” Dean aimed for nonchalant, but he knew his voice was a pitch too high and it probably didn’t help his innocence plea.

Sam fixed him with a bored stare. “I have literally never heard you refer to Cassie as Cas, Dean.” He took a deep breath, pulling the puppy dog eyes out full force again. “You know, if you and Cas were like-“

“NOPE. We are not having this discussion, Sam. I’m done.” Dean growled, stalking back to the bathroom and slamming the door behind him. He wasn’t going to talk about this. Not with Sam, not with anyone. Things were getting too real. First, he jerked off while thinking about Cas. Now he was having dreams about f*cking Cas, all tanned skin and sleek muscles growling his name in that voice of his and- nope. Dean shoved the thoughts deep in the closet along with the other traumatic things he refused to deal with and started getting ready for the day.

Cas ended up returning later that afternoon when Sam and Dean were scoping out the Devil’s Tramping Ground. Dean just barely jumped and glared at Cas through the review mirror. “Where have you been?” He asked gruffly. He was annoyed because Sam had tried to bring up his dream at least three more times since this morning, and he had a feeling that if Cas would’ve been around he would have just shut his stupid little brother trap.

“An angel called for me.” Cas replied simply, not offering any further explanation. Dean rolled his eyes. That’s why he couldn’t get used to having Cas around. There would always be angels calling him away. Dean had to accept that. Cas may be his best friend, but he was still an angel. “How did your research of the Tulpa go today?” Castiel asked, no interest in further the conversation about his angelic calling.

“Not bad but not great.” Sam sighed. “We haven’t seen it, but we didn’t really expect to since most of the lore points to it only coming out at night. We’ve been debating on how to kill it.”

“I just hope we don’t have to deal with any dumbass teenagers trying to bet each other if they can survive the night in the circle.” Dean added. His eyes flickered back to the mirror to make contact with Cas’ again. “You have any idea how we should take this thing down? With it being Satan at all, I mean. We have holy water, holy oil, Ruby’s knife, an angel blade-“

“The holy water won’t work.” Cas interrupted. “At least I don’t believe it will.” He exhaled deeply. “I’ve never heard of a Tulpa taking the form of the devil. It could take a number of things to kill it. That’s why I’m uncomfortable allowing you two to do it alone. I’m here for assistance.”

Some of Dean’s irritation slipped away as hard as he tried to hold on to it. “Thank, Cas.” He said softly.

“You’re welcome, Dean.” Cas nodded to him, meeting his eyes in the mirror again.

They held eye contact until Sam cleared his throat. “It’s getting dark. I’m going to start marking this place up with a demon trap.” He said, opening the Impala’s passenger side door and clamoring out.

“I’ll help.” Dean said following in his footsteps. He popped the trunk to the Impala and huffed in annoyance when he saw Cas disappear from the backseat and felt the gust of air of him appearing behind him. He didn’t say anything, because he knew Castiel was excited about getting his wings back and he refused to be a dick about that. Dean reached into the plastic Walmart bag that Sam had tossed in the trunk when he had went shopping for more spray paint. He pulled a can out when the color on the cap caught his eye. “Really, Sam? Bright pink? Is there a reason you bought bright pink spray paint for demon traps?”

Sam shrugged. “They were out of red and black and it was on sale.”

Sam ignored Dean as he grumbled about the paint have glitter in it as they started on opposite ends of the circle and began spraying a massive demon trap the size of the tramping grounds circle itself.

Cas just watched them, now leaning against the hood of the Impala. He was relieved to be back on earth. He had the angels searching for an angel in particular that had chosen not to return to Heaven the search was not going well, and he had reason to believe she may have information on the Mark of Cain.

Cas watched as the sun began to set lower and lower in the sky, casting golden light over the Winchester brothers. Dean checked the devil’s trap to make sure all the lines were solid and then stood up straight, stretching his back and tossing the now empty can at an annoyed Sam who caught it and returned it back to the plastic Walmart bag. Dean looked up, catching Cas staring, but he just smiled a little and made his way over to the Impala, leaning against the hood next to Cas.

“You good?” He asked. Cas squinted at him. “You said you had an angel call or whatever this morning.” Dean added for clarity.

“Yes… everything is fine for the time being.” Cas hadn’t told Sam or Dean about the angel that might have information on the mark. He didn’t want to get Sam’s hopes up and didn’t want to hear the ‘but at what cost?’ lecture from Dean again. Sam went around to the back of the Impala to grab the holy oil but tossed Dean an angel blade when he passed him.

Dean caught the blade and flipped it in his hand, noticing how Cas stirred uncomfortably next to him. Dean swallowed hard, the painful memory of what he had done to Cas a few months ago reared its ugly head. He felt the overwhelming need to apologize. “Listen, Cas-“

“Dean, it’s coming.” Castiel stood up straight, putting his hand on Dean’s elbow as he interrupted him. The sun was now disappearing behind the horizon, the last of its light being soaked up by the ground and only the Impala’s headlights were providing light for the Devil’s Tramping Ground.

“sh*t.” Dean muttered, standing up straight and tightening his grip on the angel blade. He and Castiel made their way over to Sam cautiously as he finished tracing the last line of the devil’s trap with holy oil. Sam tossed the empty canister to the side and pulled out the demon killing knife, swallowing his nervousness.

A strong gust of wind made its way through the forest surrounding the grass-less circle on the earth, causing leaves to rustle, twigs to snap, and branches to bend. When the gale reached the tramping ground, it kicked up a cloud of dust causing Sam and Dean to cover their eyes momentarily. Castiel squinted through the dust and dirt, his angel blade dropping from his sleeve. The dust settled, and Dean blinked the dirt out of his eyes, revealing the massive beast that the Tulpa had manifested as.

The creature stood on two hooved, goat-like feet that kicked up more dirt as it approached them. A leathery, pointed tail whipped out from behind it sporadically. From the waist up, it was almost entirely humanoid other than the gigantic horns that were protruding from its skull. Its skin and fur were a dark red, almost black in the lack of light, the exact color of drying blood. It snorted, a hooved foot pawing at the ground. “Well, well, well, what is it we have here?” It growled out, a voice much deeper than even Castiel’s. The voice immediately filled them all with foreboding dread. “Two humans…” It said looking at Sam and Dean, but then it’s eyes swept over to Cas “And an angel. I’ve always wanted to get my pitchfork in an angel, really see what makes them scream and beg for mercy. This is the first time I’ve had the pleasure of meeting one.”

Castiel didn’t even flinch and Dean was a little proud of him because the creatures voice was making his hair stand on end. “Yeah, well that’s not gonna happen, dick.” Dean said, stepping forward with Sam at his side. Cas held out an arm and pushed him back so that he was in front, protecting both the Winchesters.

“Such bravery.” The Tulpa mocked. It turned to Sam. “I’m familiar with you. It seems you already have quite a relationship with the devil. You’ll be the most fun to kill.” It said with a knowing smirk. Dean glanced at Sam and noticed that he was trying his hardest to school his expression, and Dean had to remind himself of how weird and f*cked up this had to be for his brother when he had literally been tortured by the devil himself. Even if this was just a Tulpa, even if it manifested as something from the nightmares of little kids brainwashed in church, he knew Sam was still terrified by the glazed over look in his eyes.

The Tulpa moved all at once, entirely unexpected after it’s taunting. Dean blinked and suddenly it was in front of the three of them, knocking Cas to the side with its tail while throwing Dean in the opposite direction. It picked up Sam by the throat and he kicked his legs violently, struggling to escape the grip. Dean didn’t even have time to call out his name before Sam was shoving Ruby’s knife into the devil Tulpa’s hand. It hissed in pain and flexed its fingers, causing Sam to get just enough leverage to break free. He fell to the ground and Dean rushed forward, barely hearing Cas yell out ‘Dean, no!’. He stabbed the angel blade into the Tulpa’s back as hard as he could, really hoping he had stabbed it in its not-so imaginary kidney. The creature yowled and turned around, its tail swiping Dean’s feet from underneath him. Dean chest hit the ground with a thud, knocking the air out of his lungs and the blade from his hand as his head also hit the ground. The Tulpa kicked him onto his back and he wheezed and looked up at it, feeling the Mark of Cain grow angrier and angrier.

“I’m the devil. You think an angel blade can kill me, boy?” The beast growled, slamming a hooved foot down onto Dean’s chest. He felt several ribs crack and pain shoot through his body. All the pain rushed to one spot, the mark on his arm. He glanced over at his arm, blinking blood from his eyes. The mark burned bright red against his flesh.

“Go ahead!” He choked out. “Kill me! Because trust me, I’ll come back. And I won’t be happy.” Dean taunted. The Tulpa looked down at him curiously, its eyes drawn to the bright red mark.

Sam and Cas used this as an opportunity and both sprang forward, stabbing into the creature’s flesh wherever their weapons could reach. The Tulpa backed up, screaming angrily. It swung a massive arm, hitting Sam and sending him flying across the tramping ground and into a large tree. His head hit the trunk with a sickening crack, and he crumpled to the ground, blood pouring from a fresh gash.

Dean had never sat up faster in his life. He could feel the mark dulling the pain from his broken ribs and aching head. He could feel the mark searing on his arm. He could feel the hatred and anger coursing through his veins as the mark started up with a steady mantra of kill, kill, kill! He ran over to Sam, checking to see if he was still breathing, and getting his little brother’s blood all over his hands in the process. He looked down at his hands, the blood staining the skin, and balled his hands into fists. He looked over at the Tulpa, who was currently preoccupied with fighting Castiel.

Cas moved gracefully, dodging many of the Tulpa’s attacks and then ramming his angel blade into any exposed area he could reach. The Tulpa finally caught him, and slammed him to the ground by the throat, and Dean had had it. He gave one last look to Sam, whispering for him to hang on before he was on his feet running at the creature. He could feel the affects of the mark boiling in his blood and he saw red as he grabbed Cas’ dropped angel blade and shoved it into the monster’s back, pulling down hard and ripping a deep, long gash into it.

“Dean…” Cas choked out as the Tulpa, tightened its clawed fingers around his throat and tried to fight Dean off using its free arm and tail. Dean was a blur of rage, getting knocked and immediately shooting back up to keep fighting, the mark turning him into a machine that only focused on death and destruction. Castiel, fearing that Dean would lose himself to the mark, he did the only thing he could think to do. He slammed his open palm to the creature’s chest and spoke. “A elo de arezodi gahalana Lucifer orcaha zodmv lusd a grace de ge amayo bolape erm elasa!”

Blue light glowed on Cas’ palm and shot out through the Tulpa’s eyes. It let out an agonized scream before turning to dust and being blown away by the wind. Castiel rolled over on to his stomach and got up on his hands and knees, coughing. “Dean? Dean, are you okay?” He managed to get out. Dean just stared at the spot that the Tulpa had disappeared, a dazed expression on his face and a glazed look in his eyes. His eyes dropped to the blood on his hands, watching it drip from his palms as if in a trance. “Dean!”

Dean blinked a few times hard, and stood up, immediately clamoring over to Cas and helping him up. “Cas… you gotta help Sammy. It’s bad…” They made their way over to Sam’s crumpled, bloody form at on the ground. Dean immediately fell to his knees. Cas leaned down and placed a gentle two finger touch to Sam’s temple.

“He’ll be okay, Dean. But he’s lost a lot of blood and I can’t heal him all at once, even with my grace restored. The residual magical effects from the Tulpa still linger on him. I’ll have to do it over time. He’ll live, but he’s going to need a lot of rest.”

Dean nodded mutely, picking Sam up and surprisingly not struggling with his weight due to the mark affects still coursing through him. Cas helped him carry Sam anyway, eyeing him carefully. “Dean-“

“Just don’t, Cas.” Dean said hoarsely. He didn’t want to talk about the mark. He didn’t want to talk about how close to the edge he had just gotten, how difficult it was to pull himself back and not let the mark consume him. He just wanted to get Sam healthy enough to get them back to Lebanon.

Dean didn’t want to admit it, but he was scared. He was the only one being realistic. They hadn’t managed to find anything about the mark that could help them remove it since Rowena had escaped, and there had been absolutely no sign of her or the book. The spell she had used had temporarily “reset” the way that the mark had been making him feel, but seeing the Tulpa attack the two people he loved the most? Dean almost lost it. He was able to pull himself back from the brink better than he had when he had attacked Cas, but even as he helped stumble-carry Sam to the car, he could still feel the mark pushing him, wanting him to kill. Dean had accepted that there wasn’t a cure for this, and that’s what terrified him. He knew Sam and Cas wouldn’t give up, and he was still beyond pissed that they were doing sh*t behind his back, sh*t that got Charlie killed but they needed to start working on a plan b because he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold on.

Sam woke up about halfway back to the bunker. Cas was in the back seat with him, Sam’s head in his lap, as he quietly chanted in Enochian to the wounded Winchester. Even though Dean had had no idea what he had been saying the entire trip, hearing Cas’ steady, sure voice had been relaxing and he trusted that whatever Cas was saying was helping his brother.

When Sam awoke, he immediately sat up, grabbing his head in pain. “Ughhhh. What the hell happened?” He mumbled.

“f*cking Tulpas.” Dean groaned.

Cas forced Sam back into the seat gently. “Your skull came in contact with a tree trunk. It was fractured in four separate places. There was some brain hemorrhaging and you lost a lot of blood.” Cas responded clinically. “I was able to partially heal you, but with damage like that along with the residual magic from the Tulpa, it would have been dangerous to heal you at all once, and not something I was capable of. I healed your skull and stopped the bleeding. You still have a concussion and your body is still incredibly weak from the blood loss.”

Sam sank into the backseat of the Impala, his body melting into the leather due to his lack of energy. Dean watched him worriedly in the rearview mirror. “You’re going to have to take it easy for at least a couple of day before Cas can get you in tip top shape, Sammy.” Sam just nodded, his eyes already sliding back closed at he drifted off in unconsciousness again.

Dean’s eyes flickered back and forth between the road and Sam for a moment, before landing on Cas. Cas gently eased Sam into a lying position in the backseat and disappeared for a moment, giving Dean’s brain just enough time to produce he always leaves before reappearing next to him in the front seat of the car.

“I promise you, he will be okay, Dean.” Castiel assured him genuinely.

“I know, Cas. I’m just worried. Not just about him. A lot of stuff.”

Cas’ eyes searched Dean’s face. “The mark is getting worse again.” Dean didn’t answer him, he just tightened his grip on the steering wheel, his jaw locked. Cas thought for a moment before finally confessing “I have the other angels working on this too.”

Dean took his eyes off the road to stare as Castiel. “You’re kidding, right? They’re already not exactly my biggest fan.”

“The ones that want me to lead feel like they owe me.” Cas replied simply. “They’re…willing to do things for me that the others aren’t, regardless of the situation being taboo. Many of them will not talk, but there’s one angel who may know more about the mark and may be willing to talk. Finding her is proving difficult. She had no interest in returning to Heaven.”

“Castiel, chasing a woman around.” Dean joked. “I thought I’d never see the day.” An annoying feeling stirred within him, and he refused to acknowledge it as anything close to jealousy.

“I’m referring to her as a ‘she’ because she took a female vessel. She always has in during all the times she returned to earth. I’m not the only angel that grew found of a particular vessel.”

“Yeah, well, I’m pretty fond of your vessel too.” The words came out of Dean’s mouth before he could even process them, and Cas eyed him curiously. He felt the heat of blush all the way up to his ears. “I just mean, you’ve looked like this for years. It would be kinda weird seeing you look like anything else.”

Cas took the lapels of his trench coat in his hands, observing it. “I feel like this vessel has very much become an extension of me, even though it’s nothing like my true form.”

“Then I’m surprised you don’t use it more.” Dean’s brain was shouting at him to shut the f*ck up, and he had no idea why he kept talking. “Like you know, develop hobbies or go get laid or something.” He was a little proud that his voice didn’t crack, and he was able to get his brain to focus on the road ahead of him and not the dream that he had last night. He could feel Cas staring at him, but he didn’t answer. He wasn’t sure if that made things better or worse.

The rest of the drive back to Kansas was mostly small talk that Dean was using to avoid conversations about the mark, or to keep his mouth from blurting out things that sounded a lot like flirting with Cas. They stopped at Taco Bell for dinner, which Cas didn’t like at all (Dean was a little heartbroken), and later stopped at a gas station to get gas. When Dean paid, he also grabbed Cas a pack of Skittles, figuring maybe he would like to try some candy. He couldn’t help but smile when the look on Cas’ face made it abundantly clear that he was forgiven for the Taco Bell.

Dean periodically checked on Sam, even though Cas insisted that he was fine, and it was a good thing he was sleeping. Dean was surprised that Sam hadn’t brought up that it was a waste of money to be feeding Cas when he didn’t actually need to eat. Even though having the bunker saved them quite a bit each month because they had to get less hotel rooms, Sam still often lectured Dean’s spending. It was a little ridiculous since it was rarely ever their money, and when it was, it was hustled from pool or darts. But Sam had never once complained about Dean spending money on Cas. Not that he was exactly expensive, he was more than happy in the passenger seat with his one-dollar pack of Skittles. Dean smiled again and promised himself to do something nice for Sam once he was feeling better.

It didn’t take them long to unpack and get Sam to bed. When they were done, Dean went to his own room, stripping down to nothing but his boxers. He was exhausted, but thankfully not sore after Cas had insisted on healing him. He was about to lie down and pass out, but felt too restless to, and decided to see what Cas was doing. Tying his dead guy robe around himself, he went to his room, walking in upon seeing the door open. He didn’t find Cas, but as he was about to leave, what he did find was a single black feather on the floor right outside Cas’ doorway. He reached down and picked it up, holding it delicately between his thumb and index finger. Dean observed it carefully, angling it different ways so that the shiny dark feather caught the artificial light from the light fixture on the ceiling. “Holy sh*t.” He mumbled to himself in wonder. Could this actually be one of Cas’ feathers? An actual angel feather?

Dean immediately began searching for Cas, cradling the feather like it was fragile glass. He couldn’t stop his fingers from constantly running over the soft plume, completely in awe. There was a weird part of him that wanted to keep it, because an angel feather? That’s awesome but an even bigger part of himself felt like that would be stealing. He did want to find out more about it though, so when he found Cas in the library, he immediately jogged up to him, holding out the feather. Hey, Cas-“

Castiel jerked the feather out of his hand the moment he laid eyes on it. “Why do you have this?” He asked gruffly brandishing the feather. His eyes went from wide and nervous to a hard glare in a split second.

Dean was more than a little offended. “Chill, Cas. I found it in the hallway near your room.” Castiel relaxed marginally, and unceremoniously crammed the feather in his trench coat pocket. Dean leaned against the library table for a second before just deciding to haul himself up on it, his bare feet dangling. “Is that…is that feather yours?” He asked, playing coy.

Cas sighed, closing the book he was reading. It was a book that he, Sam, and now apparently Cas, had been through multiple times before, hoping that it gave information about the mark. “Yes, Dean.” He shifted uncomfortably.

The angel might still miss social cues, but Dean didn’t, and Cas obviously didn’t want to talk about his random feather. “Uh, that’s cool.” He was dying to ask a million different questions about the feather, but Cas looked like he was so uncomfortable that he was going to zap out of there any second. Dean decided to change the subject. “So, um, good thinking with the Tulpa. With the Enochian. We would have been pretty screwed without you, buddy.”

Cas looked pleased as he said, “In all lore, what the devil is defeating by is God.” His eyes scanned over Dean’s face, counting freckles and searching eyes. “You should be asleep. You drove all the way through the night.”

Dean hadn’t even realized that after a drive from North Carolina to Kansas, barely stopping, and not switching off with anyone, most people would be dead tired. “I guess… I guess the mark is still kinda worked up. Don’t get me wrong, I’m exhausted, but I just don’t think I’m falling asleep any time soon. Wanna ditch the books and watch The Office with me on Netflix?”

“Dean, we should be using any available time to research the mark. Or to at least try to figure out how we can locate Rowena.” Cas replied sternly.

“Yeah, but Sam and I have already looked through pretty much every book in here like four times. And we have a computer algorithm set up to search for anything witchy, but Rowena has completely covered her tracks.”

“Dean….” Cas muttered disapprovingly.

Flashing his most charming smile, Dean hopped off the table. “C’mon. One episode. Two tops. Then we can go back to researching.” Castiel relented and stood up. Dean knew Cas was right. He knew that they needed to be focused on the important things, but he also knew that Cas wasn’t going to find any answers in a book that had been read cover to cover more than once. And maybe, just maybe if Cas relaxed enough, he would tell Dean something about that damn feather.

Halfway through the fourth episode of The Office Dean found himself watching Cas more than he was watching the television. Cas had easily fallen down the rabbit hole of binge watching the show and was so focused on every character and what they offered to the overall storyline. Dean would be lying if he said he didn’t find it a little endearing, especially when he almost immediately picked up on the fact that Jim was in love with Pam. Dean smiled, watching Cas’ bright blue eyes laser focused on the screen. On the rare occasion that he would blink, Dean would admire how his long, delicate eyelashes fanned out. He took in every detail of Cas’ profile, from his full lips, to his angular nose, to his messy hair. Castiel was beautiful. And sure, Dean had noticed it before. Despite how terrified he was when he first met him, it was one of the first things Dean noticed about Cas. But it was in this moment that it felt significant to notice, with Cas lying in his bed next to him (why watch Netflix in the den when he had a perfectly good memory foam mattress), peaceful and content. Not urgent and clinical, or about to flap off any second.

Dean fell asleep before the fifth episode started, and was more than a little okay that he fell asleep next to Cas.

Chapter 10: Thanksgiving

Chapter Text

Of course, when Dean woke up the following day, Cas was gone. There was a sad, empty sort of feeling that Dean got from the realization, but at least there hadn’t been another awkward situation where he woke up dry humping him. The feeling was only matched by the frustration that he felt from admiring how attractive he thought his friend was all night. Dean had vowed to make sure he didn’t let either of those things happen again.

Sam was more than okay after a couple of days, his recovering only put on hold momentarily while Dean and Cas investigated what they thought was a werewolf case. It turned out to just be a wild dog, and they tipped animal control off before heading back to the bunker. Dean was still making Sam take it easy, but regardless still found Sam pulling late nights in the library, up to his eyeballs in research. Cas was often with him, and on a good night, Dean would join them. He still felt like it was a waste of time, because it wasn’t like a new book that they hadn’t read was going to magically appear with a crimeless cure for the mark. Too many times during research he was starting to find himself getting distracted by how Castiel’s brow furrowed as he read, or how his fingers curled around a book while he held it.

The week of Thanksgiving, Dean stayed true to his word and decided to do a small Thanksgiving get together. Garth was unable to attend because of some werewolf meet on the other side of the country, but Donna was able to make it, and so was Jody, which meant that she dragged Claire and Alex along with her.

Castiel was a little nervous to see Claire, even though the last time he had seen her, it had been on good terms. Being around Castiel would never be a comfortable situation for her. Jimmy had been an amazing father right up until the time that he became a vessel, and now he was at peace, but Cas knew that wasn’t enough to erase all the pain and suffering that Claire had went through once her father left. Cas was thankful for Dean, who immediately picked up on his apprehension, and put him to work in the kitchen to distract him while Sam set up some spare bedrooms in case some of the women wanted to crash for the night.

“It’s very kind of you to do all of this for the people you care about.” Cas said softly, peeling potatoes while Dean checked on the turkey. He was a little irked that Dean wasn’t letting him use his grace because he claimed it wasn’t the same as “cooking with love”. But Dean was humming Ozzy Osborne and was in a great mood, so he let it pass. It also took longer, which meant more time he could spend with Dean.

Dean shrugged shyly and fought to keep the small smile off his face. “We don’t have many friends left, Cas. Might as well try to bring everyone together and do something nice for them.” Dean turned his back to Cas to adjust the temperature on the stove.

Castiel watched his back, feeling a smile form on his lips. Dean was such a selfless, thoughtful person, but never wanted credit for it. He was always modest. Regardless of wanting to deny his worth, he truly was the righteous man, and it was small moments like these that reminded Cas of why he chose Dean over Heaven.

Cas watched Dean move, watched the ripple of muscles under his shirt and the sureness and deliberateness of his hands as he cooked. And Cas wanted to touch. He wanted to feel what those muscles felt like under his fingertips. He wanted to know what Dean’s hands felt like on him. This impulse had gotten a lot worse ever since the dream that Dean had while lying in bed with Castiel. Now Cas knew what Dean was like when he was aroused and longing. He knew what Dean’s voice sounded like when he said his given nickname while his voice was rough with sex. He swallowed and looked back down at his potatoes right before almost slicing open a finger. He had been thinking about the nature of his thoughts and feelings towards Dean a lot since he had moved into the bunker. The impulses and the thoughts weren’t new. Cas had changed a lot in his time on earth, his desires had changed a lot along with his priorities. The angels never failed to remind him that he always chose Dean, remind him that the human meant far too much to him. It didn’t matter what the situation was or what the consequences were, he always chose Dean. The most compelling part of that was that Cas never felt guilty. He never regretted choosing Dean. He never felt culpable for wanting Dean’s touch and attention, for wanting to keep the human alive at all costs.

Castiel would be the first to admit, Dean wasn’t always right. There times when he was impulsive, times that he made decisions that were selfish to save the people he loved. There were times when he let his anger get the best of him and acted before he thought. But he was still so good. There was so much good in him that outweighed his flaws, even though he refused to see it in himself. Cas would gladly continue giving up everything for him as long as he continued to be this person, because Dean always made his sacrifices worth it in the end.

Cas had gotten lost in thought, not realizing that Dean had left the stove and was standing in front of the table he was sitting at staring at him. “God, you’re so slow when you’re not using your grace.” Dean teased, throwing a dish towel at his face playfully. Cas caught it before it smacked him in the nose and gave Dean and unimpressed look.

“Then let me use my grace.”

“No way. I’m the one in charge of this dinner and if it comes out tasting gross and all magically I get the blame for it.” Dean grinned.

“I assure you, Dean, I will take full responsibility for the potatoes.” Cas deadpanned, feeling warmth seep through his chest when the response made Dean laugh.

“I can’t wait for you to try everything. I mean, you’re probably still tasting molecules but…” Dean shrugged, blushing slightly.

Cas smiled at him. “You’re cooking is very palatable. It tasting like molecules is the least of my worries.”

Dean gave him one of those grateful looks that frustrated Castiel to no end. It was very apparent that Dean didn’t get complimented nearly enough for him to look at Cas like that, like his words were gospel. “If you think that store brand pie I bought was good, wait until you try Jody’s apple pie.” He said, immediately trying to redirect the attention away from him. “And she’s bringing mac and cheese and gravy. Oh, and Donna is bringing broccoli casserole and cornbread muffins.” Dean got a dreamy look on his face that almost made Cas chuckle. Dean noticed Cas’ amused expression and smiled shyly, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’ll be cool to have everyone together. You’re not still worried about Claire coming, are you?”

“I wasn’t worried.” Cas narrowed his eyes. “I’m just not sure if she wants to spend her holiday with me. It… it will never stop being strange for her.”

“Well technically, the holiday isn’t for three more days. But Jody said she had to pull a shift on Thanksgiving this year, so we worked everything out. Hurry up and finish those potatoes. I need to teach you how to season things properly.”

“I know how to season things.” Cas glared.

“The last time I let you cook, the pasta was so salty-“

“The lid of the salt shaker came off, Dean!” Castiel exclaimed. A part of him wanted to use his grace to make Dean trip as he walked back to the oven, laughing.

A few hours later, and Cas and Sam were setting the table while Dean made multiple trips back and forth to the kitchen for his turkey, stuffing, green beans, and cranberry sauce. He sat the last plate down when they heard a knock at the door. Dean rubbed his hands together and licked his lips while admiring his food for a moment before bounding up the stairs to open the door for everyone. Donna had drove out to Jody’s so that they could all arrive together, and it definitely worked for the better because they were both making Alex and Claire help carry the food. Dean helped set the food up before pulling them each into a hug, one by one. A giant grin on his face. Everyone hugged him back, even Claire, even though she rolled her eyes doing it. She then let go of Dean to hug Sam before noticing Cas staring at her.

“Hey, Castiel.” She said quietly, taking headphones out of her ears.

“Hello, Claire.” He responded softly.

Claire looked him over for a moment before cautiously stepping forward to give him a hug as well. Cas hugged her back, a little shocked, and when he looked up, Dean was beaming at him encouragingly. “I dig the tie. I’m glad you decided to keep it.” Claire said, smirking at him.

“I thought you might.” Cas replied, smiling down at her.

Though it seemed a little forced, she smiled back at him before putting her headphones back in her ears and pulling out her phone to tap away on it.

Conversation flowed easily over dinner. Alex talked about how much she was enjoying her nursing job while Claire gave the most gruesome details of the last hunt she had been on. Jody and Donna both talked about how they stayed in touched, hunted when they could, and were working on a side project of how to get hunters in contact with trustworthy cops so that they could watch each other’s backs. It was a plan that Bobby would have loved to have been in on. It triggered Sam to bring up algorithms and how he thought he could pull something together on a computer program to help them with their plan. Dean rolled his eyes at the tech talk, but the entire time he had a smile on his face.

Castiel was completely captivated by Dean during the dinner. He was so relaxed, so at ease with being surrounded by the people he loved that it was hard to believe that this was the man baring the Mark of Cain, a man that had recently tried to rip a Tulpa apart. He was more that willing to give Claire hunting tips but made sure that she was very aware that he wanted her to be safe. It was one of the only times that Claire put her phone down during the entire meal. Dean got medical tips from Alex on things he should probably add to his first aid kits, and even though Castiel knew that Dean already had everything she suggested, he still listened and focused on her words, exchanging ideas with her when it came to sewing up a wound since she was a nurse now. He made sure to tell Donna how great she looked, followed by a vivacious wink because he knew how self-conscious she was and was picking at her food. The delighted look on Dean’s face when she actually started digging in and enjoying herself pulled at something inside of Castiel. Dean complimented Jody’s cooking and new gun she bought and flicked green beans at Sam when he made a bad joke. He raved about how good the mashed potatoes were and made sure everyone knew Cas had made them. He didn’t stop talking about the potatoes until everyone at the table had complimented them. He laughed until he nearly choked on his beer and ate way too much pie. He chastised Claire and Alex for being on their phones, but then asked Alex what app she was playing because he wanted to download it. His body language and actions said it all. He loved every single person sitting around with the table with him.

And it was at that moment that Castiel really, truly realized he was in love with Dean Winchester.

There were plenty of times that Cas had questioned it. Plenty of times that he had wondered if he were even capable of being in love when at one time he didn’t even experience human emotions. But as he stared at the beautiful, radiant man before him, he knew he was in love. Castiel remembered a time when Dean had laughed and said that an angel having a human vessel reminded him a lot of hurricane trapped in a fragile glass bottle. What he didn't know was that it was he, Dean Winchester, that was a true force of natural. He was like the sea, waves upon waves of depth and emotion, just roaring to be heard. He was like the sunset, beautiful in every aspect, his mind, body and soul. He was like a thunderstorm, with lightning bolts of anger and tears that fell like raindrops whenever he allowed them to. He was like the sky, freckles of constellations that aligned the planets the moment Castiel gripped him in Hell. And Castiel loved him so much that he ached.

Cas knew it was an astronomically bad idea to be in love with Dean. Dean had so much love to offer every person that he allowed into his life, but none of it was romantic. He never let himself go that far, gave that much of himself away. Even when Dean was with Lisa, Cas watched him from afar and saw him stay guarded, watched him only allow pieces of himself to be shown to the woman he loved. Dean was fully capable of being in love with someone but would never allow himself to indulge in it. Especially not Castiel. Not someone he considered family, and one of the only friends he had left. His vessel was wrong. The timing was wrong. And Castiel knew that no one like him would ever deserve Dean. Castiel knew that it was one sided, and a vast part of him was fine with that, but there was a part of him that craved more than he would ever get from Dean.

That’s how Castiel had learned that unrequited love was possibly the most painful human emotion he could possibly experience.

Cas was pulled by his thoughts by Dean flicking a cranberry at him. The cranberry hit him on the nose, and despite Dean’s mouth being crammed full of both macaroni and cheese AND mashed potatoes, he started laughing loudly, the food nearly falling from his mouth.

This. This was the being that Castiel had chosen to be the object of his desire. He was coarse and rude. Inappropriate and imperfect. He cared far too much and showed respect far too little. He sometimes treated Cas like he is a child instead of a man, because he failed to remember that Cas was neither. Cas was often disgusted by how he shoved food in his mouth but was completely captivated by the lips that wrapped around his fork. He was impossible to talk to before at least two cups of coffee and considered ketchup a vegetable. He angered Cas to no end and was perhaps the most insufferable human to have ever walked on the planet. And Castiel wanted him in ways that he couldn’t even begin to process.

After dinner, Castiel zapped all the dishes clean when Sam began to argue that he should clean them, but Donna and Jody insisted on doing it. Jody and Donna were both impressed, and that’s when a million questions began about his grace. He was thankful when he managed to excuse himself to look for Claire. He found her in the den, sitting on the couch texting while Sam and Dean argued about what movie they should put on for their guests. Castiel sat down next to her, a little burned out on social interaction. He never felt this way when he was just around Dean.

Glancing over at Claire, Cas noticed that she didn’t even look up from her phone. She had spent a large majority of the afternoon on her phone. He frowned at her. “As convenient as cellular phones are, if you’re not careful you don’t realize what you’re missing going on around you.”

“Oh, can it.” Claire replied rolling her eyes. “Everyone my age texts this much.”

“Who are you texting?” asked conversationally.

Claire glared daggers through him. “It’s just some guy.”

Cas nodded. “He must be interesting if you’ve been texting him all day.” He said sincerely.

Claire’s face softened a little bit. She sighed. “He’s a hunter too. He helped me on a case in Dell Rapids about a year ago and we’ve been talking and hanging out ever since, if we’re not in completely different states hunting. I, um… I like him a lot.” Claire dropped her eyes, fiddling with a loose thread on the couch they were sitting on. “But I haven’t introduced him to Jody. I think she’ll scare the hell out of him.”

“She can be quite intimidated.” Replied, amused.

Claire bit her lip. Her eyes were haunted with things Cas knew she desperately wanted to say but was choosing not to. She dropped her phone in her lap and took a deep breath. She looked at him, her big blue cautious as she finally decided to confide in him. “I’m going to have to introduce them eventually, aren’t I? I know we’re moving kinda fast, but I think… I think I love him. Maybe I’m not in love with him, but I definitely love him. I worry about him a lot. Sometimes he thinks he can take on things completely by himself and I wish he would just call me, so I could help him with the hunt. But he always tells me I would be a distraction.” She didn’t fight the smile that formed on her lips. ”But Jody is really over protective, and I feel like I should tell her, but if she doesn’t like him…” She shook her head, finally meeting Cas’ gaze again. “Alex just keeps telling me to go for it. She said that he reminds her a lot of Dean- which is f*cking gross- but she said that Jody will love him as long as I’m safe. I just know that she’s going to completely grill him the first time they meet.”

Cas hummed. “That can be complicated.”

“Yeah, well, what do you know about love anyway?” Claire scoffed. Try as he might, Castiel was unable to stop his eyes from flickering to Dean and gazing upon him for a moment. A warm feeling erupting in his chest at seeing Dean continue to bicker with his brother about his taste in films. When he looked back at Claire, realization was etched into every detail on her face. “Oh…OH. Holy sh*t. You can’t be serious. Dean? Dean friggin’ Winchester?”

Cas gave her an imploring look. “Claire-“

“Look, I’m not going to say anything. Especially not to him. That would be awkward as hell.” Castiel didn’t respond, he just observed a button on his trench coat. He shouldn’t make it so painfully obvious or Dean was bound to realize just as quickly as Claire had. “Why don’t you tell him?” Claire asked softly, once she realized he wasn’t going to respond.

“Because Dean sees me as family.” He replied simply. “You’re right in thinking it would be awkward.”

Claire was quiet for quite a while. “He might. Feel the same way I mean. I don’t know, Dean’s a pretty weird dude. He might like you more than you think. He’s not exactly the type that always wears his heart on his sleeves. ”

Castiel gave her a sad smile. “Dean is not attracted to males. And while angels don’t have a gender I’m…” he gestured at his vessel.

Claire snorted. “Yeah, Dean’s totally never checked out a guy before.” She said sarcastically, rolling her eyes. Castiel gave her a quizzical look. “Listen, you can ask Alex. I have like the best gaydar ever. And it’s definitely not silent when Dean’s around.”

Castiel just stared at her. He had no idea what a gaydar was, but it sounded a lot like EMF. He did know that this was Claire trying to be reassuring in her own way though. “Thank you, Claire. But I’m okay with the relationship that Dean and I already have.”

“Whatever, Castiel. Don’t say I didn’t try to tell ya.” She picked up her phone again and starting thumbing away at the screen. Cas sighed and left her to it, standing to approach the two brothers. The conversation was clearly over, and Sam was going to kill Dean if he suggested one more mobster movie. It was time to intervene.

“Thanks for all your help today.” Dean said to Cas sincerely. Everyone had turned in for the night and Dean was picking up stray beer bottles in the dining room that he, Sam, and Jody had somehow managed to empty on top of all the food they ate. Humans certainly partook in gluttony. Cas had stayed behind to help him since he didn’t sleep and being with just Dean after a day with the bunker being full was a bit of a relief. Cas was greedy for it and relished in his alone time with Dean when the hunter put up less of a façade and was all soft eyes and easy smiles.

“You’re welcome, Dean. Though I didn’t do much.”

“Oh, c’mon.” Dean scoffed. “Do you know how long Thanksgiving dishes take to do without grace? You saved us a good hour, if not more. And your mashed potatoes were amazing. See how good things are when you put a little love in them?”

Cas was about to reply, but Dean’s eyes suddenly left his own and flickered up to his hair. A curious but confused look came across the hunter’s face. Before Cas could question it, Dean approached him quickly, he reached for Cas’ hair and carded his fingers through it. A chill went through the angel’s entire vessel at the contact, and it took every fiber of resistance his being was capable of not to lean into the touch. When Dean pulled his hand back, he had a tiny piece of black down between his thumb and index figure. Cas felt himself blush slightly and immediately snatched it out of Dean’s hand, glaring at it before stuffing it in his pocket.

“Uh, Cas? You okay, buddy? I think you’re shedding.”

“I can’t believe- I’m not- angels don’t shed.” Cas snapped. The lights flickered at his irritation and Dean’s eyes grew wide, apparently not expecting his intense irritation.

Dean held out his hands placatingly. “My bad. Uh, I just wanted to make sure you’re good. You are good, right, Cas?” Castiel glared at him. Dean kept touching his feathers. No, he was not good. “Or… not.” Dean added when he didn’t reply. “Talk to me, man. Are you okay? What can I do?”

“Do?” Cas asked suspiciously, his fist crushing the down in his coat pocket.

“Yeah. What can I do to help?”

Castiel felt his eyes shoot wide and his vessel’s heart rate speed up. “This isn’t something you can help me with.” He finally responded after searching for his words carefully.

Dean sighed and grabbed a wet dish cloth to wipe down the table now that it was clear of beer bottles. “Whatever. You obviously have a stick up your ass about losing all these feathers.” Dean seemed irritated. Typical. Always wanting to fix things he had no control over. Dean then blushed a little, his disposition shy. “Your feathers are really soft.” He muttered.

Cas swallowed. Hard. Dean was so nonchalant about his compliment, completely unknowing of how a statement like that would be flirting between two angels. Sometimes Castiel was convinced that Dean being human was possibly the most infuriating circ*mstance in the world “Thank you.” He replied tightly.

Dean smiled. His eyes were soft and warm and reassuring. “Yeah, no problem.” Then, changing the subject, “So, I didn’t hear a peak out of the mark at all today. Maybe that’s a good sign, right? Maybe I’m getting able to control it better. Things were a little rough after the Tulpa…”

Castiel gave Dean a small, sad smile. “Any good day with the mark is something to take advantage of it. But it’s simply lying dormant for the time being. You were in a very pleasant mood today, I’m sure that helped.”

“Yeah, well I had a reason to be in a good mood. I was around everyone I care about, and it wasn’t because someone died.” Dean replied bitterly. Castiel ached because of Dean’s pain. He had seen the hunter suffer countless times because of losing someone he loved, but he had taken Charlie’s death particularly hard, just like he had taken Bobby’s and Kevin’s death hard. These people were family to Dean, and Castiel knew how painful it was to lose loved ones, especially if they died by one’s own hands. While Dean may not have killed Bobby or Charlie or Kevin himself, he still believed it was his fault, and he had never known Dean to forgive himself for something like that. Dean looked at him, leaning his hip against the dinner table. “We’ve known each other for years, and I think this is the first holiday we’ve spent together.”

“This is the first time you’ve invited me to spend a holiday with you.” Cas responded, deciding not to mention how it was not quite Thanksgiving like Dean had earlier.

Dean furrowed his eyebrows at him. “You’re family, Cas. You’re always welcome here, even if I don’t directly invite you.” Dean swallowed and opened his mouth like he was going to add something but stopped himself.

“I’m glad to know I’m needed here.” Castiel said sincerely.

Dean shook his head in frustration. “You’re not just needed here. You’re wanted here. Me and Sam, we want you here, man. Not just when you’re souped up. You don’t have to be this badass soldier of the lord for us to want you to be here.” Castiel looked at Dean, a soft expression on his face. It was moments like this that Cas felt that pull, that insatiable and intense need to touch Dean, to make Dean feel the way that he felt when he heard words like that come from the hunter’s mouth. Dean shifted his weight on his feet awkwardly but didn’t break eye contact with the angel. “What?” he inquired when Cas continue to stare at him with that expression on his face, uncomfortable with the intense and rapt attention.

Cas felt his lips pull into a barely-there smile. “I’m always going where I’m needed.” He replied. “For once… I’m staying where I’m wanted.”

Chapter 11: In Need of an Archangel

Chapter Text

The longer Cas stayed at the bunker, the harder Dean was finding it to push him away. His little game of bitching at Cas whenever he did something wrong had long since gone out the window, and instead was replaced with Dean being…clingy.

He hated the fact that that word now described him, but it was the only one that was fitting. Cas had just fallen into place in his life so seamlessly, and that soft, appreciative look he gave Dean when Dean made sure to remind him that he was wanted at the bunker? That was it for Dean. So maybe he followed him around the bunker or invited him to watch movies or share pizza a little too often. He didn’t want to think about why he wanted to spend so much time with the angel, or why he was noticing how attractive he was, or why his subconscious was providing him with filthy dreams about his best friend. Thinking about that for too long meant dealing with it, it meant that he had to have that mental discussion with himself about the something that was between them. And Dean wasn’t ready for that. Not by a long shot.

Dean was taken completely off guard when Cas approached him to tell him he was leaving. Dean had been flipping through the newspaper looking for potential cases while Sam was in another room of the bunker checking his laptop about an alert that could be a potential trail on Rowena. At some point while reading news articles, Dean had spaced out and wondered if maybe he should plan something for Christmas like he had for Thanksgiving. It had been a hit with Jody, Donna, and the girls, and provided Sammy with a holiday experience that he had always wished he could provide for him as a kid. Then he learned that it had given Cas a sense of belonging and that even furthered Dean’s temptation to celebrate another holiday.

He knew it was probably stupid, getting his hopes up to have a semi normal Christmas. Chances were always that someone would be working, or have a hunt, or something. It wasn’t exactly easy to plan in advance when you’re a hunter. There was no way of telling when a case would come up. It was one of the reasons that so few hunters seemed to settle down. Taking down a wendigo wasn’t exactly a romantic first date, and it’s a little hard to explain to the in-laws that you can’t show up for dinner because you’re beheading a vamp.

Regardless, Dean was slowly warming up to the idea when Cas brushed by him on the way to the bunker’s door, nonchalantly announcing his leave.

Dean nearly fell out of his chair because he sat up so fast. Who says they’re leaving like that? Where was he going? For how long? “Whoa, slow down, buddy. Where you headed?” He asked, standing up and following Cas. He internally cringed slightly, the word clingy infiltrating his thoughts like a bright neon sign.

Cas stopped before he reached the staircase, turning around so fast that Dean nearly bumped into him. “My colleagues-“ Dean snorted at the term. “-have tracked down the angel I’m looking for. I’m meeting her for coffee.”

Dean tried and failed to reel in the jealous feeling that exploded in the pit of his stomach and knew he should be questioning why it made him jealous, but that was a can of worms he absolutely refused to open right now. But grabbing coffee sounded a lot like something normal people do as a date, or something you suggest to rekindle something with an ex. “You made it sound like she didn’t want to be found last time you brought her up.” Dean knew he was stalling, he just didn’t care. He was still a little irritated that Cas chose to flap out so abruptly.

“She didn’t. Hasdiel was able to track her down anyway. He was able to get her to agree to meet me, even if just for a short amount of time. She agreed under the promise that she pick the location and time.” As if that was a sufficient comment towards being late, Castiel began making his way up the stairs.

“Let me go with you.” Dean blurted out. He was trying to shut up the voice in the back of his head that always told him that one day Cas would leave and choose to not come back. This was just meeting another angel for coffee. He shouldn’t be freaking out. But he was. What if the other angel tried to attack Cas? What if she managed to convince him to return to Heaven full time?

Cas stopped, turning to look at Dean again in confusion. “That would not be a good idea. Ariel is fond of humans… but from a distance. I am much more likely to get information out of her if you’re not there.” Cas didn’t bring up how many of the angels frowned upon Dean. He didn’t need to. The conversation about it before was still seared into Dean’s mind.

Dean was caught off guard by how that comment sounded to him and chastised himself for becoming such a girl since it stung. It wasn’t even about him. He didn’t care how the other angels felt about him, but he did care how they treated Cas because of it. He shrugged. “If your little coffee date is about the mark, it just seemed like it made sense for me to be there since I’m, you know, carrying the mark.” He muttered, a little unkindly.

“It’s not a ‘date’.” Cas replied, narrowing his eyes. “These were the circ*mstances that Ariel insisted upon, and these are the circ*mstances I am willing to provide for her. I will return in a few hours. Good bye, Dean.” He didn’t give Dean enough time to reply before he made it the rest of the way upstairs and out the bunker door. Dean saw him vanish before the door even swung close behind him.

Dean sighed, running his fingers through his hair in frustration, but didn’t have time to pout before Sam entered the room with his laptop, an excited look on his face.

“Are you even listening to what I’m saying, or are the too busy sulking over Cas not letting you go with him?” Sam finally groaned, realizing that Dean’s eyes weren’t even on the computer screen. Dean was sitting down in front of Sam’s laptop while Sam hovered behind him, trying to explain that they may have a lead on Rowena. Dean’s eyes were focused on periodically darting to the bunkers entrance as he waited for Cas to return.

“I’m not sulking!” Dean practically growled. “I just think it’s kinda messed up that he wouldn’t let me go. What if he needed back up, Sam?”

“I don’t think that’ll be a problem, Dean. Even the angels that are still kinda pissed at him have accepted that he’s the reason they’re back in Heaven with their wings on. Even the ones that hate him-“ Dean frowned deeply. “-still owe him some sort of respect for that. Besides, we’ve seen him taking down like four angels at once. I’m pretty sure he can handle himself.”

Dean silently agreed with that. Cas was pretty badass when it came to combat. “Okay, whatever. Now why do you think we have a lead on the witch bitch?”

“I originally had the program set up to just look for witch activity, which wasn’t working well. Generally, witches cover their tracks pretty well in comparison to a lot of things we hunt. They’re basically humans so they think like humans. They’re harder to track So, I was getting almost no hits. At first, I thought the program was malfunctioning, so I switched it to demonic activity just to make sure it was working. The program was flooded with it.” Sam explained enthusiastically. He had two tabs open on the laptop and flipped back and forth between them to show the difference in activity. Demonic activity had probably seven times more red blinking dots on the map.

“Yeah, well, demons are co*cky bastards. They don’t really try to hide the way witches do. What does this have to do with Rowena?”
Dean was asked, confused. His eyes scanned all the dots for demonic activity and his fists clenched and unclenched in his lap and the mark tingled with interest and the idea of a kill.

“Because the nature of the demonic activity is what has me intrigued. I made a few calls to a few hunters in the areas where the activity is happening in clusters-“ Sam pointed to the screen, “-and the demons are kidnapping people and trying to get information out of them. They usually smoke out when hunters show up, not even bothering to put up a fight.” Dean took his eyes off the computer screen to look at his brother, his raised eyebrows encouraging Sam to keep going. “All these demons are looking for a witch. They’re looking for Rowena.”

Dean smirked. “So, Crowley is looking for Rowena. All we have to do is track Crowley or his demons and-“

“He leads us to Rowena.” Sam finished with a grin.

Castiel’s eyes scanned the diner and immediately found Ariel. She was sitting at a booth by herself, as promised, stirring a cup of coffee. There was a blueberry muffin sitting in front of her, untouched, and Cas wondered if she ordered it to look normal or if she too was indulging in human sustenance like he had been recently. He approached her booth slowly, aware of how reluctant she was to originally meet him. He was glad he had sent out Hasdiel to speak with her once she was located because he felt like the angel’s kindness and warmth played a large role in Ariel agreeing to meet him. Even in Heaven, she had been an angel that preferred to work alone and did not spend time with the other angels often.

“Hello, Ariel.” Castiel greeted formally, sliding in the seat across from her. She looked up at him, a curious expression on her face. He had heard that she was rather intrigued by him since he was known for always choosing humanity over Heaven. While Ariel was a loner when it came to angels, she had always had a soft spot for humans while she was in Heaven.

“Hello, Castiel.” She responded, just as formally. Castiel almost smiled at her. It was apparent that he wasn’t the only angel that had a preference when it came to their vessel. Ariel always choose a very similar vessel, female with black hair and brown eyes, usually in her late 20’s or early 30’s. This vessel had bangs and a short bob with a professional demeanor but soft, light brown eyes and an attractive face that was very fitting to her personality.

“Thank you for meeting with me.” Cas stated, adjusting his trench coat a little awkwardly. “Hasdiel informed me that you were hesitant.”

Ariel frowned at him before speaking. “I was. I’ve been in hiding for decades now. It’s been nice. I don’t wish to return to Heaven.” She fixed him with a look, clearly stating she didn’t expect him to change her mind.

Castiel squinted at the other angel, taking her in as his eyes scanned her face. “No one is asking you to return. If you would rather stay on earth, by all means, stay. That’s not what I want to discuss.” Cas sighed in an almost human manner. “I’m not exactly the correct angel to convince someone to choose Heaven over earth.”

Ariel suddenly smiled, a small laugh escaping her lips. “I suppose you’re right. If any of the Garrisons were expecting my return, you would be the last angel they would send. Honestly, it’s hard for me to judge you for choosing humans over angels at times.” She relaxed, her disposition shifting to something resembling friendly. “What can I do for you, Castiel?” She finally took a sip of her coffee, and when Cas noticed the amount of empty sugar packs next to the mug he couldn’t help but think of how Dean would tease her about it if he were here.

He inhaled deeply, schooling his facial features so that they were serious and urgent. “I’ve been told that you may be able to give me information on the Mark of Cain.”

Ariel tensed, and started stirring her coffee again nervously even though she hadn’t added anything else to it. “Why would I know anything about the Mark of Cain?” She questioned.

“Ariel, I know what you were in Heaven.” Cas responded imploringly. “Your job was to provide protection for God and all of Heaven. The mark was considered a threat, if anyone would’ve been given information about it, it would have been you.”

Ariel snorted, her eyes following the movement of her spoon in her coffee. She finally decided to stop stirring her drink and took the spoon out, looking up at Cas. “This is about the human, isn’t it? Dean Winchester? The one bearing the mark?” She did a poor job at hiding the curiosity in her voice.

“I want to rid the world of the mark. Dean just so happens to be the one that has it.” Cas stated calmly, keeping his facial features neutral.

“You’re very fond of him, from what I’ve heard.” Ariel said, tilting her head and observing Cas. “All the angels are aware of it. He is the one that you rebelled for, after all. None of the Garrisons were able to stop talking about it. The things I heard on angel radio…” She smiled teasingly. “Though I suppose that’s besides the point. You want to be able to remove the mark from your human, and it’s impossible.” Castiel didn’t correct her when she referred to Dean as his, he was too selfish to. Cas opened his mouth, but Ariel interrupted him. “Besides… I’m not supposed to speak of these things. I may have left Heaven once I realized our Father had left, but it’s still my job as angel to protect Heaven and its angels. Removing the mark can be dangerous, and I cannot provide you with information that could put others in danger.”

“Please.” Cas pleaded. “There has to be something you can tell me, Ariel.”

The other angel sighed. She observed him carefully before speaking. “I don’t know much, Castiel. I really don’t. I wasn’t trusted with the full details by any means. When they trusted me with protection, it was mostly just for me to know all sigils and spells. I know that there’s a spell, but I was not trusted with the information about the spell. The only thing I know about the spell… well that information is what makes it impossible. An archangel must be the one to perform the spell. In case you have forgotten… all the archangels are dead.”

“They’re not all dead.”

Ariel scrunched up her nose in disappointment, immediately realizing where Castiel’s thought process went. “Michael and Lucifer are out of the question. Do you think that any of the angels would allow you to risk Lucifer escaping his cage just to save Dean Winchester?”

“There has to be another way.” Castiel’s voice was determined.

Ariel looked at him sadly, her pretty features pained. “I’m sorry, but that’s the only way I know. I wasn’t ranked high enough to be told many details on the matter. All I know is that the spell must be done by an archangel, and that all of the archangels have the spell seared into their brains.”

Castiel didn’t reply, but instead his eyes were drawn to a smudge of ketchup that hadn’t been cleaned on the table. Ariel was right. There was no way anyone would approve of opening Lucifer’s cage to have he or Michael perform the spell. Not even Dean himself would allow anyone to risk that, especially not for him. “Thank you.” He finally said sincerely, looking back up at her.

She nodded. “I suppose I should thank you as well. I know you were the reason that the angels fell in the first place… but you righted your wrongs. I have to admit, it’s a lot easier to fly under Heaven’s radar with my wings back.” Castiel twitched nervously at the mention of wings and Ariel looked at him curiously. “You did get your wings back as well, right?”

“Yes.” Cas responded tightly.

It was then that Ariel gave him a knowing look. A teasing smirk appeared on her face. “You know, you’re going to have to get help with that-“

Castiel stood abruptly. “Thank you for your time, Ariel. The information you’ve given me may be helpful in the future.” He gave her a final nod before storming out of the diner.

“Well look who’s back!” Dean said enthusiastically when Cas made his way down the stairs of the bunkers entrance. Sam gave him an annoyed look due to his distraction, but he ignored it. He had been having a mini freak out worried about what kind of trouble snooping about the mark could’ve gotten the angel into.

“Hello, Dean.” Cas responded as usual, but he looked particularly tired.

“You alright, Cas?” Sam asked, sitting down next to Dean. He had recently gotten up to make a sandwich, but Dean had already shoveled his own sandwich in Garfield style.

Cas flopped down in the seat in front of Dean ineloquently and it made Dean smirk. He had come along way since having a stick up his ass when he came to earth. Cas looked between the two brothers before finally responded. “Ariel did have information on mark. Unfortunately, the only cure she knows is a spell for its removal that has to be performed by an archangel.”

Dean felt something flip in his stomach. He hadn’t exactly gotten his hopes up about Cas coming home with a win, especially since it seemed like things always came to a dead end when it involved the mark. It wasn’t that that was making him feel bad. It was the utterly defeated look on Cas’ face. It was him being even more disappointed about not bringing home a win, and Dean was too much of a dumbass to tell him that just having Cas come back period felt like a pretty big damn win. “We’ll figure it out, Cas.” He said hoarsely. Cas met his eyes and stared into them unblinkingly. Dean held eye contact with him, trying to be both reassuring and get comfort of his own in return.

Of course, Sammy cleared his throat because he thought it was weird. “Well, there is Michael and Lu-“

“No. Abso-f*cking-lutely not, Sam. And I mean that.” He glanced back and forth between his brother and the angel. “And that applies to both of you. We figure out another way. We always do. But we’re not tampering with the cage period. At least we know there is a spell now, so we’re not on a wild goose chase with that. Maybe we can figure out how to do the spell without an archangel, or maybe there’s another one.” He forced a smile. Ever since Sam had brought up hunting, the mark was irritated. It went from burning to itching and had started a soft chant in the back of his head trying to convince him to kill something. It was still at the stage where it was easily ignored, and so that’s exactly what Dean planned to do. Sam gave him a sad, pitiful look, and if Dean wasn’t adamant about the cage staying sealed, the puppy eyes might have actually worked on him. Cas was just watching him sadly. “In the meantime, I know a new episode of Doctor Sexy is coming on tonight. Who’s watching it with me?”

Sam rolled his eyes dramatically and pulled out bitchface number 72. “You couldn’t pay me to watch that garbage.” He mumbled, getting up and heading to his bedroom, his laptop in hand.

Dean just turned to Cas, an encouraging grin on his face. Cas huffed a sigh. “Do you want popcorn?”

Castiel did not like the show Doctor Sexy, MD. Its medical inaccuracies were so appalling that he had a hard time believing it had been on for so many seasons and had an even harder time believing that someone as intelligent as Dean enjoyed watching it. Castiel had shed his trench coat and suit jacket along with his tie and shoes with Dean’s encouragement. He even allowed Dean to roll up his sleeves again even though he was fully capable of doing it himself. Dean had switched into worn out sweatpants and an old Avengers t-shirt that Castiel was pretty sure had holes in it. They were sitting side by side on the couch, close enough so that their knees and shoulders often brushed.

“There’s no possible way that doctor would be able to tell the patient had lupus from that test. It’s scientifically impossible.” He grumbled, crossing his arms across his chest.

Dean was transfixed on the screen and didn’t acknowledge Cas’ comment until the screen shifted to a commercial break. “We’ve talked about this, Cas. Tv shows and movies are rarely 100% accurate. It’s not supposed to be a learning experience, it’s supposed to be entertainment.” He replied, finally taking his eyes off of the television. Castiel didn’t comment on the fact that he didn’t find an inaccurate show to be entertaining. Dean’s eyes suddenly flickered to his neck and chest. “If you’re going to have your sleeves rolled up and your tie off, you need to at least button one or two of the top buttons of your shirt. Otherwise it looks stupid. Didn’t we talk about that before your Gas-N-Sip date?”

Castiel scoffed. “As you know, that didn’t end up being much of a date, Dean.” Regardless, he began undoing the top couple of buttons on his shirt. Dean’s eyes tracked the movement and he could tell the hunter was holding his breath. Cas wanted to question him, but he licked his lips and made eye contact again.

Dean bit his lip before asking “You said that it was a part of the human experience for you. Dating. Does that mean that you have no interest in it now that you’re souped up again?”

“It’s not really something I have the luxury of worrying about right now.” Cas replied simply.

Dean looked down at the Mark of Cain on his arm. “Because of the mark? And Rowena and Heaven?”

Cas searched Dean’s eyes. “Amongst other things.” He said quietly. Castiel was a selfish being at times, but he wasn’t nearly selfish enough to confess to Dean that he had no interest in dating unless Dean was involved. He knew that Dean would never return his feelings, so there was no need to revel in selfish proclamations of love.

Dean opened his mouth to say something but closed it when he realized that Doctor Sexy, MD was back on. He worried his bottom lip but turned his attention back to the television.

Five minutes into the return from commercial break, Cas found himself rolling his eyes so dramatically that he just allowed his head to fall back against the back of the couch with a sigh. Dean glared at him for a moment before looking back at the show. The doctor referred to as Doctor Sexy was back in this scene, and Cas watched as Dean squirmed a little at his presence and his pupils dilated slightly. Doctor Sexy was arguing with a petite female with tears in her eyes. ”Janet, you have to understand. I love you. I’ve always loved you…but my practice comes first. My patients come first. I can’t be with you if means giving up being a doctor.”

“If he really cared about his saving lives, why did he stop in the middle of heart surgery to argue with Janet?” Cas asked, once again annoyed by the plot holes in the show.

Dean groaned, shooting Cas a bothered look. “If you keep bad mouthing my show, I’m kicking you out.”

“My apologies, Dean.” Castiel responded sarcastically.

Dean returned his eyes to the screen but swallowed hard. “Besides” he said softly. “It’s not like I watch it for the medical part.”

Castiel’s eyes scanned scanned Dean’s freckled face as a slight blush spread across his cheeks. Dean had made off hand comments like this in the past. He would always blush a little, always have a look in his eyes that Cas couldn’t quite place, like he’s just waiting for the day that someone finally acknowledged it.

“Then why do you watch it?” Cas asks, taking the bait as if Dean Winchester would ever have to bait him when it came to learning more about the hunter.

Dean cleared his throat uncomfortably, his fingers twitching again the tv remote. He refused to look at Cas, but opened and closed his mouth a few times, thinking of what to say. He finally shrugged. “I mean, Doctor Sexy… he’s a pretty good-looking guy, right?”

Cas looked back at the tv. He wasn’t fond of the long hair, and it was entirely impractical and unhygienic for a surgeon to wear cowboy boots while working in a hospital. He looked back at Dean, and Dean looked like he was about to squirm out of his skin. “He has a strong jawline which is often deemed attractive.” He finally stated just to put Dean at ease. On the screen, Doctor Sexy’s brown eyes filled with tears as he finally broke up with Janet. “I prefer green eyes though.” He felt Dean immediately tense next to him and coughed loudly as if choking on his own saliva.

“Uh, that’s cool.” He replied hoarsely, finally clearing this throat. He readjusted his position on the couch, causing their knees to bump. He avoided Cas’ eyes and played with a thread on his sweatpants that was forming a hole. “Listen, Cas. I need you to promise me something.” He finally made eye contact with Castiel, and the weight of importance in his eyes were all too clear. “You have to promise me that you’ll stop Sam if he tried to open the cage. We have to find another way. All the sh*t that we went through to lock Lucifer up…” Dean shook his head. “We can’t risk him getting out again. It’s not worth it. We’ll find another way to get rid of the mark. Promise me.” His green eyes were pleading with Castiel. A part of the angel wanted to argue with him, wanted to convince him that he was worth it, was worth everything, but Cas also knew that was the illogical part of him that was in love with this human. And he knew how much this meant to Dean.

“I promise.” He responded loyally.

Dean nodded. “Thanks, Cas.”

Doctor Sexy M.D. ended and shifted to reruns of Friends that Dean also watched. Even though Castiel preferred this shows antics to the medical inaccuracies of Doctor Sexy, he had no interest in the show and found himself often watching Dean instead of the television. He laughed at all the scenes that were supposed to be funny, and provided the occasional commentary, but Castiel wasn’t fooled. Dean’s eyes were absolutely haunted with worry. He was worried about every monster he had yet to kill, worried about Rowena’s escape, worried bout the Mark of Cain, worried about what his brother and best friend were willing to do to get rid of it… and that only scratched the surface. Dean was always putting on his big brother façade where he wasn’t afraid of everyone and was always in control, but he never fooled Cas. The angel so desperately wanted to assure Dean that he didn’t have to do this around him, that he didn’t have anything to fake or prove to Cas. But he knew it would be something that Dean would either deny or shy away from, so instead, he sat with him on the lumpy couch and pretended to be interested in watching tv.

Cas was lost in thought, not realizing how much time had passed when he felt Dean slump against him. The human had fallen asleep at some point, his head now rested against Cas’ shoulder. Cas froze, unsure of whether or not he should wake Dean, but then Dean nuzzled into his dress shirt collar and Cas smiled. Suddenly Friends was a lot more interesting and he no longer wanted to get up.

Chapter 12: Woodward Sucks

Chapter Text

Dean lied in bed that night, staring up at the ceiling. One of his hands idly scratched his stomach while his other arm propped him up against his pillow. He had a hard time falling asleep after waking up, practically cuddling his obscenely attractive best friend. Dean swallowed hard and ignored the heat attempting to pool in his gut at the memory of it.

He knew that eventually he was going to having to think about what all of this meant. He was going to have to accept the fact that he craved Cas’ presence and worried about him leaving. He was going to have to acknowledge that there was a reason his dick was so quick to perk up about certain thoughts pertaining to the angel. He was going to have confess that there was meaning behind how far he was willing to go to protect Cas. He was going to have to admit that there was a reason he hadn’t the urge to do random bar hookups in years.

And that was terrifying.

It was biting off far more than he could chew. Cas was his best friend, he was an angel… and he had a male vessel. Dean cringed at the thought of considering it a vessel, especially since he knew it had been long since Jimmy Novak had clocked out of the body, and that it strictly belonged to Cas now. It wasn’t just a meat suit anymore, it was Cas. And for whatever reason, Dean didn’t seem to care that Cas’ body had to same set up as his own.

Dean’s mind once again wandered back to Daniel all those years ago. If he was honest with himself, he still though Daniel was attractive. He still thought the blowj*b was one of the hottest he had ever received. It was just that being honest about it to himself was difficult. Thinking about it made his gut twist. It made him think about the times when he was a teenager and was finally growing into his adult body, and the looks he had begun to receive from men at truck stops, gas stations and bars. It reminded him of how the attention felt strangely pleasant, and how his father John never had anything good to say about the men that ogled at him.

There were quite a few unpleasant memories about the times that John felt like Dean talked to another man a little too long, bat his eyelashes a little too much, and smiled a little too flirtatiously. Dean never planned for these moments to lead to anything more. He was just curious. John beat that curiosity down with angry slurs, female strip clubs, and occasionally his own fists.

Dean never attempted to satiate his curiosities when it came to other men. He was still the faithful soldier under his father’s command, and while John never directly accused Dean of being anything but straight, he still made it abundantly clear that that was the only option for Dean as far as he was concerned, so Dean never took the time to explore any other options. Then as he got older, men flirting with him just made him flustered because he had spent so long ignoring it and avoiding it.

As Dean rolled over in bed, he knew that he would have never fooled around with Daniel had a sh*t ton of alcohol not smoothed the way. He had been too drunk to overthink the situation or think about what John or others would have to say about the situation. It had been relieving to flirt with someone he found attractive without fear of other’s opinions just because the person he was flirting with had the same junk as him.

Dean sat up in bed, scrubbing a hand through his hair in frustration. The mark flared up angrily at his irritation and he ignored it. He had never really put much thought into sexuality. He had had sex with women (mostly) so he just figured he was straight. But while Dean certainly wasn’t the politically correct person there was, he also knew that it was a little bit more complicated than that. It was scary to admit it, so he never did, but he was just as attracted to men as he was women. All the sex that he had with women didn’t erase the fact that men got his engine revving just as easily whenever he would actually let them.

He guessed that someone, somewhere would probably tell him that the appropriate term for him would be bisexual. He let the label bounce around in his head for a bit and muttered it out loud to get a feel of how he felt about it. It wasn’t as scary as it could be. The term didn’t scare him, it was whether or not it would change things that was scary. But even as there was this huge part of him reminding him that he had only f*cked women, he knew bisexuality fit him. Bisexual. Dudes and chicks. He could handle that. Maybe.

Dean whipped his legs around to the side of his bed, standing up to stretch as he shook the thoughts from his head. He grimaced as joints popped and made his way over to the bottle of Jack that was on his dresser. It was mostly gone, he found himself drinking more and more frequently to keep the Mark quiet. He knew both Cas and Sam had noticed but kept avoiding the subject, especially after the Tulpa incident. Both his brother and best friend just helplessly kept searching for a cure. Dean was pretty sure he had even heard Sam praying one night, which was absolutely ridiculous. God didn’t help them with the apocalypse, and he certainly wasn’t going to help them with the Mark.

Dean filled an old coffee cup on his nightstand with the whiskey and downed it in one go. Any remnants of coffee were completely covered up by the liquor. He had done enough thinking about sexuality for one night. He wasn’t even going to think about Cas. He knew better; he knew he had to take things a step at a time if he didn’t want to freak out. His stomach was still twisting in knots at the thought of trying to accept the fact that some men turned him on, and the ‘man’ that was at the top of that list just so happened to be his angel best friend.

Dean woke up the next day to a throbbing head from the amount of whiskey he had chugged the night before. He winced and rubbed his temples, willing the pain to dull. He heard a knock at the door and groaned in response, tossing an arm over his eyes to shield them from the light he knew would flood in from the hallway as his door creaked open.

“Good morning, Dean.” He heard Cas’ gravelly voice say from beyond his arm. Dean produced another grumpy noise in response but peeked from behind his arm when he heard a coffee mug being placed on his nightstand. Cas picked up the now entirely empty bottle of Jack and looked it over before narrowing his eyes at Dean. Dean ignored him, sitting up slowly and grappling for the coffee dizzily. “You’re waking up late.” Cas commented, sitting next the Dean on the edge of the bed. Dean squirmed a little bit, but took a couple of grounding gulps of coffee, made just the way he liked it.

“You’re a godsend, Cas.” Dean replied, ignoring the angel’s comment about sleeping late and reveling in the coffee. He felt a warm fondness spread through his chest at the realization that Cas cared enough to remember the way he took his coffee. Cas just rolled his eyes, not amused by Dean’s joke seeing as how was literally sent by God. Dean slumped back down onto his pillows, nearly spilling coffee on himself in the process. He was still a little drunk and much too groggy to get the day started. Cas must have realized because he pressed two fingers to Dean’s temple, and suddenly the hunter was wide awake and sober. “Thanks, Cas.” He muttered.

“You’re welcome, Dean. Pack your bags. I found a hunt.”

A few hours later, Dean found himself in a bar in Woodward, Oklahoma. He, Sam, and Cas were investigating a potential nest of vampires in town. All the bloody, gruesome signs pointed to vampires, but they had yet to find a trail leading to any vamps and so Dean managed to convince them to hit a local bar, arguing that the place seemed like a vampire hangout. It wasn’t entirely just a ruse to get drunk, the place really did seem like it would attract some blood suckers. There was heavy metal music playing from the jukebox and the place was barely lit. From what Dean could actually see, it was full of people mostly younger than him. He was catching plenty of glimpses of fishnets and leather. A girl with multiple lip piercings currently had Sam cornered in a booth, and Cas was awkwardly flipping through the jukebox, his tax accountant get up completely out of place. At least Dean’s recently purchased leather jacket made him blend in a little better.

Dean slid into a seat at the bar, flagging down the bartender. He flashed her a charming grin, but the flirtatious act didn’t work on her at all. She ran a hand through her bright blue fauxhawk and rolled her eyes, causing her eyebrow ring to jump. “Pick your poison.” She said boredly, adjusting a skull ring on one of her fingers. Her hazel eyes glared are him from between a thick layer of eyeliner.

“Surprise me.” Dean replied, still trying to be flirty. He was hoping to warm her up a bit before asking her about the attacks that had happened in town a couple of blocks away. The bartender turned her back, grabbing a shot glass and different bottles with sure, skilled hands, proof that he had been doing this for a while. She slid him the glass, raising a challenging eyebrow at the look on Dean’s face.

The shot looked disgusting. It was a mixture of white, red, and latte brown that didn’t blend together and looked like something out of a science experiment. “It’s called a brain hemorrhage.” The bartender replied confidently, adjusting a bra strap that was sliding down her arm beneath her Ramones tanktop.

Dean shrugged and threw the shot back, surprised that it actually tasted pleasant and he wouldn’t mind a second. He quickly motioned for her to make him another one. “Interesting choice, sweetheart.”

The bartender scrunched up her nose in disgust. “My name is Andrisha. And unless you have a puss*, I’m not interested.”

Dean choked on his second shot and attempted to cough it up, along with part of one of his lungs. “Uh, sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.” He responded sheepishly.

Andrisha laughed. “You’re not from around here, are you? What brings you to Woodward?”

Dean reached into the inner pocket of his leather jacket and produced one of his fake FBI badges. “I’m Detective Morrison, and I actually have some questions about some of the violent deaths that happened not far from here.”

Narrowing her eyes, Andrisha looked Dean up and down observantly. “You don’t look much like a detective. Undercover, I’m guessing?” Dean nodded. “Well, I’m sorry Detective Morrison, but I don’t know anything about the attacks. I know one of the victims was a regular here. A really pretty girl. This wasn’t really here scene though. When she came in, she was always decked out in cheap Hot Topic apparel, but anytime you saw her around town she wouldn’t be dressed like that.”

“Really? Why do you think she dressed differently?” Dean asked, fidgeting with his empty shot glass.

Andrisha shrugged, wiping off the counter just to have something to do with her hands. “Probably trying to impress some guy. This whole bar scene is a gimmick, you know? A lot of people don’t dress like this all day every day. It’s just a part of the scene.” Dean nodded again. It made sense. He had lost count how many times a pretty girl had fallen victim to the charm of a vamp. Hell, that was how he met Alex and how Jody ended up housing her. “If you have any other questions I can try to help but give me a bit. I’ve gotta refill some of these beers on tap before my boss has my ass.” Andrisha pointed her thumb behind her, motioning to the beers on tap. Dean agreed to allow her to finish up her job and sighed as she walked away. He could already tell that the bar was going to be a bust, and the only information that he, Sam, and Cas would get out of the patrons would be things they could’ve already guessed themselves.

“Either you’re new to hunting, or you really didn’t feel like putting in much effort just now.” A husky voice said to Dean’s right.

Dean turned on his barstool to see a man staring at him, his blue eyes full of mirth. The man had perfect, straight white teeth and a short beard that framed a handsome face. His brunette hair was longer than Dean’s but shorter than Cas’ and pushed back out of his face. The man’s outfit was similar to Dean’s, so he too looked out of place in the bar.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, man.” Dean said, avoiding eye contact as he wished he had traded his empty shot glass for a beer.

The man flashed his pearly whites at Dean again, and Dean tried to fight the blush threatening to spread across his cheeks at how predatory it felt, how charming the delicate flutter of his eyelashes was. “Don’t worry, you’re amongst friends.” The man reached out, offering his hand. “The name is Sebastian. I go by Seb.” Dean took the Seb’s hand hesitantly but didn’t offer a name. “I’m a hunter like yourself. You must be working the vampire case too.”

Dean relaxed marginally, but before he could respond, Andrisha was back. Seb ordered two beers and slid one to Dean. He waved Andrisha off for the time being. “Yeah, man. I’m not having any luck so far. What about you?”

Seb shrugged. “Nothing. The vamps have done a great job at covering their tracks. I usually hunt in the Boston area, but I just so happened to be out this way when I saw the deaths on the news.”

“Mmm.” Dean responded, taking a sip of his beer. “I drove in from Lawrence a few hours ago.”

“Hunting alone? That’s brave.” Seb shot Dean another dazzling smile and he felt his stomach flutter nervously. He was pretty sure the guy was flirting with him, and it’s not like Dean was blind, the man was hot as hell.

Dean shrugged casually. Dean didn’t want to lie to him, but he also didn’t trust him enough to reveal that he was on a hunt with his brother and best friend.

Seb and Dean discussed the case for about 15 minutes when Dean got a text from Sam. Sam had noticed Dean was in a serious conversation and was smart enough to know better than to interrupt on the chance that it had something to do with the case. Dean quickly texted back that he had it handled, and that Sam and Cas should leave before turning his attention back to Seb.

Sebastian was funny and charming and easy to talk to about hunting. He had been a hunter for years and usually stuck to offing vampires because that’s where he felt like his expertise lied. Dean found that they knew about the same amount about the case at hand, which wasn’t much. Seb was in the middle of telling a story about a vampire he beheaded during a Broadway show when he made eye contact with Cas from across the bar. He and Sam were leaving, and the angel had his eyes narrowed and his head tilted, observing Dean before he left. Dean swallowed hard and wondered if Cas could tell that either of them were flirting, and wondered if that weirded the angel out. Sam grabbed Cas by the arm and pulled him out of the bar before Dean could dwell on it too much.

A little over an hour later, and Dean was drunk. Seb kept buying him beer, and eventually he convinced Seb to try the brain hemorrhage shots. The other hunter also seemed to be drunk, and as time passed and drinks went down easier, Dean was having less control over his flirting. Seb had ditched his leather jacket long ago, and when he pushed back his hair, his muscles flexed under a tight black v neck that practically had Dean drooling. Andrisha gave him a knowing look every time she dropped off another drink, and Dean really wished she wouldn’t. He was really pushing his limits by flirting so carelessly with another man just a few hours after he had rolled the word bisexual around on his tongue. If it wasn’t for the alcohol, and how soothing and familiar Seb’s blue eyes felt, Dean knew he wouldn’t be in this position.

Which is why it shocked him when he found himself pushed against the bathroom wall a few minutes later. Seb wasted no time, sliding his tongue past Dean’s lips and pressing his body against Dean’s. Dean shuddered at the delicious scrape of Seb’s beard against his skin and whined when he felt the other hunter ruck his shirt up to splay a hot hand over his abs. Seb grinded his hips down against Dean’s and a breathy moan escaped Dean’s lips. He couldn’t believe he had tried to deny his attraction for men for so long, and he kept trying to talk over the voice in his head screaming a mantra of wrong, wrong, wrong. Dean tangled his hands in Seb’s hair and was completely along for the ride and at the other man’s mercy until Seb reached for his belt buckle and everything came to a screeching halt. Dean’s lungs constricted in panic and he grabbed Seb’s hand to stop him.

“Uh, listen, Seb…” He said hoarsely, pulling away from the other hunter’s insistent lips. Seb stopped, looking into Dean’s eyes. Dean swallowed harshly at the realization that their blue wasn’t the correct shade. They were not the blue eyes that felt like home. “I would be lying if I said I wasn’t having a great time. But, uh, we should… we should stop.” Seb immediately let go of Dean, causing him to sag against the wall slightly.

“Did I do something wrong?” Seb asked worriedly, pushing his hair back.

“No! It’s just…” Dean didn’t really have an answer. He definitely wasn’t planning on having sex in the grimy bathroom of a wannabe goth bar, but he also was expecting to have a little fun. It just didn’t feel right. Sam and Cas were probably waiting up for him wondering what in the hell he was doing. And what was he doing? He didn’t even know this guy, and while that didn’t stop him from hooking up with people in the past, there was something in his gut telling him that this whole situation was wrong.

Seb smirked at him and sighed, his hands flat against the wall behind Dean, bracketing him. “I get it. Well, actually… I don’t. But if you want to stop, we should stop. Just let me give you my number. Maybe we can we can take these vampires down together once one of us gets a lead.” Dean nodded, reaching in his jacket to pull out his cell phone. He didn’t even remember that the background on his phone was a picture of Sam and Cas until Seb commented on it. “Friends?” He asked, saving his number and handing the phone back.

“Family.” Dean corrected, pocketing his phone after sending a quick text so that Seb would have his number too. He stood there awkwardly, forcing himself to hold eye contact when he really just wanted to haul ass out of the bar.

Seb dropped his hands, but not before planting one last gentle kiss on Dean’s lips. “I had fun tonight, Dean.”

“Me too.” Dean answered honestly. “But I’ve gotta go.” Seb nodded, looking at Dean sadly. “I’ll call you if I figure out anything about the vamp nest.” He added, suddenly feeling very guilty and like he had led the guy on.

Goodbyes were quick, and Dean stumbled out of the bar, immediately looking for the Impala before realizing that Sam and Cas must have taken it. Dean drew his leather jacket around him tightly, the cold bite of the night air sobering. He began making his way towards the motel that he had booked earlier and was a little surprised by how little he was freaking out by his impromptu make out session. He had a sneaking suspicion that he might not be as calm once he completely sobered up. He didn’t think it would take long with the just above freezing temperature and the three blocks to walk.

When Dean arrived at the motel, he was surprised to find Cas outside, leaning against the Impala. “What are you doing out here?” He asked breathily, no longer able to feel his toes because of the cold air, despite how thick his boots were.

“I was waiting for your return.” Cas replied, standing up straight. He narrowed his eyes and surveyed Dean. “There’s something not quite right about the man you were speaking with. It was concerning.”

“Well, jeez, Cas. If I didn’t know any better, I would think you were jealous.” Dean joked, flashing Cas a grin.

Castiel stared at him with wide, owlish eyes for a moment before scraping his facial expression in favor of something more neutral and replied, “I would have no reason to be jealous, Dean.”

Dean gulped slightly, pulling his jacket in tighter and tensing his shoulders as the wind picked up. He wiggled his frozen toes inside his boots. Of course, Cas didn’t have a reason to be jealous. It’s not like he knew Dean almost hooked up with someone, and even if he did, it’s not like Cas cared. Cas was family. There was no reason for him to be upset.

“You’re cold.” Cas observed quietly.

“Yeah, well, give it a week or so and this town will probably be covered in snow.” Dean responded, taking a hand out of his jacket to wipe his freezing nose.

“We should go to bed.” Cas suggested. Dean had to clear his throat, a little light headed at the way Cas had chosen his wording, especially since the angel didn’t even have to sleep. He nodded in response. “Did you find any information out about the vampire nest?” Cas asked quietly, swiping the keycard for the motel room and opening it without a sound to avoid waking Sam.

“Not really. The guy I was talking to at the bar, he was a hunter too. He’s here for the same thing. What about you?”

“Everyone Sam and I questioned had similar stories about how nothing seemed to change in the victim’s schedules or demeanor. For us to take out this nest, our only real option is finding the nest without the help of locals. I don’t feel like the nest is close by.”

“Why’s that?” Dean stripped his jacket and kicked off his boots, keeping his voice quiet while Sam snored away in the bed he had already claimed. Dean couldn’t stop shivering.

Cas sat down on the edge of Dean’s bed. Reaching out with two fingers to warm Dean with his grace. Dean smiled shyly. Cas was going to end up spoiling him now that he was mostly fully powered up again. The angel thought for a moment. “A group of vampires isn’t going to feed too close to their nest. It risks too much of a chance of them being found. You know that, Dean.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Dean dropped his jeans and let them pool at his feet, trying to ignore that Cas’ eyes tracked the movement. He knew he needed to brush his teeth, but he was honestly too tired and the cheap, warm bed was calling his name. He slid underneath the covers with a pleased sigh and knew that come morning he would miss his memory foam mattress, but at least it was warm enough. “‘M just tired.” He mumbled, snuggling into the lumpy, stale pillow. Dean turned off the bedside lamp, but before he did, he caught a faint hint of a smile on Castiel’s lips.

“Goodnight, Dean.”

The next morning came and went with little information on the vampire nest. The morgue didn’t help because they already knew they were dealing with vampires, and not even Cas could find anything on the body that might give away information to help solve the case. Day was quickly beginning to shift into night, and Dean was reminded of one of the reasons he hated winter.

Sam was trying to research abandoned buildings in the area while they all sat at a diner. Dean was grumbling and disappointed in the quality of his BLT club, and Cas was watching him with a fond expression that made his skin crawl.

As illogical as it was, Dean couldn’t help but feel like Cas knew what happened last night after he and Sam had left the bar. Cas had stopped reading minds years ago when he realized how much it bothered people, but Dean still felt like somehow, he just knew how much he had enjoyed being pinned against a wall by another man last night. When Cas wouldn’t stop staring at him, he threw a French fry at him.

“Stop flirting, Dean, I think I found something.” Sam said, a smug smirk on his face.

“I’m not flirting.” Dean growled, avoiding Cas’ eyes. “What did you find?”

“There’s an abandoned warehouse about an hour away from here. It would be the perfect place for a vampire nest.” Sam flipped the screen on his tablet so that Dean and Cas could see it. “We should go check it out once we finish eating.”

Dean nodded in agreement and pulled out his phone. “I’m gonna call the hunter I met last night. I told him I would let him know if I got any leads. The backup couldn’t hurt.”

“Are you sure? I never even heard of this guy until this morning when you told me about him. He could slow us down.” Sam stated.

“The dude knew everything there was to know about vamps, Sammy.” Dean argued. “I think he knows what he’s doing.” Sam just shrugged as Dean dialed Seb’s number.

”Hey, handsome.” Seb’s voice immediately filled Dean’s ears when he picked up. Dean blushed and swallowed hard, his eyes darting from Sam to Cas. Sam was already back to scrolling on his tablet and Cas was delicately holding the French fry that Dean had thrown at him, observing it.

“Hey….I have a lead.”

Chapter 13: I Wanna Be Sedated

Chapter Text

The abandoned warehouse was dark, and Dean hated himself for allowing Sam to convince him that they split up. Dean knew better than to think Sam was helpless, but he did make some meaningful eye contact with Cas, and silently got the angel to tail his pain in the ass little brother in case things went south.

They had parked a couple of blocks away because the Impala was way too loud for this quiet, abandoned countryside, and Dean didn’t want to alert the nest that hunters were coming their way. They had no idea how many vampires they were dealing with, but Dean was willing to bet that even if Seb showed up, they would all be outnumbered. Dean hadn’t heard from the other hunter in a few hours, but the last thing he had heard was that Seb was driving out to the warehouse and would meet Dean, Sam, and Cas there. As much as Dean was still suspicious of the guy, he still told him about Sam and Cas because he really didn’t want his brother or friend beheaded at some point during the night.

Dean rounded another ominous turn in the hallway, gripping his machete so tight that his knuckles turned white. It was hard being quiet, and he wasn’t even sure why he bothered when he knew from personal experience that a vampire’s senses were heightened and every single one of his quiet footsteps probably sounded like loud thudding to them. Dean freakin’ hated vampires.

From further down the hallway, Dean heard footsteps, and the closer he got to them, the harder his heart beat in his chest, almost deafening the echo of feet. The Mark on his arm thrummed in eagerness at the adrenaline coursing through his veins, and he ignored its desperate chanting, rounding another corner to find himself abruptly smacking into another body. Dean raised his machete and was about to bring it down when a voice stopped him.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! It’s me!” Seb whispered urgently, raising his hands and crouching down away from the blade.

“Jesus, Seb. You scared the sh*t out of me.” Dean growled lowly, a little embarrassed.

“Well, it’s not like I could exactly call you and tell you I was here.” Seb stood up straight.

Dean ignored the Mark mumbling something about bringing the machete down anyway, and brought the blade to his side, readjusting his grip. “Have you seen any yet?”

“Not yet. But I found some bedding…there’s a lot of them. I’m guessing at least eight.”

“f*ck.” Dean swallowed hard and hoped that Sam and Cas were okay. Dean noticed that Seb was staring at him oddly. “I got something on my face?”

Seb grinned. “I just thought the famous Dean Winchester would be smarter than this.”

Dean didn’t have time to respond before everything went black.

When Dean came to, he was tied to a chair and his head was aching. Shocking. He pulled against his restraints and they didn’t budge. Plot twist. He blinked blood out of his eyes to see he was surrounding by seven figures. Groundbreaking. He continued to blink until his vision cleared and his eyes adjusting to the darkness.

Directly in front of him was a pretty, young girl with blonde hair that had pink streaks in it that was sitting on a table, her feet kicking childishly beneath her. She was wearing too much smudged eyeliner and based on her cheap studded belt and falling apart combat boots, Dean figured she was the girl Andrisha had been telling him about. If nothing else gave her away, the ‘Music=Life’ t-shirt would have. She grinned at Dean ferally, blowing a bubble with her gum that popped obnoxiously.

“Oooh, this one’s pretty, Sebastian.” She teased, not taking her eyes off Dean.

“Isn’t he, though?” Seb crooned, coming up behind the girl and dragging a hand through her hair affectionately. She cackled. Dean rolled his eyes. Yeah, the guy was hot, but he wasn’t that funny. And apparently, he was vampire. It didn’t even shock Dean anymore. He pulled at the rope around his wrists again but there was no give.

The girl jumped off the table, and all the vampires inched closer, but when Seb raised a hand, they stopped. Apparently, he was their leader, and the chick band wannabe was his queen. The girl approached him, her demented grin still plastered across her lips with burgundy lipstick smeared, revealing her fangs. She threw a leg over his lap and sat down, stroking a finger down his cheek. “The big, bad, scary Winchester. Not so scary all tied up.” She said in a baby voice.

Seb laughed behind her, his own fangs bared. “Don’t play with your food, Violet.”

“How did you get him, baby? He just walked right into our trap.” Violet asked, crawling off of Dean’s lap.

Seb grinned and wrapped an arm around her waist. “Oh, well it’s quite the story…” Dean felt his face burn hot and pulled against the ropes binding his wrist again. “Who knew the famous hunter was into ladies, and into men.”

Violet giggled like she had just been told a scandalous secret. Dean vowed to himself to chop her head off first.

A door to their left banged open and Dean’s heart leapt in his throat only to drop when it wasn’t Sam or Cas. “Sebastian, we have a problem.” The new vampire spoke urgently, strolling up to his leader. “Winchester brought the angel…and he’s coming.” Seb turned to Dean, narrowing his eyes.

Dean grinned at him cheekily. “He forgot to mention that the very same angel has his wings back now.” He smarted off.

“I’m not worried about your little boyfriend.” Seb snapped. Dean smirked. The fear in the vampire’s eyes told a different story.

One of the only working lightbulbs in the room suddenly flickered and then exploded. Dean felt a whoosh of wind, and Cas appeared in front of him, Sam at his side. Sam stumbled a bit at the landing, but then immediately pulled out a knife and started cutting through the rope around Dean’s wrists. “Sammy! Great timing.” Dean said, his voice full of false bravado.

“Dean.” Sam said critically. “This place is infested.” The worry in Sam’s voice was apparent, and Dean felt his gut twist in fear at the cold realization that what Sam was trying to tell him was that there were a lot more than the eight vampires in the room. Sam handed him a machete as he stood up straight, the both of them stepping up to Cas’ side.

The vampires were all staring at Cas nervously, but a confident smile eventually spread across Seb’s attractive face. “Angel or not, we have you out numbered.” All three doors leading to the room swung open, and easily twelve more vampires flooded the room.

Dean suddenly felt the Mark of Cain sear angrily on his arm, burning bright red against his freckled skin. Cas raised a hand, blue-white light burning from his palm. All the vampires shielded their eyes and Dean screamed “Now, Sam!” True to his word, Dean went after Violet first. She was in such shock that she didn’t put up much of a fight as the blade went straight through her neck, splattering blood all over Dean. The Mark throbbed happily, and suddenly all of Dean’s concern and fear was replaced with the animalistic and uncontrollable urge to kill.

Dean could hear screams while Cas pressed his palms to vampires and burned their eyes out, leaving nothing but an empty shell. He could hear Sam grunting, fighting his way tooth and nail through the nest. He could hear the swing of his machete, and the sickening thwack of it meeting flesh. But all those sounds were dull in comparison to the physical sensations that the Mark was giving him. He could feel the rage pumping through his veins, feel the blood dripping from his hands. So. Much. Blood.

Faintly, Dean could hear Sam calling out to him as he decapitated the last vampire, Sebastian. Dean ignored his brother’s calls and brought the machete down on Seb’s beheaded body again and again, blood painting his torso. He felt someone grab his arm and he turned on them. While Dean registered that the person that grabbed his arm was Sam, the Mark either didn’t notice or didn’t care, and he raised his sword once again.

“Dean, no!” Cas’ voice rang out right before the angel’s body collided with Dean’s, sending them spiraling to the ground. Dean flailed beneath Cas, trying to reach for the machete that had flown from his hand. “Dean, stop. It’s over.” Cas growled, pinning both the hunter’s wrists to the dusty, blood-soaked floor of the warehouse.

Dean tried to listen to Cas. He tried to fight the Mark, tried to get his brain to get his body to understand that he had almost hurt Sam, but the Mark was screaming over his attempts. Kill, kill, kill. Kill the angel. it hissed in his ear. Cas shifted both of Dean’s wrists to one hand before pinning them again, and the last thing Dean registered was Cas’ fist coming towards his face.

Dean tasted blood. A lot of it. He knew immediately that Cas must have broken his nose, and then healed him. He refused to open his eyes, afraid of what might be on the other side of his eyelids. His head was swimming, but he knew he was once again bound to a chair, this time with Enochian handcuffs if the metal digging into his wrists were any hint.

“We have to do something.” Sam’s voice whispered pressingly. Dean felt his heart break. The raw fear and pain in Sam’s voice was crushing, and it was there because of him.

“And what do you suppose we do, Sam?” Cas asked. “We’ve been through every book in the bunker, I’ve contacted Heaven, I’ve even tried contacting Hell. There is no cure without an archangel, and we have no archangel.”

Dean opened his eyes. “You could kill me.” He croaked. They were in the dungeon of the bunker, and Dean hated that Cas had healed him because he didn’t deserve it. He turned his head to Sam. “I almost killed you, Sammy. I almost killed you, and nothing I did controlled it. If…if Cas wouldn’t have been there…” His voice cracked.

Sam immediately ran over to him, Cas at his heels. “But Cas was there, Dean. There has to be another way.”

Dean bit his lip and shook his head. “And what’s going to happen before we find a cure? Who am I going to hurt? I’ve already attacked Cas, I tried to attack you. Someone is going to get killed, Sam.” He turned to Cas. “I get that if I die I come back. But you have to be able to smite me or something, man.”

There was a sad, searching look in Cas’ eyes. “I’m not going to hurt you, Dean. I’m not even sure if I’m a powerful enough angel to be able to truly harm you. We’ll find another way.”

Dean allowed his head to hang, his chin lying against his chest. There wasn’t a cure. There was nothing they could do, and he was so sick of their false hope.

“I’ll go check the algorithm I have set up. We just have to find Rowena, right? She was able to reset the mark once, maybe she can do it again.” Sam pushed his hair out of his face and exited the dungeon in a whirl of flannel before Dean or Cas could respond.

When Dean finally looked up again, Cas was staring at him. “How are you feeling, Dean?”

“Like absolute sh*t, Cas.” Dean snorted humorlessly.

Cas’ eyes dropped. “This is my fault.”

Dean’s wrists pulled against the handcuffs as he momentarily forgot his restraints. “What? No, Cas, if you wouldn’t have been there I would’ve killed Sam. How could this be your fault?”

When the angel finally looked back up, his sad, blue eyes were filmed with shame. “I saw that man at the bar when he was speaking with you. I should have seen that he had no soul, I should have seen what he was… but he was sitting next to you, and your soul was just so bright, it’s all I could focus on. I didn’t even notice he was a vampire because just like so many times before, I couldn’t take my eyes off of your soul.”

Dean swallowed and wet his lips with his tongue. He was too shocked to even blush. “This isn’t your fault. Got it? I should’ve known he was a vampire too. I fell right into his trap.” Before Dean could remind himself of why he had fallen into Seb’s trap so easily, he pulled at his cuffs again. “Do you think you could let me out of these?” Castiel narrowed his eyes at Dean but must have realized that he could be trusted, the Mark’s effects had passed for now. The angel pressed his palm against the cuffs and the sigils lit up light blue before the cuffs unclicked. “Wow didn’t even need the key, huh?” Dean asked trying to lighten the mood. He knew there was a meltdown boiling under the surface. He knew he was one wrong word away from flipping the f*ck out because he had almost killed Sam, but he was hoping that maybe Cas could distract him for a little while longer.

But Cas’ eyes were more than Dean could take as he stood up and made eye contact with his best friend. The amount of raw emotion in them ranging from pity to worry to fear was overwhelming, and Dean swallowed a lump in his throat as Cas spoke. “I will stop at nothing to remove the Mark.” Cas said softly, grabbing Dean’s arm that bore the mark and placing his palm over it. “My hands can do you much for you. I can smite monsters that attempt to hurt you. I can heal your injuries. I can help you fly and read your thoughts when you allow me.” Cas jerked both is hands away, his fingers curled into fists in front of him. “But the time that you need me the most… and these hands are useless.” He added coldly, glaring at his fists.

Dean frowned and took a deep breath before grabbing Cas’ right hand. He slowly forced Cas to unfurl his fist until his hand was open, his fingers spread. He then grabbed Cas’ wrist, and with a shaky hand brought the angel’s hand to his shoulder, lining up his fingers with the scar that Dean had bore since Hell. “Don’t ever, ever say your hands are useless.” Dean said, his voice barely above a whisper.

It was one of those moments when Dean could barely resist the urge to lean into Cas. There was that cosmic pull that he had no control over that pushed him to cross over that line of something with the angel. A look of realization and determination settled into Cas’ eyes for a moment before they were once again replaced by sadness.

Cas’ fingers tips tightened on the scar before he spoke. “These hands have also hurt you.” He said quietly. “Many times, you’ve been left bruised and bloody because of me.”

Dean attempted a smile, but he knew it looked forced. “Hey, most of the time I probably deserved it.” He could actually see Cas’ Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed, such a human motion that it took him by surprise. Dean was overwhelmed by the need to fix the hurt in the angel’s eyes as he looked up at him mournfully.

Cas swallowed once more. “When I was under Naomi’s control, she trained me to kill you. In Heaven, she had me do it over and over again until I stopped hesitating. I stood in a room littered with copies of your dead body, and I felt nothing.” Cas’ voice cracked, and if Dean didn’t know any better he would say his eyes looked wet. “I never told you. I killed you, Dean. Hundreds of times.”

“Whoa, Cas, calm down.” Dean said, grabbing the angel’s shoulders to steady him. “You didn’t kill me. You killed some sort of f*cked up copies that Noami made.” Cas wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“I couldn’t do it.” Cas finally met Dean’s gaze. “When it was you, I couldn’t do it. That’s why I could never kill you. Even if the Mark took a turn for the worst, even if you became a demon again, I wouldn’t be able to kill you. I would watch you scorch the earth and destroy everyone you love, and I still wouldn’t be strong enough to kill you.”

Dean suddenly realized how traumatic it was for Cas to think about killing him, and he felt like an asshole for even suggesting it. Instead of responding, he pulled Cas into his arms by his shoulders and hugged him. Cas hugged him back and Dean internally swore at how their hugs always felt so desperate, that he rarely had the spine to initiate a hug when one of them wasn’t falling apart or when they thought they had lost each other.

“You know.” Dean said into Cas’ mess of dark hair, trying to calm the craze of his heartbeat at how close they were. “I’m not all rainbows and butterflies either, Cas. What I did to you when you tried to stop me after I killed the Stynes…” Dean pulled away but kept his arms around Cas. “I’m sorry.” He said softly.

Dean hadn’t even noticed Sam had entered the dungeon again until he cleared his throat. Dean dropped his arms and took a step back, schooling his face so he didn’t look like a kid that had just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“Still no sign of Rowena. But we haven’t covered the inventory part of the library in awhile and I was going to hit the books.”

“We’ll join you.” Cas offered.

Dean had no expectations that they would find anything in the library of the bunker, but when Cas looked at him with hopeful eyes, Dean followed the angel and his brother out of the dungeon.

Sam had fallen asleep a couple of hours into research, and Dean convinced him to go to bed before his drool ruined a page in an ancient Men of Letters book. That left Dean and Cas flipping through the archives, rereading material that they already knew like the back of their hands.

Dean wasn’t having trouble staying awake and ran a hand through his hair, wondering if it was just an effect of the Mark. Right as he was about to say something to Cas, the angel’s cell phone rang. Cas took the phone out of his trench coat pocket, his eyebrows tented in confusion as he stared at the screen. “It’s a text message from Ariel. She wants to meet again.”

Dean tensed. “Kinda late for your lady friend to be hitting you up.”

Cas opened his mouth the argue that angels didn’t have genders for the millionth time, but then closed his mouth and just glared at Dean. “If she is reaching out to me this late, it must be of import. I will return to the bunker when I have finished speaking with her. Goodbye, Dean.”

Dean just rolled his eyes in frustration and went back to blankly staring at the book in front of him as Cas left the library. Dean tried to focus on the page, but it was a lost cause. With Cas no longer there to distract him with his too blue eyes, barely-there smile, and skilled large hands wrapped around a book, all Dean could think about is how he almost brought a machete down on his brother’s neck. All he could think about was how regardless of how hard he had been fighting it, he had no control over what the mark was making him do, how it was making him feel. He had almost killed both Cas and Sam now, and no matter how much he drank, no matter how hard he tried to stay calm, the mark was winning the war that was raging inside of him.

And that was the moment that triggered the meltdown that had been boiling in Dean’s blood since he woke up handcuffed in the dungeon. He forcefully knocked the book off of the table in front of him, sending it flying across the library. He stood up so fast that his heavy chair fell to the ground with a crack, and he brought his boot down on it making the wood splinter. He picked up the nearest lamp and threw it as hard as he could, the glass exploding when it came in contact with one of the bookshelves. Dean stopped himself, his chest heaving in anger. The Mark was quietly mumbling but had little interest in Dean’s anger when there wasn’t another living being involved. Charlie was dead. He had almost killed Cas. He had almost killed Sam. Sam was probably one incident away from a stupid self-sacrificing decision pertaining to the Mark, and Cas was beginning to spend more time with angels that would probably convince him to return to Heaven. And it was all Dean’s fault.

Not to mention, the one time that Dean attempted to embrace his bisexuality, the guy he had the hots for was a f*cking vampire. But even before he knew that, he couldn’t even do a f*cking hookup right because he was too busy thinking about the fact that the person he was kissing wasn’t his best friend, a f*cking angel of the Lord.

Dean was so f*cked.

This wasn’t just about sexuality anymore. This was about Cas. This was about the best friend he ever had, someone he had been through Heaven, Hell, and Purgatory with. This was about someone who put up with his sh*t and his baggage and remained loyal to him regardless of how bad he f*cked up.

This was about him being so god damn in love with Castiel that it scared the absolute hell out of him.

The realization had Dean gripping the library table, his knuckles white as his chest heaved and tried to breathe in air that his lungs refused. He couldn’t be in love with Cas. It wasn’t possible. There was so much wrong with that thought that he couldn’t even begin to process it, the biggest problem being that Cas would never feel the same way about him. Dean was a colossal f*ck up, and Cas was this cosmic being that God himself had created to save people, to make people’s lives better and provide them with faith and hope. Dean had broken the first seal. Dean had taken the Mark of Cain. Dean was too toxic and messed up for an angel to ever love.

Dean blinked the stinging from his eyes and decided to clean up the library before Sam woke up or Cas came back. He found a broom in one of storage closets and swept up the glass from the lamp quickly and threw them away, then crammed the broken chair in the closet along with the broom. He picked up the book he had been reading, noticing that it had fallen open to a page about Djinn.

One of the Men of Letters had a neat scrawl that filled page after page. Dean sat back down in a new chair, interested in what Djinn could possibly have to do with inventory in the bunker. He flipped to the start of the written chapter and began to read the excerpt.

“For years, we were unable to figure out what exactly it was about a Djinn’s touch that could make humans hallucinate their deepest desires. We quickly learned that a Djinn had to specifically touch a person with their hand(s) for the hallucinogenic properties to work. After months of experimentation, we found out that Djinn sweat through their palms, and the sweat is a catalyst for the chemical hormones that create the hallucinations.

We were able to trap multiple Djinn and harvest the essence from the palms before killing them. We have concluded that the hormone released is incredibly potent and must always be handled with gloves. After testing the Djinn hormones on willing Men of Letters volunteers, we found that depending on the dose, it had amazing medicinal properties. At a small dose (no more than two (2) drops), the Djinn hormones are an amazing sedative. It did not cause hallucinations but calmed a Man of Letters who was enraged after touching a cursed object. It also combated the effects of an attack dog curse casted by a witch. Both men were incredibly calm and did not feel the need to participate in any violence.

When the dosage was raised, in addition to working as a sedative, the patients experienced well rested nights where they dreamt about situations of their choosing that they had complete control over. Each time the patients woke in a good mood and spoke of their vivid. controlled dreams that were much like the hallucinations that Djinn cause when using their hormones during an attack.

Injection seems to be the best method for these medicinal properties. Allowing the hormones to soak into the skin works as well, but due to variables like temperature and skin thickness, the effects are less controlled.

Any more than six (6) drops would cause a patient to fall into the comatose state like they had been attacked by a Djinn. The hormones are much more potent in its extracted, liquid state. We were unable to wake [Redacted] after he injected eight (8) drops using a syringe.”

Dean read over the passage again and again. Djinn essence was a sedative. It had helped control anger and violent impulses… the very part of the Mark of Cain that Dean couldn’t control. And somewhere in the bunker, there was a supply of it.

Dean quickly flipped to the end of the passage on Djinn to see if the location of the supply was listed. “Bingo!” He exclaimed to himself when the exact room, bookcase, and shelf was listed on the last page. He closed the book and neatly returned it to its respective shelf. Dean made his way to the storage room that the vials were located, grabbing a pair of rubber dish gloves on the way just in case. He exhaled deeply when he found the small chest that contained the vials on the exact shelf that the passage had given. He delicately opened the chest, using the rubber of the gloves to touch the lid.

Inside there were six and a half vials full of pale blue liquid, along with a syringe and a couple of needles. Dean nearly gagged at the thought of using needles that had already been used on someone, even though he figured that the Men of Letters were probably smart enough to throw out needles after each use. Besides, Dean had his own medical kit in his room. Dean left the syringe and needles and cautiously picked up the vials, pleased to see that their lids were also droppers. How convenient.

Looking over his shoulder to make sure that Cas or Sam hadn’t snuck on him at some point, he closed the lid to the chest and high tailed it to his bedroom, the vials in tow. This was probably an astronomically bad idea, but it was something. Something that he had to try before his brother and angel did something even more stupid.

Dean wasted no time once he was in his room. He locked his door and searched for his first aid kit and was pleased that hunter’s first aid kits included a little more than the average. He set up the syringe and needle, dripping a few drops of the Djinn essence into the syringe. His skin crawled at the familiarity of this situation, of how much it reminded him of the times when he would set up to inject something very different in his veins all those years ago.

He had his belt off and constricted around his arm, able to find a vein in a matter of moments. He stared at the syringe. What did he have to lose? Besides, he was just trying it out to see if it would still calm him while baring the Mark. He took a deep breath and stuck the needle in his arm and slowly injected the light blue liquid. Dean felt the effects immediately. A euphoric feeling washed over him and the feeling of crawling out of his skin he had been experiencing all night disappeared. Dean removed the needle and undid his belt on his arm, sinking back into his memory foam mattress.

At first Dean’s thoughts were muddled. He didn’t think of anything in particular, all he know is that whatever was floating around in his head was pleasant. As his body adjusted to the invasion of Djinn hormones, his thoughts slowly drifted to Castiel. He couldn’t say he was surprised, Djinn did zero in on want. And he wanted the angel in more ways than he was willing to confess.

It was easier to accept now that he was pleasantly high, floating on a worriless cloud. It was easier to accept that Cas would never return this want, return these feelings that Dean had been trying to shove in a closet with his sexuality for years. It didn’t matter. Cas just being Cas, just being there, it was enough. Dean would take him in any way he could have him.

And besides, wasn’t there something about how you couldn’t love someone unless you loved yourself? Dean snorted. He knew there as nothing to love. He knew he was a miserable f*ck that used alcohol and women, and now Djinn essence to take some sort of edge off of just how unhappy he was. Hell, sometimes he even used his toxic codependency with Sammy as some sort of pathetic relief, as some sort of security blanket to hide behind. So, he knew Cas was better off not returning his feelings. He knew he was just no good for Cas. Just like he had been no good for Cassie, and especially no good for Lisa. There was no way he could love himself, and Cas deserved better than that. The words echoed through Dean’s high mind again. “you can’t love someone unless you love yourself first”. Bullsh*t. Dean had never loved himself. He probably never would. But Cas, oh god, Cas... he loved Cas so much that sometimes he forgot what hating himself felt like.

Chapter 14: A Helping Hand

Chapter Text

Castiel entered the 24-hour French bakery, perplexed by Ariel’s chosen meeting place. He found the other angel under a massive eye sore of a wall decoration shaped like the Eiffel tower with hearts coming out of it. Her bob was a little longer and wavier instead of pencil straight, and Castiel couldn’t help but huff out a small laugh at the uses she found for her restored grace. He took a seat in front of her, across from cherrywood coffee table, in a plush seat that immediately tried to swallow him, to his annoyance.

Ariel smiled up at him, her disposition more relaxed and friendlier that it had been during their first meeting. She was cradling a cup of coffee in both hands and had a variety of macaroons on a plate in front of her. Castiel smiled when he noticed a bite was missing out of one. “Castiel!” She exclaimed. “I would have ordered you something, but I wasn’t sure what to get you. Do you know this place has over 12 flavors of tartes alone?”

“I wasn’t even aware this place existed.” Cas answered honestly.

“You should bring the Winchester boy here sometime.” The angel smirked and raised an eyebrow.

Castiel smiled, a little force. “I don’t think this is the kind of place that Dean would be caught dead in.” He said, eyeing the pink walls and over the top French décor before making eye contact with her again.

Ariel sat her coffee down and took a small bite out of a mixed berry macaroon before speaking again. “I have some information that I think may help you and your human. But I need your promise that the information will stay between us.”

“You have my word, Ariel.”

She nodded, her hair bouncing slightly. She uncrossed and crossed her legs nervously, pulling at the hem of her skirt. “As far as I can tell, this is just a rumor, but I thought the rumor would be something of import to you. It’s about our brother… Gabriel.” Castiel immediately tented his eyebrows in shock. Gabriel was supposed to be dead. “Yes, I know. He’s supposed to be dead.” She answered his unasked question. “But if the rumor is true, this wouldn’t be the first time he’s faked his death. There has been some activity on the western coast of Bora Bora that seems very…trickster.” She rolled her eyes, equal parts fond and vexed. Ariel was very familiar with Gabriel’s knavery. When she was in Heaven, she ended up developing a close relationship with the archangel. Being the angel of protection, she often had to chastise Gabriel for his impulsive, risky decisions and remind him that his actions impacted Heaven. She always seemed exasperated by her older brother, but Castiel always knew there was some endearment there as well. Gabriel often had that combined affect on others.

“What makes you believe that its Gabriel?” Castiel asked, knowing that the other angel was incredibly good at covering his tracks.

Ariel rolled her eyes again. “Lots of dumb, unfunny pranks with the intention of teaching a lesson and an increase in the number of p*rnstars on vacation on the coast.”

“That could be a consequence.” Cas stated, playing devil’s advocate.

Ariel sighed. “A giant storage truck has also went missing. It was a Skittles truck. The truck’s only purpose was the transport massive amounts of the candy from one place to another.” Cas pressed his lips together in thought. That sounded more like Gabriel. “All the events that I’ve come across were most likely overlooked by other angels. They assume he’s dead.” She laughed. “Some of them are definitely hoping he’s dead, or at least hope he’s never planning on showing his face in Heaven again. But he’s also the only remaining archangel that’s not locked in a cage in Hell, so if you search for him, you must be careful, Castiel. Gabriel doesn’t want to be found, and with you refusing the throne, the other angels are looking for someone to lead Heaven. He’s been lax in covering his tracks here lately, so I’ll keep an eye out for you. I’ll only contact you when it’s safe to search for him.”

“Why are you doing this?” Castiel asked softly. “We were never close in Heaven.”

Ariel took a sip of her coffee and stared at her plate for a moment. She finally met Castiel’s gaze again, her light brown eyes tender. “I may have left Heaven long ago, but the angels are still my family. You’re still my family. You may have screwed up more than any other angel I know-“ Castiel frowned “-but you’re also the only angel I know that has always tried to correct your wrongdoings. You’re the only angel that fought against the upper ranks when you knew they weren’t doing Father’s work. You are the only angel that did exactly what he asked of you.”

“What do you mean?” Castiel asked, tilting his head.

A fond smile crept across Ariel’s lips. “Castiel…you are the only angel that has loved humanity just as much as he did.”

Dean awoke without an alarm or aid at 6am sharp, feeling well-rested and incredibly pleased. He hadn’t abused enough Djinn juice to have any crazy dreams, but he had definitely gotten the sedative effects and felt great. He stretched pleasantly and grinned at the realization that the Mark was completely, 100% silent for the first time since the Tulpa.

He hopped out of bed and grabbed his dead-guy robe, not bothering to throw on any clothes. He was just making breakfast and could change if a case came up. He found himself whistling on the way to the kitchen, because while he may not have found a cure for the Mark, he was pretty sure he had found a close second. Not that Cas or Sammy needed to know that.

Dean found Sam sitting at the kitchen table, nursing a pathetic excuse for coffee, which was most likely actually a latte. His eyes were still tired and his hair still fluffy from where he had been rolling around in his pillows. Dean made sure to ruffle Sam’s hair entirely more aggressively than necessary when he walked by, and his whistling faltered when Sam shot him one of his pissy looks.

“You’re in a good mood.” Sam grumbled, trying to tame his hair now that it was sticking up everywhere. He looked Dean over suspiciously, a focused frown on his face.

Dean poured himself a cup of real coffee, and he knew that Cas must be around the bunker somewhere since it was waiting on him and Sam had been on his soy latte kick. He turned to face his brother and leaned his hip against the kitchen counter. He took a deep breath and schooled his face to something more serious. “Listen, Sam-“

“Don’t, Dean.” Sam interrupted. “I get it. You feel like sh*t because you almost attacked me. But you didn’t. Cas stopped you. I don’t need you to focus on what you almost did. I need you to focus on getting better.”

Dean took several gulps of his coffee. “I feel a lot better today.”

“You look a lot better.”

“Maybe… maybe messing up that bad is helping me control it?” Dean suggested, his stomach twisting at the thought of knowing he was lying to his brother.

Sam looked at him sympathetically. “I hope so.” He took a sip of his latte and sat his tablet down, no doubt looking for a hunt. “How did they get you back there, man? How did you not know that the guy from the bar was a vampire?”

Dean used every ounce of will in his power to fight the blush that he felt spreading all the way to the tips of his ears. He finished off his coffee and poured another cup, just deciding to drink this one black. “I don’t know, Sam. He got the slip on me. He glamoured me or some sh*t.”

“Glam- What- glamoured you?” Sam questioned in disbelief, his mouth hanging agape. “Like from True Blood? A completely fictional show?” Dean shrugged sheepishly, grinning slightly. “This isn’t a show Dean, it’s our life. We almost got killed.”

“He was very convincing as a hunter.” Dean argued, pouting slightly.

Sam smirked at him. “On that show don’t you have to be attracted to the vampire for glamouring to work?”

Dean furrowed his eyebrows in annoyance and was about to tell Sam how stupid he was, but Cas walked into the kitchen and Dean welcomed the distraction. “Morning, sunshine.” Dean said cheerfully, laughing at the grumpy expression on the angel’s face at the pet name.

“Good morning, Dean.” He responded, pulling out a seat next to Sam.

“Thanks for making coffee this morning.” Dean said softly, unable to hide the fondness in his voice. Sam raised a curious eyebrow at him and Dean shot him a scowl before turning back to Cas. “Why… is your hair wet?” Dean asked the angel, suddenly realizing how untamed the spikes of dark hair were and how they were dripping.

“Oh.” Cas responded, his eyes looking up as he could see the top of his own hair. Hell, he was an angel. Maybe he could. Cas’ hair instantly dried, though it remained a bird’s nest on his head. “I took a shower.”

Sam looked at him quizzically. “Since when do you need to shower again?”

“I didn’t need to.” Cas narrowed his eyes and Sam, and Dean almost laughed at how smitey he looked. “I chose to. It’s supposed to help with relaxation as much as cleanliness.”

Dean’s mouth went Sahara Desert dry at the thought of Cas in the same shower he used, naked and pliant, water slowly dripping down every inch of his body…he choked on his coffee and Sam and Cas both looked over at him. “Are you like, stressed or something?” Dean asked, trying to draw the attention away from himself as he finished off his coffee and took a seat in front of the angel.

“Something like that.” Cas replied gruffly, avoiding Dean’s eyes.

Sam frowned at him. “What’s up, Cas?”

“Currently? The disapproval rating of the current president.” The angel answered, not skipping a beat. Dean started snickering and Sam shot him an annoyed look. But Dean knew Cas better than Sam. He knew that the angel didn’t want to talk about what was currently bothering him, so he’s taking a page out of the Winchester’s book and was avoiding talking about it.

Sam rolled his eyes. “I’m going to hop in the shower myself.” He said, standing up.

Dean decided not to tease him about skipping out on his morning jog. “I’m making eggs, bacon, toast, and hashbrowns.”

Sam smiled at him. “Can you-“

“Yes, I’ll cut up some fruit, Sammy.” Dean groaned dramatically. “Even though the jelly on the toast counts as fruit.”

“It so doesn’t count as fruit.” Sam argued, laughing as he pushed his chair in and headed for the showers.

Dean went to work making breakfast as Cas quietly watched him. It made Dean painfully aware of every movement he made, and he eventually stopped, spinning around and glaring at the angel. “Cas, buddy, if you’re going to keep eating my food you have to stop staring at me like that.”

“What do you suppose I do, Dean?”

“I don’t know…help?” Dean almost immediately regretted the suggestion when Cas stood up and crowded into his space in front of the counter. Cas smelled shower fresh, and that mixed with how amazing he always smelled almost had Dean drooling into the whisked eggs. He was already having a hard time not imaging Cas’ large hands wandering his wet body in the shower, now this was just torture. Dean was really glad he was standing so close to the kitchen counter and that it was able to hide the fact that his dick was trying to stir valiantly in his boxers. He regretted not getting dressed this morning. “You smell nice.” He croaked, immediately wanting to slam his head into the kitchen cabinet because he did not need to say that just being he was thinking it. It turned his focus on chopping the potatoes for the hashbrowns.

“Thank you, Dean. You smell…different today.”

Dean froze. “Different how?”

Cas thought carefully, retrieving the fruit from the fridge for Sam. “I’m not sure. There’s just something off about your scent. I can smell it in your sweat.”

Dean swallowed hard and wondered if Cas was able to tell the difference in Dean because of the Djinn essence. “You trying to say I need to shower?” He joked nervously.

“It’s not an unpleasant smell.” Cas shook his head. “You always smell incredible.” He added honestly.

Dean’s hand tightened on his knife shyly. He didn’t see how. He used cheap shampoo and bodywash from Walmart. He wasn’t like Sam, he didn’t go for expensive hair products and lotions. He barely even wore cologne because monsters had a better sense of smell than the average human. Half the time he smelled like whiskey and gun oil. “Uh, thanks.” He said nervously, staring at his best friend. Cas stared back at him. Dean had half a mind to drop his knife and kiss the angel. His hair was still wrecked, and he hadn’t bothered buttoning his shirt up all the way or putting his tie back on after his shower and Dean wanted to touch. He wondered what Cas tasted like, what he would do if Dean shoved him against the wall and licked his way into his mouth.

“Dean? Are you okay?” Cas suddenly asked, concerned.

No, I’m not okay. I’m far from oh-f*cking-kay. “I’m fine,” he said quickly. “Help me getting started on the bacon, will ya?”

When Sam returned to the kitchen, he was fully dressed but had an upset frown on his face. If there was something wrong with the water pressure, Dean fully intended on stabbing someone.

“Uh, Cas, can we talk?” Sam asked while Dean sat the table and Cas snapped his fingers to clean up the mess. Dean looked at him adoringly. He hated cleaning up after he cooked.

“Of course.” Cas answered, this time sitting next to Dean at the table.

Sam took his seat across from them and stared at his food for a moment. “When I was in the shower, I almost slipped on something. When I looked down, I saw this.” He reached in the chest pocket of his plaid shirt and pulled out a single black feather, smaller than the one Dean had found awhile back. Dean looked over at Cas and the angel’s eyes were huge. Just like before, Cas immediately reached over and snatched the feather out of Sam’s hand, glaring at it before shoving it in his trench coat pocket. Sam looked at him in shock but then plastered on his best puppy dog eyes. “Are you okay? You’ve been hanging out with us for years and I’ve never seen any feathers lying around.”

Cas glared at a scuff in the table, avoiding eye contact, and didn’t reply, making Dean speak up. “Come on, buddy. You know you can talk to us if something’s going on.”

Sighing, Cas finally looked up at Dean. “When all the angels were thrown from Heaven, it did a great deal of damage to our wings. As you remember, none of us could fly.”

“Yeah, until you went all badass and fixed everything.” Dean grinned encouraging, playfully pushing at Cas’ shoulder.

Cas smiled at him gratefully. “When I was able to restore Heaven, and all the angel’s graces, it manages to repair the feather follicles from where they had been burned and heal the feather’s quills.” A look of realization was coming across Sam’s face, but Dean was still completely confused. “The feathers that we had lost were able to grow back, and the remaining damaged feathers could also be replaced by the new growth.” Cas sighed in frustration.

“That sounds awesome, Cas!” Dean said enthusiastically, but his grin fell when Sam looked at Cas sympathetically.

“In theory, it does sound ‘awesome’. But feathers…. They’re complicated. When it’s time for them to molt, they don’t always come out when they’re supposed to. When it’s time for them to grow back, they don’t always align perfectly. Then, in order for them to be healthy they need to be properly oiled-“

“And you’re having trouble doing all of it by yourself.” Sam finished for him. Cas just nodded. He was back to glaring at the table.

“Let us help, Cas.” Sam offered.

Cas’ eyes shot up to Sam and he looked absolutely scandalized. “No.” He said in a voice that left no room for argument.

Dean narrowed his eyes at him. “C’mon, Cas. We’re trying to help you. Whip those bad boys out and tell us what we need to do.”

“I said no!” Cas growled. Dean blinked at him, controlling the pout that tried to form on his lips. Cas sighed. “No one has ever touched my wings before. I’ve never had this…this issue. Other angels experience it from time to time, but I never have.”

“So, what, you’re like, embarrassed?” Sam questioned.

A noise much like a snarl escaped from Cas, and he angrily stood up, knocking his chair over. He didn’t bother to pick it up as he stormed off to his room, his breakfast untouched.

Dean frowned after him. “Wow, what’s gotten up his ass?”

Castiel avoided Dean for the entirety of the day. He used his angelic hearing to decipher which rooms Dean was in and made sure to flee those rooms before Dean arrived. When he would go to the kitchen, he found his dinner wrapped up for him, but he left it untouched. As much as he was beginning to enjoy food again, he didn’t actually needy it to survive, and refused to eat any of it. Castiel knew he was being juvenile and petty, but he did not care. He did not want to have to conversation with the Winchesters about his wings anyway, and now that he had had to, he was irate.

At least Sam was easier to avoid. Sam had realized his moodiness from the moment he left the table at breakfast and had given Castiel a wide path so that he could be alone. Unfortunately, the angel was going stir crazy with boredom, and the words from his and Ariel’s first meeting were ringing in his ears. He was going to have to do something about his wings, and he had no idea where to begin.

That night, Castiel found himself in one of the rooms that the Men of Letters had used to leisure activities. He had come across an old record player along with boxes upon boxes of records. He had originally began going through them to put them in alphabetical order just to give himself something to do but was reminded of when Dean had told him that he should listen to music sometimes. That was how Castiel ended up on the floor, listening to “Hey, Jude” by The Beatles. He remembered Dean speaking of his mother’s love for the band and was so entranced by it that he didn’t even notice Dean walk into the room. He knew he looked like a deer in headlights when Dean approached him, but the hunter didn’t draw any attention to it. He plopped down next to Castiel on the floor and listened to the song with him.

Dean let his eyes closed and let his head rest against the wall where they were sitting. He hummed the lyrics and occasionally mouthed the words, in his own little world. Castiel watched him carefully, much more interested in Dean than he ever was of the music.

When the song was over, Dean opened his eyes and looked over at Cas, smiling softly. “I know I told you about how much mom used to love The Beatles, and how she used to sing that song to me when I was little, and Sammy was a baby.” Castiel nodded. “But I bet I never told you how dad hated The Beatles. I’m pretty sure mom never knew, because he knew how much she loved them and wouldn’t dare say anything about them, even if he did complain from time to time.” Castiel was reminded of how much he hated Dr. Sexy MD and how he still always watched it with Dean. His heart clenched. Dean smiled at Cas but then sighed. “Listen man, I’m sorry if I pissed you off earlier. I…I get it. I don’t know sh*t about angel stuff, and it probably seemed like I was prying.”

Cas looked down, playing with a button on his trench coat to have somewhere to look other than Dean’s beautiful, caring eyes. “You weren’t prying.” He said softly. “It’s just… frustrating.”

“Does it hurt?” Dean asked, concerned.

Castiel thought for a moment. “It’s not that it hurts. It’s just very uncomfortable.”

“Then why not let me help?” Dean asked cautiously, his voice soft.

Castiel finally looked back up with him, his whole body aching with want at the thought of Dean touching his wings. “No human has ever seen angel wings, only their shadow… and no human has certainly ever touched angel wings.”

“And no one at all has ever touched yours, right?” Castiel shook his head no. “So…is it like a sin for me to touch them or something?”

“It’s not a sin…” Castiel mumbled. “It’s just… the two beings involved are usually very close if an angel allows them to help them with their preening.” Dean frowned at him, and Castiel knew that this was the self-hating Dean immediately thinking that Cas didn’t feel like they were close. Castiel swallowed and didn’t have the nerve to explain that in Heaven angels only had their wings touched by their mates.

Suddenly, Dean let out a frustrated groan. “C’mon, Cas. Just let me help. You’re freaking shedding all over the bunker, and you’re clearly so uncomfortable that you’ve been taking showers. What am I supposed to do, let you suffer while I sit here with my thumb up my ass?”

“Your leisure activities are of no concern to me.” Castiel said, tilting his head in confusion. Dean blushed bright red, only furthering Cas’ confusion, but he couldn’t help but admire how it brought out the hunter’s freckles.

“I-that’s not what I meant. Just let me help you groom your wings, man.”

Castiel glared at Dean’s terminology. “It’s preening, not grooming. I am not a dog.” He growled.

“Yeah, well, whatever it is. Just let me help. Please.” Dean shot Castiel his most charming, dazzling smile, and the angel knew he didn’t stand a chance.

Castiel sighed in defeat. “We’re doing this in my room. It’s larger because it has fewer items of furniture.” He muttered.

Dean grinned, giddy and child-like. He stood up and offered Castiel his hand. “Whatever you want, Cas.”

Dean had not thought this through. He realized that as Cas began stripping his trench coat and suit jacket, and then quickly began working on the buttons of his shirt once he hung them on the coat rack Dean had gotten for him. Cas was completely focused on the task at hand, watching himself unbutton each button one at a time. Dean’s knees were weak. His mouth was dry. And he was trying very, very hard to keep his thoughts appropriate.

When Cas got about halfway done with his buttons, Dean had to advert his eyes. It was like looking into the f*cking sun. Just seeing a few inches of the angel’s tanned skin had him squirming and breathing heavily, and he felt like a total creep. His eyes began to wander the room politely, noticing that Cas still hadn’t added anything to make the room his. It made Dean upset. If Cas wouldn’t make himself at home, Dean would do it for him. Maybe he needed to buy him some books on bees or something.

Dean didn’t realize that Cas had taken his shirt off and also hung it on the coat rack until he realized Cas was staring at him expectantly. Dean swallowed dryly and forced his eyes not to roam his best friend’s bare chest. “Am I going to be able to look at them? Your wings?” He asked stupidly, thinking about Cas’ true form and how it could burn someone’s eyes out in a matter of seconds.

“I will be able to contain their power and prevent their energy from harming you. Are you ready?”

“Y-yeah…” Dean stuttered breathlessly, suddenly overwhelmed by the fact that he was about to see and an angel’s f*cking wings. And not just any wings, but Cas’ wings.

Cas chewed his bottom lip nervously, and Dean was once again taken aback by how human he acted sometimes. Then the angel stood up straight and flexed his shoulders. The lights in the rooms flickered as two massive black wings unfurled from Cas’ back, and Dean really needed to pick his jaw up off the floor.

The ceiling of the bunker was far too low, and Cas couldn’t expand his wings fully while standing without them crashing into the walls and roof. They were a silky black that shined beautifully with this strange iridescent gold that only seemed visible when the light would catch them, and Dean was in awe over just how stunning they were… and he was getting to see them. In person. He was going to get to touch them.

“Holy sh*t, Cas. They’re…” Impressive. Amazing. Beautiful. Life changing. “They’re awesome.” Nice f*cking going, Dean. He thought to himself. You’re the first human to see an angel’s wings and you call them awesome? Really? When Dean looked up at Cas, he was looking at the hunter like he was the most incredible thing in the world. There was so much adoration and relief on Cas’ face, like he had been afraid that Dean might have a negative reaction to seeing his wings. “Can I touch them?” Dean asked hoarsely, his tongue feeling much too large for his mouth. He was surprised he could make words come out at all.

“That’s the point of preening, Dean.” Cas said softly, his expression shy.

Dean stepped forward slowly and reached his hand out slowly, his fingers trembling. The moment they reach the feathers, Dean was hit with the most indescribable feeling. It felt like tasting music and touching sunlight. It felt like hearing colors and feeling lightning strike right through him without actually hurting him. It was as if he could feel the feather on a cellular level, and it took every ounce of will not to come in his pants. Holy sh*t. Cas watched him nervously as his fingers flexed anxiously. “They’re incredible…touching them is like…”Dean trailed off and began running his fingers through the feathers. Dean didn’t know sh*t about feathers, but he could tell there was absolutely nothing wrong with the ones he was touching, but he would be damned if he said he didn’t want to touch every single feather that belonged to Cas. He watched his fingers disappear into the glossy black plumage, completely mesmerized. When he looked back at Cas his stomach fought to do a summersault and a backflip at the same time because there was such heat in Cas’ eyes. The incredible blue of them was suddenly taken up by so much more pupil that wasn’t there just a moment ago.

“Wh-what do I need to do?” Dean asked gruffly, suddenly unable to look away from Cas’ eyes as his fingers stroked the angel’s wings on their own accord.

“You’ll essentially be doing what you’re already doing except harder-“ Dean swallowed. “The feathers that are loose will come out once you apply more pressure. Don’t worry if I seem to lose a lot, there is already more than enough growing in and many have already grown fully. Some need to be readjusted.” Cas took Dean’s hand in his own, guiding it to an area on his left wing where the feathers seemed to be sticking up haphazardly. “They just need to be straightened out.” Cas looked at his feet nervously. “I should warn you that once you start preening, my wings will begin to produce an oil. It’s essential for the health of the feathers. You… you may want to get gloves.” Cas blushed, and f*ck did Dean want to kiss him. The angel was clearly embarrassed at the thought of his bodily fluids coming in contact with Dean’s hands, and it took a lot of will power for Dean not to make a downright filthy joke.

“Uh, I don’t think it would bother me. Unless it uh, bothers you.” Dean fumbled over his words. Cas watched him curiously and licked his lips. Dean had no f*cking clue how he was going to make it through this with the angel looking at him like that.

To distract himself, he began to follow Cas’ instructions about preening, first trying to realign the feathers that were sticking out at odd angles. Cas shuddered and let out a content sound and Dean had to get in an internal argument with his dick not to take Cas’ reaction the wrong way.

“I expected them to be bigger. Isn’t you true size like, enough to make a T-Rex quiver in your wake or some sh*t?” Dean commented, feeling the wings becoming more and more oily the longer his finger raked through them.

“When I downsized myself to be able to be contained by a vessel, it downsized my wings as well. It’s one of the reasons that you’re able to see them without them burning your eyes out. These wings aren’t quite my true form but are a middle ground so that they don’t harm you, and you’re still able to help me.” Cas’ eyes had slid closed and he seems perfectly at peace. Dean smiled and was really glad that Cas couldn’t see him because he was pretty sure he looked like a lovestruck idiot. Right as he thought that, Cas opened his eyes and smiled back at him as he blushed. “I have managed to do most of the preening in the front of my wings. I can actually reach there.” Dean got flustered, realizing that he had just been dragging his fingers through areas that Cas could easily reach. “It does feel nice though.” Cas added, smiling. And god, Dean was even more f*cked, because that wasn’t one of those half-smiles that he got from time to time, this was Cas being happy and relaxed enough to give him a real smile.

“Uh, I’ll probably need you to lie down to get the back of wings. If you’re on the bed, you should be able to spread your wings out a little more.” Dean muttered. Cas obliged immediately, tucking in his wings temporarily so that he could lie down on his stomach on the bed. Dean cursed himself for once again not thinking sh*t through, because literally the only position that made sense for him to reach all the feathers was if he straddled Cas’ hips. So, he did. And had never felt more lightheaded in his entire life.

As Dean worked over the feathers, Cas went on a detailed rant about what each part of his wings were called, and what each group of feathers was called. Dean was shocked by how interesting his found the information, about how he could see the differences in the groupings based on the sizes, and sometimes even texture of the feathers. More feathers were beginning to come out from the back of the wings where Cas couldn’t reach, and Dean winced every time one came out between his fingers even though Cas assured him that it didn’t hurt.

“You know, I didn’t expect your wings to be black.” Dean said, appreciating how the oil was making Cas’ wings shine beautifully. Cas stiffened. Dean kept stroking his feathers. “I mean, I know the feathers me and Sam found were black. But I guess I just always thought angels would have white wings.”

Cas had tensed up ridiculously, and Dean wondered if he said something wrong. “Most angels do. Maybe not quite always white, but a variation of light, neutral colors. Eggshell, ivory, pearl, cream, champagne…every angel’s wings are different. Even if the color may be the same as another angel, there will be some sort of difference like speckles of tawny across each feather…much like your freckles.” Dean blushed for the millionth time and wondered when he became such a girl. “The slight differences are not always visible to the naked eye but often become more predominant during mating season-“

“Whoa whoa whoa. Hold the f*ck up. Angels have a mating season?” Dean felt Cas tense under him once again. “Seriously?” Dean somehow managed to swallow even though his mouth feels too dry. His mind wandered to this one episode of the show Dark Angel where the chick was like this experimental human weapon thing that had animalistic features due to her changed DNA. It would cause her to go into heat. Dean remembered that in the episode. she was insatiable sexually. He tried really hard not to think of Cas like that. sweaty and lust driven, his body trembling with need as he throws Dean up against a wall and-. Dean could feel the blood rushing to his co*ck and concentrated really hard on not popping a boner with Cas sitting right there underneath him. “I didn’t think angels did the dirty.” He forced himself to ask, and cursed internally over the fact that his voice is much too high.

Cas peered over his shoulder curiously. “We have the option to. We don’t need to. All of the angels that needed to be were created at the same time by God himself. Angels didn’t need to add to the population at the time. I suppose after everything that’s happened, it’s a good thing he gave the option as a sort of backup plan. Heaven’s count is significantly lower than it once was. We have control over whether or not we want to be affected by the mating season.” Dean just nodded, his hand continuing to glide through the feathers as if he was transfixed.

“So, if most angels have light colored wings, why are yours black?” He finally asked shyly.

“They weren’t always” Cas answers sadly. Dean didn’t push the matter when Cas hangs his head in shame, allowing it to hit the pillow, but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t dying for more answers. “They were gold, an incredibly rare color. They were beautiful.”

Dean’s stomach did a weird flip flop. That weird feeling he always got when he was about to hear something he really didn’t want to hear was creeping up on him. He asked the question anyway. “Why are they black now?”

Even though he couldn’t see the angels face, he knew Cas was sad just by how his wings sagged. It broke Dean’s heart. “There are only a few angels in existence that have black wings.” Cas inhaled shakily. “Lucifer, Michael most likely, and I. The feathers turn black when an angel visits the deepest pits of Hell. It’s as though they never fully recover from being singed by fire and weighed down by the blood and tears of the tortured souls. I led the garrison that rescued you from Hell, but it was my job and mine alone to actually retrieve you, so they never went as deep as I. Their wings remained the same color while mine turned black. Other angels see it as a curse. Something to be ashamed of.”

“Oh f*ck them.” Dean blurted out defensively. He could only imagine what the other f*ckhead angels have said about Cas’ wings and he wanted to drench them in holy oil and light a match. “Your wings are… they’re gorgeous, Cas. And honestly, the other angels should realize what a f*cking badass you have to be to have black wings. Michael and Lucifer’s wings may be black because they’re dicks, but yours are black because you fought through Hell. You made it out and dragged my sorry ass with you. I highly doubt those other dumbass angels could have done that.” Cas’ back twitched slightly, and Dean knew by the way that his wings raised proudly that he was smiling. It made Dean feel like a cinderblock was removed from his chest, and he couldn’t help but grin while he continued preening.

Dean was exhausted after the preening. Every muscle in his body ached and his hands were tight and cramping. He flopped down on the bed on his stomach, and let out a tired groan, as a ton of feathers floated up in the air from his weight added to the mattress. He caught one in his hands, and Cas eyed him as he stroked it. “I’ll get rid of all of these feathers.” Cas offered, getting ready to snap his fingers.

“Wait! Uh, can I… can I keep this one?” Dean asked. He was pretty sure it was a primary feather based on how strong and large it was. Cas was staring at him with an unreadable expression. “I mean, it’s just kind of awesome, you know? I’m the first human to ever see or touch angel wings and they’re yours. The universe’s most badass angel. I just think it would be cool to keep.”

Castiel was downright blushing and Dean grinned at how adorable it was. “Of course, Dean. You can keep the feather if you’d like.” Cas adjusted himself on the bed so that Dean had more room and they were comfortably lying next to each other.

“I can’t remember a lot from Hell.” Dean suddenly admitted, still stroking the feather and wishing he was still stroking Cas’ wings. “At least not the part from Hell when you rescued me. It’s been bothering me for years that that was the only thing I could remember about Hell was all the sh*t I wanted to forget. I wish…I wish I could remember you.”

Cas smiled sadly. “I don’t expect you to remember. After all you had been through, it would have been too much for your soul to bare. But at first… you fought me.” He frowned. “You… you thought you deserved to be there. You didn’t think you deserved to be saved.” Cas gave him a knowing look, referring back to all those years ago when he called Dean out in the barn where they met. “But once I picked you up, you clung to me. You began to weep and wouldn’t let go. And even after all you had been through, even after all you had done in the pit, your soul was still the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.”

Dean searched Cas’ eyes, overwhelmed as he fought away the stinging in his eyes that was dangerously close to tears forming. “Thanks, Cas.” He whispered. Cas just smiled back at him, his eyes shining lovingly.

After the conversation they just lied there, their faces much too close. Most people would have shifted away. Most people would have created some sort of distance. Most people would’ve realized how awkward it was. Most people were not Dean Winchester. Most people were not in love with their best friend. Dean’s heart sped up because he realized that this is the most intimate moment he’d ever shared with anyone. They just had a conversation that left him feeling vulnerable and exposed down to the nerve, and now he was staring into the endlessly blue eyes of the being that had literally pieced him back together. Dean was f*cked. He was so f*cked. He was dizzy with this high, and he hadn’t even kissed Cas. Just this close proximity was giving him an overwhelming feeling of home. Usually when he was sharing a bed with someone, they were usually on their back or on their knees or riding him. He was literally inside them. But this? This was far more intimate.

Dean could feel himself nodding off, and he didn’t even want to fight it. Castiel’s cheek rubbed against his pillowcase once and Dean realized that he was nestling into bed, regardless of whether or not he slept. Falling asleep here, in Cas’ bed is such a nominally bad idea. Dean knew it. He knew he would feel awkward when he woke up. But he also knew that Cas wasn’t kicking him out any time soon.

Dean gave Cas one more smile and drifted off to sleep.

Chapter 15: Deck the Halls With Salt and Iron

Chapter Text

Hunting kept Sam, Dean, and Cas busy consistently the next couple of weeks. Every time a hunt would come up, Sam would give him that concerned, cautious look, wondering if this would be the hunt that would do him in, turn him back into something that was no longer Dean. But he had nothing to worry about. The Djinn juice was doing wonders at bringing Dean back down to earth when the Mark of Cain threatened to take over. He knew that both Sam and Cas were suspicious over how he could manage to go from nearly decapitating Sam to being more Zen than a monk, but he kept redirecting them and telling them that after the incident in the vampire nest, he had done a lot of soul searching and it helped him keep his focus and control. Of course, Sam didn’t buy it fully, but pretended to and teased Dean relentlessly about meditation and kept telling him that he was going to buy him a yoga mat for his next birthday.

Cas was a little harder to placate.

The angel didn’t hide his concerns or suspicions at all and wanted details on what it was exactly that Dean was doing to help the Mark. Of course, Dean didn’t have any, but he had stopped asking questions once Dean had said that he learned to channel his focus into his priorities, both of which were Sam and Cas. Dean wasn’t sure if Cas actually bought the half-lie, but it had made him stop following Dean around like a lost puppy. It didn’t stop the careful, calculated staring and soul-searching looks, but Dean was pretty sure those increased after their little preening session anyway.

The most shocking part about Dean preening Cas’ wings wasn’t that he actually got to see and touch actual angel wings, it was that Sam saw him leaving Cas’ room sleepy and bed ruffled the next morning and didn’t say a word. The sasquatch looked confused for a moment and went to open his mouth to ask a question, but then a look of realization came across his face and he just went about his day like nothing had happened. Sam hadn’t brought it up, and Dean sure as hell wasn’t about to bring it up. He was incredibly thankful that his brother was smart enough to know that Cas had finally caved and let Dean help him with his wings and that the situation wasn’t nearly as kinky as it seemed, regardless of Dean being so well-rested and Cas being so happy that next day. The last thing he needed was Sam making jokes about him and Cas like that. It was annoying and bratty, and typical little brother sh*t before, but that was before Dean realized that he really, really didn’t want it to be a joke anymore.

Dean felt like an asshole. He was the one that had brought up celebrating holidays. He was the one that had made a big deal about Thanksgiving and being completely elated that he got to spend time with his family. He was the one that was so desperately trying to provide a little normalcy to the people he loved.

And he was the one that forgot completely about Christmas.

He would have completely bypassed the holiday without blinking an eye had it not been for Cas. He found the angel in the den with a neglected book in his lap while he texted away on his phone. Dean glared at the phone, wondering who in the hell Cas could be texting so adamantly when he was lucky if Cas sent him an emoji in response. It was probably Ariel. Cas looked up and caught Dean glaring when Dean didn’t school his face quickly enough. He tilted his head in confusion and Dean hated how f*cking cute he thought that was.

“Who’s got your thumbs on fire over there?” Dean asked, plopping down on one of the worn-out recliners. Okay, so maybe it was a little petty and passive aggressive to choose not to sit next to Cas on the couch.

“I am texting Claire.” Cas frowned down at his phone screen. “I would like to get her something for Christmas, but she will not tell me what she would like.”

Dean froze. Oh f*ck. Christmas. He tried to play it off as if he hadn’t completely forgotten about the holiday that was literally two days away. He forced a laugh. “Yeah, you’re not going to get anything out of her, buddy. Little miss ‘I don’t need anything from anybody’. I’m surprised she’s not like cursing you out for even asking.”

Cas’ eyes never left the screen and suddenly his face lit up. “We’ve been arguing for over an hour, but she has finally agreed to tell me. She’s typing it out right now.”

Dean smiled, watching Cas stare at what he presumed was the little moving dots that showed someone was replying to a text. Sam would be easy to shop for. He would just get him a latte machine because he was tired of his brother f*cking with the settings on their coffee machine. The girls would be easy too, though he would probably ask for Sam’s help. They could get Alex a stethoscope or something nurse related, Claire a new leather jacket since hers was worn. Jody and Donna would be a little harder, but there was a chance Sam was already a step ahead of him. But Cas? Dean had no idea what to get Cas. What kind of gift do you buy an angel?

Dean was suddenly brought back from daydreaming by the panicked look on Cas’ face. Apparently, he was not pleased with Claire’s response and Dean grinned at him curiously, wondering if she had asked him for condoms or something. “So, what does she want?”

“Something entirely inappropriate.” Cas growled, and Dean laughed, thinking maybe he was right. Cas glared at him and shoved his cell phone in his trench coat pocket.

What Dean didn’t know what that Claire’s response had said “The only thing I want for Christmas is for you to tell Dean how you feel.”

Dean hated malls. He hated crowds. He hated holidays. He hated that it had decided to snow right when he, Sam, and Cas piled into the Impala to go shopping at the last minute. He hated that people couldn’t f*cking drive in snowy weather, and he hated how Baby’s under carriage was currently getting pelted with the salt off the roads. He hated that Sam and Cas were cool and collected about Christmas and how they didn’t understand why he was being so tense. He hated that he had forgotten about Christmas and now Jody, Donna, Alex, and Claire already had plans. He hated that he had no idea what to get Cas and hated that it mattered so much. He was pretty sure he could pick Cas a random dandelion and Cas would be pleased. Dean especially hated how that was dangerously close to thinking about giving Cas flowers, and hated even more that he blushed so hard he got distracted and had to slam on the brakes so he wouldn’t rear end someone. Dean hated the strain that it put on Baby’s brakes and hated the look that Sam gave him. Dean hated everything.

When they finally arrived at the mall, Dean slid his hand along Baby, apologizing affectionately for putting her through so much on the ride. Sam rolled his eyes and Cas looked amused, and they decided to split up to go shopping for each other individually before meeting up to go shopping for the girls later. Dean smiled when he saw Cas make his way towards some new wave hippie store that sold all organic and natural products with a happy look on his face.

After an hour and half, Dean was ready to give up. Sam had been blowing up his phone for the past 45 minutes, easily already done shopping for both his brother and Cas. Dean had already gotten Sam’s latte maker and brought it back to the Impala so that he didn’t have to carry it, but he still had no idea what to get Cas and he had looped the mall multiple times. When he stopped in front of the hippie store- Sunshine something- He was surprised to see Cas still inside having an animated conversation with one of the only individuals working that didn’t look stoned. Dean decided to go inside, because he felt like an idiot for not looking in the store that Cas had immediately made a beeline for.

When he approached the angel, he couldn’t wipe the grin off his face. Cas was excitedly talking to the employee about the honey that they used in their products.

“While I understand that all humans have their own dietary preferences, I have never understood animal rights activists that boycott honey. There are various species of bees on the endangered list and the demand for honey means that bees are more likely to be protected, though it is unfortunate that people only feel the need to protect other living beings when they’re being useful, because all animals are useful in the great scheme of things like the food chain and the circle of life.” Cas said excitedly.

“Facts dude, straight facts.” The worker laughed, pulling a hair band off of his wrist and tugging his dreadlocks into a loose, low ponytail, his light brown eyes sparkling. “I mean, we’re all here for a purpose, ya know? Even the bees, man. Thank you for your support.”

“You seem like you’re having fun, Cas.” Dean said, an easy smile on his face when he approached the two of them, glancing at the employee’s nametag to find that his name was Tom. Dean was expecting a name a little more free-spirited. Tom gave him a nod in acknowledgment.

“Dean!” Cas said excitedly. “This man uses organic, local honey in all of the products that he sells here. He even showed me pictures of his hives.”

Dean just looked at Cas softly, reminded of the time that Cas had lost his mind and showed up on the hood of the Impala naked, covered in bees. While at the time, the situation was alarming and heartbreaking, looking back now it was endearing and funny. “That’s awesome, buddy.” He noticed reusable canvas bag that Cas was holding in his arms from a recently made purchase. Dean tried to lean in and look into it, but Cas shuffled it out of his vision with a glare. Dean wanted to smack himself when he realized it made him pout like he was flirting.

“You can see Sam’s gift on Christmas when he does.” The angel replied sternly. Dean just grinned sheepishly. “There is one more section of the store I wish to look at and then we can leave.” He added, narrowing his eyes at Dean once before making his way over to a section of candles.

Dean didn’t realize how hopelessly lovestruck he probably looked until Tom spoke up. “Dude, your boyfriend is like, woke as f*ck, man.” He adjusted the uniform apron he was wearing before front facing some chapstick so the labels were facing out.

Dean’s eyes widened as looked over at Tom and he stuttered “We’re not- H-he’s not-“

“Oh, my bad, brother. Still… he’s like the most spiritually enlightened dude I’ve ever met.” Tom smiled at him warmly, and while the other man’s assumption was wrong, it warmed Dean to know that if Cas was his boyfriend (which he’d never be), that this stranger would be totally okay with it.

When Dean looked back over at Cas, there were two women in the early 20’s speaking to him, unintentionally blocking his path. One kept touching her pretty, red hair flirtatiously and the other touched his arm as she spoke. Cas’ eyes were huge and nervous, and Dean grimaced, realizing he was going to have to step in. “Excuse me.” He mumbled to Tom. He didn’t hear the other man mumble ‘not boyfriends my ass’ as he made his way over to Cas. “You ready to go?” He asked the angel, making sure to scowl at the girls before looking back at Cas.

“Of course, Dean. Could we come back another time when they’re having another sale?”

Dean was a little overwhelmed by how adorable he thought Cas was in this moment, and he wasn’t even sure why. “Anything you want.” He said a little breathlessly.

“Wait!” The redhead said, grabbing the sleeve of Cas’ trench coat. “Don’t leave yet. I haven’t given you my number.” She said with a coy smile.

Cas looked at her, his eyebrows tented in confusion. “Why would I need your number?” He asked, not even giving her time to respond before he turned back to Dean so that they could leave.

Dean snickered at the girl’s facial expression before following Cas out the door. Cas looked at him curiously, smiling slightly. “What’s so funny?” He asked sincerely.

“You’re just awesome, Cas.” Dean replied, tossing his arm around the angel’s shoulder.

Later that night, Dean worked himself in an absolutely sour mood over the fact that he hadn’t gotten anything for Cas yet. Sam had gotten sick of waiting on him at the mall and had not only bought all his gifts, but also bought Christmas lights, and a tiny desk tree with mini ornaments and all. He and Cas were having an in-depth discussion on how Cas felt about Christmas since he was an angel while Dean grumpily kicked out on the couch. He closed his eyes and pretended to be resting, but his smile gave him away when Cas didn’t appreciate the little mini angel that was expected to go on their tiny tree, and Sam awkwardly stuffed it back in the box.

“Dean are you going to help us decorate or just lie on the couch all afternoon?” Sam said. Dean didn’t need to open his eyes to know Sam was probably pulling bitch face #34 at him.

“You’re the one that wanted to decorate, Sammy. I just wanted to celebrate. That reminds me, I need to go to the liquor store before it closes so we can make real eggnog.” Sam made a disgusted face and Dean rolled his eyes as he sat up and rolled off the couch. “I’m also probably going to pick up some food so you two text me what you want.” He knew Cas wouldn’t text him, not wanting to be a burden, so he would just surprise him. Maybe get him one of those new gingerbread milkshakes he had seen advertised. He heard Sam mumble something about negative about fast food but ignored him and grabbed his keys, pulling on his jacket.

Dean did need to go to the liquor store and to grab food, but he had also been thinking about what to get Cas while he was on the couch and had finally come up with an idea. He was pretty sure it was a really dumb and a little cheesy, but he knew Cas would like it. After doing research he couldn’t believe he would actually be able to get everything he needed at Walmart. He was so focused on the gift that he almost busted his ass when his boot came down on an icy patch of snow outside the bunker, but he played it off and piled into Baby like nothing happened.

With his bourbon cradled in a paper bag in the passenger seat of baby, and Sam’s text about what he wanted from Sonic, Dean made his way through Walmart to the outdoor section, hoping the lines weren’t as ridiculous in that part of the store. He pulled up the list on his phone, scrolling through which flower seeds he needed to purchase and gritted his teeth, reminding himself that this was not like buying Cas flowers. This was just a part of his gift, and he needed to quit being such a girl about it.

That backfired when an employee asked him if he needed any help and turned around and yelped “I’m fine!” before walking directly into a wooden swing set on his way to get the main part of the gift. He ended up having to get a cart and was being hardcore judged by a little old couple for dropping his packets of flower seeds everywhere because he was too busy grinning over a picture that Cas had texted him of the inside of the bunker lit up with Christmas lights. Dean picked up Cas’ gift and carefully placed it in the cart, thankful that the Impala had a backseat with how massive it was.

Right as Dean was about to steer his shopping cart over to the checkout line, a little rack of clothing next to where he picked up Cas’ gift caught his eye. He smiled at the hoodie hanging up. It was the only one and it just so happened to be Cas’ size. No. He thought. That’s going above and beyond and definitely crossing over into cheesy territory. Cas wouldn’t even wear it anyway. He grumbled at himself, getting in line and wondering if he had bought enough bourbon for their eggnog.

Dean was standing in line for fifteen minutes and just two people away from checkout when he caved and got out of line and went back to grab the hoodie, cursing profusely. He shoved it in his shopping cart and went to the back of the line with a grimace on his face. He hoped the look on Cas’ face would make up for the teasing look on the cashier’s face as she looked over Dean’s purchase and then up at him.

A couple of hours later, Sam, Dean, and Cas were all in the den, catching up on Game of Thrones and drinking heavily liquored eggnog and their gingerbread milkshakes. Dean and Cas were on the couch and Sam had chosen to sit on the ground with his back against the couch between the two of them. Dean tried not to think about how this forced them to sit further apart than they probably had in years. They had just gotten done stuffing their faces with greasy, overcooked fries and corndogs from Sonic and were all feeling lazy. Dean noted that Cas loved the milkshake, and Sam absolutely hated it from the smell, to the taste, to the texture. Dean finished his and eagerly reached for Sam’s, not hesitating to share it with the very happy angel, their hands brushing every time they passed it. Sam turned to look at him with an eyebrow raised, and Dean kicked him before Cas could notice.

Halfway through the first episode, Dean realized he was no longer paying attention. All he could think about was how he was pleasantly full, in the process of getting pleasantly drunk, and was surrounded by the two people that meant the most to him. The Djinn juice was keeping the Mark silent, and while there was no sign of Crowley and Rowena, there was also no sign that they were up to no good. Dean was… happy. As happy as he could be with all the sh*t he’d been through, and all the other sh*t knocking on his door.

The den looked cute (though Dean would never speak those words out loud) with all the Christmas lights, their little tiny tree, and even three stockings hung by the fireplace like some kind of damn nursery rhyme. He wasn’t sure if it was just the alcohol talking, but it made Dean want to plan ahead for holidays, for real this time. He wanted to celebrate holidays with his brother and best friend, and even though he knew their lives would never be normal, that there was no white picket fence in sight, he desperately wanted to cling to this little bit of normalcy.

Dean glanced down at Cas’ hand next to his on the couch cushion between them, so close to his that it was like he felt a magnetic pull in his own fingertips to reach out and touch. Of course, he didn’t actually plan on holding hands with Cas, that was absolutely ridiculous. His fingers twitched, and he curled them into a fist, wondering when things had changed between them. Dean wasn’t stupid. While he may have just recently accepted his feelings for Cas weren’t entirely platonic, he knew this was something that had been building for years. Something had shifted between them to something more long, long ago. Dean knew that while Cas didn’t feel the same way about him, they had crossed that thin, imaginary line at some point before Dean realized he was in love. He didn’t know if it happened while begging on his knees in the crypt or when he refused to leave Purgatory without Cas. It could’ve happened when Dean told the angel that he would rather have him, cursed or not. Maybe when Dean felt his stomach do that weird flip when Cas explained to Sam that they had a more profound bond. Hell, maybe it even happened when Dean was unconscious in a box six feet under when the words ‘Dean Winchester is saved!’ rang through Heaven. Maybe there were a million lines crossed a million different times. And Dean didn’t regret any of it.

He didn’t regret sacrificing himself for Sam, even if it landed him in Hell. He didn’t regret encouraging Cas to pursue free will, even if he couldn’t imagine while anyone would choose him over Heaven. He didn’t regret the fights, the lies, the betrayal. He didn’t regret the year in Purgatory or taking the Mark of Cain. It had been a sh*tty, dark, bloody life, but all of those things had lead Dean to this one moment of peace where he was able to drunkenly watch an HBO show with two people who he would give absolutely anything for. There was a part of him that ached for Castiel, ached for more, ached to be someone better, but it was hard to listen to that part of himself when he’s this happy. Sometimes they had days like this where they don’t have the responsibilities of hunters. Sometimes Sam still looked at him like he did when he was a little kid, like Dean was a hero and someone to be admired. Sometimes Cas said things to him about his soul being beautiful or reminded him that he could never regret pulling Dean from Hell. Those moments were the moments that Dean wished he wasn’t so greedy, wished that he would stop hoping for more. Hunters weren’t allowed to have more. Dean wasn’t allowed to have more.

They finished the small Game of Thrones marathon and it left Dean smiling and content over how Cas’ ability to grasp media kept getting better, and how when he struggled, Sam was just as patient as ever, explaining details to him. Cas had just fit so seamlessly into their lives, like he was meant to be there, and Dean felt a little spoiled that Sam and Cas were able to have a relationship too. Sam got up and stretched, his shoulders popping with a groan. He reached down and began picking up their empty Sonic bags and cups, and Dean and Cas helped him. Sam’s movements were slow, and Dean figured the giant must be tired. He and Cas grabbed their trash, and both headed for the kitchen when Sam called out to them right as the were leaving the den.

“I forgot to mention I got a few other Christmas decorations.” Sam said, and Dean really, really did not like the smirk on his little brother’s face.

Dean glanced over to Cas when his face lit up in excitement and son of a bitch, Dean was so head over heels for that innocent enthusiasm. “What else did you get?” the angel asked.

Sam’s smirk split into a full-on grin. “Look up.”

Dean and Cas both looked up at the same time, seeing a small branch of mistletoe poorly taped to the doorframe that they were both standing under. Cas just observed the branch curiously while all the color drained from Dean’s face. He was going to f*cking kill Sam. Sam had his phone out and snapped a picture, then immediately burst into a fit of laughter and Dean threw his empty milkshake cup at him.

“I don’t understand.” Cas said squinting. “What does the plant phoradendron leucarpum have to do with Christmas?”

Dean balled up his empty Sonic back and threw it at Sam’s head too. “When two people are under it, they’re supposed to kiss.” He mumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose. Cas looked at him in alarm, his eyes flickering to Dean’s lips. “Sam just thinks he’s funny, Cas. It’s a prank.” Dean’s glare could cut through glass when he looked back at his brother.

“God, I’m backing that picture up on everything.” Sam said, wiping tears from his eyes now. “The expressions on both your faces was priceless.”

Dean was feeling the drained blood rush back to his face with a blush and he looked away from Sam in frustration, meeting Cas’ eyes. “Is it too late to throw him back in Hell?”

Cas didn’t find Dean’s joke funny, but when Cas pursed his full lips and Dean’s eyes were drawn to them, it made the hunter realize that he really, really didn’t think Sam’s joke was funny, so they were even.

Christmas Eve passed by in a blur of more eggnog and preparations. Dean baked two pies with Cas’ help, and wasn’t really sure he had managed to keep his hands to himself when the angel ended up covered in flour and looking at a rolling pin like it personally victimized him. Dean managed to sneak outside to set up part of Cas’ gift, and he really needed Sam’s help but refused to ask for it after Sam’s little joke. Of course, Sam had no way of knowing that the joke hit a little too close to home, and he was just being an annoying sibling, but Dean was still a little pissed at him, and still really frustrated over the look on Cas’ face when he mentioned kissing. A huge part of him wished he could have used the mistletoe as an excuse to kiss that confused look off of his face. It seemed that no matter how many times Dean tried to remind himself that Cas was an angel, it didn’t change his feelings towards his best friend. Neither did thinking about the fact that Cas was a dude in some of the ways that mattered. Cas could be an alien with twelve tentacles and Dean knew he would still be enamored over Cas. Hell, the tentacle thing might be kind of cool.

Late Christmas Eve night, Dean had effectively checked every door frame in the bunker and ripped down all the branches of mistletoe that Sam hung up, and then immediately replaced the motion sensor air freshener in Sam’s room to gingerbread when he went to the bathroom since he hated it so much. He deserved it.

Dean had every intention of hanging out with Cas now that he was done making the bunker a little less gay, but when he knocked on Cas’ door he was greeted by a very flustered angel that informed him that he was wrapping gifts and then unceremoniously shut the door in his face. Sam was on the phone with a fellow hunter that he had helped kill a wendigo by walking him through it entirely earlier in the week. Dean was left to his on devices.

He learned that was never a good thing when you possessed the Mark of Cain.

After only fifteen minutes of boredom, Dean was up pacing the floors. He knew Sam would love his dumb, fancy latte maker. He knew that the girls would love the gifts that he, Sam, and Cas collectively got them, even if they wouldn’t be able to give them to the ladies until a week or so after Christmas. He knew he would love whatever anyone got him…but he was still freaking out about what he had gotten Cas. At the time it seemed sensible and thoughtful, now it just seemed a little too thoughtful. Was it creepy? It seemed creepy. And Cas wouldn’t even be able to use half the gift until way later. He should’ve thought about something else.

It didn’t take Dean long of freaking out before he caved and turned to the Djinn essence for some moral support. He went to sleep that night no longer freaking out about Christmas gifts, and dreamt of drowning in a vast, beautiful ocean, but for some reason, he wasn’t afraid.

Sam was far too excited to let Dean sleep on Christmas, and Dean couldn’t even be mad at him. Sam had been forced to miss out on this excitement so many times as a kid, so when his brother knocked on his door enthusiastically, reminding him that it was Christmas, Dean woke up with a grin and crawled out of bed, grabbing some pajama pants in the process.

By the time Dean reached the den wearing his worn pajama pants and Led Zeppelin shirt (he was a little proud that the red plaid pants matched the red in the font on the shirt), Sam had already made peppermint hot chocolate and was having an animated conversation with Cas. Dean smiled sleepily when he noticed that Cas had once again ditched the trench coat and suit jacket. He felt like Cas was making himself at home a little more every time he did.

All the presents were around the table that their mini, lit up Christmas tree sat on, and Dean vowed that if they all lived long enough to celebrate another Christmas, they would at least go out and get a real one. Sam had been in charge of the stockings since it had been his idea and had thankfully remembered to take them off of the hooks on the fireplace mantle before lighting the fire since 90% of what was in the stocking was candy.

Dean knew this before even grabbing his, because Cas had all of the contents of his stocking poured out on the ground in front of him on the floor. Dean grinned, reminded of one time when he took Sam trick-or-treating when John wasn’t being a dick about holidays. Sam was leaned against the arm of the couch (wearing a f*cking Santa hat), picking out exactly what he wanted from his own stocking, and Dean plopped down next to Cas to empty out his own. When Sam wasn’t looking, Dean slid Cas his Skittles. Dean liked them too, but he knew they were one of Cas’ favorites. The Den was warm, and cozy and Dean was still pleasantly floating from the Djinn juice from the night before, even if it was only slightly.

“So, uhm, I’ll go first.” Sam said through a mouthful of Milkyway bar. “It’s just really simple stuff, guys.” He muttered, tossing Dean and Cas their gifts. “Next year we should go all out, and not wait until the very last second to do Christmas.” He directed these words at Dean, an amused expression on his face.

“Yeah, yeah.” Dean responded dismissively, even though he completely agreed with Sam. He tore into his gift like a toddler, grinning when the wrapping paper finally fell away to reveal a massive car care kit that included everything from a waxing kit to carpet cleaner.

Sam smiled as Dean’s face lit up and took a sip from his mug of hot chocolate, a smug look sparkling behind his eyes. “If I hear you bitch about what the salt on the roads does to the Impala one more time, I’m taking the bus into town.”

“Aw, a man after my own heart.” Dean said sarcastically. “Thanks, Sammy.” He added, throwing the bow off of his gift at him. He looked over to see what Cas got, only to find the angel carefully pulling at the tape on the package and unfolding the wrapping paper so that it didn’t tear. “You know, ripping into the present is half the fun.” Dean teased him.

Cas looked at Dean’s ripped up pile of wrapping paper woefully but followed Dean’s lead and ripped the rest of the paper off. It revealed a massive book. Dean leaned closer to Cas to read what it was about, but everything on the cover was written in Enochian. Dean was pretty sure he could pick up some spoken Enochian, but the symbols and letters just looked like something a spastic toddler wrote on a birthday card.

“It’s a book on angels…” Cas said softly, stroking a hand down the ancient looking cover.

“I have no clue if any of it’s accurate.” Sam said shrugging. “Or if the language is even written correctly. I thought in the least if it’s a bunch of bupkis, you’d at least get a kick out of it.”

“Where did you even find that?” Dean asked, narrowing his eyes at Sam, more than a little jealous that his gift to Cas wasn’t nearly this cool.

Sam slid down the armchair of the couch so that he was sitting on the floor like his brother and Cas. “You know Gerald? The hunter I helped with the wendigo awhile back? He came across it in a witch’s house a couple of days ago. He was going to keep it, but it’s all Greek to him. I had him drive out and meet me at the mall the other day and give it to me, but I decided it might be a pretty cool Christmas gift. He called me last night to remind me to let him know if it was actually a cool find or a load of sh*t.”

“Thank you, Sam. I can’t wait to read it. The Enochian on the cover is flawless, so I’m assuming what’s written within will be as well.” Cas was giving Sam a soft look of appreciation, so naturally Dean made a gagging noise that they both ignored.

Cas reached for the presents next to him and each handed Sam and Dean one. They were both perfectly wrapped, edges straight and even, and tape almost invisible on the paper. Dean’s was a tiny box and Sam’s was much larger. Dean gestured for Sam to open his first, his heart beating against his chest painfully at the anxiety of what Cas could’ve gotten him. Sam ripped off the wrapping paper to reveal a white cardboard box that said ‘please recycle’ on it and he laughed, opening the box. When he opened the box, he laughed even harder, and pulled out two bottles, one of shampoo and the other of conditioner.

Cas’ lips quirked up. “According to Tom at Sunshine and Serenity, both of those products are very good at maintaining hair health and volume.” He said, pleased with himself.

Sam choked out a thank you between laughter. This made Dean start laughing too, and he grabbed Cas’ shoulder to keep from toppling over at just how Cas the gift actually was. He was laughing so hard that he wasn’t expecting Cas to look over at him expectantly, waiting for him to open his own gift. Dean bit his lip nervously, looking down at the small present in his lap. He took his hand off of Cas’ shoulder to slowly begin unwrapping the package. Just like Sam’s whatever it was, was inside a white box that reminded to recycle. When he finally opened the box, he almost choked.

Inside was the amulet necklace that Sam had given him as a child. The necklace that he had thrown away and didn’t regret doing so until it would have been impossible to track down. Dean was positive it was the same one, as it was slightly worn in all the correct places, though it looked like it had been shined up a bit. “Cas… wh-where did you get this?” He asked in awe, grabbing the necklace and letting the box fall in his lap.

“I remembered your reluctance to give me the necklace all those years ago, and how it was apparent that the necklace meant a great deal to you. I thought you may regret throwing it away. Now that I have both my grace and wings back, I was able to scour the united states looking for it and was pleased to find that it had been unharmed.” Cas answered casually, as if he hadn’t just blown Dean away with his thoughtfulness.

Dean looked up at Sam, and his brother’s face mirrored his own shocked, thankful expression. “Thanks, Cas.” Dean said gruffly, immediately putting the necklace on while trying to ignore how his stomach was doing summersaults and his fingers itched to grab the angel and pull him into his arms. Cas just looked at him with big, blue, content eyes that smiled more than his lips ever did. Suddenly, Dean’s anxiety about Cas’ gift came rolling back in waves as he shoved Sam’s gift at him. He gently handed Cas his gift, his entire face burning. God this was so stupid.

Sam tore into his gift, and Cas waited for him to do so before patiently before paying any mind to his own present. Sam fixed Dean with one of his infamous bitch faces as soon as he realized what his present was. “Really, Dean?”

“Listen, I’m tired of you f*cking up the settings on our coffee machine to make your dumb lattes. I tried to make coffee the other day and it came out frothy, Sam. Frothy. It tasted like ass.”

“How would you know what ass tastes like?” Sam asked without skipping a beat.

Dean blanched, and the rustle of Cas opening his present was a welcome distraction, even if it kicked his anxiety up a notch. He bit his lip nervously as Cas opened the Christmas box under the giftwrap, and really wanted to squeeze his eyes shut and disappear. But then Cas’ eyes flickered over the words on the hoodie, and his face softened before he looked up at Dean in admiration, pulling his “Save the bees” hoodie out of the box. “Uh…” Dean started, not so smoothly. “I know you don’t really ever change or anything, but you seemed really passionate about bees when you were talking to Tom in that store.” At this point, Sam was being nosey and leaning in to get a good look at the sweatshirt. Cas turned it to face Sam, and several packages of flower seeds fell out of the hoodie pocket. Dean was pretty sure his face was burning fire engine red. “Th-those flowers are-“

“All flowers that attract various species of bees.” Cas finished for him softly, looking over the packages of lavender, snowdrops, peonies, foxgloves, and lilacs.

There was a look in Cas’ eyes that Dean couldn’t quite place, but it had his throat feeling tight and his hands clammy. He looked down shyly. “There’s also a beekeeping box for you outside. I know you can’t really use any of this until spring, but I just thought, you know, since you like bees and all…”

“Dean, I love all of your gift.” Cas responded sincerely. Dean looked back at the angel, unconvinced, only to find him pulling the hoodie on over his white button up, which made Sam snicker. Dean shot him a disgruntled look, but his brother was giving him that look that he had been giving him entirely too much lately. A single eyebrow quirked up with knowing eyes and an amused smirk that made Dean’s skin crawl because being teased about Cas was just different now.

Before Dean could call Sam a bitch, Dean’s phone rang and his scrambled to reach into his pajama pant’s pocket to get to it. Five minutes and one relieved civilian that had been given Dean’s number later, Dean hung up, immediately standing up and stretching, his good mood slightly ruined. “Hope you two are full of Christmas cheer because we gotta go gank a demon.”

Chapter 16: New Year, Same Dean

Chapter Text

The Christmas demon hunt was mostly a bust. The demon was terrorizing the locals in Boulder, Colorado by bouncing from bar to bar, trying to trick people into selling their souls. The demon either knew very little about Crowley and Rowena’s locations, or refused to say anything other than Crowley had an entire search party looking for his mother. This wasn’t new information, and interrogating the demon proved to be a waste of time. They also didn’t realize that there was a small pipe leak in the warehouse that they were questioning the demon, and the leak ended up damaging the devil’s trap (still bright pink because Sam insisted on not wasting). The demon was able to work his way out of his restraints and the devil’s trap. The son of a bitch put up a hell of a fight too. He managed to blacken Sam’s eye and break Dean’s collar bone in the short time it took Cas to reach him and press a palm to his forehead, burning the demon from the inside out before immediately coming over to Dean to heal him, a worried, distraught look on his face.

Dean would have honestly been fine regardless. He had had much worse injuries over the years, but Cas seemed to blame himself and Dean realized with disgust that that was a quality he probably picked up from Dean himself. Even Sam tried to convince the angel that they were fine (his black eye took a touch and all of 0.1 seconds to heal), but Cas continued to pout in the backseat of the Impala on the long drive back to the bunker. When Dean overheard him mutter something about ‘being useless even with my grace restored’, Dean slammed on the breaks so hard that Sam nearly went through the windshield, regardless of being strapped in by his seatbelt.

Even though the hunt was not out of the ordinary, it had made Dean’s skin crawl. Before trapping the demon, when Sam and Cas were in the process of helping Dean ambush it, the demon had looked at Dean with curious black eyes and mentioned that it was oh so interesting that the mark had not completely taken over Dean when all of Hell seemed aware of what had happened with the Stynes. The demon also felt the need to add that he wanted to know Dean’s secret and gave him a knowing smirk that made Dean’s heart thud against his chest in guilt. There was no way that the demon could possibly know that Dean had both the mark’s venom and Djinn essence pumping through his veins… or at least Dean didn’t think there was any way of him knowing. Cas had said that he smelled different, but Cas had that weird, angelic sense of everything. Luckily the demon hadn’t mentioned anything when he was tied up and Sam and Cas were around, or at least hadn’t had time to before he escaped, hurt Sam and Dean, and then Cas brought the wrath of God down on the bastard. Dean tried not to think about what Cas’ getting pissed and his eyes glowing ethereal blue did to him, how it made his blood turn to lava under his skin.

They were still a few hours away from Lebanon when Dean couldn’t take his thoughts anymore. He was sick of over thinking what the demon had said, sick of focusing on how Cas was this really hot badass that needed to stop blaming himself for Sam and Dean’s injuries. His skin itched, and he couldn’t keep his fingers still on the steering wheel. Sam and Cas’ idle chit chat about the angel book Sam had gotten him was annoying Dean for no reason at all. He couldn’t stop grinding his teeth and the mark burned against his skin. He pulled over at a gas station shortly after insisting that he had to take a piss but checking the inner pocket of his green canvas jacket to make sure the small medical bag holding the syringe and Djinn juice hadn’t fallen out during the hunt.

When Dean left the bathroom, he offered to buy Sam and Cas a slushie and tried not to think about how he went from having the best Christmas he had ever had to shooting up in a bathroom less than 24 hours later.

Dean couldn’t sleep. By the time that they had gotten back to the bunker and night had rolled around, the affects of the Djinn essence had long since worn off. He really didn’t want to shoot up again as much as his brain was reminding him that it was an easy way to sleep. In fact, he didn’t want to shoot up at all. He knew it was a slippery slope, he knew the power that something could hold over you when it felt too good. Shooting up was an easy fix, and that’s what made it so dangerous. He was trying to distract himself by looking up New Year’s traditions on his phone that he, Sam, and Cas could do to celebrate the holiday, already moving on to the next one since Christmas was over. There wasn’t much to do for the holiday. Dean didn’t like the idea of fireworks when they had the Fourth of July for that, and most of the traditional food seemed gross and weird. So, Dean figured they could just drink and watch the ball drop on tv, hunting permitted.

Dean’s mind wandered to New Year’s resolutions. He thought New Year’s resolutions were dumb. He didn’t understand why someone needed a certain date to motivate them to get their sh*t together. He had never had a New Year’s resolution himself. But as he slowly scrolled through his phone, he suddenly wondered how Cas felt about them. He wondered if Cas had ever had one, and if he would be interested in celebrating the holiday in that way. Dean huffed out an annoyed sigh at himself. Of course, he was thinking about Cas. It’s like his thoughts always went back to Cas lately.

Locking his phone and dropping it on the bed, Dean scrubbed his hand across his face. The weird ache, the pull that he felt towards Castiel was still new. Well, the feeling itself wasn’t. The feeling had been there for years. But accepting what it meant was still new. There was an undeniable longing pulling at every cell in his body. He wished he could pass it off as not being laid in a long time. That would be the easy solution. That would be nice. He could go to a bar, flash a few smiles, spit out a few cheesy lines, and get his dick wet. He had been doing it for years in hopes of shoving down his looming feelings for Cas. But now? The thought of that made his stomach turn. He didn’t want to have sex with anyone else, even though the thought of sex with Cas was terrifying and completely unrealistic. It wasn’t even about sex. That was the scary part. Sure, when Cas got particularly smitey, Dean’s dick would stir and want to be invited to the party, but that wasn’t even the part that Dean ached for, the part that he could feel in his bones. He wanted Cas in ways he could never have him. He wanted Cas in ways that he had never wanted anyone, not Cassie, not Lisa, not anyone.

With Cassie there were no expectations. He loved her, but he knew that it would never work, that it would never last. At the time he had wanted it to, but he was young and dumb. He just took everything a day at a time, not thinking about the fact that one day soon John would tell him to pack up his sh*t and get in the Impala. The conversations they had were good, the sex was great, and Dean knew it was the closest thing he would have to a relationship as a hunter. When it was time to leave and move on to the next town, it sucked, but Dean wasn’t surprised. He had expected it long before it arrived. He knew that he and Cassie never stood a chance.

With Lisa, it was different. He had tried to create a future with her. He knew he was just “playing dad and husband”. He knew it was absurd to think that he could just impose himself in this normal life and hoped it worked. Sam was gone, and Cas was gone, but Lisa and Ben were there. He knew now that they were just poor replacements for what he was missing. Lisa was just someone that was replacing Cas in the sense that she was someone that he loved that he could actually have. Raising Ben was just a replacement for how he looked out and cared for Sammy, except that this time he was a father instead of a big brother. They were just there, failing to fill a void that Sam and Cas had left. It wasn’t bad. Dean was as happy as he could be with them, but a part of him knew that they would never be enough. When Sam came back, when Cas came back, it took the weight off of Dean’s chest that Lisa and Ben couldn’t even budge. He loved them, but they would never be able to make him as happy as he was when he was with Sam and Cas.

But Cas? Oh god, with Cas it was a completely different, tragic story. This wasn’t puppy love, or Dean trying to play house. This was someone that he would never have to change for or give up hunting for. Hell, Cas could hunt with him. Cas had seen him at his absolute worst in Hell and knew literally everything about him up until that point, and he still cared about him, he still didn’t judge him for it. Cas didn’t care about the fights and lies. He didn’t think that Dean was a monster for what he did in Hell. He didn’t judge him for all the horrible ways that Dean had tried to kill his sadness. Cas even loved Sam like family and would do anything to protect him, while others just tried to rub it in his face that his brother was his Achilles heel. Cas was always in Dean’s corner, he always chose Dean. Even if he didn’t always choose Dean in the right way, it was for the right reasons. Cas was loyal and caring and selfless. Cas loved him. Even if it wasn’t in the way that Dean craved, the angel loved him. Where Dean could never see a real future with Cassie and Lisa, when he saw Cas he not only saw a future (as dark and bloody as a hunter’s future is), but he saw… everything. He saw love and happiness and family and comfort and someone that forced him to stow his sh*t and just… everything.

And Dean didn’t think that would ever stop being terrifying.

Every time he thought about the impossible possibility that he could actually have something more with Cas, he couldn’t breathe. Thinking about holding Cas’ hand made his hands shake violently because of the fear that he f*cked up everything he touched. Thinking about kissing Cas just reminded him of all the horrible words that had escaped his lips when he was mad at the angel, proving that Dean would never deserve him. Thinking about having Cas in anyway that was more than what he already had reminded him that he wasn’t allowed to have good things without it being violently ripped from him or used against him.

But then again, every time Dean thought about having to live like this, live without having Cas in all the ways every cell in his body craved, he couldn’t breathe either. Knowing that he would never see Cas crawl out of his bed ruffled and warm made it so much harder to look him in the eyes. Knowing that he would never kiss that shy, grateful look off of Cas face when he did something sweet made his lips tremble. Knowing that Cas would never be his made Dean want to be selfish and make demands at the universe that this one time, he got what he wanted.

Thinking about Cas in general made it so that Dean couldn’t breathe.

He couldn’t breathe.

He couldn’t breathe.

Dean stumbled out of bed, knocking a half empty beer off his nightstand to the ground. He nearly slipped on the puddle of beer as he made his way to the door, gasping and choking. He clutched at his chest, his fingers crawling at his shirt because everything felt too tight, too hot and constricting. His heart was beating against his chest painfully, he was sure his ribs were going to splinter. He felt the sweat beading at his temple as he tried to choke air into his lungs, floundering to the door and ripping it open. He needed to get outside. He needed air. He needed to breathe. He blundered down the bunker hallway, his ears ringing so badly that he didn’t realize Cas was calling out to him until he physically ran into the angel, stumbling against the wall only to slide down it to the floor because he couldn’t fight to stay upright. His vision was blurry and darkening around the edges as all he could do was stare up at Cas, grappling at his shirt so hard that the seams of the fabric groaned in protest, ripping. This is it. Dean thought. After everything, this is how it ends.

Suddenly, Dean felt two hands cupping his face. Dean’s face was cradled in Cas’ hands, the angel now kneeling between his knees, his blue eyes a beacon in Dean’s blacking out vision. He was speaking but Dean couldn’t hear anything over the ringing in his ears. I never even got to kiss him. was the last thing Dean thought before everything went black.

Dean woke, just moments later to Cas still tenderly holding his face, his blue eyes glowing piercingly as he used his grace to pull Dean back to consciousness. He was literally inches from Dean’s face, and all it would take was just minimal effort to bring their lips together, but Dean was too dazed, too focused on the fact that there was oxygen filling his lungs now.

“Dean? Dean, can you hear me?” Cas was muttering worriedly, his eyes no longer glowing but just as urgent.

“Cas? Wh-what happened?” Dean choked out, his voice hoarse.

The relief on Cas’ face was immediate, and his shoulders even sagged in solace. “It seems that you were having a very bad panic attack.” The angel replied. His hands were still on Dean’s face and Dean could feel his skin heat under his palms and fingertips. “You kept calling for me.”

Dean just swallowed. He was surprised that Sam hadn’t come running but was thankful that he hadn’t heard anything. Sam would worry, and it was bad enough having Cas looking at him like he was a fragile little tea cup that might break any second. “I…” Dean started but he didn’t even know what to say. This was the closest they had been in each other’s personal space intentionally in a long time, it was bordering how Cas used to stand before Dean gave him the personal space conversation… and Cas still hadn’t let go of his face. “Thank you.” He said softly, completely captivated by the blue of his best friend’s eyes. So f*cking blue and deep like the ocean. If Cas was the sea, Dean wanted to f*cking drown in him. Dean wasn’t sure if that made sense but he didn’t care.

“Of course.” Cas replied, his eyes suddenly growing wide, realizing how close they were. He let go of Dean and stood up very abruptly, seeming flustered, before offering Dean his hand to help him up. Dean took it, and Cas hauled him up like he didn’t weigh anything. “What happened, Dean?”

“I…I don’t know…” Dean stammered, still trembling. It wasn’t entirely a lie. The only other time Dean remembered having a panic attack was when he had ghost sickness and was about to die because he saw Lilith. “I was just…just lying in bed and suddenly I couldn’t breathe.” Dean felt his eyes stinging and he hated himself. He wasn’t sure if it was the embarrassment of having a panic attack over his feelings for Cas, or it was just his feelings for Cas. Everyone talked about how love could take your breath away. Dean didn’t think this is what they all meant. Before Dean could even stop himself, he wrapped his arms around Cas, pulling him in tightly. Cas didn’t even hesitate before his arms were around Dean, just as tight, just as purposeful. “Don’t tell Sam about this.” Dean said, basically against Cas neck. He really hoped he hadn’t crossed a line because this definitely wasn’t a bro hug. He was practically burying his face in Cas’ skin.

“About this hug or your panic attack?”

Dean huffed out a laugh, always a little surprised at the things that came out of Cas’ mouth. He pulled out of the hug. “The panic attack. I don’t need him worrying. You know he worries about everything.”

Cas looked at him sadly, his eyes swimming with questions about what could make Dean have a sudden panic attack. Dean knew he wouldn’t pry but so much, he had seen the years of Dean shut down any conversation he didn’t want to have. “Are you okay?” He was in Dean’s space again, always too close but never close enough.

Dean forced a smile. “I’ll be fine.” He muttered.

Dean was no longer having a panic attack, but he could still hardly breathe.

“You want us to write down New Years resolutions?” Sam asked skeptically. He was already parked in front of the television in the den on New Year’s Eve, his long limbs barely contained in the worn, comfortable recliner to the right of the couch. He had a beer cracked open and had just gotten down with a shower, his hair still damp and floppy. His eyes already looked tired from the amount of time he had spent in front of his laptop earlier checking the algorithm for any sign of Rowena.

Cas was outside, not bothered by the cold or fading daylight, scoping out the best place for him to plant his flowers once it was spring. He had tried to coax Dean to join him, but Dean felt like Cas’ absence was the perfect time to approach Sam about the subject of how they planned on celebrating the holiday. Dean shifted his weight from foot to foot in embarrassment before sighing. “Listen, when he was a human, he didn’t get to experience all this sappy holiday sh*t. I had to kick him out of the bunker to protect you. I know he’s not a human anymore, and I know that holidays may be dumb and overrated to us, but-“

“No, I get it.” Sam said softly, pulling out the puppy dog eyes to Dean’s dismay. “I just figured we would kick back with some beer and watch the ball drop. But you’re right, Cas should get to experience all of it. He seems… a lot happier lately. I think it’s because we’re making such an effort to include him. It doesn’t give him time to sulk about Heaven.”

Dean smiled even though his chest felt tight. “You really think that?”

“I really do. I think he’s definitely happier here than he was when he was bouncing back and forth between here and Heaven.” Sam took a sip of his beer and tried to nonchalantly direct his attention back to the tv. “Especially since you’re back.”

Dean felt a little relieved. He thought that Cas had been happier too, but he also didn’t know if he had his rose-tinted glasses on when it came to the angel. It didn’t make any sense for Cas to be happier. He could have stepped in for his father, ruled all of Heaven, and yet he had chosen to stay on earth with the Winchesters every opportunity he got. Cas actively chose them again, knowing their lives were a sh*t show more often than not.

“You know.” Sam added, one of those suspicious smirks on his face as he continued to stare at the tv. “One of the traditions people celebrate on New Year’s Eve is when the clocks strike midnight they kiss-“

“I’m checking to make sure we have enough beer.” Dean interrupted with a scowl, walking out of the den and towards the kitchen before Sam could finish his smug sentence. Opening the fridge, a little anxiety began building in the pit of Dean’s stomach. He knew what he was doing. Sure, the whole celebrating holidays was for all of them, it was to give the illusion of normalcy for his small family, but on a subconscious level he knew it was more than that. He knew that this was him trying to prove some point to Cas that earth and its little traditions were worth sticking around for because he was terrified of the day when Cas chose to leave again.

Dean had always hated when Cas left, but he didn’t even want to imagine him leaving now. The thought of it hurt way too much. He needed Cas, he needed Cas here. He knew it made him a selfish asshole. Cas was probably better off far away from him and Sam. Dean grabbed a beer from the fridge, way too frustrated to stop himself from pregaming and getting a few beers in him before they all settled in the den.

“Hello, Dean.” A familiar, gravelly voice said behind him. Dean narrowly missed smacking his head on one of the fridge shelves when he jumped. He spun around, closing the refrigerator door behind him. It’s not like Cas had known what he was thinking about, but he still felt like he got caught doing something that should make him feel guilty.

“Hey, Cas.” Dean choked out. He nearly dropped his beer. Cas was once again wearing the hoodie that Dean got him for Christmas, and it was so god damn adorable that he didn’t know what to do with himself. Cas’ hair was ruffled from sliding the hoodie on over his white dress shirt, and he hadn’t bothered fixing it. “We’re gonna have to get you some jeans to wear with that hoodie.” Dean said, trying to deflect. “Looks a bit weird with your whole suit get up.” Cas narrowed his eyes but seemed to decide better than to say anything. “You got any plans tonight?” Dean asked nervously.

“I planned on spending time with you.” Cas said, as if that wasn’t a comment that made Dean’s heart flutter. “And Sam.” He added slowly, as if he had forgotten about Sam for a moment.

“Uh, that’s great, Cas. It’s New Year’s Eve. We were gonna celebrate. Kick back and have a few beers, write down some New Years resolutions, watch the ball drop, that sort of thing.”

“Watch the ball drop? I didn’t realize anyone needed to go through puberty.” Cas answered nonchalantly, and Dean made the mistake of taking a sip of beer right as he said it and choked. He opened his mouth to correct Cas, but when he saw the angel’s blue eyes sparkling with mirth, he realized that Cas had actually cracked a joke, and he was a little proud of him.

Dean grinned. “Maybe you’re actually getting the hang of the whole having a sense of humor thing.” He complimented, reveling in the way that Cas’ eyes softened at being praised. “Do you even have any resolutions? Being an angel and all?”

“All conscious beings have thoughts on how to better their lives or their survival.” Cas shrugged slightly. “Though I don’t understand why-“

“Anyone picks a particular day to actually think about it?” Dean asked. Cas nodded. Dean drank from his bottle, draining more than necessary. “You know, I was thinking the same thing. I guess people feel like with it being a new year, they get to start over with like a clean slate or something.” Dean snorted. “Wouldn’t that be nice?” He self-consciously rubbed his hand across the mark.

He looked up to see Cas opening his mouth in response and he tried to hold up a hand to stop him, but Cas spoke anyway. “Dean, accepting the mark of Cain may have been astronomically dumb-“ Dean fixed him with a look but he ignored it. “-but you did it for the right reasons. You were trying to save the world from Abaddon. You were willing to once again sacrifice yourself to stop the world from burning.” Dean’s immediate instinct was to argue, but Cas glare said he clearly wasn’t in the mood for Dean’s self-loathing today, and he snapped his mouth shut before he said anything dumb. “That should be one of your New Year’s resolutions.” Cas said coolly. “You should work on accepting the fact that you are good and deserving of good things.” Cas left the kitchen in the whip of a trench coast out the room before Dean could reply.

If only he was good enough to deserve Cas.

There were times that Castiel wished that it did not require copious amounts of alcohol for him to be intoxicated. As he watched Sam and Dean drunkenly bicker over what channel the television should be on, it was one of those times for him. Sam was in the recliner, using the length of his long arms to his advantage, keeping the remote control out of Dean’s reach. Dean kept reaching over the side of the couch that he and Cas shared, scrambling to reach the remote, and it wasn’t long before he toppled over the arm rest onto the floor, leaving Sam doubled over in laughter.

It wasn’t that Castiel was jealous of their pleasant moods or easy teasing. That wasn’t why he wished he was drunk. It was that whenever Dean was actually sitting on the couch next to him, he was so close. Even once he crawled back on the couch, flipping his brother off, he was just mere inches from Castiel. He could feel the heat coming off the hunter’s body, and he wanted to lean into it even though his vessel didn’t require warmth. He was ‘snuggled up’ (Dean’s words, they made Sam laugh) in the hoodie that Dean had gifted him, and Dean kept shooting him soft looks, his eyes glancing down to the words on the hoodie before flickering back to Cas’ eyes with a smile. For whatever reason, Dean seemed to immensely enjoy the fact that Cas enjoyed the outerwear.

Castiel still ‘babysat’ his beer (Dean’s words, again) and pretended to be interested in the channels that his two friends flipped through. Sam finally settled on the channel that was supposed to show the festive ball drop. He asked what the point of the celebration was and why it involved a ball, and neither brother seemed to know the answer. Castiel knew the history behind it, but still wasn’t sure how it all corelated.

“I guess it’s like the Easter bunny, Cas.” Dean said, looking over at him. “No one know what a rabbit has to do with Jesus or whatever.”

“Actually, the reason why a rabbit is used during Easter is because rabbits procreate often with large litters, so they represent new life-“ Dean interrupted Castiel by holding a finger to the angel’s lips in a hushing motion.

“I’m too drunk for all that history talk right now.” Dean said with a smirk. His eyes widened when he realized his finger was pressed against Castiel’s lips, and they both stared at each before Sam cleared his throat. Dean removed his finger quickly, blushing. Castiel smiled at how Dean’s freckles burst against his reddened skin.

Sam made eye contact with Castiel, and Sam smiled, raising his eyebrows. Castiel looked away quickly, wiping his palms against the fabric of his dress pants on his thighs. His hands weren’t sweating, but it was a nervous habit that he had picked up from interacting with humans. Thankfully, Sam sensed his discomfort and didn’t bring it up. “So, we should probably stop drinking so much if we want to write down our New Year’s resolutions before the ball drops, and we want them to actually make sense.” Sam said, noticing Dean down the rest of his beer before grabbing another one.

Dean whined. “Are we really going to do that? It sounded like a better idea like five beers ago. Now…” He vaguely gestured his hand to his drunken, slouching body on the couch.

Sam snorted. “It was your idea, Dean. And it was also your idea to drink so much. What if we find a hunt in the morning? You’ll be hungover as sh*t.” He said, standing up.

“I’ll heal him.” Castiel said immediately, his eyebrows furrowed. Did they keep forgetting he was an angel?

“Cas, we talked about this. You don’t need to use your powers for little stuff. You don’t spend a lot of time in Heaven now. What if you run out of juice?” Dean sighed.

“If you two are done bickering like a married couple, I’m going into the library to write down my resolutions really quick. Are we supposed to share it with the class when we’re done, Mr. Winchester?” Sam said mockingly, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear.

Dean glared at him and stood up as well. “Since you’re being a f*cking brat, yeah, we are going to share them.” He stumbled slightly, and Cas stood up to help rebalance him.

They made their way to the library, so they could use the table to have a solid writing surface. They all sat down in the seats they normally chose, Castiel and Dean next to each other with Sam across from them. Sam took his sheet of paper and wrote his name neatly in the righthand corner, and Cas smiled when Dean noticed it and rolled his eyes dramatically. Dean grabbed his own sheet of paper and a pen, and squinted at the blank sheet, placing the top of the pen between his teeth. Castiel swallowed harshly after seeing Dean wrap his lips around the pen and chose his own blank page and writing utensil.

Castiel wasn’t sure what to write. There were plenty of areas that he knew he could improve in, plenty of wishes for the new year that would make sense to be a part of his New Year’s resolutions. He glanced up at Sam, who was already writing away diligently, and then over to Dean who seemed nervous. Castiel worried about him. Dean was probably obsessing over things he could change about himself, while Castiel would never want to change a thing about the hunter. Castiel started his list, trying to base the length of it on Sam’s so that his wouldn’t be too long or too short. He kept catching Dean looking at him out of the corner of his eye.

When Sam finished his list, he put his pen down and waited patiently for the others to finish. Castiel finished moments later, his neat script only taking up a few lines. He folded his hands in his lap politely, looking over at Dean. Dean was now chewing on the pen in stress, nervously twirling the pen between his teeth. He began writing something, but then froze and looked up at Castiel. Castiel smiled at him encouragingly while Sam glanced over curiously. Dean’s other hand was on the table, curled into a fist so tight that his knuckles were white. He suddenly took the pen, violently scribbling out the thing he wrote with a thick line.

“Uh, you ready, Dean?” Sam asked apprehensively.

Dean cleared his throat before speaking. “Yeah. I guess. This was a stupid idea.” He said, his voice gruff. “You first, Sammy.”

Sam lifted his paper from the table, tilting it towards him to read it easier. “Well, it’s not that long of a list.” He said. Dean motioned for him to keep talking. “First I want to start meditating.” Dean snorted and visibly relaxed. Castiel shot him a discouraging look for being rude, but Sam ignored him. “I want to be able to shorten the time on the mile run I do in the mornings. I want to spend more time with Cas, since you always hog him, Dean.” Castiel smiled at Sam with slightly upturned lips, but Dean was suddenly leering at Sam. Castiel tilted his head, if he didn’t know any better, it was almost as though Dean was jealous of the thought of he and Sam spending more time together. Sam once again ignored him and continued with the last two items on his list. “I also want to read more. Like things that I actually enjoying reading, not books from the archives or news articles looking for a case.” He placed his paper on the table flat and took a deep breath before looking over at Dean. “And I want to be more honest with you and hide things from you less. I know I always say that I will, but then something happens, and I think I can protect you by lying to you. I want to change that, Dean. I want to be more open with you.” Sam was doing the thing with his eyes and eyebrows that Dean always referred to as his ‘puppy dog eyes’. Castiel looked over at Dean, and Dean had a soft, sympathetic look etching the lines of his face. He opened his mouth, but Sam firmly shook his head no, shutting down whatever argument Dean was going to use to justify his brother’s actions.

Castiel knew that they had had this conversation many times since Charlie’s death. Even though they were both hurt by the young woman’s death, and there was still a lot of tension pertaining to Sam and Cas working with Rowena and keeping it a secret. Castiel had tried to take more responsibility, but Sam refused to allow him to, reminding Cas that he and Dean had went through more times of secrecy than he could count.

Dean swallowed hard and nodded, turning his attention to Castiel. “What about you, angel? What kind of celestial New Year’s resolutions do you have?” This was Dean deflecting, not longer wanting to talk about the subject of betrayal. Castiel knew better than to not take the outing when it was offered to him.

He looked down at his list, rereading the sloping cursive of his list. He didn’t think he was as good as Sam’s. “I want to learn more about humanity.” Dean smiled at him encouragingly, and Castiel almost squirmed at how warm the smile made him feel. “I want to make sure my beehive flourishes and I get to know each bee individually.” Sam snorted, and Castiel was pretty sure he heard Dean kick his brother under the table. “I want to make my decision on Heaven, if I’m still allowed to. I haven’t returned in so long that my decision may have already been made for me. I feel as though it is time to decide if I’m going to return to Heaven or live my life on earth or split my time between the two.” Castiel looked up at Sam and Dean. Sam was smiling at Cas but kept glancing at Dean who was sitting in his chair rather tensely now.

“Uh, when do you think you’ll make that decision?” Dean asked nervously, steeling his facial expression.

“I don’t know, Dean. It’s a difficult decision to make. But after rejecting the throne in Heaven, I’m not sure if I would be allowed to split my time between there and here. Very few angels have spoken with me since I turned down the role of God. Only a few angels from my old Garrison and Ariel have been willing to speak with me.” Castiel responded sadly. Sam and Dean had treated him like family far more than the other angels had since his rebellion, but it still saddened him to know that so few of his family members were even willing to speak to him.

Dean opened and closed his mouth a few times, but Sam finally spoke up for him. “That’s a really big decision, Cas. Don’t feel rushed about making it. Dean and I will be here regardless of your decision.” Castiel nodded at the taller brother in thankful acknowledgement, but then looked over to Dean. Dean was staring at him with wide, worried eyes, and his throat kept working like he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. Castiel gave him a concerned look, but Dean broke eye contact with him, and Sam encouraged him to continue with his list.

Castiel did not want to finish his list. Dean was clearly upset, and he wasn’t sure why. Castiel wanted to fix whatever was ailing Dean, but Dean was refusing to look at him and he knew it was not the time. He swallowed, though he didn’t need to, and continued his list. “I… I want to right all my wrongs.” He said firmly. This made Dean look back up at him, a sad but determined look in his eyes. Meanwhile, Sam’s eyes were full of empathy. They all felt like they had wrongs they needed to right. Castiel held eye contact with Dean for a moment before looking down at his final item. “And I want to be a better friend. To the both of you.”

“You’re a f*cking great friend.” Dean said forcefully, the moment the words were out of Castiel’s mouth.

Castiel smiled wryly. “Not yet. But I want to be.” They held eye contact, having an entire conversation with their eyes. Dean was arguing that Castiel was a better friend than he was giving himself credit for, and Castiel was arguing that he still had a way to go.

“It’s your turn, Dean.” Sam said softly.

Dean held his gaze with Cas a few more moments before picking up his sheet of paper. He was gripping the page to tightly that it was wrinkling around his hands. “Um, uh, I guess I shouldn’t drink as much. My liver has got to be shot.” Sam pursed his lips and Castiel didn’t mention that he healed all of Dean every time he healed him. “I guess I should eat a little better. Before you say something, Sam, I’m not eating rabbit food like you all the time. I’m just… I don’t know. I could cut back on some stuff. I’m not exactly young anymore. Uh, and um…” He put the paper down and glared down at it before looking at Castiel. “Earlier, Cas told me that I need to be more accepting of the fact that I deserve good things. And the thing is, I’m a f*ck up. I’m constantly f*cking up. But all of us, we’ve collectively screwed up more times than I can count. And I think Cas is right, because I know that the two of you-“ His eyes flickered to Sam, “-both deserve good things in life. So maybe…” He groaned and closed his eyes, leaning his head back dramatically. “Maybe sometimes I deserve good things too.” When he finally opened his eyes and looked back over, Castiel beamed at him. He was proud of Dean. He would tell him later when Sam was not around, because he knew that it would embarrass him so much that he wouldn’t even want to accept the praise. Dean tried to fight the smile creeping across his lips at Castiel’s reaction, but failed miserably, and Castiel was overwhelmed by the urge he had to kiss the shyness from Dean’s face. “That’s it.” Dean said, holding up his hands. “That’s all I got.”

Sam glanced over at Dean’s list, his eyebrows raised. “We both did five. That was only four.” Sam said frowning. “You have another one.”

“No, I had another one. I realized it was a bad idea. That’s why I marked through it.” Dean replied, balling up the paper and tossing it towards the trashcan, surprising hitting his target. “Now if you two don’t mind, this whole experience was very sobering, so I’m gonna go get more drunk and watch the ball drop.” He stood up, his cheeky façade back full force.

“Wasn’t one of your resolutions to cut back on drinking?” Sam said, scrunching up his nose in disappointment.

Dean grinned. “Yeah, it was. But I don’t have to be a new person until that clock strikes twelve, Sammy.”

Sam tossed and turned in his bed that night. Based on the ridiculous amount of beer Dean drank and how touchy feely he was with Cas, Sam was positive that Dean was passed out, snoring and drooling into one of his memory foam pillows. Cas was outside for whatever reason. He had been spending a lot of time outside lately and wondered if it truly had to do with his excitement about the beehive or if the angel was doing something else.

After nearly 20 minutes of rolling around, still not sleeping, Sam decided to get up and grab a glass of water. He made his way to the kitchen groggily, rolling his eyes when he passed Dean’s room and heard soft snoring coming from underneath the door. Sam didn’t pass Cas the entire way to the kitchen, but he wasn’t surprised. He poured a glass of water and chugged the whole thing before filling the glass again. He really didn’t know how Dean did it, he was the younger one and he was still struggling with drinking like he used to. Dean drank like a fish and as long as he had at least three cups of coffee the next day, he was good to go.

Sam leaned against the counter, trying to clear his head since he couldn’t sleep but he was so tired his thoughts were fuzzy. He decided to go back to his room, bringing his glass and the pitcher of water with him. On the way back to his room, he passed the library and froze, thinking about Dean’s New Year’s resolution list. Sam bit his lip, thinking. He had been beyond curious about what the last thing Dean had written was, and now he had the opportunity to see it if he really wanted to. The thought made Sam feel guilty because one of his own resolutions involved him being more honest. But this wasn’t exactly lying. Dean had just been weird and distant lately. And suddenly Dean wasn’t having trouble with the mark when just a few weeks ago his almost whacked Sam’s head off? Something was definitely off. It felt like it was his duty as Dean’s brother to try to help him as much as possible.

Groaning at his little will power, Sam placed the pitcher of water and glass on the library table. He pushed his hair out of his face before reaching into the trashcan, relieved that he didn’t have to rummage through any trash and the only papers in the bin were the ones they had written earlier. The first balled up paper he grabbed was his own, but the second was Dean’s. He quickly scanned the list before his eyes rested on the last line. It was barely eligible with the thick lines marked through it, but Sam felt his heart sank when he finally read Dean’s messy, rushed handwriting.

“Tell Cas how you feel”

Chapter 17: Charlie, Charlie, Are You There?

Chapter Text

Bethany lit the last candle, tucking a strand of straight, auburn hair behind her ear. She looked down at the five mismatched candles proudly, holding the lighter to the wick of the last one until it was burning powerfully. She sat down on the floor next to her two friends, crossing her legs.

“Are you sure this is going to work with these candles?” Mia asked, brushing her long, curly, black ponytail over her shoulder before pulling her knees to her chest nervously. “I mean, Bath and Body Works candles? They’re not even the same scents. Who burns ‘Beautiful Day’ at the same time as ‘Marshmallow Pumpkin Latte’? It smells like my grandma’s house in here.”

Olivia rolled her eyes and raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow, one of her French tipped nails circling the rim of the cup of her mixed drink. “Don’t be such a scaredy cat, Mia. It’s not going to work at all. It’s just a dumb internet challenge. How does a couple of candles, a piece of paper, and two pencils summon a spirit? It’s ridiculous. Nothing is going to happen.”

“Have you even seen a horror movie, Emma? This is literally the plot for some C list Blumhouse Productions film.” Mia wasn’t necessarily wrong. Their situation was straight out of one of the dumber horror movies that you would catch on the SyFy channel around Halloween. All three of them had been drinking all night in their hotel room when Bethany had gotten the bright idea to try out the internet challenge ‘Charlie, Charlie, are you there?’ Mia had come from a very superstitious New Orleans family, and wanted nothing to do with it. “I gotta stop hanging out with white people.” She muttered under her breath.

“Oh, come on.” Bethany said, an optimistic smile on her deep wine-red lips. “It’s just for fun. The panels don’t start until 11:30 tomorrow, so we don’t have to be up early.” She shrugged. “If something shows up, we can Expecto Patronum that bitch.”

Olivia smiled fondly at Bethany. She was fully convinced that had the cast of Harry Potter not been announced as a part of Salt Lake City Comic-Con, there was no way she and Mia would have been able to convince Bethany to come. Her friend was beyond excited to get the opportunity to meet Emma Watson. “Let’s get this show on the road.” She vocalized, standing up and switching the hotel room lights off before returning to her spot on the floor between Mia and Bethany.

The candles provided just enough light to illuminate their ‘playing board’. They had created a pentagram using duct tape and placed a candle on each point. In the middle of the pentagram was the most important part of the challenge. A piece of paper was placed in the dead center, with a cross drawn in the middle. The upper left corner of the cross and the lower right corner both had the word ‘yes’ written, while the upper right and lower left corner had the word ‘no’ written. One pencil was placed perfectly along the horizontal line of the cross while the other pencil was balanced on top of it, perfectly along the vertical line of the cross. It was time for the game to begin.

“So, what do we have to do?” Mia asked timidly. A voice in the back of her head was lecturing her for playing with the dead, and it sounded suspiciously like her grandmother’s voice.

Bethany brought her cup to her lips and tossed her head back, downing the rest of her alcoholic drink and wincing at its strength. “Uh, apparently, we just ask Charlie if he’s there. If the point of the top pencil moves to yes, we can start asking him yes or no questions. Like a spooky eight ball, I guess.”

Bethany, Olivia, and Mia all looked between each other, silently asking who would be the one to greet Charlie. Olivia rolled her eyes again and decided to humor her friends. She finished her own drink and cleared her throat, making sure all her long, blonde hair was behind her shoulders and nowhere near the candle flames as she leaned forward. “Charlie, Charlie. Are you there?” The pencil didn’t move, and she smirked at the relieved look on Mia’s face. Right as Olivia was about to open her mouth to say something again, all the candle flames flickered, and the point of the pencil slowly moved to the upper ‘yes’ written on the paper.

Mia gasped and pulled her knees closer to her chest, muttering about how this was a bad idea while Bethany raised a curious eyebrow at the paper, and Olivia felt the need to pick her jaw up off the floor.

“Charlie is that really you?” Bethany asked, her eyes shining with wonder in the candle light. The pencil point moved to the lower ‘yes’, and all the girls gasped.

Olivia wanted to have fun with this, still not following believing that any of this could possibly be real. “Charlie should Mia be scared?” The pencil pointed to the closest no. “See, Mia? Apparently, Charlie is one of the good guys. Ask him a question.”

Mia apprehensively released the death grip on her legs so that she could sit with her legs crossed like her two friends. “Charlie? Did I pass my anatomy and physiology final?” She relaxed even more when the pencil pointed to yes.

“See? I told you.” Olivia said, smiling reassuring to Mia. She turned to Bethany expectantly and urged her to ask a question since the whole thing had been her idea.

“Hey, um, Charlie? I’ve read the Harry Potter books since I was little, and I swear I’ve seen all the movies a million times. Will Emma, Daniel, and Rupert be as cool as I’m hoping when I meet them tomorrow at Comic-Con?”

The pencil turned to point to the opposite yes, but only paused for a moment before it began spinning again. Each time it made a full circle, it would spin faster and faster until it was a blurred windmill and their eyes could not longer track it.

“Um…guys…” Mia whimpered, scooting away from the game.

The flames of the candles began flickering, as the speed from the pencil picked up, causing both Olivia and Bethany to back away as well. The pencil spun so fast that it flew off the ground, barely missing Bethany’s head before sticking into the hotel room wall with such force that half of it disappeared in the drywall. The flames of the candles whipped back and forth for a moment before they went out, shrouding the room full of darkness as it filled with the girls’ screams.

Dean flipped through the channels on the cheap motel room tv while Cas was next to him on the edge of the bed, practically pouting that Dean wouldn’t stop channel surfing for a documentary about beetles. Sam rolled his eyes at the two and continued to pack his bag so they could checkout of the motel and get an early lunch. He folded his last flannel and tucked it into his duffle just as his phone rang, Jody’s name lighting up the screen.

“Hey, Jody.” Sam answered, pushing his hair out of his face as he stood up straight. Dean immediately looked over curiously.

“Heya, Sam. You boys at the bunker or on the road?”

“We’re in Rock Springs, Wyoming. We just finished up a ghoul case last night. We were getting ready to hit the road and head back to the bunker. What’s up?” Sam sat down on the edge of his stiff motel mattress, ignoring the fact that his impatient brother had already crawled closer on his own bed to try to eavesdrop since the call was from Jody. When he still couldn’t hear and made a face at Sam, Sam put the phone on speaker.

“Mind staying on the road for a bit longer? I got a call from one of my cop buddies in Salt Lake City. His station got a call from a couple of college girls-“ Dean mouthed ‘college girls’ and waggled his eyebrows suggestively, “-in a hotel room there. The PD is stumped, and it sounds like our sort of thing. It sounds like they’re dealing with a ghost. You boys are sure a hell of a lot closer than any of the other hunters I’ve tried talking to, if you want to check it out.”

“Of course, we’ll check it out.” Dean answered for Sam, shooting Cas a glare when he realized the angel had stolen the remote and turned the tv back to the documentary.

“Thanks, Dean.” Jody responded, the smile in her voice clear. “You boys be safe. Tell Cas I said hi.” Sam laughed when Cas looked over at the phone immediately

They said their good byes to Jody and Sam ended the call, smiling smugly at Dean. “Aren’t you glad I convinced you to go to the dry cleaners earlier instead of waiting to do laundry at the bunker?”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, Sammy. Let’s head out, I’m starving.”

When they finally arrived in Salt Lake City, Utah, they didn’t bother changing into their fed suits. Jody had called her friend Sheriff Noah Mathers to let him know they were on their way, and he met them in the parking lot of the police department, a coffee in hand, so they could talk privately. Noah was a middle-aged man with a mustache and kind eyes who was about half a head shorter than Cas.

“Jody’s told me a lot about you boys.” Noah stated, shaking all their hands. He shook Castiel’s hand last and eyed the trench coat. “You the angel?” He asked, his voice laced with wonder. Cas just squinted and nodded, which seemed good enough for Noah. Noah adjusted his belt and leaned against his cop car, careful to keep his coffee from spilling. “Well, of course the department thinks these girls are crazy. It didn’t help that they had been drinking. They had tried to talk to the officers already stationed at the hotel for the convention, but they didn’t take them seriously either.”

“Convention?” Sam asked, shoving his hands in his jacket pocket.

Noah smirked. “Oh, you’re in for a treat. It’s Salt Lake City Comic-Con. It started today.”

Dean’s face visibly lit up with a huge grin, suddenly paying more attention to the conversation. Sam huffed a disproving sigh. “So, what exactly did the women report?”

Noah took a gulp of his coffee, making a face at the fact that it had already become lukewarm in the cold January air. “They claimed their hotel room was haunted and that a spirit tried to harm them. I wasn’t buying it either at first. They told me they were doing some dumb internet challenge where you try to summon some guy named Charlie. I saw the empty fruit punch jugs and liquor bottles and about dismissed them until I saw one of the pencils sticking out of the wall.” When Dean raised his eyebrows questioningly, Noah quickly ran all three through the game and what relevance the pencil had. When he was done, he sighed. “I can’t really see how they would be able to shove the pencil that far in the wall without breaking it, or why they would have, and they were all completely spooked. They begged the hotel staff to move their room, but the entire hotel was sold out because it’s on the same property as the convention center. I checked in on them this morning and told them that some officers might be stopping by today and asked them if they would be okay with the officers checking out the room without them being there. They hadn’t slept a wink and looked relieved to know that someone would be stopping by again and that they were being taken seriously.”

“Why didn’t they just leave the hotel?” Cas asked.

Dean looked at him like he was crazy. “It’s Comic-Con, Cas. They couldn’t just leave.” Sam muttered ‘nerd’ under his breath but covered it with a cough. Dean either didn’t hear him or didn’t acknowledge it and turned his attention to Noah. “So, uh, what’s the line up like at the convention?”

Noah shrugged. “I didn’t look into it too much. I know a couple of cast members from the Harry Potter movies are supposed to be there, that’s why we already had cops stationed in the area. Big name celebrities and all. I think there’s supposed to be a couple of comic book writers and artists. Some people from nerdy tv shows too.” Noah twirled his car keys around his finger. “If you guys want to hop into your car you can follow me over to the hotel. Parking will be sh*t, so don’t worry about finding a parking spot. Just park behind me and out of the way.”

Noah stayed out of their way while they investigated the hotel room. EMF suggested that they were definitely dealing with a ghost, and Cas confirmed that he could tell it was a spirit as well. Sam knew that a hotel being haunted wasn’t abnormal. More hotels were haunted than most people realized, and they were always a pain in the ass compared to home hauntings. It was always harder to find what was tethering the spirit to earth, and what needed to be done to get rid of it. The haunting at Briar Cliff Inn a couple of months ago had been a close call. Sam asked Noah some more questions, but he didn’t seem to have any answers and suggested that he could call the girls to see if they were willing to come back up to their hotel room.

Two of the girls were willing to return, Mia and Olivia, but their friend Bethany was not. Olivia was immediately smitten with Dean, and batted her long, fake eyelashes at him with a coy smirk on her lips. Sam expected Dean to fall right into the trap. Olivia was young and pretty, completely dolled up, and was clearly interested in Dean. Dean didn’t really show any interest to Sam’s surprise. He ignored her and started asking her about the haunting and was clearly a little frustrated when none of the questions or answers were bringing them closer to solving the case. Sam was so amused he was having a hard time asking his own questions to Mia.

“So, you don’t know what triggered the spirit from answering your questions to trying to stab your friend with a pencil? Where is she anyway?” Dean asked, keeping his voice even though he was getting annoyed with Olivia flirting more than she was actually answering his questions.

Olivia shrugged. “She refused to get out of the photo op line for Chris Pine.” Olivia laughed, a tinkling little thing that Dean wasn’t amused by. “She said you could come find her, that she didn’t almost get attacked by a ghost to not meet his sexy ass. You know, maybe I could remember more about last night over dinner tonight?”

Sam smirked at Dean’s bored expression and continued to console a very shaken Mia. She wasn’t of much help and just kept repeating that she had told Oliva and Bethany that trying to talk to a spirit was a bad idea. Sam was only half listening to her while she ranted about her superstitious family and how they would kill her if they knew she was messing around with the paranormal. She mentioned voodoo at one point, which piqued Sam’s interest, but he quickly found out that Mia only brought it up because he family was so against anything that involved communicating with the dead.

Castiel continued sweeping the room for clues while Dean questioned Olivia and Sam questioned Mia, but Sam couldn’t help but notice his shoulders had become tight and stiff ever since Olivia had started flirting with Dean. Interesting.

“Listen.” Dean said to Olivia gruffly. “I’m flattered sweetheart, I really am. But I’m trying to do my job here, I’m not interested in a date.” Sam turned to look away from Mia at Dean so fast that his neck had a painful twinge in it. Did Dean just turn down a hot college girl that was throwing herself at him? Dean made eye contact with Cas and smiled shyly, unable to hide the slight blush on his face when he realized Cas had already been looking at him.

And that’s when it finally clicked in Sam’s head and all his thoughts came to a screeching halt. He knew it. He f*cking knew it. Sam had tried to dismiss Dean’s New Year’s resolution, thinking that maybe Dean had just been keeping something from Cas and the resolution was to finally talk to him about it. None of them were exactly great about being open with each other. But deep down, he knew it, he knew Dean had feelings for Cas! He had been making jokes about it for years, had picked up on the longing glances and intimate moments. He had commented on Dean’s willingness to sacrifice so much for Cas regardless of what happened between them. Sam knew he and his brother didn’t exactly have the best record when it came to making and maintaining friendships, but he knew Dean well enough to know that he saw Cas as more than just a friend. For a long time, Sam just thought it was because Dean saw Cas as family, and nothing meant more to Dean than family. But Sam had seen how Dean was with Cassie all those years ago. He had been there to witness the soft side of Dean that he so rarely saw from Dean, a side Sam was now fully noticing was also shared with Cas. When Sam had tried to bring up Dean’s relationship with Cassie, Dean had gotten flustered and just told him to get in the car… the same exact reaction that he had when Sam had tried to tease him about the fact that he and Cas were a couple in the musical that was being produced by the all-girls school. As often as Sam was given fuel to tease Dean about Cas, he couldn’t believe he was just realizing he was right about why there was so much fuel in the first place. Dean had feelings for Castiel. He knew it!

Olivia was not pleased with Dean’s response to her flirting, her facial expression dropping to a scowl. “So, what, you’re like a Ghostbuster or something?”

Dean smirked. “Or something.”

Olivia’s lip curled in disappointment. “I don’t know what to tell you. Everything was fine, Charlie was answering questions, and then suddenly he got pissed off and the pencil went flying through the air and almost killed Bethany.” She curled a long, blonde strand of hair around her finger, still not giving up her flirting entirely, or unable to turn it off. “Bethany just asked him if the cast of Harry Potter would be cool when she met them. I don’t see why that would piss a ghost off.”

Dean looked over at Sam and they exchanged a conversation with their eyes. Sam rolled his eyes at the excitement on Dean’s face. They were going to have to go to Comic-Con.

“We’re not cosplaying, Dean.” Sam said in annoyance. He was sitting in the backseat of the Impala with his arms crossed defiantly. He had offered the passenger seat to Castiel, which has gotten him weird looks from both the angel and his brother. At first Dean had kept squinting in the rearview mirror at Sam like he was being suspicious, but it didn’t end up stopping Dean from constantly glancing over at Cas and making bad jokes that only Cas would find funny. Sam had kept a smug, satisfied smirk on his face the entire ride until he found out that they were going to a costume store instead of back to the motel they were staying at.

“Of course, we are. It’s Comic-Con, we’ll stick out like a sore thumb is we don’t cosplay.” Dean said matter-of-factly. Sam saw Cas look over at Dean curiously. Dean smiled at him patiently. “Cosplaying is when somebody dresses up as a fictional character for fun.”

“The girls from the hotel weren’t dressed up.” Sam muttered petulantly. He knew there was no point in arguing with Dean when he was excited as he was.

Dean pulled into the parking lot of the costume store, trying to explain to Cas what the point of cosplay was. Cas was completely confused, but Dean was patient, his tone reassuring, and Sam had to stop himself from being a bratty little brother and making a gagging nose. Everything just made so much more sense now that Sam knew he was right. Sam had literally never seen Dean act so sweet over something as simple as explaining what a term meant, and it was disgustingly cute. He was waiting for an opportunity to get Dean alone to talk about it, but he knew his attempts would be futile. Dean would deny his feelings for Cas until he was blue in the face. But if Sam could figure out if Castiel felt the same… maybe it would be easier to get Dean to admit it. It would definitely be easier on Sam. They needed to get this out of their system, so he didn’t have to deal with them staring at each other all the time.

But finding out how Castiel felt would be harder. Cas acted towards Dean the same way that Dean acted towards him, but Dean was also the one that had been teaching Cas how to be essentially human for years. Of course, Cas would act like Dean and mimic his behavior, mirroring what he had learned. Monkey see, monkey do (not that Sam intentionally meant to compare Cas to a monkey). It would be difficult to tell which responses to their relationship were sincerely Cas’, and which were Dean’s responses that Cas was simply copying.

“I hope all the good costumes aren’t gone.” Dean said excitedly, pulling the keys out of the ignition and opening his car door. Sam and Cas followed suit, exchanging looks, knowing at this point they were both just along for the ride. Dean rarely got excited over something, but when he did, he was a force to be reckoned with. Sam bit down the need to remind Dean that this was a stupid expense to use their stolen credit cards on. Maybe if Dean stayed in his happy mood, he would be easier to talk to later. Sam didn’t see the harm in letting him have his fun.

A little bell chimed when Dean opened the door to the shop, and a young, bearded man with thick rimmed glasses greeted them from behind the counter. “What can I do for you guys today?” He asked, closing the magazine he had been flipping through. Sam’s eyes surveyed the shop, mostly full of Halloween costumes as Dean spoke up for the.

“We’re-“ Dean gestured to Sam and Cas. “-headed to Comic-Con and wanted to cosplay. Do you have anything left that we could use, or are you all cleared out?”

Sam walked over to a section of costumes and flipped through them with disinterest until he came across a clown. He flinched and immediately walked back over to where Dean and Cas were. f*ck that. He was steering clear of the Halloween section.

“Hmm. We have a couple of things left. They’re not really cosplay quality though, man. It’s mostly just cheap Halloween costumes. It’s all stuff from the Marvel movies. But if they fit, they’re yours. You can buy or rent.”

Dean slapped his hand down on the counter enthusiastically, practically beaming. “Bring ‘em out.”

The employee entered a door behind the counter and soon returned holding three costumes. Sam spotted a Captain America shield and Thor’s hammer, and really tried not to scoff at how Dean immediately reached for the costume attached to the shield. The other costume was buried under Captain America and Thor. “I’m pretty sure that Thor is the only costume that’ll fit you, big guy.” The employee said to Sam.

“That’s fine.” Sam replied indifferently, reaching for the costume.

“Just know I’m not braiding your hair.” Dean sneered.

“I don’t understand.” Cas growled indignantly. “Why are you putting this stuff on my eyes?” The look he was giving Dean was pitiful and Sam covered his giggle with a snort as he attached Thor’s cape to the rest of the costume.

“Because your hair isn’t long enough for you to be the Winter Soldier.” Dean dismissed Cas’ whining. “So, we have to put the eyeliner on so people will know who you are.”

“Because the fake metal arm and leather doesn’t give it away or anything.” Sam muttered sarcastically. Dean flipped him off and went back to focusing on applying the eyeliner to Cas’ eyes.

When Dean finished, Cas immediately raised his hands to rub his eyes and Dean exclaimed “No, wait!” but he was too late, and Cas smeared the eyeliner all over his top and bottom eyelids. “Actually… that’s perfect.” Dean said grinning. He was already wearing his Captain America costume, and Sam would never say it to his face, but he could actually really pull it off. He looked like he could have been casted for the role in the movies.

Sam picked up his hammer, ready to get this case over with so he could change back into his normal clothes. He knew he was being stubborn and that this was going to be more fun than most cases were, but he was getting antsy about wanting to speak to Dean alone and find out more about how Cas felt. Cas stood up and his eyes scanned over Dean. “I still don’t get any of this.” He said.

Dean beamed at him and patted him on the cheek condescendingly. “it’s just supposed to be for fun, remember? And it’ll help us blend in. We’ll just look like a bunch of nerds enjoying the convention, not three hunters trying to get rid of a haunting.”

“Do you think this will actually help us solve the case?” Sam asked skeptically. “We don’t have a lot to go on here at all.”

“It has something to do with the Harry Potter cast, Sam. We’ve solved bigger cases working with less. We have to get close to the cast to figure it out, and the only way we’re getting close is if we go to the convention.” Dean answered distractedly. He was too busy looking at himself and Cas in the mirror. “Damn…we look good. Really good.” He smiled, attaching the shield to the back of his suit so dramatically that it could have been a clip used in the Avengers trailer. God, Sam couldn’t believe his brother was such a dork.

Sam saw an opportunity and had to take it. He needed to gauge Dean’s reaction. “Wasn’t there a lot of fan speculation that Captain America and the Winter Soldier were a couple after the second movie?”

Dean and Cas’ heads both snapped to look at Sam with wide eyes. Sam didn’t bother fighting his pleased smirk when Dean blushed brighter than the red on his suit. “W-what?” Dean stammered. “No, man. They’re like best friends. They were like war heroes together and sh*t. But I mean… I guess the scene where they broke through mind control was kinda gay.” Sam had to bite his lip to keep from laughing, and based on the bewildered, affronted look on Cas’ face, he too was thinking about a very similar situation that he and Dean shared involving an angel tablet and Naomi’s mind control. Dean caught the look on Cas’ face and avoided eye contact nervously. “Let’s just go down to the convention.” He grumped.

Sam was overwhelmed the moment they stepped in the convention center. It was incredibly crowded, and Dean certainly wasn’t wrong about the amount of people cosplaying. There were people dressed up in varies costumes from movies, television, videogames, and comic books. Despite the convention center being massive, everyone was still having to carefully avoid running into each other. Sam had to stop himself from running into a small child dressed like Harry Potter as he ran by, his father dressed like Dumbledore chasing him. “Wow…” Sam murmured. “You know who would have loved this?”

“Charlie.” Dean replied softly, sadness showing in his eyes. “Charlie would have absolutely loved this place. It’s pretty ironic that they ghost we’re hunting is named Charlie.” Sam wanted to flinch at the bitterness in his voice, but at least they were able to finally mention Charlie without arguing or one of them blaming themselves or each other.

“Should we split up?” Sam asked, clearing his throat and changing the subject.

“Yeah. This place is huge.” Dean turned to Cas. “You’re with me. There’s too many people here for me to be able to keep an eye on you.” Cas opened his mouth, but Dean interrupted. “I know you don’t need a baby sitter, Cas. Just trust me on this one.” Dean nodded to Sam before going off in his own direction, dragging Cas with him.

Sam had a hard time not getting distracted. He had to keep reminding himself that he was here for a case, not to flip through Star Trek memorabilia or Doctor Who posters. It was also distracting that so many other people cosplaying wanted to take selfies with him, many of which were cute women around his age. He made his way through the convention center the best he could, and over an hour later he still hadn’t made a dent in the size of the convention or seen anything Harry Potter related.

“Oh, c’mon!” Dean’s annoyed voice rang out through the crowd to Sam’s left, and Sam made his way through the crowd to his upset brother.
When Sam was finally able to break through the crowd, he immediately saw why Dean’s voice had sounded so irritated. Dean and Cas were both standing in front of a merchant booth that had a banner proudly stating that they sold Supernatural books and merchandise. Sam groaned, finally come to a stop at Dean’s side. “So much for Chuck no longer writing about us.” Sam grimaced, noticing a list of volumes in the series, and how there were definitely more than the last time they had heard about the books.

“I am going to kill him.” Dean growled. He was grinding his teeth so hard that Sam could almost hear his jaw pop. “Does he think this is a f*cking game?”

“Excuse me.” Sam said to the lady running the both, trying to ignore Dean fuming next to him while he explained his frustrations to Cas. The lady perked up at a potential customer. “When did the Supernatural books start getting published again?” The lady explained that production had stopped for a little, but luckily a wealthy Scandinavian investor, Carver Edlund was able to start publishing again. Sam heard Dean cursing profusely next to him, thinking the same thing he was thinking; despite saying he would, Chuck hadn’t stopped writing at all. The lady was side eyeing Dean and did not seemed pleased with how he was acting.

“You know” the lady said. “You three could have easily passed as Sam, Dean, and Castiel!” Her eyes flickered between the three of them before resting on Sam again. “Your hair isn’t quite right, but you’ve got the height. But since you had no idea the books kept going, I guess you’re not that big of a fan.”

“You’re right. We’re not fans.” Dean snapped.

The lady closed the book she was reading. It was one of the Supernatural books, titled “Road Trip”. “Well, here’s the deal. You don’t have to be a fan of it. It’s not for everyone. But stop getting in the way of other people trying to enjoy it.” She gestured behind them where two men were waiting patiently to get to the booth that they were all blocking. Startled, Sam, Dean and Cas gingerly moved out of the way. The two men stepped up to the booth and before Sam could even register who they were dressed as, the lady running the booth squealed. “Ahhh! You two are so cute!” She gushed. That’s when Sam realized noticed one of them was wearing a trench coat with a suit underneath, and the other was wearing a flannel eerily similar to one that Dean owned, and they were holding hands.

“Aww, thanks, ma’am.” The guy in the trench coat said, slinging his arm across the other man’s shoulder and hauling him in to gently kiss him on the temple. “We’ve been together for four years.”

When Sam looked over at Dean, he laughed so hard he snorted. Dean looked completely horrified and really needed to pick his jaw up off the floor. Castiel was just looking at the couple curiously, he’s eyebrows furrowed as if he couldn’t understand why someone would be dressed like him and Dean. Before Sam could comment on it, a shrill scream pierced through the convention center. Sam, Dean, and Cas all exchanged looks before running towards the sound. They saw a couple of bodyguards run into the room that the scream came from and followed them inside. Cas fumbled for their three fake cop badges since his costume was the only one that had pockets.

They quickly realized that they were in the green room for the actors, artists, and writers that were present at the convention. There was a young woman cowering in the corner near a vanity, the bodyguards surrounding her, looking concerned. Cas tossed them their cop badges and they quickly approached, informing the body guards that they were undercover police officers, providing Noah’s number if he needed to contact their superior.

“Holy sh*t.” Sam muttered only loud enough for Dean and Cas to hear when one of the guards told them to wait. “That’s… that’s Emma Watson!”

“The chick from Harry Potter?” Dean asked.

“Yes, Dean.” Sam hissed. Emma was quickly speaking with one of the guards, his eyes wide and scared with her knees pulled into her chest. She kept pointing to her vanity, and Sam noticed that all the lightbulbs surrounding the mirror had busted.

The guard came back over to them, a relieved, almost amused look on his face. “Thank you, gentlemen, for running to Ms. Watson’s aid, but it seems like a false alarm. She’s fine.”

“Do you mind if we speak to her?” Sam asked, plastering on his most sincerely, concerned look.

The bodyguard shrugged. “Sure. You’re just trying to do your job. Just… no asking her for autographs, alright? Those bulbs burning out scared the hell out of her.”

Sam expressed that he understood and motioned for Dean and Cas to follow him. They approached the young actress as the other bodyguards helped her up and then dispersed, but stood close by, eyeing the three of them. Sam understood, they looked ridiculous. “Ms. Watson?” He greeted, keeping his tone caring and comforting. He provided their fake officer names and showed her their badges. “Are you alright? We heard you scream and just wanted to check in on you.”

“I’m… I’m okay.” She said nervously, eyeing the vanity cautiously. “I guess there was a power surge? And I haven’t gotten a lot of sleep since I flew straight in from London…”

“What happened?” Cas asked, trying to mirror Sam, though he hadn’t quite worked out the soft tone that coaxed information out of people.

“I was just touching up my makeup because there’s a pretty big break between photo ops and autos. I was sort of talking to myself, trying to figure out which lipstick I should use, when all of a sudden, a tube rolled towards me and the lights burst.”

Dean was giving Sam the ‘I told you so’ look. Apparently, this haunting did have to do with the Harry Potter cast. They finished up talking to Emma, giving her fake business cards with their numbers and telling her to give them a call if they needed anything. It would be too difficult to scan the room for EMF and look for clues because the guards were so on edge, and they would have to try a different approach. They headed for the door that led to the rest of the convention center.

“We could try the game.” Dean suggested, not paying attention to where he was going and running straight into a man. Sam raised his eyebrows in surprise when he recognized the actor from Star Trek. “Chr-Chris Pine?” Dean spluttered nervously.

The man grinned, his perfect white teeth beaming in the light of the greenroom. “That would be me. Nice costume, man.” He outstretched his arm to shake Dean’s hand.

“Uh, thanks. I love you in Star Trek. I mean it’s not the original, but uh, you’re great as Kirk.” Dean tripped over his words, and Sam noticed the blush creeping across his cheeks. God his brother was a lost cause.

“That’s Captain Kirk to you.” Chris teased, winking.

Dean made a strangled noise in the back of his throat as a shy smile spread across his lips and Sam rolled his eyes, grabbing Dean by the arm and leading him out into the convention center. Cas was frowning at Chris Pine but followed them.

“So, I’ll go find some paper and pencils. You two see if you can find a different way to the green room or see if there’s a way we can clear it out so there’s not so many guards to worry about.” Sam said, still pulling a starstruck Dean with him. He pushed Dean towards Cas, and Dean stumbled before Cas caught him. There faces were only inches apart, and Sam smirked when they just stared into each other’s eyes before Dean stood up straight, clearing his throat and avoiding Cas’ eyes. Sam sighed and went to track down the things he would need for the Charlie game.

It didn’t take long before Sam had drawn the yes and no on the board two times and drew the axis. He went to track down Dean and Cas, so they could find somewhere to summon the spirit. He couldn’t find them, and when he tried to call Dean, his cell phone rang until it went to voicemail and Sam figured it was because it was too loud in the convention center for Dean to hear it. He kept his phone out and did some research on the game to see if they really needed candles and a pentagram. Tired of waiting on his brother and Cas, Sam found an unoccupied storage room and picked the lock. He sat the paper down on the floor and placed the pencils on its axis. He found an iron drainage pipe in the storage room and decided to see if he could summon the spirit himself, sitting down in front of the setup on the floor. It was probably a dumb idea, but he didn’t feel like this spirit was malevolent. Charlie could have easily stabbed Bethany had he really wanted to, but instead the pencil had just gone through the wall. Emma Watson hadn’t been harmed either. Sam didn’t have a gun loaded with any salt rounds, but there was some salt and a lighter in one of the pockets on Cas’ costume, and he figured with the iron pipe he could handle it until Dean called him back.

Sam placed the pipe on his lap and took a deep breath. He just hoped he was right about the spirit of Charlie not being malevolent. “Charlie, Charlie, are you there?” He stared at the paper. Nothing happened. He sighed and stood up, turning to put the pipe back on a shelf when he felt the rooms temperature drop. A gust of mysterious wind burst through the room, causing the paper to fly up and smack him in the face. When he pulled the page away from his face, he nearly choked at the sight of fiery red hair, thick rimmed glasses, a mischievous grin and a Griffindor t-shirt. “Ch-Charlie?” he spluttered.

Charlie Bradbury grinned up at him, her eyes soft. “What’s up, Muggle?”

“Charlie? What- how- you’re dead-“

Charlie dismissed him with a wave of her hand. “Dead, schmead. Where’s Dean? I’m not telling this story twice.” Sam just gaped at her. How? He and Dean had both seen her dead body. They had both been present when they gave her a hunter’s funeral. There was no coming back from that. It was impossible. Charlie had died, and it had been his fault. Charlie rolled her eyes at him. “Alright, stop giving me that look. Bring it in.” She motioned for him to give her a hug.

Sam approached her slowly, hesitantly, but as soon as he was an arm’s length away, she grabbed him and pulled him into a hug surprisingly firm for her small frame. Sam hugged her back but didn’t understand. How was he touching her? How was she here?

“Charlie, I’m thrilled to see you, I really am, but-“

“Nuh uh uh uh!” She silenced him. “I told you, I’m not explaining things twice, and I don’t have a lot of time. Let’s go find Dean.”

Sam’s mind was reeling the entire time they searched for Dean and Cas. He kept trying to get Charlie to talk to him about how she was here, how any of it was possible, but she kept dismissing him with a distant look in her eyes.

They passed the Supernatural vendor booth while walking through the convention center, and Charlie squealed with glee when she saw it. “Oh man, there’s more books! I’ve been missing out!” Sam fixed her with a serious look, frowning. “Oh, don’t give me that. You know I read them when I was preparing to be a hunter. And how else could I get all the grisly details into your lives?” She waggled her eyebrows at him.

Sam was speechless. They really needed to find Dean and Cas so that he could get some answers. He had so many things to say to Charlie, so many questions to ask. And most importantly, he needed to apologize. Before he could open his mouth, Charlie ran over to the vendor and started having an animated conversation with the lady running the booth. She didn’t speak to the lady for long before mumbling something about running out of time, right as Sam spotted Dean and Cas a couple of yards away. Sam got her attention and pointed over at them. “Oh! Cas is here too!” She said excitedly. They both began walking towards them but simultaneously stopped when they noticed Dean tenderly adjusting Cas’ costume. The touches were too sweet, too careful to be entirely platonic, and Dean was looking at Cas like he hung to moon. Sam felt his heart ache for his hopeless brother. “Oh. My. God.” Charlie gasped. “Did it finally happen?! Are they finally dating?!”

Sam laughed so hard that he had to push his hair out of his face. He shook his head. “So, I’m not crazy for seeing it, right?”

Charlie playfully punched him in the arm. “Are you kidding me?! Have you read the books?!” Sam just stared at her, unamused. “Okay, so I guess maybe it would be a little weird for you guys to read the books. Forget I said that.”

Sam shook his head, smiling. “… is it a thing in the books?”

Charlie thought for a moment. “I guess that’s up for speculation, and who you ask in the fandom. But honestly? Look at them, Sam.” Dean was now laughing at something Cas was saying, all smiles, his eyes creasing in the corners. With the mark, and Charlie dying, and Rowena escaping, and the constant sh*t they were always dealing with, Sam rarely saw that look on Dean’s face.

“No.” He replied softly. “I get what you’re saying. I see it too.”

“But they don’t?” Charlie asked, frustration clear in her words.

Sam snorted, moving out of the way so that someone could get past them. “I thought you said you read the books.” He teased. “Does Dean really seem like the type to go for it? And Cas… I don’t even know how he feels, so I doubt Dean does, and Dean would never even think about making a move if he wasn’t convinced it was a sure thing.”

“Oh, he’s totally into Dean too.” Sam’s eyes widened at Charlie in surprise. “Really, Sam? What’s that big brain of yours doing up there? He literally gave up everything for Dean. More than once. They’re practically dating by fandom standards.” She put her hands on her hips, and Sam realized that they probably looked creepy, just staring at them, so he slowly started making his way over to them. Charlie followed.

“So… do I talk to Dean about it?”

Charlie’s eyes widened, and she slapped his arm. “No! You can’t interfere Sam! You know Dean will freak out if you do that. He’ll probably just think you’re making fun of him or something. If he comes to you about it, that’s different. Right now… you just have to sit back and ship it.” Sam made the mistake of asking what that meant and regretted it. Charlie went down the rabbit hole about the topic, including bringing up fanart and fanfiction. Sam stopped her when she went into detail about just how graphic both of them could be, and Sam nearly gagged at the thought of his brother and Cas like that. “But… that doesn’t mean you can’t play subtle matchmaker. Those two dumb dumbs have been toeing around this for years, they could probably use a push.”

“Uh, like putting mistletoe in doorways I knew they would be standing under during Christmas? It was supposed to be a joke, but…”

Charlie’s face lit up and she gave him a high five. “You sly dog! Yes, exactly like that. Dean will come around soon enough.” She sighed. “Hopefully.”

Dean spotted them before Sam could greet him. He saw Sam first, but the moment he saw Charlie, he immediately started scrambling to reach in the side pocket of Cas’ pants, no doubt reaching for a gun he had stashed. Sam immediately stepped in front of Charlie, waving his hands placatingly. “Whoa, whoa! Dean it’s okay.”

“What. The. f*ck.” Dean hissed, his hand still halfway in Cas’ pocket.

“Jeez, Dean. It’s good to see you too.” Charlie looked down at Dean’s hand and raised an eyebrow. “If you wanted to get in Cas’ pants, all you had to do was ask.” She added smirking.

Dean immediately froze. He snatched his hand back, a blush spreading all the way to the tips of his ears. What they didn’t notice that when he pulled his hand back, he had a vial of holy water. He splashed it in Charlie’s face, and she blinked at him boredly.

She wiped the holy water from her face. Sighing, she said “Do all your tests on me but hurry up. I have a lot to tell you guys.”

After they went back to the storage room for some privacy (Charlie explained she couldn’t go far) and ran all the tests on her to make sure she wasn’t a demon, shapeshifter, or any of the other various monsters that Dean was theorizing she was, he immediately pulled her into his arms. Sam’s heart clenched at the sight of the soft look in his brother’s eyes. When Dean let go, he immediately started lecturing Sam on not testing her before then, but he couldn’t wipe the smile off his face. Charlie was too busy hugging Cas and teasing him about the eyeliner to notice.

“Charlie how is this possible?” Cas asked in awe.

“Okay, bitches. These is a long story and I’m only saying it once, so pay attention. When I died-“ Sam looked down guiltily. “-I woke up in Heaven. It was a pretty sweet gig at first, I’m not gonna lie. But something was missing. I was restless. It always felt like I was forgetting something. Today, it hit me. I had bought tickets to Salt Lake City Comic-Con before I died so I could meet Hermione- er, Emma Watson- and I was going to miss it because I was dead. It was a load of bologna. That’s when I got really pissed, and Heaven…it wasn’t so sweet anymore. I had been looking forward to meeting her for so long. It was all I could think about. Even though we’re totes soulmates, it’s not like she could manifest in my Heaven because she’s still down here on earth kicking it.” Charlie ran a hand through her short, bright red hair, thinking about Emma Watson dreamily. “Eventually, an angel came to my Heaven, Balthioul, I think? He said he could tell I was distressed, and that it was his job to make sure Heaven was a pleasant place for all its patrons or whatever. I went off on a rant about how he was damn right that I was in distress. Then he like touched my head and read my thoughts? I guess he was trying to see why it was such a big deal to me. He ended up leaving my Heaven shortly after.” She grinned sheepishly. “Apparently I was so distraught that I was bordering returning as a restless spirit or something. I made little breakthroughs with those college girls, and when Emma asked what lipstick she should wear. She looks stunning in nudes-“

“Focus, Charlie.” Sam interrupted smiling.

Charlie sighed. “Bathioul returned later and gave me a get out of jail free card.” She shrugged, but her face suddenly became sad, and she avoided Sam, Dean and Cas’ eyes. “He was able to pull some strings with the bosses upstairs. Since I wasn’t truly happy in Heaven, he let me come back just long enough to meet Emma Watson. Then…. I have to go back.” She said the last sentence softly.

Dean flinched. “We’ll have to lose you again.” He stated angrily. It wasn’t a question. He knew the answer, and he was bitter about it. Sam couldn’t blame him, but at least this time they would get to say goodbye, at least this time they would get closure.

When Sam looked over at Castiel, he looked perplexed. “Do you know who Balthioul got permission from to do this? It’s… unheard of.” The angel said.

Charlie shrugged. “No clue. No one’s dragged me back so I’m assuming he really did get permission.”

“How long do you have?” Sam asked quietly.

“We don’t have long.” She replied quietly. She reached in the pocket of his jeans, pulling out a ticket stub. I have an autograph with her. The photo ops sold out before I could get one.” She then reached in her back pocket, pulling out a folded piece of paper that had the conventions schedule on it. “The autographs are soon. I mean, I could get in the back of the line and save us some time… but we still don’t have a lot of time.”

Dean looked like he wanted to punch something. His hand went to cover the mark of Cain under the sleeve of his Captain America costume, making it clear that it was burning in anger. He took a deep breath, his eyelashes fluttering as his calmed himself. “So, let’s make the most of your time here then.”

They ordered pizza and had it delivered to the convention center. They caught Charlie up on their lives, and Charlie caught them up on her time in Heaven while they waited in line for her autograph with Emma Watson. Sam told her about how successful her attempt to hook up high speed internet at the bunker was, and how it had helped him create an algorithm to track down Rowena. Their time was full of laughter, and almost like old times. Charlie kept subtly bringing attention to Dean and Cas’ closeness and Sam had to roll his eyes when it kept going over their heads.

Charlie completely freaked out during her autograph with Emma. She ranted about how much Hermione meant to her, and how much she should mean to all women for being a strong female character who wasn’t hypersexualized and was smarter than any of the male characters. At one point, she started crying, and Emma stood up and stepped around the auto table to give her a hug. Sam, Dean, and Cas just looked on and smiled as Charlie sobbed into her shoulder.

After the autograph session was over, Charlie seemed to have trouble focusing. She let them know that she could feel her grip on earth slipping, that it was time to return to Heaven. Cas said she only had a few minutes left before the angels would pull her back. They went outside the convention center away from the crowds to have some privacy. Goodbyes were heartbreaking, and Sam tried to focus on the fact that at least this time, he got to say goodbye. When Charlie hugged Cas goodbye, she teased him about how cute his and Dean’s matching costumes were and praised him for ‘fixing’ Heaven, because she didn’t feel like she would have been able to return to earth if he wouldn’t have.

Next, she hugged Dean. He wrapped his arms around her tightly and closed his eyes just as tight. Sam knew how hard this was for his brother. He knew the guilt that Dean carried, the guilt that he himself carried. He heard Dean mumble an apology into Charlie’s hair, but she immediately shushed him. Sam had his own apology to spill, and he wondered if Charlie would have the same reaction towards him since her death was his fault. She whispered something in Dean’s ear before he pulled away, and when Dean let go of her, his eyes were wide, and his cheeks were red. He glanced over at Cas before his eyes flickered back to her. She gave him a knowing smirk that had Cas furrowing his eyebrows at the two of them.

When it was time for Sam to say goodbye, he approached Charlie hesitantly. “Listen, Charlie…I’m sorry. I never should have given you the Book of the Damned, it wasn’t your place-“

“Oh, shut it, Winchester.” Charlie said, pulling him in for a hug. “I forgive you.” She mumbled against his chest. “I forgave you a long time ago.” Sam pulled away just slightly, his arms still around her. She looked up at him and then stood on her tiptoes to whisper to him “Just give Dean time. He’ll come around, and Cas will make him as happy as we both know he deserves to be.” They let go of each other and she grinned at him mischievously and held her finger to her lips when Sam caught Dean staring at them out of the corner of his eyes. Sam stepped back, so that he, Dean, and Cas were all the same distance away from Charlie. She smiled at them sadly, blinking tears out of her eyes.

“We love you, Charlie.” Sam muttered honestly.

“I know.” She said, laughing wetly and wiping her eyes. Charlie never failed to make a Star Wars reference.

“Goodbye, Charlie.” Dean said softly. He had his facial expression steeled, but Sam could see the pain in his eyes and knew the same expression reflected on his face. Castiel looked sad as well, but most of his emotion seemed focused on sympathy towards to two brothers. Cas may not have had enough time to develop a strong relationship with Charlie, but he knew how much she meant to Sam and Dean.

“Bye, losers.” She choked out, taking a deep breath. She looked up at the sky, still blinking tears out of her eyes. “Beam me up, Scotty.”

There was a sound of angel wings flapping, and Charlie disappeared.

Chapter 18: Bad Medicine

Chapter Text

Castiel entered his very own bedroom in the bunker and closed the door behind him. His eyes scanned the room to make sure he was alone. It was an old habit as a soldier of Heaven that he would probably never be able to break. His bedroom was still incredibly barren, and he still had a hard time accepting that it was his. It looked no different than the other uninhabited rooms in the bunker. It had the same antique, worn dresser with an attached mirror that had collected dust. Castiel hadn’t bothered to dust or clean anything in the room because he rarely used it. It had the same rickety, broken-in chair that had its fair share of stains and worn fabric. The chair did have a little less dust because there were times that Castiel had sat in it and read, but other than that it was just another carbon copy. His bedroom had the same bed as all the others. The only difference was that his still smelled slightly of Dean from where the hunter had fallen asleep next to him after preening his wings. It had been far too many weeks for most living beings to still pick up on the scent, but as an angel, Castiel was still able to pick up on the smell that was so Dean that it invaded his senses every time he stepped into the room. Even though it smelled nothing like Dean’s actual room, it still made this room special in Castiel’s eyes and made him strangely attached to it. He knew that Sam and Dean were attached to their own rooms as well.

Unlike Sam and Dean’s rooms, his was still a replica of all the other standard bunker rooms in the sense that he had still not made it “his own”. The only thing that made it his, and his alone, was the coat rack in the corner that Dean had given him, and more recently a tiny plastic angel sitting on the dresser. Its purpose had been to perch on the small, desk Christmas tree that Sam had acquired. Castiel thought it to be slightly offensive, and Sam hadn’t placed it atop the tree, but when it had been time to pack up the Christmas decorations, Dean had nabbed it and given it to Castiel as a joke. Castiel didn’t understand why it was so funny, especially since the angel was holding a harp, but Dean’s bright smile and amused eyes were more than enough to convince him to accept the gift. Especially when Dean had kept one of his feathers as a gift of his own. It was a thought that caused warmth to spread through Castiel’s entire being. Dean may not be aware of how intimate of a choice it had been for him to keep the feather, but Castiel knew it was, and had selfishly chosen not to correct the hunter. Dean wanting to keep a piece of him was a gentle reminder that maybe the hunter meant it when he said he wanted Castiel around.

The angel approached the mirror in his room. Despite the decades of collected dust, he could still see through to the mirror relatively easily. Time had left it slightly discolored but he could still see himself clearly. He had not taken his wings out since Dean had preened them, and it was long overdue that he check and make sure all the feathers were growing in correctly. He was still embarrassed that he had needed help in the first place, but what he hadn’t told Dean was that his grace was beginning to dwindle in comparison to what it once was. It had been too long since he had returned to Heaven, and it was draining faster with his feathers growing in since the fall. Castiel would need to return to Heaven soon and it caused an uneasy feeling to settle in his gut. He pushed it from his thoughts to focus on his wings. He should have brought them out long before now, but he always felt his face heat up in a blush whenever he thought about them and Dean’s fingers carding through them. Castiel scowled at himself in the mirror. He remembered a time in which he had better control of his human body’s reactions, and him blushing was unheard of. Dean had caused warmth to spread through this body, his body numerous times in their years together, but it showing on his cheeks was inconvenient and annoying.

He removed the clothing from the upper half of his body, carefully hanging it on the coat rack. He was wearing the hoodie that Dean had gotten him for Christmas, and he could’ve easily removed it using his grace, but he was putting off his return to Heaven. He straightened his shoulders and flexed, causing the massive black wings to manifest and unfurl from his back. Castiel gasped. They were beautiful. They had a shine like they had never possessed before, not even when they were gold and untouched by Hell. Dean had done a wonderful job on them. They looked soft to the touch and fluffed out embarrassingly as he thought about Dean touching them again. He would have to thank Dean for his job well done. He had tried the following morning after the preening, but Dean had gotten incredibly flustered about falling asleep in his bed and had stumbled out of his room, a litany of apologies streaming from his lips. Castiel knew that Dean didn’t know the intimacy behind having Dean preen him, but he was aware that Dean knew that spending the night with someone in their bed was often intimate for humans. Even though Dean had mastered the one night stand, he still didn’t share a bed with just anyone.

Castiel used the mirror to evaluate the condition of each and every one of his feathers and wasn’t surprised that each one was in pristine condition. They had all nearly grown in completely now, and it was a relief to know that he would no longer have to deal with any of his previous discomfort. Castiel idly wondered if Ariel had had someone help her with her wings or if she had recently returned to Heaven discreetly just to replenish her grace so that she could do it herself. Ariel had always been such a loner but had suggested that someone help him with his wings, and he wondered who had helped her with her own.

Castiel was running his fingers through his primaries when Dean entered the room without warning. “Hey, Cas-“ He froze, the color draining from his face at the sight of Castiel, shirtless and with his wings out. It was so endearing that Dean could still be embarrassed or flustered by something like this, as if Cas hadn’t seen his bare soul. “I, uh, I’m so-sorry, I should’ve knocked-“

“It’s okay, Dean.” Castiel replied simply, turning to face the human. He watched Dean’s eyes flicker to his bare chest before forcefully returning to meet his own gaze. “I was just looking over my feathers. You preened them beautifully. This is the most impressive I’ve ever seen them.” He lifted his wings a little smugly, pride surging through him when Dean tracked the movement in awe.

Dean avoided Castiel’s gaze and rubbed the back of his neck shyly. “They already looked awesome.” He muttered. “I just spruced ‘em up some.” He finally stopped staring at the floor and looked back up, meeting Castiel’s gaze. “Do you need help with them again, or somethin’?”

Castiel grimaced when his wings immediately fluffed out again, drawing Dean’s eyes away from his own and towards to movement. Dean looked at him quizzically, but he ignored it. “No, I just wanted to look them over. This is the first time I’ve had them out since they were preened.” He sighed contently. “Thank you for your help.” His wings flexed and flapped slightly on their own accord. He had only had them out a couple of times while on earth, and even though they were not in their true form, it still felt nice. Squeezing his true form into this small, confining body was no longer uncomfortable, but he didn’t think it would ever stop feeling slightly constricting, especially when he had to keep his wings on another plane.

Dean watched his wings move in wonder, his eyes tracking the slight movements. “Um, okay. I’m g-glad I could help. I was going to see if you wanted to watch a couple of episodes of Banshee. If you’re not busy with wing stuff. Sam is asleep and we’re already halfway through the first season, but I don’t mind starting the show over, so you’re not lost.”

“Shouldn’t you be asleep as well?” Castiel asked, raising an eyebrow.

Dean shrugged, his hand immediately going to cover the mark of Cain on his arm self-consciously. “I have trouble sleeping sometimes.”

Castiel narrowed his eyes and glared at the mark as if it would do either of them any good. He hoped Ariel was able to confirm whether or not Gabriel was still alive. Removing the mark was still Castiel’s main focus, even if Dean kept being dismissive about it and was being incredibly suspicious about what he was doing to keep his urges at bay. Castiel still wondered what Dean was doing to tame the effects of the cursed mark. He hadn’t had anymore outbursts, and seemed to be doing much better, and Castiel knew that breathing exercises and meditation wouldn’t be enough to combat something so ancient and evil. Dean was doing something to keep the mark’s urges at bay. Castiel tried not to pry because he knew it would just push Dean further away if it was something he wasn’t willing to share. Dean was beginning to fully trust him again after working with Sam, Charlie, and Rowena, and he didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize that. The internal struggle stitched with worry was becoming more and more frustrating, but he would much rather have Dean offering to watch television with him than angrily slamming doors in his face because he couldn’t let this go.

“The show is about banshees?” Castiel asked, trying to deter his thoughts away before he began growing too worried about Dean again. He worried about him enough without fixating what he was doing about the mark.

Dean chuckled softly, leaning against the doorway. There was an easy smirk on his lips that made Castiel’s chest feel tight. Dean was so effortlessly beautiful that it hurt. “No, it’s not about banshees. That’s just the name of the town it takes place in.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets and rocked back and forth on his heels. “It’ll all make sense if you just watch it with me.” He pouted a little and Castiel rolled his eyes, mostly at the fact that he was a sucker when it came to Dean, and yet Dean still felt the need to bribe him with facial expressions.

He sighed. “Okay.” He reached for his hoodie, but Dean bit his lip and interrupted the action.

“You could just leave your wings out.” He suggested. “It can’t be comfortable having them crammed into whatever dimension all the time.” Castiel raised an eyebrow at him. Whether Dean meant to or not, he had made it abundantly clear with sparkling eyes and huge grins that he enjoyed it when the hoodie was worn. Castiel hesitated. Dean seeing his wings was one thing, but there was a chance that Sam could wake up. Dean’s cheeks flushed at his hesitance, his eyes widened a little as if he wondered if perhaps he had said something wrong.

“I can’t imagine it would be easy for us to sit on the couch with my wings out.” Castiel replied slowly.

“I can make room.” Dean shrugged again. Castiel slowly hung his hoodie back on the coat rack. It did feel relaxing to have his wings out and used less grace than having them stored away. When he looked back up at Dean, the hunter was beaming. “I’ll hook up the laptop to the tv. Just come out when you’re ready.”

Dean was finding the show far more interesting than Castiel, but that was usually the case when they watched something together. It wasn’t that Castiel didn’t find the things Dean had him watch interesting, it was jus that he had a hard time focusing on anything else when Dean was sitting so close to him, their knees bumping, and thighs pressed together. Dean had recently abandoned his attempts to stop their bodies from touching while they were on the couch, especially if Sam wasn’t in the room. It warmed Castiel to know that Dean was growing more comfortable with his presence. His wings shifted behind him and it drew Dean’s eyes away from the television.

“What does it mean when they get all fluffy like that?” He asked curiously, pointing at the fluffed out feathers. Castiel noticed that his hand twitched as he spoke, as if his fingers wanted to reach out for the feathers.

“It can mean a lot of things.” Castiel replied dismissively. Telling Dean that it happened when he was pleased would only lead to him having to explain that he was pleased because they were sitting so close, and that would only make Dean uncomfortable.

It seemed as though Dean had lost complete interest in the show since his eyes had been drawn to Castiel’s wings again. He hesitantly extended a shaking hand to the closest feathers, looking at Castiel for permission. The angel’s eyes widened but he just nodded. Dean immediately began petting the feathers and running his fingers through them. The position was awkward, and Castiel had to resist the urge to drape himself over Dean’s lap on his stomach so that Dean could have access to both wings. Instead he just extended the wing so that it was draped over Dean’s lap, ridiculously jealous that it wasn’t his entire body.

“They’re so awesome…” Dean muttered. Castiel let out a content sigh and leaned himself closer to Dean, causing Dean to bite his lip. Castiel’s eyes were drawn to the motion, and when Dean realized it, he quickly looked anywhere but Castiel’s face. He went back to watching the show but continued to give attention to each feather his fingers could reach despite the terrible angle they were sitting at. Castiel could tell by the glassy look in Dean’s eyes that he had no interest in what he was actually watching, and his thoughts were a million miles away. He would give anything to use his grace and scan Dean’s mind to reveal what he was thinking, but he wouldn’t do that to Dean without his consent. Castiel knew how intimate this was and knew he should stop Dean. But when Dean’s fingers scratched a particularly nice spot, he just hummed happily, a spark igniting in his every atom as pure bliss surged through his body, starting at his wing tips and spreading all the way to his toes. He let head drop to Dean’s shoulder unceremoniously. They were already crossing so many intimate lines, what was one more?

Dean was so f*cking stupid. This was such a bad idea. Cas was half f*cking naked, leaned into his side, with his wing stretched out in front of Dean, practically in his lap. The angle couldn’t exactly be comfortable, and yet Cas was making these happy little noises in the back of his throat and half the time the noises were going straight to Dean’s dick. The other half, they were causing a warm, fluttering feeling in Dean’s chest that he hated just as much. This was such a bad idea. What if this was like the angel equivalent of holding hands? Or even worse, what if this was like the angel equivalent of a handjob? Which Dean didn’t exactly mind…in theory. Sure, he had fantasies about Cas that were fit to send him back to Hell. And yeah, despite the rules he set for himself, sometimes he caved and jerked it to thoughts of Cas, thoughts of them together, but all of those were just thoughts. The idea of actually being physical with the angel was nothing short of terrifying. This was completely uncharted territory. People didn’t just sit on a couch, pretending to watch tv while petting their shirtless best friend. Even if their best friend had really badass wings.

It didn’t seem to matter how many times Dean reminded himself that it was a terrible idea, his fingers continued to work their way through soft feathers. Cas had long since stopped watching the show and was practically nuzzling into Dean’s shoulder, and oh Jesus f*cking Christ Dean was a moron of epic proportions. To make matters worse, the repetitive motion was slowly lulling him to sleep and all he could think about as convincing Cas to crawl in his bed, so they could cuddle up, and Dean could fall asleep with his hands in Cas’ feathers. What in the actual f*ck was wrong with him. Why couldn’t he just stop. This was getting out of hand. This hurt. He wanted so much with Cas that he could never have, and he was torturing himself by continuously toeing at the lines he desperately wanted to cross.

Dean hadn’t realized the episode had ended until Cas shifted, slowly taking his wing back hesitantly. Dean tried not to mourn the loss of warmth on his lap as Cas sat up. His hair was sticking up from where he had decided to get cuddly with Dean’s shoulder, and it made Dean smile. It was cute. Cas shouldn’t be allowed to be so cute. When the f*ck did Dean start thinking anything was cute? Dean was already hopelessly head over heels for the guy, what more did the universe want from him?

“It’s late, Dean.” Cas’ voice rumbled deeply and oh god, Dean wondered if that’s what his voice sounded like when he first woke up (if he slept) or when he had been thoroughly f*cked.

“Yeah.” Dean replied softly. “I uh, guess I should try to go back to sleep. With it being late and all.” He should have just left it at that. He should have just gotten up and locked himself in his bedroom helplessly. But before he could stop himself, Dean’s hand was in Cas’ hair, taming the stray sections that were sticking up haphazardly. A part of him wanted to mess it up even worse. He kinda missed the hardcore sex hair that Cas used to have when they first met. His fingers stopped running through Cas’ hair at the back of his neck. It would be so easy. Stop All he had to do was hold Cas’ head like this and lean in and kiss him. Seriously, stop. Dean’s eyes flickered to Cas’ lips, and Cas mirrored the same movement on him. Abort, abort! Dean leaned forward, his lips just a few inches from Cas’. What in the name of f*ck are you doing?! The angel was staring up at him with wide, gorgeous blue eyes and Dean leaned forward a little more before pausing and pulling back, shooting up off the couch like someone had lit a fire under his ass. “Sleep. Yeah. That’s what I was going to do. Go to sleep. ‘Night, Cas.” He squeaked, knowing damn well that panic was etched into every line of his face. He darted for the door without saying another word, not even allowing himself to register the look on Cas’ face before his brain tried to convince him that it was disappointment or something else he pathetically wanted.

As soon as Dean was safely behind his closed (slammed) bedroom door, he punched the wall, ignoring his protesting knuckles and the blood beading up on the broken skin. He also ignored the interest being shown by the mark because of his anger. He had almost kissed Cas. Had he lost his goddamn mind? Things were finally back to normal between them, or whatever normal was for them. They finally trusted each other again. Cas hadn’t really made an official decision, but as of right now, he was choosing to stay at the bunker, choosing to stay with Dean, instead of flapping his feathery ass away like he always did. And Dean almost f*cked up all of that by kissing him like some f*cking idiot. What would Cas have done? Punched him? Smited him? He would’ve deserved it. And oh god, Cas was all happy and pliant and relaxed because Dean had been stroking his wings… Dean had practically taken advantage of him!

It didn’t take much thought for Dean to dig out his Djinn juice kit. His mind worked on autopilot setting it up, because all he wanted was for his thoughts to shut the f*ck up. For his feelings to shut the f*ck up. He had come so close to f*cking up so bad. Cas had forgiven him for so much throughout the years, there was no way in hell he would’ve forgiven Dean for kissing him. Dean should’ve paid more attention to what he was doing. He should have measured out the Djinn essence more accurately. He should have stopped himself from making yet another dumbass mistake, because he didn’t realize he had injected too much until the affects hit him like a derailing train. His vision blurred as a wave a nausea hit him, and he felt like he was floating on a cloud that was made of rainbows and f*cking puppies and he loved it. He loved it way too much. He put the kit away carefully, having a hard time focusing on the task, his hand-eye coordination completely wrecked by the blurred vision and high he was feeling. He didn’t bother stripping off his clothes before sinking into his memory foam mattress, frustrated that there was still a small voice in the back of his head commenting on how he wished Cas was lying down with him. He was asleep within a matter of minutes and was too high to even wonder if he had taken too much to wake up, if he had taken enough to overdose.

Dean woke up, groaning slightly. His head felt foggy, but through the brain fog he realized that he had gotten out of bed at some point in the night and undressed down to his boxers. He rubbed his eyes and went to sit up, but a warm, firm arm snaked around his waist and pulled him in closer to whoever it belonged to. What the f*ck? Could Djinn juice make someone sleep walk? Did he pick someone up at a bar and go home with them? He tried to turn to see who the arm belonged to, but before he could, a small, sleepy kiss was planted on the back of his neck and a pleading voice rumbled “Five more minutes, Dean.” Dean froze. That was Cas’ gravel on sandpaper voice. That was Cas’ arm wrapped around him lovingly. That was Cas’ chest up against his back, Cas’ lips against his neck. That was Cas’ morning wood digging into his ass.

“What the hell, Cas!” Dean said, shooting up in bed, causing Cas’ arm to slide from his waist to his lap, rubbing against morning wood of his own. Dean froze. Oh no, no, no. What the f*ck was this? This was bad. Had he been so high that he made a move on Cas and couldn’t even remember it?

Cas groaned and snuggled into Dean’s partially bare thigh before his noticed the dick poking into his arm. Cas huffed out a laugh. What? Cas didn’t laugh. Well, he did. But it was rare, it didn’t have this ease or familiarity to it. “Good morning to you too.” Cas said to Dean’s f*cking boner, like life was some f*cked up episode of The Twilight Zone. He slid his arm off Dean’s lap and stretched before reaching for his co*ck, and Dean flinched so hard that he fell off the bed. What the hell was going on? Cas sat up, a grumpy expression on his face. He peered over the side of the bed at Dean, and Dean’s heart momentarily stopped and ached at the same time. Cas was in his bed like he belonged there, sleep warm and ruffled. His hair was sticking up in every direction and he was looking down at Dean like he was the crazy one. Cas didn’t even need to sleep, and he certainly didn’t just reach for Dean’s dick like it was something he did all the time.

That’s when it hit Dean. He had taken too much Djinn juice. He was sleeping. This was a dream. It had to be. This is what his subconscious wanted, and the Djinn essence was just doing its job. It was just taking his subconscious wants and giving them to him so that he wouldn’t wake up. “I just need to wake up….” He said standing up and rubbing his eyes. He pressed his fists to his eyes so hard that they squeezed against his skull painfully and he saw stars burst behind his closed eyelids. He needed this to stop. He needed to wake up. This hurt. He had been using the Djinn juice to fight the mark, to make him feel better, to make him forget just how bad he wanted something he couldn’t have. He looked down at his dream arm. The mark wasn’t even there.

“Dean are you okay?” Cas asked, suddenly worried. He shuffled to the edge of the bed to swing his legs over the side, and dear god, he was naked. It wasn’t exactly the first time Dean had seen him in the nude after the bee incident, but it was no less jarring. When he didn’t answer, Cas stood up, cupping his face with both hands. “What’s wrong?”

Dean swallowed, a heaviness in his heart that he couldn’t quite describe. Cas was looking at him like he was the only thing that mattered, and it made Dean’s stomach turn because none of this was real. It was terrifying how loudly a part of him was screaming that he could just stay here. He could just see how this dream panned out. “I’m sorry, Cas. But I.. I gotta figure out how to wake up.”

“What do you mean? You are awake.” Cas stroked his thumbs against Dean’s cheeks, and Dean closed his eyes with a shuddering breath before opening them back up.

“I wish I was, buddy. But this? This ain’t how things are between us. Not in the real world.” He hated how his voice broke. He hated how he could feel tears springing to his eyes.

“Then stay here.” Cas whispered, but his voice was distorted, and the edges of Dean’s vision was starting to blur. He was waking up. Either he hadn’t injected quite enough or being experienced in waking up from a Djinn dream was benefiting him. You don’t have to wake up. A voice in the back of his head reminded him. You could stay here. You could have everything you want. You could have Cas. You could have a life without the mark. You could have a life where Sam is happy and safe, and probably walking around with a normal life. All of this could be yours if you just stay asleep. But none of that was true, because none of this was real. This wasn’t Dean’s reality. He didn’t get these things, no matter how hard he fought for them. Staying here would be simple. It would be easy. But this just wasn’t his life. It wasn’t his Cas.

He attempted to answer dream Cas, an apology on his lips. Even if this Cas wasn’t real, it still tugged at something in him to see the look of distress on his face that he put there. But then everything blurred and faded together before his eyes snapped open as he shot up in bed. He heaved in a breath of cold air that seared his lungs, his body shaking convulsively. He was in his real bed in his real room. And he was alone. He looked over to the spot that Cas had been taking up just moments ago, and it almost felt like he could feel the phantom warmth of the sheets from where Castiel had been curled up against him. Dean ran his fingers through his hair, pulling at the short strands. He didn’t bother fighting the tears as they came. He looked down at his watch as it beeped, alerting him of a new hour. It was two in the morning on January 24th. It was his birthday.

Chapter 19: It's My Birthday and I'll Confess My Feelings If I Want To

Chapter Text

Dean was able to pathetically wallow in his own petulant self-loathing and sadness all the way until 9am before Sam knocked on his door. He groaned loudly and burrowed himself deeper into the burrito of blankets he had wrapped himself in. The bunker wasn’t by any means cold with the heat jacked up since it was January, and he was actually sweating under all the layers, but something about it was comforting. He glared in the darkness of his blanket cave. He hadn’t even seen Sam act this childish since he was an actual child. He was Dean Winchester for f*cks sake. He had been to Hell and back both literally and figuratively, he shouldn’t be losing his sh*t over pining over his best friend. The problem was that while he knew he was in love with Cas, he didn’t think that his ideal life with him in his dream would have been so… domestic. Dean had never even allowed himself to fantasize about that. The closest he let his brain wander to was maybe tangling their fingers together in between hunts, and on an extra rare occasion, sneaking a quick kiss while Sam wasn’t looking. But now that Dean had experienced what it was like to have the whole shebang, he was aching for it. The way that Cas had so effortlessly and comfortably touched him with love and adoration in his eyes… Dean moaned in frustration loudly and pulled the blanket over his head tighter.

Sam knocked again but didn’t allow Dean enough time to answer before opening the door cautiously. “It’s already nine in the morning. What the hell are you still doing in bed?” He asked, his voice concerned. Dean was sure his facial expression probably matched his tone, but he wasn’t coming out of his burrito to find out.

“I don’t feel good, f*ck off.” He grumped, his voice slightly muffled.

Sam exhaled loudly. “Yeah, I’m not buying it. I’ve seen you take on a skinwalker with walking pneumonia. It’s your birthday, and I know you hate when people make a big deal out of it, but you should at least leave your room. Cas asked me to check on you. You never sleep in this late.”

Dean tensed and was glad it was hidden by his blankets. How in the f*ck was he supposed to face Cas? There was a 50/50 chance that he knew exactly why Dean had leaned in last night, and even if he didn’t, how could he look him in the eyes after a dream like that? He unburied his face to yell at Sam. “Dude, I said I don’t feel good. Get out of my room.” Dean had been right. He was greeted by the concerned puppy look.

“You look like sh*t.”

“Oh wow, thanks for attacking me like that on my birthday.” Dean muttered sarcastically before letting his head drop back down on his pillow.

“Dean… what’s wrong?”

Dean was so glad he had closed his eyes again because he knew Sam was making his Doctor-Phil-Meets-Children’s-Cancer-Nurse facial expression he always made when he wanted Dean to talk. “I feel like sh*t, okay?” Dean replied, not bothering to open his eyes. “That’s why I want you to get out.”

Sam huffed at an annoyed sigh, but Dean heard him close the door and he relaxed. His stomach growled, and he ignored it. His stomach may be protesting the fact that he hadn’t ate breakfast, but he had absolutely no appetite. He pushed his blankets further down his body because he couldn’t stop sweating. It took him a moment to realize that it probably wasn’t because of the heat, but it was probably his body trying to sweat out what was left of the Djinn juice. He really needed to be more careful. Sure, he was miserable, but he didn’t want to die, or just in general not be able to wake up again.

Dean got a few more hours of peaceful isolation before there was another knock at his door. He made a displeased noise, but it wasn’t enough to stop the door from opening. Dean flipped over in bed to snap at Sam but saw Cas instead, and almost swallowed his tongue.

“Hello, Dean.” Cas said. Because of course that’s what he said. That’s what he always said. “I wanted to wish you a happy birthday. Are you still feeling unwell?”

“Thanks, Cas. Yeah. I still feel like sh*t.” Dean muttered hoarsely. It was so odd to see Cas standing there awkwardly even though Dean knew last night was dream.

“I could heal you.” Cas offered. He observed Dean with a head tilt. “You’re sweating… a lot. Are you running a fever?”

Dean sat up and ran a hand through his hair. It was greasy and gross from the sweat, and he was pretty sure he reeked. God he needed a shower. “You don’t gotta heal me, man.” He slumped down in bed realizing that he was shirtless and had f*cking track marks now. “I just need to sweat it out.” Cas looked at him like he was made of glass and Dean grimaced. “I’m already feeling better than I was this morning.”

Cas opened his mouth to say something but snapped it shut before observing Dean carefully. “It wouldn’t take much of my grace, Dean.”

“Yeah, but the more grace you use, the sooner you’ll have to go back to Heaven. And who knows, you might go one day and decide you don’t want to come back.” It was supposed to be a joke, but Dean’s heart clenched painfully at the truth behind it. Cas had been at the bunker for so long. It was only a matter of time before he left again, left Dean again.

Cas looked at him like he was speaking a foreign language. Well, maybe not that because he spoke all languages. But he was definitely looking at Dean like he had said something crazy. “I’ll always come back to you.” The sincerity in his voice floored Dean.

Dean swallowed hard and felt his face heat up. How did Cas just say sh*t like that? It made Dean want to do incredibly stupid things, like kiss him stupid and make him turn those words into a promise. Instead, he said “Wow, Cas. Way to make a man feel flattered.” Dean mentally facepalmed at how f*cking cheesy he was.

Cas did one of those little half smiles that made Dean weak in the knees. “I’ll let you get some rest. If you change your mind, I’ll be here.” He closed the door behind him, and it took a lot of self-control for Dean not to go after him.

Dean wasn’t so lucky the next time around. It wasn’t even an hour later when Sam entered his room unceremoniously without even knocking. “Get up and get dressed.” His nose scrunched up in disgust. “Actually, take a shower before you get dressed.”

“Sam, I told you-“

“We have a lead on Rowena. Are you staying are coming?”

Dean licked his lips in nervousness. “Yeah, I’m coming.”

Sam would never know it, but Dean was secretly glad he forced him to get up and hop in the shower. He was feeling a lot better now that he was clean, even if it was still way too hard to hold eye contact with Cas for too long. The angel either didn’t notice or chose not to comment on it, and for that Dean was relieved. Since Dean was “sick”, Sam insisted on driving, and Dean was jittering with nervous energy in the passenger seat. They had been using the algorithm for months occasionally changing what exactly the computer systems were supposed to be checking for, but not once had they had a lead on Rowena, or even Crowley. They both seemed to be flying well under the radar, and Crowley wasn’t returning any phone calls. Cas had even tried calling him.

But a lead on Rowena meant a potential lead on getting rid of the mark if Sam’s suspicions about Rowena lying were true at all. If they couldn’t get anything out of Rowena, they could at least get the Book of the Damned back from her, even if they had to pry it from her lifeless fingers. Sam would want to keep it. But the moment he let his guard down, Dean planned on burning it. Charlie was dead because of that thing.

Dean wasn’t sure how long they had been in the car, but the longer they drove the more restless he became. He knew all of this was a long shot, and that there was the chance that Rowena had been telling the truth when she said she hadn’t read anything about removing the mark. But there was still that small chance that she knew a way to get rid of it, and that had Dean’s skin crawling with want. If they got rid of it, he could stop injecting Djinn essence and wouldn’t have to worry about how awesome it felt, or what dreams it was apparently going to make him have. He could just forget about all of this and pretend that every atom of his body wasn’t screaming at him to kiss his best friend.

Dean was jolted from his thoughts by the Impala being put in park. He leaned forward to look through the windshield to see that they were parked in front of his favorite diner not far from Lebanon. They had the best bacon cheeseburgers and surprisingly had at least three beers on tap, a rarity when it came to diners. It had always reminded Dean a little of Ellen and Jo’s Roadhouse, if the Roadhouse had a baby with a diner that couldn’t quite let go of the 50’s style vibe. The diner itself was mostly up to date but still had the ugly checkerboard floors and worn pastel colored booths.

“Do we really have time to stop?” Dean asked, narrowing his eyes in annoyance at Sam despite his growling stomach.

Sam immediately avoided his eyes and ran his hands over the steering wheel nervously. “Don’t be mad… but we used the lead to get you out of the house. I know this is your favorite place to get a burger at and I get that we don’t really celebrate birthdays, but I thought we could all at least go out to lunch…”

Dean locked his jaw and immediately started grinding his teeth. “You lied… about something that could potentially remove the mark…”

“Yeah, but you’ve been doing so great dealing with it lately and I just really wanted to treat you for your birthday-“

Dean didn’t give Sam time to finish because he was already out of the Impala, slamming his door and wincing slightly at how he was taking his anger out on the car.

“Dean, wait-“ Cas tried to speak to him as he followed after him, but Dean just let the diner door slam in his face.

Dean made his way over to the usual booth he sat in and plopped down angrily. He understood that Sam’s heart was in the right place and he was just trying to be a good brother, but he wasn’t in the mood to hear any of it after last night. The dream would have never happened had he never had to abuse Djinn magic if he didn’t have the mark. He really wasn’t in the mood to be lied to about a lead that could potentially remove it.

He barely had time to fume on his own before Cas and Sam were at his heels. He stubbornly refused to scoot further into the booth so that Sam and Cas would be forced to sit across from him.

Sam sighed. “I’m gonna go use the bathroom…” he mumbled quietly, mostly to himself.

The moment Sam left, Cas sat directly across from Dean and tried to meet his eyes. Dean avoided his glance and grabbed a napkin. He began ripping it up in tiny bits just to have something to do with his hands. “Dean.” Cas said softly. “Don’t be mad at Sam. This was my idea.”

Dean’s eyes immediately shot up to glare daggers through Cas, but the moment their eyes met, he lost some of his composure. Cas’ eyes were so f*cking blue, and he was really mastering that pathetic puppy look that he was apparently picking up from Sam. “Do you know how f*cked up it is to lie about something like that? Especially after what happened the last time you and Sam were keeping sh*t from me?” Dean knew he was being harsh. Lying to get him to eat at his favorite burger joint wasn’t the same as lying that killed Charlie and caused the Book of the Damned to vanish with Rowena. They weren’t comparable in the least. But he was pissed. He had just planned to stay in bed all day until Sam and Cas turned in for the night, then he planned on raiding every bottle of whiskey they had in the kitchen.

Before Cas could respond, Sam was back, wiping his hands on his jeans and sliding in the booth next to Cas, causing Cas to scoot over.

Their lunch was awkward at best. Sam tried to force conversation and assure Dean that there would be a real lead soon, that Crowley or Rowena, or someone working with them would slip up and leave a trail. Dean didn’t want to hear it. It was his birthday and he would be petty if he wanted to.

Dean did convince Cas to order the same combo as him, because he was a little interested in how Cas would react to the best bacon cheeseburger that Kansas had to offer. Cas may have skipped out on ordering a few glasses of El Sol, but he enjoyed the meal. If the pleasurable groan that Cas made when he bit into his burger made Dean flush and think about dream Cas naked in his bed, well, then that was his business. Just like that he was back to avoiding Cas’ sad glances and chugging his beer a little too fast.

Sam paid for all three meals in cash, and since Dean was a lot less grumpy after food and four beers (Sam definitely judged him for that), he mumbled a “Thanks, Sammy.” and gave his brother a small nod, the closest thing to an accepted apology that he was getting. Dean knew he was being a moody brat, he just couldn’t stop himself. He wanted to blame his moodiness entirely on the Djinn magic completely leaving his system, but he knew better. Being in love with Cas was a huge factor because he second guessed all his interactions with him. Now that he knew he was in love, he was afraid that one wrong move would reveal that to Sam or Cas, and that’s the last thing he needed.

Dean’s mood began to lift a little on the ride back to the bunker. Cas wasn’t trying to be funny, but he was telling them a story about how when he was young and first created, he almost stepped on a fish that was attempting to haul itself onto the shore. He would have singlehandedly stopped the start of evolution had one of his brothers not stopped him, and the story really shouldn’t have been funny, but between the look of relived horror on Cas’ face, and Sam attempting not to laugh so hard that his own face was twisted in effort, Dean was laughing so hard that he had to hold his side because of the cramp forming. When Dean asked if the brother was Gabriel, and Cas responded that Gabriel would have only encouraged him to step on the fish, Sam finally lost it and started laughing along with Dean. Dean couldn’t wipe the grin off his face when he looked back and saw a small smile on Cas’ own.

The good mood was short lived though. About ten minutes from the bunker, Cas received a phone call. He revealed that it was Ariel and involved important angelic matters or whatever, and he flapped out of the car before Sam or Dean could even say something to him. If Sam noticed that Dean’s mood immediately soured, he didn’t say anything about it.

It’s not that Dean necessarily though that Cas and Ariel had a thing (he hoped), it’s just that he was being very secretive about their meetings and what they were about. Sure, Dean knew they involved the mark of Cain. What he didn’t understand was why Cas wasn’t giving him the dirty details about it since he was the one that had to carry the mark around all the time.

In the short ten minutes it took to get to the bunker, Dean was already back to his mopey self from earlier, and immediately began dragging his feet to his bedroom. Sam tried to stop him, but Dean just wasn’t having it. He locked himself in his room for the rest of the day, digging out some cheap, emergency liquor he hid in his underwear drawer. It was disgusting, but he didn’t want to go to the kitchen to get the good stuff until he knew Sam had went to bed. He was worried about running into Cas when it came time to raid the liquor cabinet, but as the day slipped into night, Cas still hadn’t returned. Dean was barely tipsy and growing increasingly more frustrated at the fact that Cas wasn’t home. He was teetering between over protective boyfriend and mother hen-ing parent and he hated himself for it. Cas was a grown ass angel. He could do what he wanted, with who he wanted. At that thought, Dean’s mind produced an image of Cas kissing some mystery girl (well, angel), and Dean wanted to throw up. It had been 20 minutes since Sam’s bedroom door had closed. He should be in the clear.

He made his way to the kitchen quietly on socked feet, tip toeing by Sam’s door. When he made it to the liquor cabinet, he groaned. They needed to restock. There was plenty of half empty bottles, but not a single full bottle of whiskey or even scotch, and since he was planning on drinking straight out of the bottle tonight, he really didn’t feel like mixing his brands. He grabbed a mostly full bottle of whiskey that he was pretty sure had been in the bunker since before they moved in and hopped up on the island counter in the kitchen. As much as he was trying to avoid everyone (everyone being Sam), he was sick of being cooped up in his room. Especially since he really needed to do laundry. His bed sheets were smelling pretty gross.

Dean managed to get through most of the bottle before he heard footsteps leading to the kitchen, coming from Sam’s room. He rolled his eyes and took another swig. He wasn’t wasted, but still pleasantly drunk. Too drunk to worry about Cas hanging out with his girlfriend.

Sam stood in the doorway that lead to the bedrooms, practically blocking Dean in with his large frame. He crossed his arms across his broad chest in disappointment, and Dean frowned at the lecture he knew was coming. “Dean, what the hell has gotten into you?” Dean just stared at him for a moment, deciding exactly how he wanted to pick this fight. He was still sitting on the island and was letting his feet dangle beneath him childishly as he thought of some smart ass comment to make, but Sam didn’t give him enough time. “I know things haven’t exactly been easy for you lately. But this? Since when do you pull the depressed college kid act and stay locked up in your room until you think everyone is asleep so you can sneak alcohol?”

Dean glared at him. He was busted, but he took another sip at the disgusting whiskey. He figured the Men of Letters would have more expensive taste. “It’s my birthday, Sammy. Why not celebrate?” He raised the bottle to Sam but was pretty sure the smile he tried to force was more of a grimace.

“It’s not celebrating when you’re in your boxers and a t shirt older than I am, and you’re alone.” Sam replied, sighing. He cautiously made his way over like he was afraid he might spook Dean, and Dean would take off running. He sat down at one of the dining room chairs a few feet away. Dean frowned. He knew what was coming next. “What’s up, Dean?”

Dean shrugged. There was suddenly a little though too loud voice in the back of his head mentioning that maybe if he just talked to Sam about some of the sh*t he was dealing with, maybe he would feel just a little better. “I just…I got a lot on my mind.”

Sam took a deep breath. “I get it Dean. I can only imagine what it’s like carrying around the mark with you all the time. I know it’s a lot harder than you’d ever let anyone believe. I know that it’s hard even on the good days. And yeah, I had my issues with the demon blood, but I know this has to be so much harder because this is ancient evil, it was the first curse-“ That’s when Dean started ignoring Sam. The kid took one f*cking psychology course at Stanford and suddenly thinks he’s a therapist. “I know you’re afraid that we won’t find a cure. I’ll admit it… there are times when it worries me too. But we can’t give up hope just because we don’t have any leads right now-“

He wouldn’t judge me. Dean thought to himself. He wouldn’t judge me for any of the sh*t I’m dealing with. Not Cas, not the Djinn essence, not being bisexual, none of it. For whatever reason he sees me as something bigger than what I am. Something better. He wouldn’t judge me. Dean hadn’t even realized he had been taking massive swigs from the bottle ever since Sam had started talking. He was getting way, way too drunk to try and rationalize things like feelings and telling Sam about them.

“And maybe you just need to get out more, you know? You never do anything that’s not watching tv or involving a case anymore. Isn’t there like a retro arcade that opened up recently in Kansas? We could check it out. We could bring Cas too. Can you imagine-“

“I’m in love with Cas.” Dean blurted out the words so fast that he didn’t even have time to attempt the word vomit from coming out. He stared at Sam in horror. No, no, no. f*cking no. There’s no f*cking way I just said that out loud. The bottle of whiskey almost slipped through his fingers and he had to scramble to catch it. Sam stared at him for a very long time, and Dean’s heart thrummed in his chest painfully. He couldn’t read Sam’s expression at all, and that was f*cking terrifying. “I mean-“

“I know you are.” Sam interrupted.

Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold up. Rewind. “What do you mean-?“

“I know you’re in love with him, Dean.” Sam deadpanned. His face was almost expressionless, but there was also a little bit of expectancy and hope shining in his eyes. None of this made any sense. And Dean was way too drunk for this.

He took another swig from the bottle. “How- I mean-when- did you…?” He stumbled over his words, convinced that they wouldn’t have been anymore coherent even if he were sober.

Sam sighed, his nostrils flaring. Oh god. Was he about to give another speech? “You do realize that I’ve been around nearly every step of the way since you’ve met Cas, right? You do realize I’m not blind? I’ve seen all the staring Dean. I’ve seen all the pining for f*cks sake.” Dean shot him an offended look. There was no need for that language. “I was there when you kept Cas’ trench coat and refused to get rid of it after the leviathans. Every time you got something out of the trunk, you picked it up like it was glass and f*cking stroked it Dean.” Dean felt his face heat up. Oh f*ck. Apparently, he was a lot more transparent than he thought. “I’ve watched you sacrifice more for him than you’ve been willing to sacrifice for anyone other than me. You could’ve gotten out of purgatory almost immediately, but you stayed, Dean. You refused to leave until you got Cas back. You actually take pictures of him on your phone, even though I’ve heard you say countless times that you hate pictures. You intentionally skip ahead when watching a show with him so when you actually watch it with him, you can focus more on his reaction than the actual show. You complain about him constantly, but the moment anyone else says anything about him, you fly in to defend him so fast that I almost get whiplash. And yeah, for years I tried to dismiss all of this as the fact that for the first time in your life, you actually had a friend that you could trust with everything you have. But once things started adding up, they didn’t stop. So, yeah, I know you’re in love with him, Dean.”

Dean stared at Sam with wide, unfocused eyes. He worked his jaw a few times, trying to force himself to say something. “I…” He started, but words failed him.

Sam’s face shifted to something both sad and empathetic. “When are you going to tell him?”

“Are you f*cking kidding me?” Dean wasn’t really shocked that that was what got his vocal cords moving. “I can’t tell him. Are you insane?”

Sam crossed his arms over his chest again, raising a defiant eyebrow. “Then what are you going to do to get over him?” Sam knew Dean would never tell Cas. Sam knew Dean too well.

“Huh?” Dean replied dumbly.

“You can’t keep doing this-“ He motioned to Dean. “-whatever this is to yourself. So, you either have to tell him, or you have to try to get over it. Because if not, you’re going to keep doing this to yourself Dean. I know you. You’re going to keep getting drunk, having this jealous tantrums every time he meets up with Ariel-“ Dean made an undignified squawk but Sam ignored him. “-and you’re going to keep wallowing in self-hatred.” Dean opened his mouth, but Sam interrupted. “Don’t try to tell me I’m wrong. Why aren’t you telling him? Because you’re too busy telling yourself you’re not good enough for him?”

Dean pushed himself up off the island counter, swaying the moment his feet hit the ground and ignoring how everything spun a little. He gripped the bottle tighter in his hand. “You know what, f*ck you, Sam.” The point of the statement missed its target when his voice cracked pathetically.

Sam’s face immediately softened. “I- I’m sorry. I went to far. I just hate seeing you like this. This isn’t good for you. I know it’s hard because he’s your best friend. He’s like family to us. But… when you’re tired of taking it out on yourself, you’re going to start taking it out on him.” Dean swallowed hard and brought the bottle to his lips again. He knew Sam was right. He had been in the car a few times when Dean had been on the phone with Lisa and did just that. “You have to either tell him, or force yourself to get over him, Dean.”

Dean didn’t say anything. Sam didn’t get it. Maybe Dean had forgotten to mention how he couldn’t just get over it. Castiel was imbedded in every song that blared mindlessly through the impala’s speakers, in every pair of blue eyes that Dean found himself avoiding on a hunt. Sam didn’t know that every single time Cas touched him, it was like an electrical current surged through his bones, and he knew it didn’t have a damn thing to do with Cas being an angel. Or maybe he didn’t know that whenever Cas would leave him alone in a room, Dean would almost break because he was worried it would be the time that Cas left and didn’t come back. And maybe, just maybe Sam didn’t get it because Dean forgot to mention the times he stood in front of a mirror, trying to recite that he needed to move on because he didn’t need Cas until the words tasted like ash in his mouth. No matter how many times he repeated it, he knew they weren’t true. Dean just looked at Sam and nodded. He would have to try harder.

Sam stood up too, placing his hand on Dean’s shoulder. “There are plenty of fish in the sea.” He tried, attempting to make his voice light hearted and failing miserably.

Dean just glared at him and thought f*ck off, Sam. He is my sea. He grinded his teeth until his jaw popped. “What do you suggest I do then?”

Sam dropped his hand from Dean’s shoulder and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “What was that terrible advice you gave me in high school? ‘The best way to get over someone is to get under someone else’? or something like that?”

“If it was such terrible advice then why are you suggesting it?”

“Because I don’t know what to tell you Dean. If you really want my opinion, I think you need to just tell Cas-“

“Not gonna to happen.” Dean bit out angrily.

“Then, I guess just go…go get laid.” Sam gave him a look and Dean knew Sam expected Dean to storm out right then and there, checking his coat for his keys and not bothering to say goodbye. Instead Dean just stood there, tapping his pointer finger against the neck of the bottle of whiskey, staring at him. Sam sighed, adding “There’s like six bars in a ten-mile radius of the bunker and Uber is a thing.”

Dean scowled at Sam’s tone. He was acting like Dean didn’t know about those bars, like he hadn’t picked someone up from probably all of them before. Dean looked away from Sam, taking another massive swig of the whiskey. “I…I can’t.”

“Why not?”

Dean felt like he was crawling out of his skin. He couldn’t believe he was having this conversation. He finished off the bottle with a sad noise of defeat. “Because it…it’s not just about sex, Sam. If that was the case I would go pick someone up or jerk off.” Dean ignored the disgusted face Sam made. “How the f*ck are you supposed to… jerk off your feelings when it’s about more than just sex?” He expected Sam to laugh, but Sam just gave him a sad look.

“Maybe you shouldn’t look for a hookup then. Maybe you should try dating someone, Dean. Here, lemme see your phone.” Sam muttered quietly, offering his hand for Dean’s phone.

“Why?” Dean asked.

“Just hand me the damn phone”

Dean eyed Sam suspiciously and handed over his phone cautiously. He had just so happened to bring it in the kitchen with him and it had been sitting on the counter next to him. He watched as Sam flopped down in the chair he had been sitting in and tapped the screen a few times before looking back up at him and motioning Dean over. Dean came closer, leaning down to look at the screen and sitting him empty bottle on the table. The screen was lit up with a soft pink background with big, red, bubbled letters that said, “Cupid’s Arrow”. Dean grimaced at the thought of the last cupid he had encountered. “It’s a dating app. But it’s not like Tinder, it’s not just for hookups.”

“What’s Tinder?” Sam rolled his eyes before tapping the word ‘enter’ on the screen. Heart shaped balloons floated up from the bottom of the screen as a transition to the next page of the app. Dean wanted to puke his whiskey up all over Sam’s lap and it wasn’t because he was drunk. This was just painfully cheesy.

“It asks all these questions about you, and based on how you answer them, it sets you up with someone else on the app that they think is a perfect match. So, you get a real connection out of it because you’re more likely to have a lot in common.”

Dean scoffed and took his phone back, exiting out of the app. He wasn’t filling that sh*t out. “So, uh, are we good?” He asked nervously, trying to drunkenly slide his phone in his pocket before remembering he was in his boxers.

Sam tented his eyebrows in confusion. “Why wouldn’t we be good?”

Dean bit his lip nervously, avoiding Sam’s eyes for a moment. He finally let their eyes meet. “You realize this means I’m uh…. I guess I’m into dudes too, right?”

Sam’s face relaxed. “Uh yeah… all those times I’ve teased you haven’t always been jokes…” He shrugged. “I guess I didn’t know for sure, but I’ve had my suspicions. I mean, you were so obsessed with Han Solo even when we were growing up. And sexuality can be fluid for so many people-“

Dean laughed, a little relieved. He ruffled Sam’s hair despite the bitch face he pulled. “Night, Sammy.” He said, not letting Sam finish his thought, and heading for his room. He was drunk, his brain was fried, and not only had he just admitted he was in love with his best friend to his little brother, but also came out of the closet all in one go. He just wanted to go to sleep and hoped that he took all of this just as well sober as he did drunk.

Dean stayed up for a few more hours after going to his room. He put his headphones in and hit shuffle on his phone, just letting the music play through and trying to enjoy being drunk without thinking about he importance or heaviness of his conversation with Sam. He did a good job of it while upbeat songs played that had him drunkenly wiggling his hips and playing air drums in bed. Then “Thank You” by Led Zeppelin began playing. ”If the sun refused to shine, I would still be loving you. When mountains crumble to the sea, there will still be you and me.” Dean stopped the music app on his phone and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment as he tried to force the immediate and invasive thoughts of Cas from his mind. He opened his eyes again, exiting out of the music app entirely and instead, reluctantly opened the dating app Sam had installed. It was time to get over Cas.

Chapter 20: Cupid's Chokehold

Chapter Text

Castiel and Ariel spent most of the night (or evening in local time) in Bora Bora attempting to track Gabriel. Due to having their wings back, the travel was fast work, but Gabriel apparently did not want to be found if he was truly still alive. Ariel had still been hesitant to reach out to Gabriel, but she and Castiel both agreed the timing was right. They needed to try and find the truth before any more suspicious activity attracted the other angels and the rumor spread that Gabriel could still be alive.

Castiel felt awful for missing most of Dean’s birthday, even if Dean hated attention being brought to it. It made it especially difficult because he couldn’t tell Dean about his plans, not yet at least. He took solace in the fact that he wasn’t in French Polynesia for pleasure, but for Dean. If Gabriel was alive, and he and Ariel could find him, they would be making huge progress in removing the mark if they could get the archangel to agree to perform the spell.

Ariel’s willingness to help still left Castiel feeling a little dubious, but he knew he could trust her because she trusted him with her information on the removal spell for the mark. Ariel got nothing out of betraying him given the circ*mstances, but Castiel kept his trust professional and attempted to redirect any conversations that led to Dean. Ariel enjoyed teasing him about Dean… a lot. He wasn’t dense. He knew she was hinting that there was something more between them. He didn’t trust her nearly enough to confess his true feelings about Dean.

All of their leads ran cold as the hours slipped by. If Gabriel was still alive, he was either no longer in Bora Bora, or he was in hiding.

Castiel was disappointed to find that Dean was already asleep when he returned to the bunker.

As the days passed and January melted into February, Sam knew his idea was working. Dean had ended up making an account on “Cupid’s Arrow” and was spending a lot of his free time swiping through the app and filling out the questionnaires on it. Each time, Dean would make a frustrated noise and slam his phone down. What Dean didn’t know that Sam did was that “Cupid’s Arrow” was absolute garbage. Sure, the app was a good idea in theory…but the chance of Dean finding someone with similar interests as him was slim, and Sam knew it. He was hoping that eventually Dean would become so frustrated that maybe, just maybe, he would tell Cas how he felt.

Sam knew it was a long shot, and that was an understatement. He had been there while angel’s blamed Castiel’s rebellion on Dean, blamed Dean for all the bad things that had happened to him. And he knew his brother well enough to know that Dean thought he was toxic for the people he loved. It wasn’t true. Dean was the best person Sam had ever known, and probably ever would know. But there were few good things in life that Dean felt he was worthy of.

Cas had noticed Dean’s distraction and how Dean was always on his phone. He had picked up on the fact that Dean was spending a lot more time in this room clicking away on the screen than begging the angel to watch some crappy cowboy movie with him. Sam watched him glare at Dean’s phone when Dean was too distracted to answer one of his questions. Sam watched him look at Dean longing when he entered the room to grab something but didn’t even say anything to him. It was only a matter of time before the levee broke.

Sam and Dean were in the kitchen fixing sandwiches to pair with the fresh, hand cut, and seasoned fries Dean had made. Cas was sitting at the table watching them (well, glaring at Dean), and refusing to eat. Much to Sam’s amusem*nt, Cas had started doing this petty thing where he was refusing to eat any of Dean’s cooking because he was obviously feeling ignored, but Dean was too stupid to realize it. It only pissed Dean off, and they both ended up making passive aggressive comments at one another. It drove Sam crazy, but he was going to give it another few days before he intervened.

Cas started talking to Sam about how he was hoping the weather warmed up early so that he could get a head start on his beekeeping the moment he sat down. He was talking about potential bee names. Sam was only half paying attention. He was trying. He really was… but he wasn’t Dean, and he didn’t hang onto Cas’ every word.

Dean flopped down in his own chair unceremoniously, and immediately reached for his sandwich with one hand and his phone with the other. “What, you gonna name every bee?” He asked sarcastically through a mouthful, his eyes glued to his phone.

Cas immediately turned to him, his eyes squinted in disdain. “Actually, yes. I do plan on naming all of them. I would ask for your help, but you would probably be too busy on your phone.”

Dean swallowed his sandwich bite roughly and scowled at Cas. “Dude, what’s your problem lately? First you have an issue with my cooking, now you have an issue with me trying to get a date?”

Sam tried to make himself suddenly ridiculously interested in his own sandwich, but he caught the momentary flash of hurt in Cas’ eyes. Charlie was right. Cas was just as hopeless as Dean.

“…a date?” Cas asked, his voice incredibly monotone.

Dean suddenly dropped his eyes to his plate, a slight blush tinting his cheeks. “Oh, yeah…” He mumbled.

“Dean has been on his phone so much because he’s been using a dating app.” Sam supplied. “It’s a phone application that other singles use to meet people with similar interests.” Sam could see in his peripheral that Dean was looking at him with a mixture of both anger and panic, but he ignored him to observe Castiel’s face. The angel looked completely crest fallen for a moment before schooling his facial features.

“And have you had any luck, Dean?” The angel asked.

“Not really.” Dean huffed. “Apparently I don’t have a lot in common with too many people.”

“I’m not surprised.” Sam said with a smirk, biting into a french fry. “How many women are into muscle cars, beer, Batman, and salt and burning bodies?”

“I, uh…” Dean’s eyes searched the room nervously, before resting on a scuff on the table. “I have it set up for men too.” He very pointedly refused to look up at either Sam or Cas.

Sam felt his heart clench because of how proud he was of Dean. Dean had a long way to go when it came to development such as expressing his feelings and being honest with himself, but Sam had seen how much he had grown and changed just in the past few years alone. Dean wasn’t emotionally stunted. So many people from the outside looking in probably thought he was, but Dean was just doing the best he could with how he was raised. Sam’s upbringing was different because he had Dean, but during his developmental stages when John fell short, Dean had no one. It had forced Dean to learn how to talk about his feelings much later in life and in ways that weren’t always conventional or positive.

Sam looked over at Cas and wasn’t shocked to find that his facial expression was fairly neutral excluding a slight twitch to his eyebrow. He may have been surprised that Dean liked both men and women, but angels saw things like sexuality completely different than humans did, and he didn’t seem phased by it in the least. “Why are you not having any luck?” he asked.

Dean finally looked up, clearly relieved that Cas hadn’t zeroed in on his comment. “I don’t know. ‘Cupid’s Arrow’ has to be the sh*ttiest dating app ever. You have to fill out all these questions, and based on how you answer them, it determines if you’re compatible with anyone else. You have to match with them at least 60% to even be able to message them.” He snorted. “I think the highest percent I had with someone was like 40-something? It’s a waste of time.” He made sure to fix Sam with a hard stare along with that last line.

“The longer you use the app, the more likely you are to match with someone.” Sam suggested, having to immediately hide his smile by taking a sip of water from his glass. Cas was practically fidgeting in his seat. Who would have thought Cas was the jealous type? “We should go out tonight.” He added. “I checked for cases this morning and it was a bust. Everything that came up was way too far out of the way, so I called who I could and contacted Jody or Garth for the rest.” He shrugged. “Let’s go shoot some pool or somethin’.”

“I thought you got a call about a case this morning.” Dean replied, shoving fries in his mouth.

“Not to actually go on the hunt. Donna called for another hunter, Eileen. She was just checking in to make sure we didn’t have anymore information on banshees here at the bunker. Eileen’s been tracking one for a while and thinks she finally has it cornered. She didn’t want to miss her window.” Sam had been really impressed with Eileen even though it had been Donna he was talking to. She sounded smart and level-headed, and he hoped she was able to take down the banshee that killed her parents. It wouldn’t make her feel better to take care of the monster that destroyed him family, but it would allow her a little peace knowing it wasn’t still out there.

“So, we’re free?” Dean asked. Sam nodded. “Yeah, okay. Let’s go shoot some pool or something tonight.” He shrugged. “We can go to that bar that has the really awesome nachos.”

“Are you really thinking about food right after you inhaled an entire plate of fries and a sandwich?” Cas asked, sounding both skeptical and amused.

“Hey, don’t judge me.” Dean replied, smiling at Cas shyly.

Sam pressed his lips together to cover his smile. The dating app certainly wasn’t helping keep that love struck look off his brother’s face when he looked at Cas.

That night, Sam got ready for the bar, his plan completely thought out. He even went as far as to shave and dabble on cologne for the full affect. But when Dean knocked on his door and told him to hurry up, he hung back, telling Dean to hold on. He paced his room for a bit, just long enough to piss Dean off, then looked at himself in the mirror, trying to make himself look as sick as possible. He even held a hot, wet wash cloth to his face and let some of the water dribble down it like he was sweating. He almost laughed, thinking about the times he had done this as a kid so that he could stay home from school and he and Dean could just hangout. Dean never bought that he was actually sick, but convinced John to let him stay home anyway by promising that he would skip out on school to watch him.

Sam slowly made his way to the map room where Dean and Cas were waiting slowly, holding his head like it was aching. “I actually think you guys should go without me.” He said, talking through his nose so it sounded like he was stuffed up the moment Dean met his eyes with concern. “I think I’m coming down with something.” He crossed his arms and rubbed his biceps like he couldn’t get warm. Cas immediately raised to fingers to his forward to heal him, but Sam jerked away. “Uh, thanks, Cas. But if you keep healing us over the smallest common colds, we’re never going to build up stronger immune systems.” Cas looked a little insulted, but Sam gave him a weak smile.

Dean raised his eyebrows accusingly. “So, you’re just sick all of a sudden?”

Sam shrugged. “Sometimes colds come on fast.” Dean opened his mouth, most likely to let Sam know he wasn’t buying it, but Sam kept going. “Just do me a favor, and on the way back, stop at a gas station or something and get me one of those little bottles of orange juice.”

“Maybe he got sick from you.” Cas offered, looking at Dean.

Sam saw Dean’s facial expression twitch as he looked at Cas, and when he spoke he was trying very hard to keep his tone even. “Yeah. Maybe.” He looked back at Sam, completely unamused. “Well, text me and let me know how you’re feeling or if I need to pick up anything else. We shouldn’t be out too late.”

“Take your time.” Sam muttered dismissively. “I’ll have Netflix and HBO, and I was recently able to hack into someone’s Hulu.”

Dean patted him on the cheek condescendingly. “I’ll make a criminal out of you yet, Sammy.”

The bar was strangely crowded for a Thursday night, and Dean was already uncomfortable. It’s not that hanging out one on one with Cas was awkward, but Cas was being…weird. Granted, he had been acted weird ever since Dean had been trying to distance himself from him again. There wasn’t really a point in submersing himself in the online dating world if he was still being clingy towards Cas and pining over him. But at the same time, he knew that Cas had no way of knowing why Dean had been practically ignoring him over the last couple of weeks, and Dean felt bad. He also missed his best friend. A lot.

“So, am I allowed to order nachos or are you going to judge me for it again?” He said to Cas with an easy smile, sliding onto a barstool. Cas sat on the barstool next to him. At least Cas was wearing his hoodie again, it made him look a little less out of place at the bar than his trench coat would have. He rotated between the two, and Dean wasn’t sure which one he liked better.

“That depends. Are you going to let me try them?” Cas asked, raising a challenging eyebrow.

Dean licked his lips nervously, because that sounded a hell of a lot like flirting. “Of course, Cas. But only if you’re done being grumpy towards me.”

Cas just narrowed his eyes at him and ordered two of Dean’s favorite beers when the bartender approached them, along with the nachos after a quick glance at the menu. “Are you done ignoring me for your phone?”

Dean laughed and tried to ignore the warm feeling in his chest at Cas remembering and ordering his favorite beer. “Okay, so maybe we’ve both been kind of brats lately.” He gave Cas a warm smile and grabbed his beer when Cas slid one over to him.

Cas huffed out his own little laugh. “I suppose you’re right. I’ve missed you, Dean.”

Dean swallowed, hard. He still couldn’t get over that Cas just said sh*t like that. “I’ve missed you too, buddy.”

Dean was a little tipsy. He didn’t plan on getting drunk by any means, but conversation was flowing easily with Cas and he just felt good. It had been awhile since he had heard a peep out of the mark and Cas was being awkward and adorable. Dean hadn’t thought to tell the bartender that he didn’t want jalapenos on the nachos, but it worked out perfectly when Cas loved them. But then Dean suddenly felt a shift between them that had him squirming in his seat.

Cas fiddled with the label on his beer bottle. He only ever drank to humor Dean and would probably end up babysitting two beers over the entirety of the night. “Do you remember the case we had in Quantico?” Cas asked quietly.

“With the hom*ophobic spirit?” Dean snorted. “Yeah. I remember that.” Cas looked up, meeting Dean’s eyes. Dean immediately leaned into him a little closer and immediately internally chastised himself for it. One look from Cas and he was drawn in like a ship to a siren’s song. The dating app was supposed to be fixing that. It absolutely was not.

“Do you remember what I said to you?”

Dean licked his lips and furrowed his eyebrows in concentration before feeling his face heat up in embarrassment. “Uh, you said that you hoped I one day loved someone as much as that guy loved his husband.”

Cas was back to avoiding Dean’s eyes and staring at his beer. “Is that why you started using the app that Sam was referring to?”

Dean froze. Oh f*ck. This was getting way too real, way too fast, and he was mostly sober. “Honestly, Cas… I felt like I needed a distraction.” Dean hadn’t even realized the seat to his left was taken until the guy sitting next to him joined the conversation.

“Listen, handsome. If you’re looking for a distraction, I’m more than willing.” The guy gave Dean a toothy smirk, and Dean immediately flushed. He wasn’t bad looking, and if Dean wasn’t with Cas, he might have actually taken the guy up on the over. The guy reminded him a little of Tom Hardy, and Dean felt a smile of his own pulling at his lips.

“I’m busy tonight.” He turned to the man and gestured to Cas. “But let me give you my number, and maybe I can take you up on that offer some other time.”

The man pulled out his phone, licking his lips and looking a little surprised that his pickup line had worked. He gave his name (Todd, or something) and Dean spouted off his number with a wink. God. He was so dumb. Cas was right there, and it felt so wrong. Despite Todd being attractive and having big, muscular arms that could easily lift Dean and pin him to a wall (whoa, where did that come from?), Dean had no intention of ever texting the guy back if he actually messaged him. He could feel Cas’ eyes boring into the back of his head. Cas’ attitude earlier had made it immensely clear that he didn’t give a sh*t about Dean’s sexuality, but it still felt so weird to be openly flirting with a guy when someone he knew was right there. He needed a second. He needed to splash some cold water on his face and get his sh*t together. He excused himself to the bathroom, and really hoped his life wasn’t so cliché that the guy thought that was an invitation to a quickie in a locked bathroom stall.

Just moments after Dean stood up to use the restroom, Todd downed the rest of his drink and stood up to follow him with a mischievous glint in his eyes. A sudden, intense anger scorched through Castiel’s entire being at the thought of what the man was planning on doing to do to Dean, or rather with him. Castiel grabbed Todd’s arm as he walked by, his fingers digging into the muscular flesh of his bicep.

“Whoa, man!” Todd exclaimed, looking down at Castiel’s grip in alarm and trying to pull away.

“Dean is intoxicated, and you’re trying to follow him. If you take advantage of him or harm him in any way, I swear on my Father that I will rip you limb from limb. There will be nothing left of you for the cops to identify when I’m done.” Castiel growled. He released his hold on Todd and the man stumbled backwards, shock and fear apparent in his eyes.

“Oh, no. It’s n-not even like th-that….I was j-just leaving…” Todd gestured to the door with his thumb over his shoulder, wincing at the strain on his arm that would be bruised from Castiel’s fingertips in the near future. The man stumbled away from Castiel quickly, and Castiel glared after him, sure he fled without even covering his bar tab.

When Dean returned from the restroom, he glanced around for Todd for a moment, but seemed slightly relieved that he wasn’t there. “Hey, man. Where did Todd go?”

“He had to leave.” Castiel responded casually, taking a sip of his beer.

Dean stared at him for a moment but then gave a half shrug, glancing at the unoccupied pool table a few yards away. “Wanna play me in pool?”

Castiel quirked an eyebrow. “You’re challenging me to a game that requires precision and strategy?”

“If your pool skills are anything like your skills at the gun range, I don’t think I have anything to worry about.” Dean replied co*ckily, a teasing grin on his face.

Castiel smiled fondly, remembering Dean unknowingly trying to teach him to shoot even though he could use his grace to make him a perfect shot. He stood up, motioning for Dean to lead the way to the pool table. Dean gave him one of those smiles that made his eyes shine bright and crinkle at the corners before leading him to the pool table, and Castiel’s fingers itched to reach out and touch him. Dean had no idea just how lovely he was, just how at home Castiel felt in his presence. Castiel had been alive for eons, and had never felt this way, not until he met Dean.

Dean made quick work of racking up the balls, crouched down over the pool table and looking up at Castiel through his lashes. Castiel swallowed reflexively. He knew Dean was a flirt, especially if he had a few drinks in him, but it had taken Castiel years to realize that sometimes he was on the receiving end of the flirting. Dean was attractive, and not only did he know it, but he used it to his full advantage. Castiel really wasn’t sure how he was going to make it through the night.

It only took three turns, all perfect plays on Castiel’s end, for Dean to realize that he would not be winning the game of pool. Castiel was playing as stripes, and he had already managed to nearly clear the table of all striped balls. Dean grumbled and pouted his lower lip out petulantly. “How is it even possible for someone who never plays pool to be this good at pool?” He whined, chalking up his pool stick to stall because he knew he was losing. “I should’ve had you hustling pool this entire time. Me and Sammy wouldn’t even need to steal credit cards anymore.” Castiel felt a small smile pull at his lips. He knew that Dean wasn’t really upset, but he was… adorable. When Dean acted like this, childish and unapologetically himself, the urge to kiss him was almost too much. Not just to kiss him, but to worship him, to make sure that he knew he was loved, mind, soul, and flesh. Castiel wasn’t sure how he was capable of loving one tiny human being so much.

Cas was staring at Dean. This wasn’t exactly a new development in their relationship, but the soft look in Cas’ eyes was driving Dean more than a little crazy. No one looked at Dean like that, like he was something worth sticking around for. And Dean wasn’t even doing anything. He wasn’t offering to save the world again, he wasn’t ganking some monster, he wasn’t even taking care of anyone. All he was doing was playing a really sh*tty game of pool, and Cas was looking at him like there’s nowhere else he would rather be. It was unsettling. But then Dean realized something as Cas got two more stripes in.

“Dammit, Cas! Stop using your grace to win. That’s not fair.” Dean pouted.

“You didn’t say I couldn’t use it.”

“Because I thought it would be obvious that that’s cheating!” Dean wanted to keep up the teasing argument, but someone tapped him on the shoulder.

“Excuse me.” A petite blonde whose hair was cut into a pristine bob was the one who had grabbed his attention. Her eyes were glassy, and she was giggling, apparently a couple of drinks into the evening. “Do you mind if we play you two next game?” As if on cue, a tall guy with red hair longer than Sam’s, wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

“Uh, sure. Actually, you can play us now, we were just messin’ around. It wasn’t a real game because someone-“ He threw a glare at Cas. “-felt the need to cheat.” The young woman glanced over at Cas’ grumpy face and laughed. Dean offered her his pool stick while reaching for another for her partner before grabbing another for himself. “You guys can rack and break, be my guest.”

“Thanks, man. I’m Jay. This is my… my date, Carey.” Jay introduced himself, grabbing all the balls from the pool tables pockets. Carey waved cutely, hugging the pool stick to her side with her other hand.

“I’m Dean.” Dean offered his hand for a firm handshake before gesturing to Cas on the other side of the table. “That’s Cas.”

“Nice hoodie.” Carey said to Cas from across the table, her voice only slightly teasing.

Dean was slightly surprised that Cas gave her a small smile. “Thank you. It was a Christmas present from Dean.”

“And now I can’t get him to take it off.” Dean muttered fondly.

He hadn’t realized that Carey had heard him until she spoke up. “I don’t blame you for wanting to get him out of clothes.” She said just loud enough for Dean to hear, nudging him with her elbow and giving him a wink. “I’m a sucker for blue eyes. That’s how Jay got me to agree to this date.”

Dean just blushed and looked away quickly before walking over to Cas. Jay kept shooting adoring glances at Carey that she didn’t return because she was too busy playing on her phone now that Dean had walked away. Dean shuffled closer to Cas, leaning in to whisper in his ear. “Listen…those two are on a date and we need to let them win so that Jay can impress Carey. So no using your powers.”

“Why?” Cas asked quizzically.

“It’ll just help the guy out.”

“I… don’t really know how to play without my grace.”

Dean was confused. “So what, it’s like autopilot as long as you’re using your grace?”

“…Something like that, yes.” Cas said, tilting his head as if that would make him understand Dean better.

“Well, lucky for us, I’ve been playing pool since before I was old enough to even get in bars. I’ll teach you. Just no cheating, okay?” Dean replied confidently.

Cas just nodded mutely, and Dean smiled at him. God he was such a dork.

Jay was pretty decent at pool. He was nowhere near as good as Dean, but he was doing a good job at making up for the fact that Carey was either awful at pool or had a few too many drinks to have the best hand-eye coordination. Jay didn’t seem to mind, he just ordered her another drink and smiled at her tenderly when her stick entirely missed the cue ball and she couldn’t stop giggling at how bad she was.

Cas wasn’t much better without his grace. Unfortunately for Dean, he wasn’t on the team of drunken giggles. Cas was getting increasingly frustrated at how bad he was without using his powers, and even though Dean kept leaning in to remind him that they were going to let Jay and Carey win anyway, Cas didn’t seem to feel any better about his lack of skills. Jay called for a time out to let Carey empty her bladder and replace her drink with water. Cas looked two seconds away from snapping his cue stick in half and smiting the pool table.

“C’mon, Cas. Calm down.” Dean nudged him and took a sip of his beer, trying to maintain the tipsiness he had earned earlier. He gave Cas a charming grin when the angel glowered at him.

“I’m so useless without powers.” Cas snapped.

Dean frowned. “Don’t say sh*t like that, Cas. You’re awesome grace or no grace. You just need to focus more.”

“How am I supposed to focus when you’re just there hovering over me-“ He stopped speaking when he realized how hard Dean was trying not to laugh.

“Go ahead, Cas.” He pointed to the solid purple four ball. “Try to get it in this pocket.” He then pointed to the bottom left pocket, the one closest to the ball.

“You told me not to cheat and Jay and Carey aren’t here.” Cas responded dubiously.

“We’re not. We’re just practicing. If you actually hit anything, I’ll stop it before it goes in and put it back where it was.” Cas glared at him grumpily but got in position and Dean snorted. “Okay, so that’s one of the problems.” He put his beer down on the edge of the table and made his way over to Cas. “You’re not holding the pool cue right. Just like with shooting. You’re too tense. You gotta relax, buddy.” Cas had stood up straight to say something to Dean, but Dean gestured for him to turn around and face the table again. Cas did begrudgingly. Dean swallowed hard. This was a bad idea.

He gently trailed his right hand over Cas’ waist to reach around him cover Cas’ hand with his own on the hilt of the pool stick, forcing Cas’ elbow closer to his side. He then took his left hand, trailing up Cas’ left arm until it came to a rest of Cas’ left hand, repositioning it closer to the cue tip so that Cas would have more control. Dean’s heart was beating so hard he was sure that Cas could feel it against his back and Dean leaned forward, causing Cas to crouch further over the table. Dean couldn’t breathe, even if he wasn’t too busy holding his breath. Dean was so f*cking stupid. His lips were just a few inches from Cas’ temple and the urge to lean in and brush them against Cas’ hairline had his hands shaking. Not to mention his hips were pressed up against Cas’ ass, nearly their entire bodies flush while he had Cas bent over, because apparently Dean was a f*cking masoch*st that wanted to make himself suffer as much as possible. What the f*ck was wrong with him? Was he just going to keep pushing his luck until Cas finally socked him in the face?

But Cas didn’t punch him. Instead, he relaxed into Dean’s touch, and there was that odd pull that they always shared surging between them. Dean was full blown trembling when he directed Cas to line his cue up with the cue ball, and he was both shocked and a little confused as to why Cas wasn’t commenting on how bad he was shaking. “Like this, Cas.” He said hoarsely, his voice not even sounding like his own in his ears.

There was a little voice in the back of Dean’s head reminding him that they were in a very crowded bar, and he was only one hip movement away from practically dry humping Cas against a pool table, but the need to touch Cas, the need to have him pressed against Dean like this was too busy distracting him from listening to it. He couldn’t even blame this on alcohol, or Djinn essence, or intimate dreams, or even truthfully teaching Cas to play pool at this point. This was all Dean, selfishly wanting to touch Cas and wanting to be touched by him. This was Dean wanting to indulge in what every atom of his body was craving, and he hated himself for it because he was taking advantage of the fact that Cas didn’t know that this was flirting, that this was Dean being wildly inappropriate.

Dean didn’t even know Jay had returned until he awkwardly cleared his throat. Both Cas and Dean were so startled that they jumped, and Dean had to pull back immediately because that was all sorts of friction against his dick that he absolutely didn’t need while pressed against Cas like that. “Sorry to interrupt. I was just letting you know that Carey and I are heading out. She had a little too much to drink and feels like she’s going to be sick so I’m taking her home.” He shook his head. “Tonight, of all nights, right?” He chuckled, and Dean laughed with him, even though he had no idea what Jay was talking about.

They said their goodbyes, and even though Dean and Cas were now both standing up straight, leaning against the pool table, there was still that weird, electrical energy pulsing between them. Their eyes met, and Dean realized it would be so easy. Being with Cas would be so effortless, so comfortable. If he were ever lucky enough to have that, he knew it would be nothing like his dream. They were more likely to get woken up by a phone call about mysterious disappearances or gruesome deaths than they were on their own accord, limbs tangled and fully rested. The apple pie life wasn’t an option for Dean, and there was a part of him that never fully wanted it. Not even with Lisa. How was he supposed to sleep at night after giving up hunting, the one thing that made him feel useful? But Dean was okay with not having a white picket fence and two and a half kids. He was willing to take whatever the universe offered him, as long as he could have this, have Cas looking at him like maybe, just maybe he felt the same way.

Dean’s phone pinged, breaking his trance. He pulled it out, his face heating up when he realized just how close he and Cas been leaning into each other. It was a picture text from Sam. Dean opened it curiously and cursed loudly when he saw the picture and read the caption, realizing what Jay meant about ‘tonight, of all nights.’ It was a picture of Cas sitting up in a hotel bed in North Carolina, flipping through a lore book on Tulpas. Dean was in bed next to him, curled into his side, snuggled up to his thigh.

Underneath the picture was a text from Sam that said Happy Valentine’s Day, guys! Hope you’re having fun. I don’t need the orange juice. :)

It was Valentine’s Day and this whole thing had been a set up. Dean was going to f*cking kill him.

Chapter 21: Shooting Star

Chapter Text

Castiel sat at the edge of his bed with a heavy, unsure sigh. Shortly after Dean received a text from Sam, their evening together was cut short. Dean’s mood had shifted entirely, and he was clearly upset, triggered by whatever it was that Sam had texted him. He and Castiel were in the Impala for no more than five minutes when Dean said that he needed to speak to Sam privately when they got back to the bunker. Dean sounded…angry, to put it lightly. His left knee had jiggled under the steering wheel nervously, and Castiel knew better than to question what he needed to speak to his brother about. Dean had remained quiet for most of the car ride but had kept shooting nervous glances at Castiel. The angel’s curiosity was almost overwhelming, but he knew better than to push Dean, especially nowadays when the human seemed always close to crawling out of his own skin.

Using his grace, Castiel could easily eavesdrop on their conversation in the map room if he felt the need to. But he respected the Wincesters’ privacy, and the last time he had eavesdropped (remaining hidden while he was working with Crowley) had not worked out in his favor. He ended up accidentally sliding information about the private conversation into conversations of his own. It was one of the many times that he found out that Dean did not appreciate being spied on. Even if he was never caught, Castiel knew he would have to carry around the guilt of betraying a loved one’s trust yet again.

He secretly wished that Sam or Dean would come to him and invite him to spend time with them after the conversation was over. As much as Dean was trying to make the bunker his home as well, Castiel felt like a ghost in its walls, wandering around aimlessly during hours of the night and early morning while Sam and Dean slept. Without them, it didn’t feel like a home. He was sure that he would always feel like a guest among humans, but at least with Sam, and Dean especially, he felt like he belonged somewhat.

The Enochian book that Sam had gotten him for Christmas caught his eye, it’s metallic lettering on the spine catching the dim light of the room just right. It was one of the many books upon a bookshelf that Dean had installed in his room. Castiel felt a little guilty that he still hadn’t gotten around to reading it, but any time reading something not pertaining to the mark felt like time wasted to him. Sam had asked him once if he read it, but when Castiel said he had been too busy, and they locked eyes, Sam just understood. Any living moment Castiel wasn’t spending with Dean, he was using to research the mark, or try to figure out what it was that Dean was doing to placate the mark. Castiel and Sam had held multiple conversations about it during times when Dean would take his very long showers. After both his outburst with the Tulpa and the vampire’s nest, it was abundantly clear that Rowena’s spell was no longer working, but Castiel knew that the mark of Cain was an evil so ancient, that whatever Dean was doing to stop his outbursts and urges that it was something profoundly bad.

The problem was that neither Castiel or Sam could figure out what Dean was doing. Sam had even gone through Dean’s room, a line Castiel could not yet bring himself to cross, to search for clues, and he came up with nothing. All Castiel knew was that Dean was different. There’s was something off about the way he smelled. It was no longer all gunpowder, apple pie, car oil, and whiskey mixed with Dean’s personal scent. It was something wrong and it drove Castiel crazy because he couldn’t place it. Almost as crazy as the guilt that Dean was clearly carrying alone. In the morning, before Dean’s first cup of coffee, his shoulders would be slouched, almost as if he wished he could condense himself to the point of disappearing entirely. He avoided eyes and when Castiel would finally be able to steal his line of vision, there was so much personal blame and pain behind glassy yet dazzling green irises. Once he was awake for a while, the walls would be back up, the façade fully restored. It caused Castiel such turmoil to know that whatever Dean was going through, he felt like he had to go through it alone. Castiel wanted to scream and shout that Dean could tell him anything, tell him everything, and Castiel would still love him more than an angel was ever supposed to be capable of. He wanted Dean to know that nothing would ever change that.

“What if he would’ve seen the text, Sam?” Dean was livid. His jaw kept clenching and unclenching as he paced the map room nervously. He was expecting some teasing from Sam. He was Dean’s little brother, being teased about being in love with Cas was a given. But Dean was not expecting Sam to try and play matchmaker.

“What’s the worst that could have happened, Dean! He knows how you feel about him?”

“EXACTLY!” Dean yelled, stopping his pacing to spin on his heels and glare at his brother.

Sam pulled a bitch face so intense that Dean could have giffed it and used it as a reaction gif on the internet. “What if he feels the same way?”

“We are not f*cking talking about this.” Dean growled.

“But what if he does?” Sam pressed. “What if he has feelings for you but is too afraid to admit it because he doesn’t know how you’ll react?” Sam raised his eyebrows.

“And if he doesn’t feel the same, everything is f*cking awkward and ruined, and I lose my best friend…again.” Dean’s voice was barely above a whisper, and he knew he sounded pitiful. He collapsed into one of the map table chairs, dropping his head to his hands as he swallowed the panic trying to claw its way to the surface. “Tell me this gets easier.” He said, muffled into his hands.

Dean felt a slight shift in the table and Sam moved closer to him to lean against it. “I can’t tell you that Dean. I don’t know if it will. I would ask you if the app is helping, but it was never supposed to.” Dean sat up straight to shoot Sam a disgusted look. Sam held up his hands placatingly. “I was hoping it would push you in the right direction. You may not be able to watch your cowboy fetish movies-“ Dean scowled. “-or tune up the Impala, or listen to the same bands over and over, or hunt with some random person in Kansas. But you can do all those things with Cas.”

“Yeah, and we can do all those things as friends.” Dean grumbled.

“You can’t tell me you don’t want more.” Sam retorted seriously. His voice was soft, encouraging.

Dean avoided his eyes. He couldn’t believe they were actually talking about this sh*t. It was making his skin crawl and his heart beat too fast. He could already feel his lungs struggling to pull in air despite how fast they were trying to heave. Talking about it made it too real, and was much harder when he was this sober, too sober. “It doesn’t matter what I want! It never has! When you become a hunter, everything you want is on the backburner. I don’t get the f*cking luxury of going after what I want, none of us do.”

“This isn’t about hunting-“

“You’re right. It’s about me being a god damn idiot. I never should have told you about any of this.” Dean was on his feet and storming out of the room before he could even process his own movement. So, back to being a jerk to people about things that were his fault again. Shocking. Dean wasn’t predictable. Nope. Not at all.

When he got to his room, he slammed the door and locked it. He didn’t have to think twice about reaching in his jacket pocket for his small Djinn juice kit.

The days changed to weeks, that bled into months surprisingly fast. Things didn’t get easier. Dean lost himself in hunting anything evil that bled and going on horrible dates from Cupid’s Arrow. He lied his way through questionnaires until he finally started matching with people. The dates never went well… for him at least. He was intentionally avoiding blue eyes and dark hair on the app, just like he was doing at home. He pretended to be interested in sh*t that bored him to death and tried being a perfect gentleman with a side of smooth flirting. It charmed the pants right off nearly every person that agreed to go on a date with him. Or it would have. He could never bring himself to go home with them. That baffled Dean. He had had feelings for people in the past, but after a while, he was able to put himself out there and get laid again. Ever since he had accepted his feelings for Cas, it just felt wrong. He had slept with plenty of people since he met Cas, it was driving him crazy that everything was so different now.

There actually was one guy caught Dean’s interest a little bit. He was kind of nerdy in a hot way, with his thick rimmed glasses, a Zelda shirt, and perpetually messy, blonde hair. His lip ring was a little much, but Dean liked how he would bite at it and play with it when he blushed after Dean laid on the flirting extra thick. He admitted that he felt like Dean was way out of his league, and that he was surprised that Dean had asked him out. It was one of the few dates that Dean was himself on, nerding out over which super heroes were the best and arguing whether Star Trek or Star Wars was better. Halfway through the date, he realized the guy (Eric? Ethan maybe?) was looking at him as if he were the entire world, completely smitten over the fact that he had landed Dean. It only reminded Dean that he was looking for a world outside of Cas, and he ended the date early when the realization made his heart clench and his stomach turn.

It didn’t matter how many dates Dean went on, or how much he tried to avoid Cas in the bunker. He still always felt that magnetic pull and ended up on the couch sitting much too close while they caught up on a show or laughing way too hard at a dry joke Cas would make while doing research, or f*cking melting over how clueless Cas was during the human interaction parts of a hunt. It always made Sam give Dean those knowing looks that pissed him off to no end.

Dean was always pissed at Sam nowadays.

When Sam wasn’t pestering the living f*ck out of Dean about Cas, he was asking about the mark of Cain. He knew something was up because Dean was ‘just different’ and wouldn’t let it go. He wasn’t buying that Dean wasn’t having any issues out of the mark. And so, they fought. A lot. Part of Sam throwing his little bitch fits was that he was going on hunts by himself. Not necessarily always alone, but without Dean. He would grab one of the Men of Letters cars and check out a case without even inviting Dean. Just last week he had helped some chick take down a ghoul and Dean didn’t even know until after he got back from the hunt. Dean knew this was his doing. He knew he was pushing Sam away with his piss poor attitude, his secrecy, his lying, and his refusal to accept any help involving Cas. But no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t talk to his brother. Admitting how he was handling the mark was admitting his hypocrisy and what an awful f*cking person he was. Talking to him about Cas was a waste of time because Sam didn’t understand everything that Dean was risking by telling Cas.

Cas had already started spending more time outside the bunker too. Dean knew it was with Ariel, and Dean tried really f*cking hard to be happy for Cas if there was something going on there. Cas must have known that Dean was suspecting something, because he kept assuring Dean that he and Ariel were simply looking for someone. He would never tell Dean who it was or why they were looking for the person or angel. So now Cas was keeping secrets from Dean, and the whole thing was just f*cked up. The whole thing had Dean f*cked up. Between Sam’s cold shoulder, and Cas suddenly on some secret James Bond mission, Dean felt alone, even if they were both at the bunker. So very alone.

Dean wasn’t sure when things changed. He couldn’t recall the week, or even the exact month when things shifted. But one day he realized that he was no longer just injecting the Djinn essence when the mark was acting up. He was doing it to stop panic attacks. He was doing it to get outside of his own head. He was doing it to have short glimpses of dreams where Cas was actually his. He was doing it to sleep better at night. He was doing it when he felt alone. He was doing it every day.

He used so little and there was so much in the vials that he hadn’t even realized how much of it he had burned through since he started injecting. His arms were littered with ugly track marks that made him nauseous to look at. He would spend too long in the shower scrubbing at them as if he could one day wash them away. It was a slippery slope, going from using it when he needed it, to using it because he needed it. When he noticed just how bad things had gotten, he tried to stop doing it. His skin would itch, and his pores would sweat. His hands would shake, and his stomach would cramp with nausea. Sometimes he felt so weak that even lifting an arm above his head caused the muscles to ache. He felt like he had been hit by a derailing train, and yet somehow, he was also the train.

And that didn’t even include the mark of Cain hitting him at full force. It didn’t include the loud hum in his head and the whispering voice trying to convince him to kill even when there wasn’t a monster, to take and take and take until there was nothing else left to give the ancient evil.

Dean made it three days. He made it three days before it was too much, and he grabbed a needle. Sam was gone, inevitably on some hunt being pissed at how weird Dean had been over the past couple of days. Cas was outside, tending to his bees or something equally endearing that made Dean’s heart ache. Dean’s hands were shaking so bad that the first couple of drops of Djinn juice missed the syringe entirely and hit the floor like silent raindrops. He grimaced, willing his hands to steady long enough to just get this over with. He didn’t want to do it. Not again. But everything hurt and he just needed the mark to shut the f*ck and needed to stop thinking for five seconds. This time, the affects weren’t immediate, and Dean panicked. He stared at the empty syringe in confusion. Every other time, he had felt different, felt lighter, once he had emptied the syringe into his vein. Was it because it was building up a tolerance? Or because he had gone three days without it, and the mark was so angry after his last hunt? What if it stopped working completely when they were no closer to finding a cure? What if he hurt someone? What if he killed someone?

Dean didn’t think it through. He just refilled the syringe, and using the same needle, struggled to find a vein with still shaking hands. He emptied the Djinn essence into his body as quickly as he could and waited with an anxious, heaving chest. What was he going to do if this, his last resort, no longer worked?

The Djinn essence hit him like a crashing plane, both injections of it. He tripped towards his bed, but he knew something was wrong. Very wrong. Where he normally immediately felt calmer, freer, happier, the tight, crushing feeling in his chest wasn’t going away despite the sudden onslaught of endorphins making him high. His heart was beating against he chest painfully and he couldn’t breathe. At first, he thought he was just having another panic attack, because he had been having a damn near embarrassing amount of those lately since the Djinn juice had become a crutch and he had a hard time coping without it. But something felt off. Felt wrong. He managed to stumble to his bed, collapsing into it facedown, and kept trying to swallow down the wave of nausea that hit him, but his mouth was too dry to swallow. He felt himself heave, and he knew he was going to be sick. He tried to force himself out of the bed but felt too weak and his vision was blacking out. His body heaved again, and he threw up all over himself and his sheets, making it more difficult for him to breathe. His throat and sinuses burned with stomach acid, and his vision blurred, and he wasn’t sure if it was from the drugs or the tears he could feel forming. Something was very wrong. He collapsed back on the bed after struggling to push himself up, not having a focused enough mind to be disgusted that he was literally lying in a puddle of his own vomit. His heart beat was starting to slow finally, but it felt too slow, and Dean could feel himself sliding out of consciousness, his tunnel of vision getting smaller and smaller. He was trying to fight it, but he was suddenly so tired. He began coughing and felt himself foaming at the mouth. He was vaguely aware of the amulet necklace that Sam had given him digging into his collarbone from how he had landed on his bed. Despite feeling himself slipping, he clung to the sensations of the little amulet’s horns digging into his skin. Dean wasn’t clueless. He knew what this was. This was an overdose. He had been too panicked to think about the fact that he was injecting twice the amount that he normally did. He was going to die without apologizing to Sam. Without saying goodbye to Donna and Jody, or teasing Claire or Alex one last time. Without telling Cas how he felt. His eyes slipped closed, and with the last ounce of energy he had left, he prayed to Cas.

Castiel was holding his favorite bee, Bumbledore (named by a highly amused Dean), when he heard it. It was a fuzzy, strained, desperate prayer from Dean, and it was just one word. “Cas.” He replaced the bee in its hive using his grace, and took flight to the bunker’s entrance, his wings carrying him much faster than his legs could. He cursed the warding on the bunker, having to throw the door open by hand and run down the stairs to Dean’s room, the sigils preventing him from flying straight to Dean. Dean’s prayer had been so weak and desperate.

When Castiel reached Dean’s bedroom, he nearly wrenched the door off its hinges as he ripped it open. If Dean’s panicked prayer hadn’t revealed that something was horribly wrong, the scene on the other side of the door did. Dean was face down on his bed in his own vomit unmoving, foam dribbling out of the corner of his mouth. Castiel was at his side immediately. Dean was not breathing and did not have a pulse. Fear and heartbreak like Castiel had not felt in a long time pulsed through his being, making his chest tight and painful. Losing Dean never became easier. It didn’t matter how it happened, or how temporary it was. Nothing Castiel had ever experienced was ever as painful as losing Dean. Nothing ever made Castiel feel more human than Dean.

Instead of placing two fingers to Dean’s forehead like he normally would, Castiel placed his entire trembling palm to Dean’s head, the flesh of his hand lighting up blue as he pushed his grace forward to bring Dean back, to push life back into him. His hand tremored violently against Dean’s skin. Castiel thanked his Father that he had been rationing his grace since it had been restored because the terrifying thought of not having enough to bring Dean back was at the forefront of his mind. He couldn’t lose Dean. Not again. Not like this.

The lit-up grace in Castiel’s palm spluttered and he only pushed harder, focused more. Dean suddenly made a terrible hacking sound, his body lurching with the force of the cough. Relief washed over Castiel so fast it was dizzying. He used more of his grace to clean off both Dean and his bed, before gently lifting the hunter and turning him over so that he could get the reassurance from Dean’s moving chest that he was actually breathing. Seeing the slow rise and fall of Dean’s chest under his grey Henley brought Castiel to his knees. He had saved Dean and managed to do it before Dean had the opportunity to come back as a demon. He dropped to the floor, his grace too weakened to bother fighting it. He let his forehead fall to Dean’s arm in relief, the skin still too cool for it to be comforting, and that’s when Castiel saw it.

The inner flesh of Dean’s arm where his forearm met his bicep was littered with little, angry red dots. Castiel cautiously dragged his index finger over them as the gears began grinding in his head. He had been so panicked, so terrified of finding Dean in such a bad state that he hadn’t even allowed his brain to process what could have possibly caused it. The little red marks where the home of injection sites. Dean had been doing drugs. That was how he had been fighting the mark. “Dean…” Cas whispered empathetically, his finger still stroking over the evidence of Dean’s coping mechanism. Castiel wanted to bring his lips to every mark, to reassure Dean that there was another way and that they would find it, together. Castiel swallowed hard, almost choking on the knot forming in his throat. Had Dean intentionally tried to take his own life or had it been an accident?

Castiel stood, his legs weak and wobbly and glanced around the room, his eyes almost immediately falling on a small protective carrying case on the nightstand. He lifted it, the zipper already opened, and inspected it. It was neatly organized with syringes, needles, and vials of swirling blue liquid. Castiel gripped the kit so tightly that his knuckles turned white and his fists shook. This is why Dean had smelled different. This was Djinn magic, and Castiel had been too mindless and foolish and helplessly in love to realize that Dean was suffering in silence and abusing evil magic to cope with the mark of Cain. Castiel’s palms began to glow blue again, feeling compelled to smite the drug kit to dust, when a raspy voice interrupted his thoughts.

“Cas?” Dean croaked, his throat raw. He tried to sit up and failed, still too weak. Castiel had enough grace to bring him back and sober him, but not fully restore his strength. “Cas I can explain.” Dean looked petrified. His shoulders were trembling as he tried again to push himself up on his elbows.

A whirlwind of thoughts struck Castiel all at once. He was angry and wanted to yell at Dean for being idiotic. He wanted to curse and blame the Djinn essence. He wanted to demand answers from his Father. He wanted to demand answers from Dean. He wanted to cry from both pain and relief. He wanted to deny that Dean would ever actually do this to himself. He wanted to kiss that worried look of Dean’s face. But Castiel didn’t do any of those things. Instead, he let the kit slip from his hands, the soft fabric clattering softly against the end table and he was immediately climbing on to Dean’s bed, pulling him in for a hug.

Dean didn’t hug back, still too weak, and even coughed a little against a lapel on Castiel’s trench coat, but Castiel didn’t mind. Dean was alive. That was all that mattered. They could deal with the drug abuse later, Castiel first needed to feel Dean in his arms, feel him living and breathing. “I thought I lost you.” He mumbled gruffly against Dean’s hair. “My grace was weaker than I thought it was, and I was afraid I couldn’t bring you back.”

“B-bring me back?” Dean asked. When Castiel pulled back, Dean’s beautiful green eyes were wide and red rimmed with confusion and terror. “I wasn’t- I didn’t-“

“Dean.” Castiel said slowly, and as calmly as his nerves would allow. Dean was getting twitchy and avoiding his eyes. “I… I know. About the Djinn magic. You… you overdosed.”

Dean’s eyes only widened further, his mouth opening and closing wordlessly a few times before he could finally speak. “I didn’t mean to- I mean I wasn’t trying to- Cas you have to believe me. I wasn’t trying to kill myself I just… I wanted…” Dean eyes dropped to his lap, unable to explain himself, his chest rising and falling in panic.

Castiel placed a comforting hand on Dean’s shoulder while the hunter bit back tears. “Dean… how could you do this to yourself?” Castiel got no warning before Dean’s panic turned to anger, his eyes narrowing bitterly as he once again struggled to sit up properly, knocking Castiel’s hand off.

“Do this to myself? This wasn’t about me, dumbass. This was about everyone else. You saw what I was turning into Cas. Hell, you were on the receiving end of it. I…I had to do something! What if I would’ve hurt you? What if I would have hurt Sam?!”

Castiel’s own whirlwind of emotions decided to take a pitstop at anger too. “You were worried about hurting Sam and I? As if finding you facedown, dead, doesn’t hurt? I was able to bring you back. What if Sam would have found you instead? What if neither of us would have found you before you came back as a demon?”

Dean’s angry expression dropped to a dangerously emotionless one. “f*ck you, Cas. Do you think I want to do that sh*t?” He motioned aggressively to the kit. “Do you think I want to spend every night dreaming about exactly what I want, only to wake up and find out that none of it is true? Seriously, f*ck you. I did this because we’re no closer to figuring out how to get rid of the mark, and I almost killed my own brother in a f*cking nest of vampires. And you know damn well if things get bad enough, I wouldn’t hesitate to kill you too. I…I can’t do that. I can’t hurt the people I care about. Not again.” Castiel stood abruptly, his fists clenching and unclenching thoughtfully. He grabbed the kit off Dean’s nightstand and shoved it in his trench coat pocket. Dean was actually able to weakly swing his legs over the side of his bed when he tried to get up this time. “What are you doing?”

“I’m leaving.” He narrowed his eyes at Dean. “And I’m bringing the Djinn essence with me. My grace should have gotten rid of any lingering traces of it in your body. It’ll buy us some time while I search harder for a cure.” He didn’t mention the lengths he was about to go in his search for Dean

“So, what, you’re just going to leave?” Dean spat angrily. “Not even let me in on the little secret missions you’ve been going on with your girlfriend Ariel that you claim are about the mark?” Castiel opened his mouth to interrupt, to correct Dean, but Dean kept ranting. “You know what? Just f*cking go. I don’t need you and I don’t need Sammy.” His voice cracked as he said the words, making it abundantly clear that he very much needed someone, now more than ever.

Castiel knew it was a terrible idea, but he shuffled closer to Dean, taking the hunter’s face in his hands. Dean’s eyes widened in panic but Castiel spoke before he could freak out. “I’m leaving for you, Dean. I will do whatever it takes to save you from the mark. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone. But please understand that this is for you. I am not abandoning you, and I’m always just a phone call or a prayer away.” Castiel hesitated, the impulse to lean down and kiss Dean goodbye was overwhelming. Instead, he just stroked his thumbs over Dean’s day-old stubble gently. Dean’s wide eyes were watching him unblinkingly, a look of pure awe on his face. Castiel gave in to his impulse, but instead of kissing Dean on the lips, he planted a gentle kiss to Dean’s forehead before turning and leaving without another word.

Chapter 22: Long Live the King

Chapter Text

Castiel knew he was too early for his meeting with Ariel, but he was too anxious to be bothered by it as he entered the café. He had kissed Dean on the forehead before leaving him. He had done a lot of stupid things during his time on earth, but that had to be one of the worst ones. He was an angel of the Lord, he should have better self-control. Had Dean known what he meant by the kiss? Had he known that it was the only thing Castiel could do to stop himself from bringing their lips together? Seeing Dean struggling so much broke something in Castiel. Dean had seemed so weak and vulnerable when he brought up Castiel leaving, like Castiel was abandoning him. Dean was scared. The human hadn’t been wrong, they weren’t any closer to finding a cure for the mark, finding Rowena, or getting back The Book of the Damned. Castiel fidgeted with one of the buttons on his trench coat as soon as he took a seat on the zabuton, wiggling his socked toes beneath him. Ariel insisted on meeting at a new location every time, and this Japanese café in San Francisco just so happened to have her favorite matcha tea.

If Castiel wasn’t so distracted, he would be able to appreciate the authenticity of the café. He wasn’t sure who owned the business, but all the Japanese on the scrolls hanging on the wall next to him was correct in both grammar and characters, the zabuton wasn’t cheap, nor was the silk it was wrapped in, and the hostess had asked him to remove his shoes at the door. Ariel often surprised him with the places she wanted to meet. Sometimes they were small, hole-in-the-wall cafés, while other times they were expensive, elaborate restaurants. His favorite location had been a restaurant and opera in Rome, and yet Ariel still clearly had judged him when he suggested a Biggerson’s one time, teasing him about being uncultured for an angel that had been around since before humans developed culture.

Castiel felt Ariel’s presence and as soon as she flew to the location, just outside, avoiding the sight of humans as to not alarm them with her sudden appearance. Despite knowing she was there and would be seated with him shortly, he flinched when she gracefully took her seat in front of him. He couldn’t stop thinking about Dean, and it left him on edge, left him struggling to make eye contact with her.

“Castiel.” Ariel said in a greeting. “You said we needed to meet immediately, but you appear just fine. What’s the emergency?”

I kissed Dean Winchester. Castiel thought, and nearly blurted out, but he just shook his head. “We need to find Gabriel. The Mark of Cain is affecting Dean more than we originally thought.”

A waitress dropped a cup of tea off to Ariel, greeting her in a way that Castiel knew she frequented the establishment. Ariel thanked her in perfect, fluent Japanese and waited until she walked away before continuing the conversation. “I suppose you’ve finally found out what your boy toy was doing to stop the mark?” She quirked an eyebrow and gave him an amused smirk as she sat her tea down and tucked her hair behind her ear.

Castiel rolled his eyes at the term ‘boy toy’. The more time they spent together, the more often Ariel teased him about Dean. He knew that it was friendly, and that they had even spent enough time now for Ariel to consider him a friend, but Dean was always the focal point of her teasing and never failed to mention just how fascinating she thought Castiel’s relationship with Dean was. Ariel had always admired humans, but never took the time to form relationships with them like Castiel had.

“He was using extracted Djinn magic. We haven’t fought a Djinn in a very long time, so I suppose he found it within the Men of Letters bunker… experimenting with Djinn essence isn’t entirely unheard of. I’m sure he found something about it in the Men of Letters archive and felt compelled to give it a shot.” Castiel shook his head, hearing his voice crack. Dean was alive now, and it still didn’t make the too-fresh memory any easier. “He took too much. I…I had to bring him back.”

Ariel had picked up her tea, but immediately sat it back down, her eyes full of sympathy. “I’m sorry, Castiel. Is he okay?”

“He is now. My grace cleared any traces of the magic from his blood. But I’m afraid if we don’t do something soon, he’ll turn to it again, or turn to something worse to keep the mark’s urges at bay. We must find Gabriel. Soon.” Castiel said, his urgency clear in his tone. They were running out of options and it wouldn’t be long before all they had left was chaining Dean up in the Men of Letters dungeon.

Ariel sighed and firmly pressed her lips together in a tight line as she carefully thought of her words. “What if Gabriel isn’t alive?” She asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “I know all signs are pointing to him still being alive… but what if he’s not? What are we going to do, Castiel?”

Castiel raised an eyebrow. “We?”

Ariel blushed a little but quickly composed herself. “You know that I’ve avoided our brothers and sisters since leaving Heaven. Even though I often prefer to be alone… it got lonely, quickly. I started spending more time with humans the longer I was on earth. Little things. Chatting with a cashier at a store. Asking a stranger in the park what they’re reading. Watching someone give their last dollar to someone else in need… and while I can’t quite see why Dean Winchester is so special, I can see where you would want to protect humanity. I’m invested in this now. So yes, ‘we’.”

Castiel thought for a moment, his eyes intently searching Ariel’s, checking beyond her human form to her vessel. It wasn’t always possible to see the honesty of another angel, but Ariel had been honest with him their entire time together since their first meeting. She was neutral, she didn’t side with Heaven or earth, she just wanted there to be peace on both, and she knew it was impossible until the Mark of Cain was under control. Even now, she knew that the fact that the possibility of Gabriel being dead wasn’t what he wanted to hear, but it was what he needed to hear in case they needed to form another plan. His perfect posture slouched from his sudden worry. “I didn’t think about the possibility that Gabriel could be truly dead since we’ve been searching for him for so long. It felt like our only option.” He didn’t vocalize it, but if Gabriel was dead or if they were unable to find him, there only option was to open the cage if they needed an archangel. Despite the friendship that he and Ariel had formed, she would not support this decision. The only person that possibly would, would be Sam, if Sam was desperate enough when it came to saving Dean. Castiel knew that all that it would take to invoke that desperation would be to tell Sam about Dean’s latest ‘coping mechanism’, but it wasn’t Castiel’s place to tell Sam. A part of him was torn, feeling like Sam needed to know as Dean’s brother, but he was hoping they could find a solution before Dean ever felt the need to abuse Djinn magic again. Castiel had saved Dean from so many things before, and he wanted to save Dean from this too.

“We’ll cross that bridge if we ever have to get to it.” Ariel replied softly, noticing that Castiel was quickly losing himself in thought. She took a small sip of her tea. “I have an idea. I don’t like it, and I know you won’t either. But it’s something.” Castiel raised his eyebrows in a motion for her to continue. “I did some poking around…in Heaven. It was the first time I entered beyond just a short visit in years. I was curious about how things were being ran since you’re refusing to lead the other angels. You know how most of us are, Castiel. Too many of us need leadership. If you weren’t taking up the mantle for them, I knew someone had to be. They’re willing to turn to just about anyone to be their leader if they’re scared enough…” Ariel squirmed a bit. “…including Naomi.”

“That’s impossible.” Castiel growled immediately. “I killed her.”

“Not from what I heard.” Ariel shrugged, not unkindly. “While many angels don’t like you, I’m still neutral. No one in Heaven knows I’m working with you, and so no one had any reason to lie to me. I didn’t see her myself, but quite a few of my sources said that she’s the angel in charge again. With just you and I looking for Gabriel…It’s taking too long. If Naomi is running Heaven and we could get her to agree, she could send out an entire fleet-“

“And you think she wouldn’t betray us?” Castiel spat angrily. “You don’t think she would try to kill Gabriel if she felt like he threatened her throne?”

Ariel stared at Castiel for a moment. He knew she was waiting for him to calm down. His anger was not at her. But he also knew that despite Ariel’s disdain towards Heaven since their Father had left, she never once turned off angel radio, she had to know why trusting Naomi was a monumentally bad idea. She had to have heard the gossip that spread like wild fire when Castiel’s mind was finally his own again after Noami had dug her fingers into it. Ariel pressed her lips together in thought for a moment before speaking. “There’s no way for me to say this and it not sound cruel. You weren’t the first angel Heaven ‘reset’, and you most likely won’t be the last. Brainwashing is hardly the worst thing another angel has done to you. Why such a hatred for Naomi?”

Castiel swallowed hard. The truth would give Ariel more fodder to tease him about Dean, and after leaving Dean like he had earlier, he wasn’t sure he could take it. But there was a sincere, nonjudgmental curiosity in Ariel’s light brown eyes, and Castiel found himself speaking anyway. “When she…when she was brain washing me, she trained me to kill Dean. She made copies of him and had me kill him, over and over, mercilessly until I finally stopped fighting it. When she was done, I didn’t even hesitate, the copies would beg me to stop and I still ended their lives without even batting an eye. I looked Dean in the eyes and murdered him over and over.”

Ariel looked pale, but then her expression softened to something warm and knowing. It made Castiel want to squirm. “You couldn’t kill the real Dean. Despite all the brainwashing and training, you couldn’t do it.” Castiel shook his head grimly, his thoughts still dark as he considered the regret that he would never be able to let go if he had killed Dean. “We’ll save him, Castiel.” She said firmly.

“I know.” Castiel replied. “Because I won’t stop until we do.”

Dean was pretty sure Sam was talking about the case involving a shapeshifter that he had just helped a hunter named Eileen wrap up, but Dean wasn’t paying attention. He was in the front seat of the Impala, stuffing a double bacon cheeseburger in his mouth even though the thought of food turned his stomach and tasted like ash in his mouth. Normal. He had to act normal. He had to act like Cas hadn’t just found him dead in his own vomit a couple of hours earlier. He had to act like Cas definitely didn’t give him a kiss on the forehead before he left. A really sweet, tender, thoughtful kiss that still had Dean reeling. It had taken every ounce of Dean’s will not to wrap his arms around Cas’ neck and haul him in for a real kiss. Dean had to remind himself that the kiss wasn’t as significant to Cas, that Cas was an angel and didn’t mean anything by it. Cas was just trying to be reassuring. People sometimes kiss other people on the forehead when they’re being reassuring. Hell, he had done it to Jo all those years ago to reassure her that she wasn’t alone and that she was loved before she died. Cas hadn’t actually meant-

“Dean!” Sam yelled, a prissy, bitchy look on his face. He was eating his own burger in the passenger seat and had clearly realized Dean wasn’t listening. “Have you heard a word I’ve said?”

Dean balled up the wrapped to his burger and crammed it back in the empty paper bag between him and his brother, scrubbing his hand down his face for a moment. “Uh, yeah. Eileen. Hunter chick that you’re learning sign language for that Donna introduced you to. She seems pretty cool.”

“I haven’t brought up Eileen in the past ten minutes, and I already know some sign language from an ASL assignment I did at Stanford. I mean, it’s not a lot but… anyway, I was asking you where Cas is.”

Dean froze but tried to play it off. Not only was he overthinking the stupid f*cking forehead kiss, but he had been so distracted by it that he had completely forgotten to beg Cas not to tell Sam about the Djinn juice. He was pretty sure Cas wouldn’t. Cas and Sam were close, but he and Cas shared that profound bond or whatever that made Cas more likely to side with Dean. Even though he knew Cas wouldn’t tell Sam unless he felt like he absolutely had to, Dean was still on edge. “Uh, I’m not sure. Angel business is all I know.” He strummed his fingers against the steering wheel nervously. Dean was terrified. What was Cas willing to sacrifice to get rid of the mark? He had already lied, already worked with a witch reading The Book of the Damned, what else was Cas willing to do?

Cas’ voice replayed in Dean’s head for the millionth time in the last few hours, reminding him that Cas was only a phone call or a prayer away. Dean could pray to him right now, and he could zap into the back seat of the Impala before Dean even said ‘amen’. But there was no way in hell Dean was doing that, not when it made him feel like a needy teenage girl asking ‘so, what are we?’ after the first date. He would just talk to Cas whenever he came back. Dean cranked the Impala and kept the windows down, the warm spring weather creeping in. He pointedly ignored the way Sam was looking him as they pulled out of the Burger King parking lot, but it apparently wasn’t enough to keep Sam from poking.

“Dean…what did you do?” He asked, keeping his tone even.

“What the hell do you mean? What did I do?” Dean growled, keeping his eyes glued firmly to the road that rolled on in front of the Impala, his grip on the steering wheel flexing.

Sam huffed out a sigh that sounded a lot like a laugh. “Cas isn’t here, and you’re being all…weird and avoidant. Did something happen between you guys while I was hunting with Eileen?”

“I’m not being ‘weird and avoidant’.” Dean snapped. “He’s just off doing angel sh*t with Ariel and he’s all secretive about it, so I don’t know what the f*ck to tell you.” His jaw clenched, but he saw an opening and he took it. “Why are you so concerned about me and Cas anyway? I feel like I should be asking you questions about this Eileen chick. You’ve been hunting with her a lot.” Dean finally took his eyes off the road and was shocked to see a blush painting his brother’s face. He was mostly just being a dick, he didn’t realize his comment may have hit home.

“Uh… well…” Sam stammered.

“Oh my god. You actually like her, don’t you?” Dean teased, grinning.

“We don’t really know each other-“

“Is my baby brother actually becoming a man? Developing feelings for a woman? Oh man, they grow up so fast…It’s like just yesterday I was changing your gross ass diapers…” Dean mocked until Sam shoved him grumpily, causing Dean to swerve a little as he barked out a laugh.

Dean grinned and tried to keep his smile from falling as he wondered why things couldn’t always be like this. Things were still tense between him and Sam, but they always fell back to this, moments where they weren’t hunters, they weren’t the two people responsible for saving the world, they were just brothers. Dean selfishly wondered if there would be less and less of these moments if Sam really was interested in Eileen romantically. The thought wouldn’t be so scary if he could count on Cas to be there, because for whatever f*cking reason, he couldn’t be alone, but even though Cas lived at the bunker now he never stayed. At least not for long. Dean thought about praying to the angel again, or at least shooting him a text, but instead he swallowed hard and turned up the radio when his cassette played Creedence Clearwater Revival.

Crowley placed his elbow on his throne’s armrest, resting his chin on his knuckles. Natasha, one of his least favorite demons was rambling on about soul intake, and he couldn’t care less. Hell was flourishing, no one was getting too soul greedy, and his hellhounds were well fed. The numbers didn’t matter. He was relieved when David, another of his useless henchmen came bursting through the doors unceremoniously. He knew David must have good news or he wouldn’t dare interrupt so rudely.

“Crowley, sir, we found her!” David exclaimed, his stride confident, his head held high.

Behind David, two other demons were dragging Rowena, her small frame struggling against the firm grip they had on her arms. Her bright red hair was a flurry of color and she tried to pull away from them with all her might. She wasn’t going anywhere. The demons were easily twice her size and they had her cuffed, making it impossible for her to use a spell. Crowley smirked and sat up straight, waving a hand to dismiss Natasha. “Ah, mother! What a pleasure for you to decide to stop by!”

“Fergus, I demand that you make these oafs unhand me right now!” She replied shrilly. Crowley frowned. Her thick Scottish accent was like nails on a chalkboard. Maybe he should have just directed the demons to feed her to the dogs once they found her.

Crowley chose to ignore her as David spoke up again. “We found her in some small town right outside of Portland. She was trying to start a coven.” An amused smile spread across David’s face. “The other local witches didn’t take her seriously.”

“They took me seriously when their houses went up in flames-“

“And the book?” Crowley interrupted Rowena, speaking to David.

“She tried to hide it, but we found it in her hotel room.”

Crowley nodded and tapped his index finger against the arm rest, thinking. He motioned to a rickety table and chair a few yards away from his thrown. “Chain her up there and bring me the book.”

“You expect me to sit there?” Rowena asked rhetorically, her lip curled up in disgust as the two demons holding her hauled her over to the table.

“You getting a splinter is the least of my worries.”

Rowena immediately started complaining as Crowley’s goons began chaining her to the table and Crowley rolled his eyes. It was going to be a long day.

Crowley flipped through the latest issue of Cosmopolitan magazine with one hand, his other hand brandishing a bright red co*cktail. He raised it to his mouth carefully so that the pitchfork shaped co*cktail fork wouldn’t poke him in the nose. His mother let out another long, loud, exaggerated sigh from her table, the third one in the past fifteen minutes. Crowley looked up at her. Her eyes were glued to The Book of the Damned, her expression bored. She insisted that there was nothing in the book about the removal of the Mark of Cain, but Crowley was making her check again. If there was, he wanted to be able to use it against the Winchesters, especially after the little stunt that Sam had pulled when he tried to kill him with the hex bag. Rowena let out another sigh, this one louder than the last.

“Is there something you would like to say, mother?” Crowley snapped, his patience running thin.

Rowena pulled the ribbon bookmark to the page she was on and closed the book with a snap, feigning innocence. “I just don’t know why you would have a witch as powerful as me wasting away her time rereading The Book of the Damned. That’s all.”

Crowley tossed back the rest of his drink. One of his demons immediately took the empty martini glass and headed towards the kitchen to get him a refill. “A waste? In case you haven’t noticed, the Winchesters are the most valuable players on the board. Having them in my debt, being able to summon them for a favor whenever I would like-“

“If you say so.” Rowena snorted, tossing a red lock behind her shoulders.

Crowley narrowed his eyes at her. She was baiting him. He knew it. He took the bait anyway. “And what’s wrong with my plan?”

“Oh, Fergus. You always say your plans are to benefit you, or benefit Hell in the future. But what you’re really doing is trying to figure out a way to keep Sam and Dean around. When you were off galivanting around with Dean when he was a demon, it made you soft. Even if I could find a way to remove the Mark of Cain in this damned book, you would never actually use it against the Winchesters. You care-“ she nose scrunched up in disgust at the word. “-about them too much.”

Glaring at her, Crowley took in his mother’s opinion. She was right, to a certain extent, of course. During Dean’s time as a demon, he and Crowley had bonded, and Dean had been the closest thing that Crowley had to a friend for decades, possibly even hundreds of years. But Dean was no longer a demon, and his priorities were no longer the same. As soon as the mark was out of the picture, all that was left for Sam and Dean to do was go after demons, his demons. Crowley looked to his henchmen standing on both sides of his throne, and they were both pointedly looking anywhere but at him. They clearly agreed with Rowena and didn’t want their opinions to be asked. Crowley was really going soft.

“And what do you suppose I do?” He asked. His mother’s opinion was irrelevant, but her ideas weren’t always awful. He was leading the entire underworld, he couldn’t have everyone thinking he wouldn’t peel the flesh from their bones because they thought he would cave to the Winchester’s every request.

“Kill Sam and Dean. As long as they’re alive, they’ll continue to hunt people like us. They won’t hesitate to kill me-“

“That’s what I’m betting on.”

“-and they won’t hesitate to kill you.” A smirk suddenly spread across Rowena’s lips. “Dear Sam Winchester, he didn’t even have to think twice about giving you that hex bag. It may have been my idea, but he was all for the delivery of it, my dear.”

Crowley schooled his facial features even though Rowena’s words rang true. He wasn’t surprised when Sam had tried to kill him. Sam would do anything to save Dean, just as Dean would do anything to save Sam. Their unhealthy codependency was something that he had long sense figured out.

“Oh, kill them. I’ve definitely never thought about that. Especially since when they die, they come back. Every! Bloody! Time!” Crowley yelled.

Rowena didn’t react to Crowley’s anger. Instead, she said. “This time we use The Book of the Damned to make sure they stay dead. There’s a hex known as the ‘what’s dead should stay dead’ curse. If I use it on them, the next time they die will be the last time they die. But first! We have to take care of something else.”

Crowley impatiently tapped his fingers against the armrest. “What’s that?”

“Getting rid of the wee handsome angel, of course. He’s far too dedicated to the Winchesters and won’t let us touch a hair on their pretty little heads.”

“In case you’ve forgotten, I’m the King of Hell, and he’s an angel. That’s easier said than done. If I knew of a way to kill him, I would’ve offed Feathers years ago.” Crowley responded with an eyeroll.

Rowena smirked proudly, uncrossing and crossing her legs again. “We don’t need to kill him. We just need to trap him.” Rowena saw Crowley open his mouth to interrupt but talked over him. “Not in holy oil. It won’t keep him long enough.” Rowena was practically basking in pride, clearly proud of whatever plan she had come up with. “When I was imprisoned, I overheard Sam telling the Charlie girl about a collector, someone who specialized in collecting and keeping magical beings captive.”

“Cuthbert Sinclair. He’s dead. Dean Winchester chopped his head off with the First Blade. I was there.” Crowley stated. Based on the confident, prideful air about his mother, she already knew this, and his interest was piqued.

“Ah, yes. But we have The Book of the Damned, filled with page after page of dark magic. We could bring him back. You and I both know his soul is around here somewhere. I’m sure he’d love to get his hands on the Winchesters’ feathered friend. I was under the impression that he had quite the zoo before Dean killed him, but I’m sure he’s never been able to collect an angel.” Rowena raised a challenging eyebrow at her son as if asking him to argue why it was a bad idea.

Crowley sighed and smirked. “I knew there was a reason I kept you alive, mother.”

Rowena’s plan wasn’t entirely thought out, which didn’t surprise Crowley. It was why her plans often failed. She hadn’t actually thought past Cuthbert Sinclair capturing Castiel, or how to get him to even agree to the plan once his soul was returned to a body. Luckily, Crowley had two factors that smoothed out the plan significantly. The first important thing that he had access to, was a very old voicemail on his phone left by Dean, saying that he needed help. The second was Castiel’s phone number from where he had tried to contact Crowley about the mark in a ditch effort a few months ago. He knew the angel well enough to know that’s all he needed to be in absolute control. If Castiel felt like Dean was in danger, he would blindly run to him without thinking things through thoroughly. And Crowley’s demons thought he had gone soft for the hunter.

Crowley sat Cuthbert Sinclair’s soul down next to Rowena’s bowl of ingredients. It was floating around a dirty old mason jar, but Cuthbert wouldn’t have room to complain when he was getting a second chance at life. Of course, the magic came with a price, and anyone in Cuthbert’s bloodline would be cursed for all eternity, but it was a detail that no one needed to be bothered with at the moment. Sinclair was so fixated on collecting a zoo of creatures that Crowley highly doubted he would be spending much time sowing his wild oats once returned to a body.

Rowena added the ingredients to her bowl slowly, her eyes scanning over the page in The Book of the Damned carefully. One wrong ingredient, or one ingredient added in the incorrect order could cause catastrophic events to take place. Knocking the earth off its axis wasn’t exactly what they were aiming for right now. When she was done, she handed an enchanted dagger to him, and motioned for him to give his sacrifice to complete the first part of the spell. Crowley took the blade, bringing it to his forearm and slicing into the skin without so much as a flinch. Blood oozed from the wound, dribbling across his skin until it dripped off into the bowl. Rowena immediately snatched it back, the last ingredient pinched between her thumb, index, and middle finger. She reread the last passage one last time, looking at the ground up wendigo fang dust between her fingers to make sure she had enough. She took a deep breath and spoke in perfect Latin. “Surge, o anima condemnabitar. Redire ex qua venesti!” She rubbed her fingers together, causing the dust to drop into the bowl. It immediately burst into purple flames before burning out completely.

Crowley and Rowena both turned to face the painted sigil on the floor a few yards away from them. It’s round shape and symbols were now glowing in the same shade of purple, gradually getting brighter and brighter until they both had to shield their eyes. When they blinked the stars from their vision, Cuthbert Sinclair was standing in the middle of the sigil, looking around curiously.

“Hello, Cuthbert.” Crowley said, a little anxiously. Cuthbert’s eyes immediately zeroed in on Crowley. “It’s good to see you again.”

Cuthbert tilted his head curiously. “Magnus. I prefer Magnus. I can’t return the sentiment. If I recall correctly, you had a part in why I should be dead right now.” He crossed his arms, his expensive suit creasing at the elbows.

“And I’m also the reason you’re alive now. It seems that I may have made a mistake when I helped the Winchesters all that time ago, so I’m here to make it up to you.”

“By bringing me back? How did you manage that?” He peered around Crowley to check Rowena out, his eyes resting on the book in front of her. Her chains clanked loudly as she nervously and instinctually tried to hide behind Crowley a little more.

“You were good at magic, but it turns out my mother is a little better. Good enough to bring you back, at least.”

“And what’s the catch? You helped Dean Winchester kill me. Why void that decision?” Magnus couldn’t hide the curious glint in his eyes, his interest piqued.

“I feel as though we could…mutually benefit one another. You want a collection of the best of the best magical creatures, and I’m sure you had nearly all of them before our…misunderstanding. I have a place. In Boise, Idaho. I don’t really use it often because I haven’t been going upstairs as much recently.” Crowley ignored the tutting noise Rowena made. “It’s yours. Build your cages, paint your sigils, do what needs to be done.” He waved a hand dismissively. “The only thing you have to do, is add a particular angel to your collection, and make sure he doesn’t escape.”

“An angel?” Magnus asked in awe.

Rowena finally felt the confidence to but in, stepping out from behind her son. “We want to you capture the Winchesters personal lap dog. We want you to capture Castiel.”

Chapter 23: The Prayers of an Angel

Chapter Text

Castiel sat alone in a Biggerson’s, the familiarity of the restaurant grounding him. He had sat for so long in the Japanese café after Ariel had left that he felt like he was making the waitress uncomfortable, so he left her a hefty tip and had flown to various locations for the past day trying to collect his thoughts. He visited all of his favorite locations, a beach in Greece, a lake in Bolivia, a temple in India, a river that Dean had used to clean blood from his hands during a hunt in Colorado… Even though Biggerson’s came with some negative memories, it was still the location that he had felt most relaxed. It was just so familiar, the smell of coffee and greasy food, the stickiness of the tables, the traffic of people coming and going despite the hour. It helped clear his thoughts a bit, even though there was one thought in particular that he couldn’t stop fixating on. How is Naomi still alive? kept replaying in his head with no answers. It was a terrifying thought knowing that because she was alive, he may have to ask her for help because he knew he was running out of options. Castiel knew he would do it if he needed to, that he wouldn’t hesitate to go to her if it meant saving Dean.

That was perhaps the scariest part of all, just how far Castiel knew he was willing to go for Dean. Even in that moment, he wanted to run to Dean, wanted them to make this decision together. But Dean was in no position to be making any decisions about his own well being when he had been injected Djinn magic to fight the mark. Castiel’s too-human stomach turned as he stared into his cup of black coffee. How had Dean thought that he had to go through this alone? What else was Dean not telling him?

It had been just over 48 hours since he had spoken to Dean, since he had left him with the regrettable decision of kissing him on the forehead. Castiel craved his presence like a drug. Being away from Dean was so much harder since he had decided to move into the bunker, but Castiel couldn’t return, not right now. He needed to clear his head while he searched for Gabriel and weighed his options about the Mark of Cain, and it was impossible to think straight with Dean around. He hadn’t heard from Dean at all since he left the bunker, and it tugged at something in his chest. Would Dean even be willing to speak to him again after Castiel had so stupidly crossed a line of intimacy with him? Dean hadn’t called, hadn’t texted, hadn’t even prayed. It was.., unnerving. Castiel wondered if he had gone too far and Dean wouldn’t be able to forgive him, wouldn’t be able to move past the fact that Castiel had kissed-

Castiel’s phone rang. He pulled it from his trench coat pocket, reading the number carefully. It was not a number he was familiar with, and it worried him. Sam, Dean, Claire, Jody, and possibly Donna were the only people who could possibly have his number. It was possible that one of them had changed their number or gotten a new phone, it was something that hunters did frequently.

“Hello?” Castiel answered, bringing the phone to his ear curiously.

“I need your help.” Dean’s voice came through the speaker loud and clear. Castiel’s stomach dropped. “I… I don’t know who else to turn to.”

“Dean? Dean, what’s wrong?” Castiel questioned, already standing and heading for the exit so that he could fly away without being seen.

“Please, man. You know I wouldn’t turn to you unless I had to.”

The phone call ended abruptly, leaving Castiel to stare at his phone screen, now taken up by his background. It was a picture of a very alarmed Dean with a few drops of honey in his palm, nervously allowing a couple of bees to investigate the honey. It had taken Castiel a very long time to reassure Dean that the bees wouldn’t sting him as long as he remained calm and didn’t bring them any harm. Dean didn’t know Castiel had taken the picture, and certainly didn’t know Castiel had set it as his background. Castiel swallowed hard. Something about the call seemed… off. Had Dean found more Djinn essence? Was he under the influence?

Without hesitation, Castiel pulled up an app that Sam had installed on his phone. The app was sometimes a bit glitchy because it was originally designed to be a program on a computer, but Sam had been able to play around with it enough to make it work on phones. It zeroed in on locations, and Cas would be able to tell where the call came from. It was a slow process, but finally the cursor zoomed in on a location on a map of the united states. Boise, Idaho. He immediately flew to the location within the town with resoluteness, but the moment his human feet landed, he could tell something was very wrong. He nearly fell to his knees at the overwhelming surge of magic that he felt hit him. Staggering, he looked around the room of the abandoned home that the cell phone had been tracked to. His vision blurred, a deafening thrumming coursed through his ears as he tried to focus on the footsteps he heard approaching. Castiel tried to take a step forward but could not maintain his balance and fell to the floor. He tried to draw his angel blade but knew he was defenseless against whatever was approaching, the magic in the room, in the entire building was too powerful. He blinked his blurry eyes, trying to decipher the sigils painted in blood on the walls. They were ancient, some of which were Enochian, and he hadn’t seen many of them used in centuries.

The footsteps finally stopped, and he mustered up just enough strength to lift his head high enough to see who the footsteps belonged to.

A relatively short, clean cut man in an expensive suit was staring down at Castiel like he had just won the lottery. “Crowley suggested using a ring of holy oil. Can you imagine? Me using magic so weak? Between the dark magic that I’ve been dabbling in for decades, and a little help from The Book of the Damned, holy oil is completely unneeded. You can’t even move, can you, angel?”

Castiel squinted up at the man in confusion. “Who are you?” He growled, the timbre of his voice a lot more intimidating than if he was not on his hands and knees on the floor. A man that was apparently very skilled in magic and had knowledge of Enochian.

“Why I’m your new master, of course. Though I suppose I should introduce myself. I am Magnus. A Man of Letters and a collector of creatures and magic alike. Don’t confuse me for someone else, I am much, much more than your run of the mill witch. Much more powerful too.” He motioned to Castiel on the ground. “But I’m sure you can tell that.”

“What do you want with me? Where’s Dean?” Castiel struggled to stand, but immediately collapsed in on himself again. The magic in the room felt like a physical weight, forcing him down. He could even feel it on his wings.

“Ah…Dean…” Magnus chuckled, and began circling around Castiel, taking him in from all angles like a shark circling its prey. “When Crowley told me that he could get me an angel, do you know how difficult it was for me to believe that all it would take was an old voicemail left by Dean Winchester on one of Crowley’s old burner phones? Between that, and you stupidly calling Crowley yourself months ago… well, all it took then was a number you wouldn’t recognize and Crowley hitting play on the voicemail. He obviously doesn’t trust my magic much, he vanished the moment the call ended. If only he could see you now.”

Castiel felt the cold rush of realization. All of this had been a trap that he had stupidly fallen for. Dean was somewhere else, probably safe with Sam. And now Castiel was trapped because of Crowley. Because he has stupidly forgotten that he had called Crowley. He tried to stand again, but his legs immediately gave out under his weight. A wide grin spread across Magnus’ face and he snapped his fingers.

“Crowley was even so nice as to lend me two of his demons to help speed the progress along.” Magnus said as a female demon and a male demon entered the room at his beckoning. “Shall we?” He said to them, gesturing to Castiel grandly.

The demons approached Castiel. His angel blade slid from his sleeve with much effort, but he was too weak. The female demon grabbed his arm and jerked the blade away with little effort, and Castiel didn’t even have the strength to fight her. She tossed his angel blade on a nearby table marked with sigils and symbols and grabbed one arm while her companion grabbed his other. They began dragging Castiel’s body, and he attempted to focus, to absorb the layout of the building he was in so that he could plan his escape, but his vision was blurred. It was almost as though the magic being used had drugged him, and he was rendered helpless. The demons ended up dragging him to a cage the size of a small jail cell, and unceremoniously shoved him inside, closing and locking the door behind him. The cage was completely empty, even void of a small cot or seat. Castiel fell to the ground, crumpling in on himself. Despite struggling to stay conscious, he closed his eyes and let sleep take him, something that had not happened since he was human.

Castiel cowered in the corner of his cage. His unclothed knees were pressed firmly against his bare chest, his wings completely surrounding his naked form. After many attempts at various curses, hexes, and spells, Magnus had finally found magic that had forced Castiel’s wings to appear in this dimension and stay that way. That day had been the worst. The way that Magnus’ eyes had lit up with a demented hunger was still deeply seared into Castiel’s mind, the image carved into his eyelids whenever he closed his eyes. All of his clothes had been removed and taken from him. Magnus had allowed him clothing at first, but quickly grew impatient of how long it would take Castiel to strip each day, and he wanted access to every inch of Castiel’s body without having to wait, without having to watch Castiel stall. Nearly every square inch of Castiel’s body was covered in deep lacerations, some of which made up intricate designs for symbols and warding. It was what kept Castiel from healing properly, what kept his wings out despite how much he wanted to tuck them away. Magnus had ripped feathers out of them, burned them, carved sigils into them, snapped the bones to see how quickly they could heal. That was Magnus’ favorite thing to do. He loved to hurt Castiel and then let up on his magic just enough to allow Castiel to heal, only to hurt him in some other way. He would almost never let Castiel heal fully, and the few rare times that he did, he had only do so to hurt the angel even worse.

Castiel was still unsure of what Magnus wanted from him. None of the torture seemed inherently sexual, but Magnus enjoyed it in a way that was clearly more than just morbid curiosity about what made an angel tick. It had been this way for weeks, each ‘session’ with Magnus worst than the last. Castiel had long since been able to keep up with the exact amount of time he was held hostage, because time was irrelevant here. He was kept in his cage in a dark room whenever Magnus was done with him. There were no windows in the room, no natural light. If his grace hadn’t been in such a weakened state, he would be able to keep track of the time. With his grace barely clinging on, he was left helpless in the area of time. The only thing that he knew was that Magnus didn’t experiment on him at the same time every day. Magnus had a large rolling dry erase board that he kept his ‘findings’ on and would often put the time next to them to see if the time of day had any correlation to how Castiel reacted.

The lights in the room flickered on and Castiel buried his face in his knees. One, or both of Magnus’ demons were coming to retrieve him. Sometimes Magnus sent both Ted and Natasha. It was also a part of his experiments. He liked to see how Castiel would react, if he would put up more of a fight. He heard the locks on his cage clank as they were being unlocked, and just pressed his face tighter to his knees. He didn’t look up. He didn’t care to. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered.

“Come here.” Natasha, the female demon, demanded once the door was unlocked and opened. Castiel’s wings shuddered. He knew Natasha was glaring at him from across the cage, waiting for him to heel. He cowered in on himself more, and felt his flesh pull at a recent wound on his ribcage, carved by his own angel blade. Castiel imagined what Magnus could possibly have in store for him on this day, and he couldn’t force himself to move. “I said come here.” Natasha snapped. “Ted isn’t here today and I’m not dragging your ass all over the place. Magnus let up on the mobility curse and you’ll be able to walk but he doesn’t have all day.”

Castiel remained in his corner of the cage. He had given up trying to fight Magnus a long time ago, but he would never go to him willingly. Not with the things he did, the things he said. Castiel only tightened his wings around his body. The feathers were no longer the same silky black that Dean had managed to bring out of them so long ago. They were mangled, missing feathers in multiple places. One ulna bone had been broken completely and hadn’t healed properly because Magnus hadn’t disengaged the warding long enough for it to completely heal. The feathers were now dull and dusty looking, sticking up in odd directions around numerous spots of scar tissue. Dean would be disgusted by these wings. Dean would- Dean. Castiel had tried to stop thinking about Dean. Especially with the things that Magnus said about him. He tried to stop the voice in the back of his head that tried to tell him that Dean would come for him, that Dean would save him. Dean kept praying to him, begging him to return. Castiel knew it had been weeks despite time slipping away and Dean was giving up hope, thinking Castiel was ignoring him. Dean wasn’t coming. No one was.

Natasha sighed dramatically, drawing his angel blade from her belt loop. Castiel was so familiar with the movement that he didn’t need to be looking at her to know exactly what she was doing, he could tell just by the sound. She approached him and Castiel kept his eyes closed firmly. She wouldn’t kill him, that much he knew. She knew better. Magnus would do far worse to her than end her life if something happened to his favorite pet. She grabbed him by the hair, jerking his head back hard, forcing Cas’ eyes open and looking directly at her. The entirety of her eyes were black, trying to intimidate him into complying as if he couldn’t see her true form. “You know that things will be worse if you keep him waiting.” That’s all she needed to say to get him to rise to his feet.

Dean paced back and forth in the library, absentmindedly running his fingernails over the mark of Cain hard enough to leave angry red lines in their wake. The mark buzzing, the noise it was making in the back of his head was driving him crazy. Whatever Cas had done before he had left had made things marginally better, but the mark was trying to claw its way back into his thoughts at full force. Not to mention it had been weeks since Dean or Sam or even f*cking Claire had heard from Cas. Yeah, Dean texted Claire and asked. Sue him.

He could feel Sam’s eyes on him as he paced. He knew Sam was worried, knew his brother’s heart was in the right place. But right now, was not the time. Dean was freaking out. Weeks. Cas had brought him back to life after finding him overdosed in his own bed, kissed him on the forehead like he was some f*cking Disney princess, and then vanished. Dean didn’t exactly expect Cas to talk to him after how badly he had f*cked up. But finding out that no one had heard from him? Yeah, he was panicking. Just a little. He could feel a panic attack coming on and was trying to force it down because he had to stay focused. They had to find Cas.

“So, are we going to talk about this, or are you going to pace a hole in the library floor?”

“f*ck off, Sammy.” Dean growled, internally wincing when he felt the skin over the mark tear and draw blood from his nails still scraping over it.

Sam huffed, and Dean knew he was fixing him with an unamused look, but he didn’t care. Sam was worried about Cas too. “Have you tried praying to him?” Sam asked quietly. He was walking on eggshells with that tone. Despite Dean swearing nothing had happened, Sam knew better. He knew that something had happened between Dean and Cas before Cas had up and left. Knowing him being the girl he was, he probably thought Dean proposed to Cas or some sh*t.

“Of course, I’ve prayed to him, Sam. And he has a f*cking cell phone. A cell phone he’s refusing to pick up regardless of who calls him.” Dean stopped to glare at his brother. Truthfully, Dean was terrified to pray to Cas again. Cas had promised him that he would be in touch, promised him that he was within reach. Now he was ignoring calls. If more of Dean’s prayers went unanswered too, they had a lot more on their plate than whatever awkward sh*t was going on between them.

Sam studied him for a moment. His little brother’s eyes were raw with emotion and understanding, and it cut Dean to the nerve. Sometimes Dean could lie to Sam’s face and convince him grass was blue and the sky was green, and then sometimes he couldn’t keep a damn thing from him and it was terrifying. “Somethings wrong.” He said softly. It wasn’t a question. They both knew. Somehow, they just both knew. Something was very, very wrong. And Dean knew he had to pray to Cas again. In a last-ditch effort before he lost his sh*t, he had to pray to his angel.

Dean didn’t have the energy to judge himself for the strangled, worried noise that escaped his throat. “Cas…” He croaked, looking up. Maybe if Cas didn’t answer the prayer, an abandoning god would. “Buddy, we haven’t heard from you in weeks. We’re… we’re worried about you. You said…” Dean inhaled shakily. “You said before you left that you were just a prayer or a phone call away.” He could feel Sam’s eyes on him. “Please.” His voice cracked around the word. Dean closed his eyes, praying for the rustle of wings or the swish of a trench coat, but the only noise he was greeted by was the sound of his own heart beating in his ears. He only opened his eyes when he heard Sam’s sharp intake of breath followed by his fingers clacking on the keyboard in front of him.

“I’m seeing if I can get a ping off of his cellphone.” Sam answered the unasked question. Dean finally ceased his pacing to sit down next to his brother. “Dean… he’s been gone for weeks. I just assumed you had heard from him up until you asked me if I had heard from him. Why didn’t you say something earlier?”

Dean rested his elbows on the table and dropped his face to his hands. “Sam, can we not do this right now?” He thought worrying about Cas had always been bad. He’s seen the guy die, more than once. He didn’t think it could hurt anymore than it already did. But now? Knowing damn well he was in love with Cas, and knowing that something wasn’t right? It was destroying him. He could barely swallow past the lump in his throat, could barely blink the stinging from his eyes.

Sam’s typing stopped for a moment and Dean knew that Sam was surveying him, trying to get a read on the situation. Sam let it slide this time and continued his search on the computer. Dean wasn’t sure if it was seconds or minutes later, because it felt like days, but Sam finally spoke again. “I have something.” Dean looked up and dropped his hands to the table. He knew his eyes were bloodshot from unshed tears. “The signals really, really weak. The phone must have been turned off.”

“But that doesn’t stop a phone from being able to be tracked.”

“Exactly. It just makes it a little harder. Charlie showed me a few tricks before she- before.” Sam stated, his tone melancholy but fond. “It’s zeroing in-“ He tilted the screen so that they both could see. “-right about…now.” The map on the laptop screen zoomed in to a specific town. Boise, Idaho. The marker on the map blinked for a few moments before zooming in further and pulling up a pixilated seemingly abandoned building with the address next to it, clear as day.

“Get in the f*cking car.” Dean growled, standing up.

Castiel fought a little harder than he normally did as Magnus pinned him to the surgical table. He had heard Dean, heard him praying. Dean hadn’t prayed in a while. His last prayer was one that Castiel had repeated in his mind over and over. “I guess… I guess you changed your mind and finally decided that I wasn’t worth it, huh, Cas? I get it… just uh… be safe, okay?” That had been days ago, but just before Natasha brought him into Magnus’ ‘examination room’, Dean had prayed again. Dean was still trying to reach him. Dean hadn’t given up on him.

The extra struggling hadn’t done him any good. He was still strapped to Magnus’ table on his stomach. His wings were still in some contraption that force them to spread far apart and prevented them from flapping. Castiel was able to ignore all of this until Magnus brought down a mallet onto the coracoid of his right wing. The blow pulled a scream from his throat as he heard the bone crunch under the weight of the mallet. His scream echoed throughout the abandoned building and bounced off the walls.

“Hmm, that definitely seemed like a more painful break than the ulna bone.” Magus said to Natasha clinically, pivoting in his backless rolling chair. “Make a note of that.” Natasha grimaced and looked pale but picked up the dry eraser marker to make note of the newest injury on the board, intentionally wheeling it in front of her line of vision as if blocking the view would block out what was happening. Magnus prodded at the splintered bone, ignoring Castiel’s whimpers of pain. He twisted the broken bone, carefully watching Castiel’s facial expression. “You know, I expected a lot of things from an angel. But you? You haven’t been what I’ve expected since day one. You’re so very human.” Castiel didn’t respond. He never did. He never answered any of Magnus’ questions about angels, he never responded to the taunting about his expectations of angels. Magnus knew there was only one thing that could make him speak. Magnus stopped fiddling with the mangled wing. He took the angel blade and stared at the sigil drawn on the surgical table. He thought for a moment, deciding whether or not to cut through the sigil and let Castiel heal, but decided against it. “I heard you last night, Castiel.” Castiel froze, not even his pained panting from his injury causing his chest to move. “Imagine my shock when I heard an angel praying… and not even to its own Father, but to a human. Do you think Dean Winchester is going to save you? Do you think he honestly cares about you? Crowley told me everything about you and your relationship with Dean. You’re nothing more than a weapon at his disposable. Especially now that he possesses the Mark of Cain. Now he’s a monster just like the rest-“

“You’re wrong. You know nothing about Dean.” Castiel’s voice was hoarse from disuse, and it stung his throat.

“Ah, so there is some fight left in there somewhere.” Magnus smirked and stood from his seat at Castiel’s side. As he walked around to face Castiel, locked in place by his wings, he made sure to drag his fingers over the fresh gash on the angel’s ribcage. Castiel refused to meet his eyes, and Magnus jerked his head back by pulling his hair like Natasha had earlier. Castiel begrudgingly brought his eyes to meet Magnus’ as he dug his bloody fingers in Castiel’s hair at the root. “Out of all the things I do to you, that’s what always hurts you the most. It doesn’t matter how many bones I break or how much blood I draw, talking about Dean causes you more pain than any of your injuries. I thought I could break you by now. I thought eventually you wouldn’t be able to take the torture. All I’ve asked of you is how to harness an angel’s grace, Castiel. That’s all. No, I won’t let you go if you tell me, but the torture will stop… and if you don’t tell me, it’s only going to get worse.” He released Castiel’s hair, but the angel didn’t take his eyes off of him. “Since you seem to hold no value over your own well-being, I may just have to pay Dean a visit. Would you prefer I torture him in front of you instead?” Magnus’ mouth suddenly stretched into a demented grin. “Better yet…. What if I had him torture you? Crowley told me about how Dean is almost at his breaking point when it comes to the Mark of Cain. When he finally gives in, finally breaks, do you know how easy it would be to convince him to torture you?” Magnus laughed coldly. “In fact, if I retrieved the First Blade for him, he would probably kill you without even thinking twice about it. You love him. How would it feel to die by his hands?”

“Stop.” Castiel bit out, instinctually reaching his hands for Magnus’ throat for them only to fall short because of his bindings. Natasha was shifting her weight from foot to foot nervously. Magnus just grinned and tapped Castiel on the tip of his nose condescendingly.

Magnus walked around Castiel to observe his dry erase board. Natasha watching him quietly, using her thumb nail to nervously pick at the dark purple nail polish on her nails. Castiel went back to ignoring them both and trying not to think about Dean. He allowed his head to hang in exhaustion, barely registering what they were saying.

Magnus clasped his hands behind his back, his eyes wandering over his findings. He spoke aloud to Natasha, but the question was geared more to himself. “The angel is clearly capable of love, and for whatever reason has chosen Dean Winchester to be the object of his desire. But do you think his emotions are able to go beyond that Natalia? Or do you think this particular angel is just horribly broken?”

“It’s Natasha.” The demon corrected.

Magnus’ lip curled up in disgust at being corrected by the demon. He was always friendlier towards Natasha and Ted because they were the demons that Crowley had allowed him to borrow for work, to do his bidding, but he still thought he was better than them. They were still his pets. These pets just didn’t get tied to a surgical table. He composed himself and sighed. “Take him back to his cage and make sure you make you rounds and check the warding.”

Natasha fixed him with a cold look but nodded and went to unlatch Castiel from the surgical table. The look in her eyes almost looked apologetic.

Dean kept catching glimpses of the demon doing her rounds in the window he could see from the bushes. It was his and Sam’s current hiding spot. The program that Sam had used brought them to this exact location, and after seeing some sigils painted on a near by tree trunk, they both knew they were at the right place. Another few minutes and the demon would once again pass where they were hidden, and it couldn’t come soon enough. Cas was in there, and Dean knew, he just knew it wasn’t under his own free will. And Dean couldn’t help but blame himself. If Dean wouldn’t have ODed, if Cas wouldn’t have been so desperate to go out looking for a cure for the mark, he would have been safe and sound in the bunker.

The demon passed them, and Dean quietly hoisted himself up and through the window, landing soundly and softly on his feet. The demon had stopped to look at a sigil that seemed scratched up, but still heard him and turned around. Dean was already shoving the demon blade in her gut and twisting it with a grunt. She fell to the ground and Dean stepped over her, kicking a purple manicured hand out of the way unceremoniously as Sam finished cramming himself through the window, his longer legs making it a more difficult feat for him.

Brushing his hair out of his eyes, Sam said “Should we split up?”

“We have no idea what we’ve even gotten ourselves into, Sam. Do you really think splitting up is a good idea?” Dean’s fingers flexed nervously on the demon blade. He could feel the Mark of Cain throbbing, could hear the whispering growing louder in the back of his head, and he wondered if he was really worried about danger, or if he was more worried about how far he might take things. It had been too long since the mark had been sated, and he could feel it.

“We surveyed the entire property, Dean. Pretty much the only form of protection this place has is warding. I think she may be the only demon in this place.”

“It’s just… suspicious.” This felt familiar. An old building protected almost solely by magic. It almost felt like déjà vu. Where had Dean encountered this before?

Dean eventually agreed to split up, making sure to give Sam his usual, quick lecture. Sam was a big boy and a great hunter, and he could handle himself nine times out of ten, but it didn’t feel right not to remind him not to be a dumbass. Dean took a right while Sam took a left. He quietly moved through the building, taking turns slowly and cautiously and trying to calm his racing heart. He knew it was mostly because of the mark, but it was also largely because of Cas. If something happened to him, he would never be able to forgive himself…

Dean opened his third door leading to an empty room or dead-end closet when Sam’s voice bellowed out his name. Throwing caution to the wind completely, he ran towards the sound of his brother’s voice. He skidded to a halt in front of a dark room, almost missing it entirely had his brothers large, dark frame not caught his attention. Dean gripped the demon blade tighter.

“Get the light.” Sam said quietly. Something about his voice turned Dean’s stomach, but he flipped the light switch anyway, blinking rapidly to adjust his eyes to the now lit room. Sam was crouching in front of a cage, but not even his wide shoulders could block the view in front of him.

It was Cas. Even though he was completely cocooning himself in his wings, Dean knew immediately. He could see that one of the wings was badly broken and hung limply around Cas, and that there were numerous deep cuts in both wings. There were areas where the feathers were completely missing, and he could just barely see a part of Cas’ foot peeking out from the feathers. It too, was covered in blood. It was stupid and reckless, but Dean immediately released his grip on the demon blade and didn’t even glance down as it hit the floor. His feet carried to him on the cage in autopilot, physically shoving Sam out of the way. His brother grumbled something about trying to pick the lock, but Dean didn’t care. “Cas?” He croaked.

Cas flinched so bad that it was clear he was hurt by the spasm that went through his injured wing. He slowly unfurled his wings just enough to lift his head from where he had them press into his raised knees. His eyes were wide and shocked, missing so much light that Dean was used to seeing them reflect. “Cas.” Dean tried again, grabbing the bars of the cage and letting his forehead rest against the cool metal. “We’re going to get you out, okay, buddy? Sam’s working on the lock right now.” Cas didn’t say a word, just continued to stare at Dean unblinkingly, his eyes owlish and shocked. “Sam, hurry the f*ck up.” Dean glanced at Sam frantically, swallowing past a lump in his throat. “We gotta get him out of here. He’s hurt.”

“I’m trying, Dean. This… this lock is enchanted. I can’t get it off.” Dean’s eyes went back to Cas, but the angel had once again wrapped his wings around himself. “Why… why can I see his wings? Why are they out?” Sam asked quietly, sadly, like he already knew the answer.

“They’re not supposed to be.” Dean growled. Dean remembered preening the feathers, remembered how gorgeous Cas’ wings had looked just months ago, how gorgeous Cas had looked. Now he was in the corner of a cage, trembling and bloody. “I don’t know who did this to you.” Dean said to him through the bars. “but I am going to f*cking end them.”

“Big talk for someone who no longer has the First Blade.”

Dean and Sam immediately spun around, and Dean realized with regret that the demon blade was lying uselessly near the doorway. “Magnus…” Both brothers muttered in disbelief.

“No. That’s impossible.” Dean said, trying and failing to keep his voice from shaking. “You died. I killed you.”

“It would seem the Winchesters aren’t the only ones that could can come back.” Magnus replied with a toothy grin. “So good to see you again, I see you’re still carrying the Mark of Cain. What a shame. You could have been my perfect pet. The angel here did nicely in your place, though he’s just as stubborn. Crowley wasn’t joking when he said the two of you had really sank your claws in this one.”

“Crowley?” Sam snapped angrily. “He’s the one that put you up to this?”

Magnus strolled towards them, not even acknowledging the angel blade Sam was wielding. “I wouldn’t quite say that he put me up to it.” He shrugged. “It didn’t take much convincing once he told me he had an angel. Of course, there were plenty of books at the Men of Letters that discussed the rumors around angels…but to see one in person? To figure out the perfect combination of magic to force his wings out-“ Sam didn’t let him keep talking, he just lunged with his blade. Magnus rolled his eyes, and with the flick of his wrist, he was sending both Sam and Dean sailing across the room and smacking painfully into a wall with a sickening thud. He immediately looked over at Cas to gauge his reaction, and Dean didn’t miss it. Cas was peaking through his wings again, still trembling. But there was a storm brewing behind his blue eyes. Magnus grinned again. He motioned with his hand again, and Sam’s back was pressed against the wall. He strained against the invisible force but could not move. Dean on the other hand stood up, his right hand going to his left arm. He was pretty sure his forearm was broken, and when he tried to move it was as if his feet were glued to the ground.

Magnus walked over to the demon blade, picking it up only to approach Dean. “The angel didn’t want to show me his powers. He’s been such a disobedient, reluctant pet.”

“He’s not your f*cking pet, you sick f*ck.” Dean snarled.

Tutting like he was talking to a bratty child, Magnus stepped closer to Dean. “I never would have thought it… an angel’s weakness so… brash.” Dean swallowed and looked over at Cas, who was watching Magnus carefully, angrily. “You do know that, right, Dean? That you’re his weakness? That nothing I’ve done to him has hurt him quite as bad as the fact that he’s been praying to you to save him, and it took you this long?”

Dean could hear his brother struggling on the wall behind him, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Magnus, couldn’t stop listening to him. Magnus smiled mockingly. “Ah yes, you heard right, Dean.” Magnus flipped the demon blade in his hands before pocketing it in his suit jacket. “A nice blade. But I prefer an angel’s blade. Using one against an angel’s biggest weakness… it gives such a sense of poetry.” Magnus pulled an angel blade from his other pocket before abruptly shoving it in Dean’s shoulder without warning. Dean let out a blood curdling scream, but Magnus had already turned back to Cas in fascination. The only thing he cared about was what reaction that Cas could possibly have. Cas was now standing, his wings uncurled behind him as much as the cage would allow, and his eyes were glowing the ethereal blue of grace. “Fascinating. That’s the first time I’ve seen your grace glow in your eyes.” Magnus said in wonder.

Dean really, truly, wondered how it was possible for someone as deeply intelligent and gifted in magic to be as stupid as Cuthbert Sinclair in the moment that he turned his back to the Winchesters. With a lot of effort, Dean ripped the angel blade from his shoulder and shoved it right between Magnus’ shoulders. Magnus stumbled forward, using the bars of the cage to brace himself as he lost his balance while trying to reach for the blade. Cas’ hand immediately reached between the bars, his hand pressing to Magnus’ forehead to smite him.

Coughing up a little blood, Magnus laughed. “Do you think I’d ever allow you enough power to smite something while you’re here?” Cas scowled and jerked his hand back, only the shove in through the bars again to wrap around Magnus’ throat, lifting him up by the tender flesh. Magnus choked and squirmed, his legs kicking beneath him. “We could have been so powerful together.” He choked around each word, and yet there was still this clinical, curious look in his eyes.

“Cas, don’t!” Sam yelled. “We can use him! If he knows where Crowley is, he might know where The Book of the Damned is!” Cas glanced over at Dean and looked conflicted.

Dean was rendered speechless. He knew that Sam had a point, but Cas stood before him, battered and bruised, one of his wings hanging at a weird angle, blood now running from cuts that had been ripped back open because of the way his arm was stretched, cutting off Magnus’ airway, and Dean couldn’t side with Sam. He didn’t have half a clue of all the things Magnus’ had done to Cas, but he immediately knew that Magnus deserved to be sent right back to Hell where he belonged. He met Cas’ conflicted eyes with determined ones, and just barely nodded. Cas’ eyes hardened as he tightened his grip, crushing Magnus’ windpipe and letting him crumple to the floor. Sam and Dean were immediately freed from there magical bindings, but suddenly Cas’ wings drooped, and he suddenly seemed so small. Dean immediately ran over, ripping the angel blade from Magnus’ back while Sam checked his pockets.

“Cas, how do we get out of here?” Dean asked as Cas slouched to the floor, immediately pulling his wings in on himself but keeping his eyes on Sam and Dean.

Cas’ voice was rough from disuse. “Magnus should have the key. He always made the demons give it back to him as soon as they were done with the lock.”

“Got it!” Sam exclaimed, pulling out a ring of keys and quickly finding the one that had the same Enochain symbol as the lock.

“Come on…..come on….” Dean muttered under his breath as Sam fiddled with the lock.

The moment the lock clicked, Dean ripped the door open and stumbled over to Cas. Cas immediately backed himself into the corner further, his eyes focused on the angel blade in Dean’s hand. Dean’s heart broke with realization and he dropped the blade, kicking it away from him and towards Sam. “I’m not gonna hurt you, Cas. I promise.” He said, keeping his voice soothing. He moved towards Cas slowly, dropping to his knees when he was close enough. “Why can’t you heal?” he asked, his voice cracking as he gently reached for a gash on Cas’ arm with his hand, the arm still throbbing in pain from the fracture.

Cas violently flinched away from Dean’s touch, and Dean had to swallow roughly. This was a completely different angel than the one that snuggled up with Dean on the couch, the angel that leaned into his touch during pool. And it was all Dean’s fault. Had he not taken the Djinn magic too far, or had he just tried to contact Cas earlier, his angel wouldn’t have been in this predicament.

“It’s the warding.” Cas answered, distracting Dean from the dark, guilty thoughts his mind was going to. It immediately gave Dean new purpose. Even though the mark was angry and pulsing rapidly, Dean was able to think past it and focus on Cas. He didn’t know how because normally nothing was louder than the mark, but Cas was just so easy to focus on.

“We have to get him out of here, Dean. There’re too many sigils to break and this place is huge. We have to get him completely off the property or he’s probably not going to be able to heal.” Sam suggested.

Dean nodded, and offered his arm to Cas, but the angel didn’t touch him. He scrambled to his feet on his own. “I’m gonna have to help you walk.” Dean said softly, but Cas ignored him. Dean looked over at Sam desperately, but Sam shrugged sadly. “Cas… let me help you.” Dean begged. Cas narrowed his eyes in distrust. “Here…” Dean took off his jacket and then his flannel. “You gotta be cold right? I don’t know where that bastard put your clothes.” When Cas just stared at him Dean turned bright red. “Right. Your wings. Uh…” He pulled a plain, basic pocket knife from his jeans and cut to large slits in the back of his flannel. He offered it to Cas cautiously, and shockingly, the angel accepted it. He put the flannel on, wincing when the fabric touched any of his various wounds. He started on the buttons and lost his balance, which immediately triggered Dean to react and catch him, grabbing his shoulders to steady him. Cas jerked away wildly, his wings beating frantically while Sam just watched helplessly. “Cas, stop you’re going to hurt yourself.” Dean growled, inching back a little to keep from getting a face full of feathers. Dean removed his hands and brought them to Cas’ face, gingerly cupping the angel’s jaw and smoothing his thumbs over the stubbled skin there.

Cas started shaking violently, and when he finally met Dean’s eyes, his shining blue eyes were blurry with tears. He abruptly threw his arms around Dean, clinging to him desperately, his full weight against Dean. Dean immediately returned the hug, allowing Cas to sag against him. The angel buried his face into Dean’s shoulders, and Dean was pretty sure he was crying. He kept one arm firmly wrapped around Cas but raised his other hand to card his fingers through Cas’ hair lovingly. He snuggled into Cas’ messy hair, not caring that Sam was a few feet away, awkwardly shifting his weight. “I got you, Cas.” Dean whispered into his hair, wrapping both arms around him again. And maybe there was a brush of lips against his temple in there somewhere too. Maybe. “I got you. You’re safe.”

Chapter 24: Getting Too Close

Chapter Text

“Just give him time.”

That’s how Sam had replied when Dean finally caved and voiced his concerns about Cas. The smile that Sam offered him didn’t quite reach his eyes, and Dean knew his brother was trying to convince both of them equally. Dean had given Cas plenty of time, and space too. But a week after his rescue from Magnus, the angel was still holed up in his room in the bunker. He mostly slept, and that was absolutely terrifying because Dean couldn’t recall a single time that Cas needed sleep unless something was very wrong. His injuries were healing, but the process was slow, almost as if he were human. At least the injuries that Dean could see. As soon as they were far enough from the magic, Cas’ wings had immediately flared out, knocking Dean back, and when he blinked, Cas was fully dressed in his tax accountant get up and his wings were tucked back in what ever angelic dimension they hung out in. His stomach turned at the thought of how badly they had been hurt.

Cas hadn’t said a word about what happened. The angel wasn’t exactly being avoidant of the topic, he just barely spoke period. Dean would greet him and receive a grunt in response. Dean was going to lose his mind. He didn’t need to know exactly what happened, he just needed to know that Cas was okay, and for whatever reason, he couldn’t convince himself to push the topic.

“You’re stress cooking.” Sam acknowledged, not even looking up from his laptop.

Dean froze. “What, is it a crime to make breakfast now?” Dean growled, pretending that his brother’s accusation wasn’t spot on and the kitchen counter wasn’t messy and covered with breakfast ingredients.

Sam sighed, and Dean refused to take his eyes off the French toast he was making because he knew Sam was getting ready to let him have it. He braced himself for the lecture on being emotionally stunted and needing to learn how to deal with his problems, or talk to Cas without being a baby, or at least spend his time elbows deep in research on the mark if he was going to ignore his problems. But Sam didn’t say any of it. Instead, he said “You should make Cas a plate.”

Dean cleared his throat, accidentally a little too dramatically to be casual. “He hasn’t eaten since he got back, Sam.” Dean was pretty sure this particular piece of toast was black on one side since he couldn’t remember flipping it.

“Make him a plate anyway. Oh, and add a little honey that his bees made. He’ll like that.” Sam stood up, closing his laptop and walking away without another word. He had woken up earlier and had already crammed an omelet in his face.

Dean swallowed hard and picked up the pan to toss the now ruined piece of toast so that he could start over with honey. Sam had been… low-pressure since Cas got back. Dean had caught the look on his face numerous times where he was sure Sam was going to ask what was going on between them and why Dean was toeing the line, but he never did. He had his accusations that something had happened before finding out about Magnus, and he had definitely seen Dean completely nuzzle into Cas’ hair and kiss his temple when they finally found him, and yet here he was, keeping his mouth shut and just… letting Dean be.

“Small miracles.” Dean grumbled to himself. He added honey to the French toast the second time around.

Dean juggled both his own plate of breakfast and Cas’ and raised his hand to knock on Cas’ door. His knuckles stopped short of the wood and he bit his lip nervously. It shouldn’t be so hard. It never was with Cas. But there was this thing between them now, and Dean wasn’t sure what he had done wrong. Did Cas blame him for being captured? Because he sure as hell blamed himself. It used to be easy. The reality of potentially losing Cas was a bitter pill that Dean forced himself to swallow. Before he just always reminded himself that Cas was an angel, Cas was so much bigger than him, and that Cas would eventually leave. Since he had accepted that he was in love with Cas, everything was different. Everything was bigger. He couldn’t swallow down the sharp pain in his chest when he thought about how he felt about Cas, when he thought about how easily he could lose him.

Dean’s fist hovered just a few inches from Cas’ door and he was about to tuck tail and run in the other direction when the door swung open. Dean jumped and almost dropped the food but composed himself and tried not to choke on his on tongue at the site of Cas. Cas’ hair was messy, and he was bed rumpled, rubbing his eyes to wake up. He was wearing the hoodie Dean had gotten him for Christmas and Dean absolutely did not have the heart to explain to him that the weather was getting far too warm out for a hoodie not to look weird. He let the guy wander around for years in a suit and trench coat, the hoodie couldn’t hurt, right? Dean gave him a soft smile and went to comment on them sharing breakfast when he noticed Cas’ pants.

“Are those… my sweatpants?” He asked in confusion. Those were definitely his sweatpants. There was a small oil stain just below the right knee that he hadn’t managed to get out after working on the Impala one day.

Cas’ eyes casted down to his lower half like he had completely forgotten what he was wearing. He looked back up at Dean and mumbled “Sam gave them to me. He thought they might be more comfortable since I’ve been sleeping lately. Do you need them back?”

Dean immediately chastised himself for thinking about Cas taking his pants off and shook his head. “Uh, no, it’s fine.” His voice was too high, and he cleared his throat. “Um, so I brought you breakfast.” Internally cringing at the realization that he had literally brought Cas breakfast in bed, he continued. “I know you haven’t really been eating-“

“Is there coffee too?” Cas interrupted. He had a grumpy frown on his face that was damn near adorable and Dean smiled, knowing he was a lost cause.

“Whatever you want, buddy. Here, take the French toast and I’ll grab us some.”

Ten minutes later, and Dean was next to Cas on his bed, surprised to see the angel stuff breakfast in his face. Conversation was surprisingly easy once Cas got some coffee in him, and Cas was thrilled to know that Dean had checked on his bees while he had been virtually comatose over the past week. Dean couldn’t hide the blush that crept over his face while Cas praised him to the bee care and applying the honey to their breakfast.

“You know, not a single one of them stung me.” Dean said, a little in awe. “I thought for sure they were going to swarm me because I’m… well, I’m not you. But I didn’t get stung. There was one that like kept hovering around my face, and I almost sneeze on it.” Dean laughed.

“That was probably Bee-yonce.” Cas said, matter-of-factly, nodding his head slightly before taking another large gulp of coffee. Dean couldn’t stop himself from snorting and almost choking on his French toast. “She’s a guard bee.” Cas added ignoring him. “She was sizing you up to see if you were a threat to the hive.”

“Shouldn’t you have named the queen Beyonce?’ Dean asked with a smirk, nudging Cas with his elbow. The moment his elbow came in contact with Cas’ arm, the angel flinched away, and a small frown formed on his lips. Dean swallowed hard. Cas must blame him for everything Magnus had done. Why else did he recoil like he had been burned just because Dean touched him? He cleared his throat to say something but stopped when he noticed Cas glaring angrily at the wall in front of him. “Uh, Cas, listen… I’m sorry, I-“

“You don’t need to apologize, Dean. You haven’t done anything.”

Dean shoved his fingers through his hair in frustration and sat his mostly empty plate down between them. He’d lost his appetite. “I can’t even nudge you without you jumping out of your skin. I’m pretty sure I’ve done something.”

Cas sighed and thought long and hard for a moment, avoiding Dean’s eyes. When he finally looked up, he looked like he wanted to flap out of the room and Dean swallowed hard. He could feel his breath picking up speed and his heart beating too fast. Maybe Cas had regretted the forehead kiss. Maybe he realized it was a mistake and wished he wouldn’t have wasted it on someone that was to blame for him being captured and tortured. Maybe-

“Magnus wanted to know how to extract angel grace so that he could harness it. He wanted his magic to be more powerful and thought that angel grace would help. I wouldn’t tell him anything, couldn’t tell him anything. Despite the many differences I have had with the other angels, I would never put them in harms way. When he realized that I wasn’t going to tell him what he wanted to know, that’s when he began torturing me.”

“Cas…”

“I’m not done, Dean.” Cas said, narrowing his eyes. Dean immediately shut his trap. “I still didn’t tell him anything. It wasn’t the first time I’ve been tortured. I doubt it will be the last.” Dean tensed up, and when Cas saw his reaction his expression softened. “Even though I was stubborn, he didn’t give up. He eventually noticed how….uncomfortable I got when he would bring you up. He was amazed that after everything, bringing you up was what affected me.” Cas’ eyes searched Dean’s face sadly. It took every ounce of his will not to wrap himself around the angel and comfort him, instead, he just spoke up.

“He said…” Dean wet his dry lips. “He said that you prayed to me.”

Cas hummed. “I did. At first, I prayed to God. But I can’t remember the last time he answered anyone’s prayers.”

“Why me?” Dean asked, his voice barely above a whisper. He knew it was dumb, but there was a part of him that was beginning to feel hopeful that maybe this thing between them was two sided, that maybe, just maybe, Cas could feel the same way.

A small, sad smile perked up Cas’ lips. “The day I raised you from Hell…. Dean…. You saved me just as much as I saved you. That was the first time you saved me, but it wasn’t the last. I’m sure I have yet to see the last time. I trusted that it would be you that would save me again.” Dean could feel his face heating up way too hot, he could feel the blush spreading all the way to the tips of his ears. Cas was looking at him like he hung the f*cking moon, and he didn’t deserve it. Cas smiled, clearly disappointed in Dean’s reaction. Or maybe lack of reaction. “Me flinching, being skittish… it’s not about you. I got very used to how affectionate you’ve been as of late-“ dear god, Dean didn’t think it was possible to blush harder “- and I’ve learned to…. Crave touch. Then when I was held captive by Magnus, the only time I was ever touched involved pain. It… it’s made me a little nervous, Dean. It’s nothing you’ve done.”

Dean rubbed his sweating palms against his pajama pants. “I uh… um. Do you still crave touch? Like I know you get nervous now, I get that, but do you still… crave it at all?”

Cas swallowed and Dean’s eyes followed the movement of his Adam’s apple. “From you I do.” He replied softly.

Dean was going to have a heart attack. Were they flirting? It kinda felt like they were flirting. If the circ*mstances were different, less morbid, it seemed like the plot of a terribly cheesy, bad p*rno. Oh, you’re having trouble with touch? I can help you out with that…. Let me just grab your dick. But this wasn’t a p*rno and that wasn’t Dean’s life, despite how awesome it sounded. This was Cas being vulnerable and touch starved, and Dean would be damned if he wasn’t going to help somehow. “Uh, what if we started out slow?” He asked, shifting so that he and Cas were a few inches closer. “What if I helped?” God, this was sounding even more like poorly written p*rn. He reached out with a shaking hand, reaching for a cut on Cas’ forehead. He gently rubbed his thumb gently over the healing wound before his eyes jumped to each of Cas’ visible injuries. “I could help you with these.” He said quietly. “I know you’re an angel and all, but they’re not healing in an instant, I guess ‘cause the magic and all. We uh, don’t want them to get infected, right?”

Cas nodded, not taking his eyes off of Dean. “Those aren’t the worst.” He responded. “The worst of the injuries are on my wings.”

“We can work on those too.” Dean said inching forward. He flushed, remembering the last time he had touch Cas’ wings and how a boner would be a lot more noticeable in pajama pants instead of jeans. He could do this. He had to do this. Cas needed him. Cas nodded, reaching for the hem on his hoodie, pulling it off in one swift movement. Dean’s brain went offline for a second and he threw caution to the wind, his eyes surveying the miles of tanned skin. Cas watching him curiously had him snapped back to reality.

“Dean.” Dean swallowed around the dry lump in his throat forming around the way Cas said his name. He said it like it was prayer, he said it with such conviction. “We don’t have to do this if you’re uncomfortable.”

“No, no, I’m fine.” He muttered distractedly. “Go ahead. Whip ‘em out. I’m gonna… I’ll go grab some first aid stuff.” Dean nearly stumbled off the bed, and quickly made his way to the storage closet full of first aid supplies they kept in the bunker. He tried to keep his thoughts innocent, because despite now was not the time to start thinking with his dick. Cas needed his help. On the way to the closet, he ran into Sam, literally.

“Jesus, Dean. Watch out.” He grumped, managing to catch his water bottle before it hit the ground. He looked over Dean, with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. Dean responded to the look with confusion until he realized that he hair was probably a mess from running his fingers through it, he was flushed, and- “Ew, dude.” Sam said scrunching his nose up in disgust when he realized Dean’s dick was trying valiantly to fill out because he had a half-naked angel waiting on him in bed.

“If you don’t like it, then don’t look.” Dean snapped, shoving past him to the supply closet he was blocking. He ripped the door open, annoyed, and started grabbing for all the supplies he would need.

“Are you and Cas….?”

“No.” Dean growled. “We’re not. But he needs help with his wings, and I’m going to help him. So if you could move-“

“How is he?” Sam asked earnestly. “And how are his wings? I have so many questions about them, but I know right now isn’t the best time to bring them up…”

“You’re right, it’s not.” Dean responded. Sam fixed him with a bored look. Dean sighed. Sam cared about Cas too. Dean wasn’t the only one worried. “I’m not exactly sure how he is, Sammy. He’s talking to me, which is more than what he was doing yesterday.” Dean’s knuckles were turning white around the bottle of antiseptic he was holding. “It’s just so f*cked, you know? Human aren’t even supposed to see angel wings… and Magnus, he… he was touching them, he was hurting them. Who does that?”

“Cas let you touch them.” Sam replied softly.

“How did you know-“

Sam scoffed. “You don’t think I don’t remember you leaving Cas’ room that one morning, and how he stopped being all grumpy and losing feathers after that?” Dean felt himself redden. “So yeah, I know you’ve touched his wings before, and you’re about to do it again.”

“That’s different.” Dean argued. “He’s letting me touch them-“

“That’s my point exactly, Dean. He’s letting you. Apparently, humans aren’t supposed to be touching angel wings and yet here you are.” Sam hesitated, but then his facial expression flickered to something determined. “You don’t think that doesn’t mean something?”

Dean frowned. “What are you getting at?”

“Maybe there’s a reason he’s letting you touch them. Did you ever think that maybe he feels the same way about you as you do about him?”

“No, I haven’t, because he doesn’t! His wings are just f*cked up and he needs my help to fix them. So, if you’ll move out of my f*cking way, that’s exactly what I’m going to do.” Dean shoved past Sam one last time, being much more forceful than he actually needed to be. Dean knew he was being childish, but just the thought that Sam might be right had him panicking. There was no way Cas felt the same, and to go into this thinking of it any other way would be disastrous. Dean was getting too close. No longer toeing at that line, but attempting to step over it now, and he needed to stop before he started hurting even more than he already had.

Sam didn’t attempt to stop him or say anything more as Dean made his way back to Cas’ room. He managed to juggle all the first aid items in one arm so that he could rip Cas’ door open and close it behind him before his brother changed his mind. Cas was sitting in the middle of his bed, wearing nothing but Dean’s sweatpants, with his lefts crossed and his hands in his lap. He already had his wings out, and even though they were significantly duller than the last time Dean had seen them, they still caught the little light in the room, and they were stunning. Cas was stunning. He was so effortlessly beautiful and had no idea. Dean nearly dropped his supplies because he was so fixated, so enamored by the way Cas was looking at him with clear, expecting eyes.

Dean made his way over to the bed, thanking whatever god would listen that his dick had finally calmed down. He dropped the medical supplies on the mattress and looked over Cas’ wings. “Where do I start?” He asked hoarsely.

“I… I don’t really need help with the flesh wounds.” Cas admitted. “It’s just my wings. My grace can only do but so much-“

“I got you.” Dean responded softly. He crawled on the bed next to Cas and gently carded his fingers through the feathers of the closest wing. Just like the first time he touched them, he was completely overwhelmed with the sensation that shook him down to his very core. He was taken off guard by the sudden possessiveness he felt knowing that Magnus had put his hands on Cas’ wings, especially without permission. “Just tell me what I need to do, Cas.”

Cas’ wings looked much better, and Dean smiled as he ran a hand through each wing, the feathers tickling his fingers. At first Cas’ had been tense and hyper focused, but after a while, he became putty in Dean’s hands. Dean was once again in the same position he had been in before, straddling Cas’ back so that he had full access to the backs of his wings. He had miraculously managed to keep his boner in check, and he was feeling sleepy and lazy. He wasn’t sure if it was because the wing care had tuckered him out or it was just the effect of the wings themselves. He had finished fixing feathers and applying antiseptic and ointment nearly fifteen minutes ago, but he couldn’t stop himself from touching Cas’ wings, from touching Cas.

“They look a lot better.” Dean commented. “One is still hanging a little lower than the other one. I guess that’s the one that broke? But other than that, the look so much better. They’re so beautiful, Cas.” Dean felt Cas’ shift below him, and he had a feeling Cas was being shy. “I mean it. You know… thanks. For letting me touch them, I mean. I get that it’s a pretty big deal. And I’m glad it’s me that’s doing it.”

Cas remained quiet for a while before finally speaking up. “And why is that, Dean?”

Dean swallowed. He wasn’t expecting his motives to be questioned. “I dunno. It just feels right. Me doing it.”

“I agree.” Cas hummed softly. “I wouldn’t want it to be anyone else.”

The next time Dean lifted his hand to run it through the feathers, it was shaking. He was so f*cking dumb. He was setting himself up to get his heart completely broken. Cas didn’t mean things the way Dean was interpreting them. He wasn’t human. He didn’t understand the significance of what he was saying, didn’t get the weight of it. His chest ached and he had to focus on his breathing and remind himself to stop getting too close to this something between them.

Castiel could feel the tremor in Dean’s hand as it glided through his feathers. He knew that Dean was no longer preening, knew that Dean was no longer helping him heal, but he was being selfish because somehow, this was helping him heal in ways beyond physical. But somehow what he had said had made Dean uncomfortable. Castiel was having a hard time determining where the line between comfort and discomfort was. Sometimes he would say something, and Dean would blush and begrudgingly accept it. Other times, Dean would become obviously uncomfortable. Castiel would admit that sometimes he enjoyed seeing how far he could push it, but Dean was never consistent with his responses. There were times that Castiel thought for sure that Dean would recoil from a comment only to find him basking in it. Equally, there were times that Castiel was certain he had said the right thing, only to find Dean shy away. It was infuriating and captivating all at once. Much like everything about Dean was.

“How are you, Dean?” He asked, changing the subject.

Dean snorted. “I’m more concerned about you.” He replied, just as self-deprecating as he always was.

“We’ve already dealt with me.” Castiel responded, sitting up on his elbows so that he could peer back over his shoulder at Dean. “And now I’m asking about you.”

“I’m alright.” Dean shrugged. “I… I’m better now that you’re back.” Dean abruptly crawled off Castiel, dropping on the bed next to him with a bounce. He picked at a piece of fuzz on the comforter nervously as Castiel sat up to cross his legs and face him. “I…. I feel like sh*t about all of this, Cas. I should’ve known there was something wrong sooner, but I… I thought you just didn’t want to talk to me. I thought after you found me, you just couldn’t look at me the same and wanted nothing to do with me.”

Castiel leaned forward, gently covering the Mark of Cain with his hand. “I would never give up on you. You and I…we’ve been through so much together. The only thing finding you like that did was terrify me. I felt helpless. I felt like I had failed you and that’s why you had to turn to such drastic measures to protect yourself from the mark.”

“Cas… it’s not your place to protect me…”

“It is. I’ve made it my place to protect you. You and Sam. From the moment I rebelled from Heaven for you, I made it my place to protect you.”

Dean leaned forward slightly, and Castiel felt himself swallow. There it was, that magnetic pull that Castiel was finding harder and harder to ignore. The one that insisted that he press his lips to Dean’s. “The mark… it’s been doing better. I haven’t… I haven’t messed with the Djinn stuff again. I swear. But for some reason, it’s just… different.”

“What have you been doing differently?” Castiel knew he should remove his hand from Dean’s arm, but he let it linger instead.

“Nothing.” Dean said, shrugging. He intentionally kept the movement in his shoulders so that it wouldn’t jostle Castiel’s hand. “Well… maybe…”

Castiel leaned forward more. He knew he was crossing a line, once again in Dean’s personal space. But it had been years since Dean called him out for it. “What is it?”

Dean suddenly pulled away from Cas’ touch, visibly squirming and leaving Castiel wondering what he had done wrong. Dean avoided his eyes. “I don’t know, Cas…it’s kinda weird.” Castiel just looked at Dean expectantly, encouragingly. Dean sighed and bit his lip, his face flushing. Whatever it was made him feel embarrassed, and Castiel’s curiosity only grew. “Um, well, it started a little while after you left.” He was back to picking at the fuzz on the comforter. “I…I was worried, okay?” He glanced back at Cas uncertainly before glaring back at the fuzz. “I thought you were gone for good. That I had finally done something to permanently push you away. I was praying to you and you weren’t answering. I was calling you and you weren’t picking up. And it never even crossed my mind that you weren’t responded to me because you couldn’t. I was only focused on myself, only focused on how I felt-“

“Dean.” Cas interrupted. “Breathe.” Dean’s chest was rapidly rising and falling and Castiel could detect his increased heart rate as he began to panic.

The hunter inhaled deeply, trying to calm himself. He closed his eyes and breathed in and out a few times calmingly before going back to poking at the fuzz on the bed. He was still avoiding Castiel’s eyes, but he was talking, and about his feelings, nonetheless. It was a huge leap of progress for Dean. “For a while, before I realized something was wrong…I just sorta gave up. I just accepted that you were done with dealing with what a train wreck of a person I am. I lied in bed at night…just…missing you.” Dean finally met Cas’ gaze, but his eyes were panicked and flighty and he looked lie he wanted to run for the door. “I, um…” He bit his lip shyly. “I would…I would take your feather out of my nightstand and just sorta… play with it. I would stare up at the ceiling for hours, just wondering what you were doing and hoping I could make things up to you and run my fingers over the feather. I did it every night. I know that’s weird as f*ck, Cas, but it was just… comforting.”

“You… kept my feather?” Castiel asked in wonder.

Dean squirmed and swallowed hard, visibly struggling to keep holding eye contact. “Yeah. I mean, I meant it when I said I wanted to keep it. It... it’s just special, I guess. It’s yours, you know? It’s like having a part of you. Please stop me from talking before I sound anymore like a serial killer.” Castiel smiled and received a smile and nervous chuckle from Dean in return. “It seemed like it was helping. I mean there were still times that I struggled. There were still times I felt overwhelmed and just heard the mark mumbling in my ear, fighting to take control. But it felt like it helped. Could just be a coincidence, though, right?”

Castiel thought for a moment. “Perhaps. I’m not entirely sure either way. It could be that my lingering grace in the feather was able to help you, or it could just be that the comfort you received from it as helping. It could be neither. It could just be that… the mark is still picking up momentum after I brought you back.” Dean just nodded and sighed, looking a little disappointed. Castiel would give anything to remove the mark, to no longer have Dean carrying this burden. But they were feeling around in the dark blindly when it came to the mark.

Dean’s eyes flickered a little lower than Castiel’s eyes for moment. “I’m sure you’re probably exhausted.” He said softly. “I know I am.” He flexed his hands and Castiel looked at him sympathetically. He was sure that Dean’s hands were probably sore from the repetitive movements of helping with his wings.

Castiel knew what he was about to ask was inappropriate, but he couldn’t stop himself. “You could sleep here, if you wanted, Dean.”

Dean smiled sadly. “Yeah, uh, that’s probably not a good idea, Cas.” Castiel tried to stop his face from showing just how crestfallen he was, but he wasn’t so sure he did a good job of it with the way Dean was looking at him. “You really do need to get some sleep so you can heal. And everyone knows I snore way too loud.” Dean forced another smile and stood up, stretching dramatically. “If you need anything, you know I’m right next door, buddy.” He reached out and clasped Castiel on the shoulder momentarily before heading for the door. It broke Castiel’s heart to watch him go.

Dean shut Cas’ door behind him and leaned back against it, trying to steady his breathing. Cas had no idea how hard it had been for him to get up and leave, had no idea just how bad he wanted to stay and curl himself around the angel while he slept. Hearing Cas offer to let him stay the night broke something in him because there were few things in the world that he wanted more than that. But Cas was traumatized and touch starved, and it didn’t mean the same thing to him as it meant to Dean. Cas probably needed him, but Dean needed to take a second to be selfish. He couldn’t stay the night. He couldn’t let himself wake up draped around Cas only to have realty brutally rip it from as soon as he was conscious enough to remember that they were just friends. It wasn’t getting any easier, and it was destroying him.

He pushed off from the door and headed for the kitchen. The original plan was the grab a beer, but he needed something stronger and hoped that he hadn’t already cleared out all the hard liquor. He nearly ran into Sam again because the giant ogre was too busy staring at his phone and grinning like a maniac. Dean had some sort of harsh joke to throw his way but lost the composure to make it when he thought that Sam might be talking to Eileen. Dean didn’t know too much about the situation yet, and didn’t want to pry, but he was pretty sure Sam had been talking to her almost constantly.

“Hey, how’s Cas?” Sam asked, pocketing his phone.

“Better.” Dean replied, making his way over to the cabinet he kept the good stuff in. He could feel Sam staring at the back of his head.

“…how are you?” Sam’s voice was gentle, like he was speaking to a baby wild animal that he was afraid was going to run off.

Dean opened the bottle of whatever (he hadn’t bothered checking) and drank it straight. “I’m working on it.” He muttered roughly.

Sam opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it. He furrowed his eyebrows in concern, and Dean could almost see the gears grinding in his head as he tried to decide if the pending argument was worth it. “I’m glad Cas is okay.” He began walking towards his room but stopped at the doorway leading to the hall. “And you will be too, Dean. Just give it-“

“Time. Yeah.” Dean interrupted. He smiled weakly. Sam had been right before. “Thank, Sammy.”

Chapter 25: The Penthouse

Chapter Text

Dean kicked his feet up on the map table, watching Sam wearily. Dean had a lore book open in his lap, and was supposed to be doing research, but his mind refused to focus. There was not a single lead on Rowena or Crowley. There were no massive increases in demonic activity to track. There was nothing pointing Dean in the right direction. There was still the possibility that finding Crowley meant finding Rowena and doing something about the mark of Cain, and Dean knew this… but it wasn’t just about that anymore. Now it was about finding Crowley so that Dean could rip him apart for his role in what had happened to Cas. The mark dully throbbed at the thought, and Dean absentmindedly scratched at it.

Sam was pacing slightly while on the phone a few yards away. Dean knew immediately that this phone call was about a case. Sam always had a certain energy about him when a case was involved, and between the tented, concerned eyebrows and animated hand motions, Dean knew Sam was accepting a hunt. He sighed and took a sip of his beer. He wasn’t sure if Cas was up for a hunt just yet. All his wounds had healed, and Dean caught him sleeping maybe once a week, but he still wasn’t sure if he was ready. He knew Cas was going a little stir crazy. The angel spent all his time outside, soaking up the early summer sun and tending to his bees. Dean had barely let Cas out of his sight, and he knew the mother henning was too much, but Dean was still worried, which was why going on this hunt without Cas would be completely out of the question.

Sam smiled tightly and ended the call, making his way over to Dean. He pulled the seat out across from his brother and dropped down heavily, excitement clearly thrumming through him. Everyone was getting a little stir crazy, it turned out, and they hadn’t really hunted since Cas’ rescue from Magnus. “So, I just got a call from Garth.” Dean snorted and Sam ignored him. “He was working on a case in South Carolina… and he’s completely in over his head, Dean. He has no idea what he’s dealing with, and no other hunters seem to know either. I… I, uh, told him that he can head back to Bess and that we’ll check it out.” Dean immediately opened his mouth to protest but Sam held up a hand to stop him. “I know the hunt it completely out of our way and we could send someone else, but I don’t know about this one. Garth was able to list off everything it’s not, and that’s not helping confirm what it is. Someone with more experience needs to handle the case. We’re all they got.”

Dean sighed and closed his book, uncrossing his legs at the ankle and taking them off the table. “South Carolina, huh?”

“If it helps, it’s on Hilton Head Island. So… there’s a beach?”

Dean smiled at Sam’s pathetic attempt to make him enthusiastic about the case. “So, what do we know?”

“Lots of weird stuff is going on.” Sam said, as if that weren’t obvious.

“Yeah, weird is kinda our thing. You wanna elaborate?”

Sam ran his fingers through his hair, pushing it out of the way. “Local’s boats have been sinking. Usually with them on it. The news has been blaming it on the storms that have been hitting the area lately, but it’s still suspicious when even the storms are abnormal. It’s not just locals either. People have disappeared from various hotels near the beach over the past few months. The Sonesta Resort is the latest place to get hit. Some rich old golfer in his mid-forties was last seen drinking at the bar one night and then he just disappeared.”

“A resort? At the beach?” Dean was trying to keep his voice in check, and he knew they were working a case, but f*ck, having his toes in the sand was sounding more and more appealing by the second.

“That’s what you got out of all of this?” Sam accused judgmentally.

“Yeah, yeah, people are dying, I get it. Do you think Cas knows how to swim?”

“There’s no way we can afford to stay at this place.” Dean muttered uncertainly, leaning forward to look through the windshield of the Impala.

The resort was gorgeous. It was an oceanfront, tall white building, and Dean could tell just by looking at the parking lot and it’s valet that this kind of place was charge and arm and a leg for just a single night stay.

“We could always find something cheaper close by.” Cas suggested, leaning forward to peer out the window himself. Dean glanced over at him, taking in just how tired Cas looked. He was really going to have to lose the holy tax accountant get up for all non-case related events since they were at the beach, but Dean would worry about that later. Even though the AC was working fine, he could still feel the heat outside like a heavy presence around the Impala,, and even he couldn’t wait to shed some layers.

“Okay, I get it. This place is… a little out of our price range. But this is where the last victim disappeared from, so we at least need to go in and ask some questions.” Sam stated firmly, reaching into his suit jacket to make sure his fake idea badge was in place. Dean agreed got out of the car, noticing the ‘no vacancy’ buzzing a few yards away. He begrudgingly handed over his keys to the valet.

Inside, it was made twice as clear that this wasn’t the type of hotel a hunter could afford. The entire lobby was immaculate, and Dean was pretty sure that the giant rug leading up to the receptionist’s desk was worth more than everything he owned. Beautiful, billowing, white drapes framed large windows that overlooked the beach on one side, and the gigantic spa and pool area on the other. Dean knew it was selfish, wishful thinking, but he really hoped that they might actually get to enjoy some of their time here. Cas needed a vacation. They all did.

He approached the counter, pulling his FBI badge out in a swift, practiced movement. “I’m agent Lector.” The young man behind the desk was staring at him with wide, confused eyes. “And these are my partners, agent Graham and agent Crawford. We’re here to ask you a few questions about the disappearance of one of your residents….”

“Nathaniel Spellman.” Sam filled in for him when he realized Dean had forgotten the victim’s name.

The young man behind the desk was still staring at him, unblinkingly. Dean cleared his throat and raised his eyes expectantly. “D-dean? Dean Winchester?” The guy stammered, running his fingers through his styled hair nervously.

Dean froze, his eyes scanning the gentlemen’s facial features. His brown eyes were warm though alarmed. He had a faint, though well-groomed beard and beautiful, golden bronze skin. They guy was way too young for Dean to be attracted to him, but he definitely felt like he would remember someone so good looking.

“You… you probably don’t remember me.” He insisted. “God… that was almost 16 years ago.” He ran his fingers through his hair again and looked around quickly to make sure no one was watching them or listening. He dropped his voice lower. “My name is Ricardo. You saved my mother Maria and I from a demon in Wisconsin.”

Realization flooded Dean’s senses and he immediately relaxed. The kid knew him from a case, so at least their cover wasn’t blown. “Jesus… you, uh, grew up.” He replied awkwardly. He glanced over at Sam and Sam was raising an accusatory eyebrow at him. “One of my first solo hunts.” Dean explained. “Dad was… he was around but he let me do the hunt on my own. I got my ass handed to me, but it all worked out.”

“That’s not how I remember it.” Ricardo said with a smirk.

Dean blushed immediately and shuffled his feet. He was pretty sure the kid was flirting. “Yeah, but you were like… what, four or five then? Maybe six? You probably thought I was Batman.” An easy smirk of his own spread over his lips. Ricardo was way too young but flirting never hurt.

“The case, Dean.” Cas suddenly reminded him. Dean jumped a little and nodded. Cas was squinting at him and Dean gave him a quizzical look before turning back to Ricardo.

“There’s a case here?” He asked, looking stricken.

“Uh, maybe not.” Dean lied. “There’s just some…. Odd things we heard about that we need to check out.”

“Starting with the disappearance of Nathaniel Spellman.” Sam interjected. “Do you know anything about him? Were you the one that checked him in?”

“I remember him.” Ricardo nodded. “I work most shifts during the day here. I…I can’t tell you much about him, honestly. Some rich guy in his 40’s. He rented a double bed just for a few days. He was talkative and said he was just staying here on business. He was out most of the time, but when usually got back in the afternoon around the time I was getting off. He always went straight for the bar. That’s actually the last place he was seen here. We have some video footage if you want to see it….” He smiled and added “…detective.” with a wink.

“Yeah, that would be great.” Dean replied, strumming on the counter with his fingers.

“Was the bar he was seen at the one outside by the pool?” Sam asked.

“Yeah. If you go through those double doors and follow the path, it’ll take you straight to it.”

Sam nodded. “Dean, you check out the footage. I’m going to scope out the bar and see if I can find any hex bags.”

“The bartender’s name is Jeremy. Uh, well they may have switched shifts by now. If it’s a woman, that’s Julia. Just tell her I sent you out there for an inspection. She’s laid back, she won’t ask any questions.” Ricardo suggested.

“Cas, go with Sam and help him look.” Dean said, teasingly shoving Cas after Sam when he walked away.

Cas glared at him. “I was going to go over the camera footage with you.”

Dean made a face. “It doesn’t take two people to look over a tape.” Cas turned his glare on Ricardo before stalking after Sam. “Maybe he really does need more sleep.” Dean muttered, shaking his head and turning back to Ricardo.

Ricardo just smiled and walked out from behind the desk, gesturing for Dean to follow him. “Or maybe he’s just the jealous type.”

Dean almost tripped over his own feet, immediately flustered by the comment. “What?”

Ricardo shrugged. “He didn’t look that pissed off until I started flirting with you.” He looked over his shoulder, back at Dean. “I’m not trying to cause issues, I’m just a flirt.”

“I, uh… what? It’s not like that.” Dean insisted. “He’s my best friend. He works cases with me and Sammy. He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Never said he was.” Ricardo replied with a grin. Dean decided to shut his trap because the kid was way too amused by all of this.

Thirty minutes later, Dean and Ricardo met back up with Sam and Cas in the lobby. There was nothing telling in the security camera footage. It only revealed that Nathaniel Spellman had been drunk and stumbling when he exited the gate from the spa and pool area to the steps that led to the beach. Dean would have believed that he had just gotten drunk and possibly made the mistake of trying to swim while too intoxicated, but that didn’t provide answers about the boats sinking or other people that had gone missing that Sam had mentioned about the case. It could explain Nathaniel’s disappearance, but it didn’t solve the case.

Sam and Cas hadn’t had any issues out of Julia but were unable to find anything else to help the case, and the sun was starting to set. Ricardo’s shift had ended at around the time they showed up, but he had chosen to stick around and help them. His relief was a girl his age scrolling through her phone on facebook and was completely unbothered by Ricardo still being there, or by “feds” in suits hanging around the lobby. In fact, she asked Ricardo if he could watch the front long enough or her to go to the bathroom as soon as they got back to the counter.

Dean used it as an out to call it a night. Much like they always seemed to be lately, they were completely in the dark with this case, and between the drive, boring camera footage, and lack of a lead, his brain was fried.

“Thanks for all your help today, Ricardo. But I think we’re gonna throw in the towel for the night. We still have to find a place to stay for the night.”

“Why not just stay here? I know it says ‘no vacancy’, but our pent house is actually available” He responded. Dean couldn’t blame him for sounding a little nervous. He had dealt with the supernatural when he was just a child, moved clear into a different state, and was now finding himself in the middle of a case all over again.

Dean smiled at him sadly. “Unfortunately, hunting doesn’t exactly pay enough for us to stay at a place like this, kid. Or pay at all, really.”

“How do you…survive?” He asked, looking concerned.

“We have fake credit cards that we use from time to time.” Sam answered.

“But a resort this expensive would be such a large purchase that it would immediately flag the cards.” Cas explained.

“And the last thing we need is the cops showing up and asking questions while we’re trying to work a case.” Dean finished.

Ricardo bit his lip and quickly looked over to the bathrooms his coworker had went to. When he saw that the coast was clear, he darted behind the desk and immediately started typing on the computer. His fingers flew over the keys as he kept glancing over to the bathroom and he eventually exhaled a sigh of relief and grinned at Sam, Cas, and Dean. He slid two electronic key cards across the desk at them and said, “Detective Lector, the penthouse has been booked for you and your partners.”

“Dude…” Dean expressed in awe.

Ricardo just grinned bigger. “There’s only two bedrooms. There was a pullout couch, but I’ve had complaints that it gets stuck-“

“We’ll make it work. Thank you so much, Ricardo.” Sam said sincerely, pulling out the full-on puppy eyes and everything.

“Don’t mention it. Just figure out what’s going on and kick this thing’s ass, okay?”

Castiel stared at the bed in front of him, a small frown forming on his lips as he thought. A few moments ago, when Sam and Dean flipped a coin to decide who was sharing a bed and who got their own, it made sense to use to grace to “sway” the results in his favor so that he would end up in the same bed as Dean. That was before Dean was in the bathroom brushing his teeth and was only minutes away from actually crawling into the bed they were expected to share.

The penthouse was huge and covered the entire top floor of the resort. It had its own kitchen, two bathrooms, and two large bedrooms divided by a living room in the middle. It had access to a wraparound balcony that had its own sitting area with a firepit and nice outdoor seating. Everything was expensive, clean, and modern, but Ricardo had been right about the pullout couch in the living room. When they tried to set it up, it creaked and groaned and got stuck. Castiel, having inhuman strength, completely broke it when he attempted to fix it. It was an accident, and receptionist filling in for Ricardo laughed and insisted that he not worry about it when Dean made him go downstairs to the front desk and apologize about it.

Dean had been so grumpy about it that Castiel had strongly considered just not sleeping. He was needing less and less sleep, and his grace had been growing stronger after Magnus’ spells had weakened it. But Castiel was selfish and wanted to take any excuse to be close to Dean, even if Dean definitely didn’t seem to feel the same if slamming the bathroom door was any indication.

Dean stopped in front of the bed and just stared at Castiel. Castiel could smell the minty aroma of the hunter’s toothpaste, and the fresh scent of the resort’s complimentary shampoo and body wash. Dean’s hair was still damp and sticking up haphazardly, and Castiel’s fingers twitched to glide through it and soothe the troubled look on his face.

“You’re not wearing that.” Dean suddenly snapped.

Castiel grabbed the lapels of his trench coat to pull it away from his body and glance down out it. “What would you have me wear?” He asked, frustrated. Dean’s bad mood was starting to affect his own.

“I don’t know, Cas. But we’re at the beach. It’s hot. The AC unit is running now but if it shuts off tonight because the room gets too cold, the bed is going to be furnace with you wearing an entire suit in it.” Dean himself was only wearing boxers and a plain black shirt that he often wore under one of his plaid over shirts.

“Fine.” Castiel growled, shedding his trench coat and suit jacket and draping them over a chair not far away from the bed.

“Wh-what are you doing?” Dean asked nervously, his adam’s apple bobbing around a rough swallow when Castiel started working on the buttons of his button up after stripping his tie off.

“You have a problem with me going to sleep wearing my normal attire, and the only other article of clothing I have is also for winter. So, I’m taking it all off.” Castiel answered casually, curiously watching as Dean got increasingly more nervous.

“Um, sure, whatever Cas.” Dean rasped. He then pointedly climbed into bed, ignoring the angel and flipping over so that he was facing away from Castiel.

“Dean, if this is an issue, I can wait to sleep once we get back to the bunker.” Castiel offered, sliding his dress shirt off his arms and draping it over his coats. He then reached for his belt, the buckle clanging loudly in the quiet room.

Dean immediately tensed and turned over in the bed so that he was facing Castiel with wide eyes. “Y-you don’t have to do that. It took forever to get here, and you didn’t sleep at all in the car.” He bit his lip nervously and slid over to the opposite side of the bed, making room so that Castiel wouldn’t have to walk around to the other side. Castiel finished taking off his slacks and removed his socks while Dean looked everywhere in the room except at Castiel.

Castiel wondered how odd it was for Dean. Nudity meant nothing to an angel, and if anything, clothing was an inconvenience. He knew that humans often didn’t feel the same way, and that Dean probably felt incredibly awkward having his best friend crawl in the same bed as him, only clothed in boxers. Castiel could see the barely-there, scarred imprint of his hand on Dean’s upper arm, and he swallowed reflexively at how it was a reminder of just how bad he wanted to touch Dean. They had touched plenty in all the years Castiel had spent on earth after rescuing him from Hell, but nothing would ever compare to how it had felt to touch Dean’s soul, how it had felt to mark a figurative claim on the man before.

Castiel finished undressing and climbed into the bed, still warm from where Dean had been lying there. Dean looked at him hesitantly before plastering on an all too familiar smirk with false bravado before mumbling “Just keep your hands to yourself, alright?” Castiel fixed him with a bored expression. Dean would never admit it, but he relished in touch just as much as the next person. It gave him the same solace as it gave Cas, even if it was for different reasons. Dean’s eyes slowly scanned over Castiel’s face before snapping back to his eyes. “Night, Cas.” He mumbled softly, turning over and pulling the blankets around him tightly.

As it turned out, Dean didn’t need to worry about Castiel keeping his hands to himself.

Castiel woke from a dreamless, fitful sleep on his back, his angelic eyes only have to blink once to completely adjust to the room’s darkness. The first thing he noticed was Dean was wrapped around him like an octopus, much like the last time they had shared a bed. The difference this time was that Castiel wasn’t sitting up in bed, his body was slouched down in the pillow next to Dean and Dean was completely flush with him. Dean had somehow managed to wiggle so that his head was on Castiel’s chest and one of his thighs was draped over Castiel’s lap. Castiel swallowed hard, very pointedly trying not to think about the part of his vessel Dean’s thigh was pressed against. But vessel wasn’t quite the right word anymore, was it? Jimmy had long since exited this body, and since then, God had specifically rebuilt it for Castiel. This was no longer just a vessel. This was Castiel’s body, and as Dean shifted to snuggle closer, that was Castiel’s erection Dean’s thigh was pressing against.

A strangled noise caught in the back of Castiel’s throat as he tried to focus on anything but how pleasant the pressure felt. He internally chastised himself. He should be stronger than this. He was an angel, he was supposed to have control over bodily functions and carnal thoughts. “Dean!” Castiel whispered urgently. He wasn’t sure why he was whispering, they were alone in their room and Sam was in his.

Dean stirred slightly, the corners of his mouth just barely lifting in a sleepy, happy smile. Cas froze for a moment, soaking in Dean’s smile. Should he wake Dean, when for once he was relaxed and happy? With a shaking hand that Castiel judged himself for even lifting, he gently carded his fingers through Dean’s messy, sleep rumpled hair. It was a barely there touch as to not wake Dean, but a content hum rumbled in the back of his throat and he snuggled in closer to Castiel as if he wasn’t already glued to his side. This caused Dean to shift higher up on Castiel’s chest, and he could feel Dean’s breath in gentle puff against his neck, which certainly wasn’t helping the blood pumping south.

“Dean!” Cas tried again, firmer this time.

“Huh?” Dean mumbled, opening his eyes and making a quiet slurping sound from where he had nearly drooled all over Cas’ neck.

Unlike last time, when he realized his predicament, he didn’t flail and jerk away. Instead, he just met Castiel’s eye’s awkwardly before they slowly slid down to look at where his thigh met Castiel’s crotch.

They both opened their mouths to speak at the same time but then closed them to let the other speak. Dean still hadn’t moved and Castiel could hardly breathe. Dean still hadn’t moved his leg and his lips were just mere inches from Castiel’s and he wasn’t moving....

Until he did.

It was just a gentle, curious, and almost involuntary thrust of his hips, that created just the right friction that pulled a low, quiet moan from Castiel’s lips. Dean’s eyes immediately widened in panic, and despite his pupils expanding in arousal of his own, he immediately pulled back, a litany of apologies pouring from his mouth.

“Dean.”

“Cas, I’m so sorry. I’m still halfway asleep-”

“Dean.”

“-and that was completely inappropriate-”

“Dean!” Cas growled. Dean immediately shut his mouth, swallowing so hard that his Adam’s apple bobbed roughly. Castiel’s eyes tracked the movement before flickering back to Dean’s anxious green eyes. “It’s all right. It’s like you said the last time we when in bed together-” Dean swallowed roughly again. “-it’s...involuntary.”

Dean licked his lips nervously, and Castiel knew he wanted to argue that things like that were only involuntary while asleep, but Dean also knew to take an out when it was offered to him. “Yeah.” He mumbled quietly. He draped his arm over his lap, and Castiel knew it was to hide where his own boxer briefs were tented, which was...interesting.

Castiel hadn’t had much of a reaction when Dean admitted to liking both men and women, because sexuality was irrelevant to angels. Few angels had sex, and the ones that did were rarely bothered by trivial human matters, but now that Castiel knew that Dean could potentially be attracted to his body...it was different. Castiel took a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself. It would be so easy. It would be so easy to pin Dean to this bed and see which pretty, filthy noises he could pull from him. Dean was almost looking at him like he wanted him to.

Castiel laughed, causing Dean’s look to falter to something more curious, but Castiel just shook his head. He was being stupid and hopeful. “Get some sleep, Dean. We have to go to the marina where the sunken ships docked tomorrow. It will most likely be a long day.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right…” Dean replied softly. He ran his fingers through his already messy hair before slumping back down, nestling into his pillow. Much to Castiel’s surprise, he was facing him, blinking sleepily. He closed his eyes and Castiel did the same. Right as Castiel was about to drift off to sleep, Dean reached across the space between them so that their fingertips were just barely touching. “...’Night, Cas.” Dean mumbled.

Castiel smiled and fell asleep content.

Chapter 26: There Must Be Something in the Water

Chapter Text

Dean woke before Cas. Their fingers were just barely tangled between them, taking up the space between their bodies on the plush California King bed. Dean swallowed hard, withdrawing his hand and carefully crawling out from under the sheets as to not disturb Cas. He was holding his breath, had been since the moment his eyes opened, and he made his way to the sliding glass door that led outside to the wrap around balcony, trying not to scream.

The moment the glass was snuggly slid back in place behind him, a litany of curse words fell from his lips and the knuckles of his right fist collided with the immaculate white stone of the outside of the resort. Dean ignored the throbbing in his hand and ignored the new smear of red of the wall to focus on what a colossal f*ck up he was. He had just reminded himself that he was getting too close to his breaking point, and then went and basically tried to dry hump Cas and then hold hands with him? He shook his head and walked over the balcony rail, flexing the fingers of his right hand and feeling a drop of blood escape from the broken skin.

The sun was just starting to peak over the ocean horizon, and the salty air caused Dean to shiver slightly. He was surprised that the temperature had dropped so much since it was sweltering just a few hours ago, but it only reminded Dean that he had no real experience with the beach. There had been one, maybe two cases near the ocean when he and Sam were younger and being dragged state to state by John, but he had never seen it like this, never seen it outside of billboards and pamphlets.

Dean collapsed onto one of the cushioned seats overlooking the balcony, wincing at the slight moisture he could feel seeping through his thin boxers. He idly wondered what John would think of his oldest son now. Dean was tired. He was tired of pining over Cas. He was tired of trying to find the answer to his problems on the inside of an empty bottle. Hell, there were even days when he was tired of hunting. He was just so tired, and he could almost hear John’s scoff at the thought of it. He remembered being young, probably only 12, and having trouble staying awake on a hunt. When John asked him what his problem was, Dean had made the mistake of telling him he just wanted to sleep. Dean would never forget the disappointed look John had given him before scoffing and saying ‘yeah, well people in Hell just want water and they ain’t gettin’ it.’ Dean grimaced at the memory and absentmindedly scratched at the Mark of Cain.

Between the salty air and rhythmic crash of waves, Dean could see why people chose the beach for their vacation destinations. It was soothing, and with each inhale and exhale he could feel himself relaxing. He was just going to have to try harder not to be too obvious with Cas. He felt like he told himself that every day, but he hoped that maybe if he did, it would eventually become second nature to him. Maybe his feelings for Cas would even calm down and eventually disappear. He watched the sunlight dance over the ocean waves bitterly. He couldn’t imagine that any time soon.

Hours later, the sun shone brightly overhead as Dean pulled at the collar of his dress shirt and shrugged his shoulder hoping the adjustment would allow some air under his suit jacket. This case was making it abundantly clear that vacationing on the coast was great, having to pretend to be a fed was not.

“I’m sweating like a whor* in church.” He whined to Sam, the footsteps of their dress shoes echoing on the wood of the marina dock. Sam just rolled his eyes, but Cas shot him an unamused look. Dean sighed. No one appreciated how funny he was.

Sam had his tablet in his hand, scrolling through articles he had saved to the device on the resort’s wifi before they left. “Every single boat disappeared from this marina.” He finally said, all business. “So-“

Dean interrupted him with a low whistle. The closest boat, a Whitewater 28, was still tethered a few yards away, but that wasn’t what had distracted him. What distracted him was the woman bent over the back of the boat, snapping instructions at someone working on the propellers. Her wavy blonde hair kept falling in her face as she was bent over until she finally took a hair tie from around her wrist and pulled in back in a messy ponytail. An easy, confident smirk spread across his lips when he took in her thick, tanned thighs and round, full ass barely contained by her short cut off jean shorts. She finally noticed Sam, Dean, and Cas approaching and she looked Dean up and down, taking him in with a smirk of her own. Dean shot her wink; this was exactly what he needed to take his mind off of Cas. He heard Sam mutter the word ‘ridiculous’, but he ignored it and very pointedly didn’t look at Cas.

“Hey there.” Dean said softly as he approached, easily falling into the false bravado, ladies man act. “I’m detective Lector. These are my partners.” He didn’t even bother introducing them. “Mind if we ask you a few questions, sweetheart?’

The blonde stood up straight, all curves and self-assured sexiness and Dean was practically drooling. Something about the cut offs with boots and the tight white v neck with a visible dark purple bra underneath was really doing something for him. She confidently hopped from the boat to the dock and took a rag from her back pocket, wiping oil from her hands before extending one to introduce herself. “Vera. What can I do for you, detective?”

“Is this your boat?” Sam asked, acknowledging the boat she had just hopped off of. The guy working on getting the propeller unstuck had abandoned his attempts to stare at them curiously.

Vera was barely able to drag her gaze from Dean, but eventually reluctantly looked over at Sam, her blue eyes slipping from interested to bored. “A lot of people dock here, but I own the entire marina.” She replied confidently. She shot the man on the boat a dirty look. “And my brother Ivan works for me. I noticed a fishing net caught in Seas the Day’s-“ Dean snorted at the boat name. “-propeller and I don’t know why I expected him to handle the situation.”

“Hey!” Ivan responded with a frown. “I work with you, not for you. Besides, this thing is really on here.”

Dean gently brushed past Vera, her flowery perfume invading his senses as he pulled out a pocket knife out of his pocket before hoisting himself up on the boat. He made his way over to Ivan, still sending Vera his most dazzling smile before crouching down to cut away at the net until it was loose enough to pull off of the propellers. Ivan looked completely embarrassed as he lowered the propellers back in the water, and Vera was biting her lip flirtatiously as she nodded in approval.

Dean opened his mouth to spill some cheesy one liner when Cas butted in and reminded Vera that they had some questions. Vera and Dean both gave him identical disapproving looks.

Vera and Ivan didn’t have a lot of information to provide on the case. Vera was in charge of the marina, owned one of the boats herself, and was more than willing to let them check the cameras that scanned the dock. She handed over all information that belonged to the boats that went missing, including their latest GPS locations, and she continued to flirt with Dean the entire time. Every time she crossed and uncrossed her long, tan legs, Dean tracked the movement and licked his lips. There was no real desire, and the interest and flirting were little more than a muscle memory reflex, but Dean needed this. He wasn’t entirely sure if he could bring himself to hookup with her, but she was making it abundantly clear with her body language that she was more than willing. Dean tried to focus on anything other than how her eyes weren’t quite the right shade of blue.

“Do you mind if we check out the remaining boats docked here?” Sam asked, interrupting the bedroom eyes Vera was currently giving Dean. He had all the paperwork she had given them in a manila folder tucked under his arm, and it was their last sweep of the marina before they headed back to the resort to regroup and grab some food.

Vera shrugged. “Of course. Do whatever you need to. I would really like the whole ordeal to be fixed sooner than later. All these people losing their lives at sea…not to mention it hasn’t exactly been great for business. Each boat is attached to a numbered post, and if you’ll take a look at that paperwork, all the information you’ll need is right there.”

Sam just nodded, immediately going for the boat across the dock from Seas the Day. Cas went for the boat just beyond it, but not before sending Dean a pissy look that he pretended not to notice. He knew he should be helping Cas and his brother check for hex bags and EMF, but with Ivan back at the marina office printing more documents, he figured he could just distract Vera instead.

“So, you said one of these boats are yours?” Dean asked, unable to contain his smile when Vera’s face lit up.

“Yes! I’ll show you which one she is.” The slender, manicured fingers of one of her hands wrapped around his left wrist and she began pulling him to the end of the dock.

The last boat in the marina was a sleek, black Century 2901 with the name Ursula etched into the paint in swooping purple font. Which wasn’t nearly as funny as Seas the Day, but Dean was able to appreciate beauty when he saw it. He let out a low whistle. “You the one that keeps her up?” He asked, noting there wasn’t a single scratch on the boat.

“All by myself.” Vera responded proudly. She climbed onto the boat, motioning for Dean to follow her. “This is my baby. You should hear her purr when I get her out on the open water.” Dean was pretty sure he was a little in love, and the more they talked, the less forced his flirting felt. “Listen, Detective Lector-“

“You can call me Dean.”

“Dean… can you be straight with me?”

Dean licked his lips nervously. “Sure. What is it, Vera?”

Vera chewed on her bottom lip and avoided his eyes for a second. She plopped down on the seat behind the helm sighing deeply. “I know you can’t tell me… what’s going on here.” She met his eyes again. “Feds are sworn under oath or whatever, right? I guess I don’t need details. I don’t even know if I want any details… But I know whatever’s going on here isn’t normal. Boats from the marina keep going missing, and I’ve seen about people disappearing on the news. Its not… none of this is normal. What can I do to help?”

Dean smiled reassuringly, taking in her big, blue, empathetic eyes. “You just leave that up to me and my partners, sweetheart.” He assured her. “The best thing you can do is be safe. If you really want to go the extra mile, you might want to warn the owners of all these boats that uh… undercurrents and bad weather have been causing a lot of issues and the water could be dangerous. Try to convince them to stay out of it.”

Vera laughed. It was sincere and as sweet as honey, and Dean…kind of really liked this girl. She gave him a grin so big that he noticed dimples. “You expect me to tell them not to go out on the water? Dean, I think you and I both know that all of this isn’t going to stop me, and so I can’t expect it to stop them.”

Dean felt his stomach turn uneasily. Vera didn’t seem the type to scare easily, but he, Sam, and Cas still had no idea what they were up against. “It’s dangerous.” He replied honestly.

Vera dramatically tapped her chin as if in thought. “How about this, Dean… the next time I decide to go out on the open water, I give you a call. You can protect me.”

Smiling, Dean leaned against the helm just as an excuse to move closer. “Deal.” He pulled a fake business card out of his stifling jacket pocket and handed it to her. The boat moved slightly with the shift of added weight and Dean looked up to see Cas boarding. “Detective Graham.” He greeted, trying to figure out what Cas was trying to communicate with his eyes alone as he glared at Dean. Then Dean remembered that Vera’s boat needed to be cleared. Being gorgeous didn’t give her a free pass. “Uh, Vera? You have to tell me about the speed on this baby.” He blurted when he noticed her curiously looking between them.

She hopped up excitedly, once gain grabbing Dean to steer him in a certain direction, this time to the front of the boat. “See, the thing about a Century 2901 is-“

Castiel slammed the door to the impala a little harder than he needed to. Picking up on his foul mood, Sam had immediately made a beeline for the backseat, allowing Castiel to slide in the front passenger seat next to Dean.

“Hey!” Dean growled. “Easy with the doors.”

Castiel glared at him but didn’t reply. Their time in the sun had caused Dean’s freckles to become more prominent, and even caused a few new ones to appear. There was now a stray one on his bottom lip that was woefully distracting.

Sam, sensing the awkwardness, spoke up. “So, I have nothing. No hex bags, no emf. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary in any of the boats, or in the office when I went to go talk to Ivan again.”

“We should’ve tested Vera and Ivan with silver. Didn’t think about that.” Dean muttered, his grip tightening on the steering wheel as they pulled away from the marina.

“Try not to blame yourself too much, Dean.” Castiel responded, keeping his tone even and looking out the window instead of at Dean. “You were obviously very distracted.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Dean snapped, turning his head to look at Cas angrily as Cas turned to look at him.

“Dean! Road!” Sam reminded him from the backseat when the impala started to drift into the other lane.

Castiel just folded his hands in his lap and went back to looking out the window. He knew he was being petulant, but seeing Dean openly flirt with Vera stirred something protective and jealous in him. Dean was a flirt and seeing him lay the charm on someone during a case wasn’t abnormal, but Cas had picked up just how at ease Dean was, just how interested Vera was in Dean sexually. Their mutual interest was etched into every movement and word, and it was driving Castiel mad with jealousy he had no right to even have.

Sam cleared his throat. “So, hotel and then food? I’m starving but I’m so ready to get out of this suit.”

“Cas doesn’t have anything to change into.” Dean mentioned evenly.

Sam shrugged, his eyes darting back and forth between the back of his brother’s head and the back of his best friend’s head. “You could let him borrow some of your clothes. You two are about the same size. Or we could stop at Walmart or somewhere. We have some cash to spare since Ricardo hooked us up.”

Dean whipped into the turning lane that lead to the Walmart up ahead, cutting someone off and then flipping them off when they honked.

Sam was currently pushing a shopping card to the bottled water aisle (even though Dean asked for beer) and Cas was in the dressing room trying on clothes which left Dean alone, stewing in his own thoughts on the bench outside the dressing room. Despite what Sam said, Dean absolutely was not pouting. When Cas had closed the dressing room door behind him, Sam had immediately pulled him to the side, lecturing him on being a dumbass and then stormed away, pushing his shopping cart prissily. He even flipped his f*cking hair dramatically. Bitch.

Dean didn’t get it. One second Sam is telling him to nut up or shut up, the next he was throwing a bitch fit over Dean actually showing interest in someone other than Cas. He sighed dramatically, slouching on the bench further. “Caaas.” He whined. “What the hell is taking you so long?”

Dean was answered by silence for a moment before Cas’ voice drifted out from under the dressing room closest to him. “The button is stuck.”

Rolling his eyes, Dean stood up, grabbing the dressing room handle and trying to open the door. “Open up. We don’t have all day.”

“I- it’s just a stuck button, Dean. I can-“

“C’mon Cas, I’m hungry-“

The door swung open, causing Dean to stumble into the tiny dressing room. He got a good look at Cas, and suddenly his lungs weren’t working. There was nothing spectacular about the way he looked, he was just in cheap, Walmart jeans and an even cheaper, plain, black v neck, but it completely took Dean’s breath away. Cas’ hair was an absolute disaster from trying on a bunch of shirts, and he was staring at Dean with wide, blue eyes, taking in their accidental proximity. Dean could feel saliva flooding his mouth, and he worked his throat, swallowing roughly. “The button is stuck?” He questioned dumbly.

“Yes.” Cas answered, his hands immediately fumbling with the button of his pants. “But if you would’ve just given me a second-“ the jeans finally came undone, and Cas looked back up at him. They were just inches apart, and Cas let go of his grip on the denim, the jeans pooling at his feet. Dean soaked in every detail of the situation from Cas’ bird’s nest of hair to his muscular arms in the v neck, just tight enough in all the right places… Dean had never wanted a quickie in a dressing room more in his entire life.

“Dean? Cas?” Sam’s confused called from just outside the dressing room. Dean blushed furiously, glad it was taking some of the blood away from his dick, and pulled the door open, stumbling out of the dressing room. He took a giant gulp of air since he could finally breathe, waved awkwardly at Sam, and made up his mind. He was going to f*ck Vera.

“This is a terrible idea.” Sam muttered angrily as Dean spritzed himself with some cheap cologne he had grabbed at Walmart. His nose scrunched up when he smelled it. It wasn’t particularly bad, just not something he was used to; it was so fake of Dean to be dousing himself in cologne for a date.

Dean turned to him, a single eyebrow raised and a frown on his lips, clearly unhappy with Dean’s response. “Weren’t you the one telling me to either make a move on Cas or do something to get over him?” He snapped. “Well, that’s what I’m doing.” Sam opened his mouth, but Dean interrupted him. “And don’t give me any of that ‘we’re in the middle of a case!’ sh*t. I know that. But we’re at a standstill. Cas is downstairs questioning more of the staff, you’re balls deep in research between the information Vera gave us and trying to figure out what kind of creature we could be up against, and I’m just…here. I’m not helping, so why not go on a date with Vera? Maybe she could tell me more about the boat owners that went missing.”

“You’re so full of sh*t.” Sam responded, slamming down the manila folder that was in his hands. “You’re not fooling anyone. This date has nothing to do with the case, it’s just another one of your one night stands.”

“So?!” Dean yelled, hackles raised. “Why does that matter? I’ve been pining over Cas for months, hell, years, and Vera is the first person I’ve even been remotely interested in sleeping with since I realized that. For months now I seriously thought I was stuck in this weird rut where I was going to be able to make a move on Cas, but I wasn’t going to be able to make a move on anyone else either. But guess what? Vera gave me a call and I was actually able to ask her out. And he said yes, Sam. Very enthusiastically might I add. Shouldn’t you be happy that I’m actually taking a step towards moving on?”

“And what about Cas?” Sam asked quietly, crossing his arms over his chest.

Dean snorted. “What about him?”

Sam huffed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “What about how he feels? Or how he’s going to feel once he gets back up here and I explain that you’re not here because you’re on a date?”

“He’s not going to feel any kind of way.” Dean replied evenly. “He doesn’t care.”

“How are we even related?” Sam laughed humorlessly. “What, you think his little attitude in the car earlier today was because he didn’t like the heat? It was because you were openly flirting with Vera, Dean. Get you head out of your ass for once.”

Dean swallowed. Cas was pissy earlier, but it had nothing to do with Dean…right? He was probably just annoyed that he couldn’t wear his trench coat, or because they hadn’t made any progress on the case. “I’m going to go.” He finally responded, checking his pockets for his phone and wallet and grabbing his keys off the coffee table.

“You’re making a mistake.” Sam tried hopelessly.

“He doesn’t… he doesn’t feel that way about me, Sammy. Don’t… don’t make me second guess this.”

“You should be second guessing this! Instead of wasting your time with Vera, you could be getting somewhere with Cas. Instead-“

Dean ignored him, opening the door to their penthouse and slamming it harder than necessary. He pressed his back against the door and took a few steadying breaths, trying to even out his rapid, panicked breathing. He knew Sam’s heart was in the right place, but that didn’t mean Sam was right. It was a risk he wasn’t willing to take; it could ruin everything. He, Sam, and Cas were a family. If he was wrong, it could destroy everything they had built together. Cas wasn’t just Dean’s best friend, but Sam’s too. f*cking up and making a move would ruin everything for everyone involved, and not even Dean was that selfish.

With a heavy sigh, Dean made his way to the Impala, silently thankful that he didn’t run into Cas along the way. He slid behind the wheel and Googled the address that Vera had sent him. She wasn’t like any other girl that Dean had ever asked out. She didn’t leave it up to him to decide what they were going to do, she told Dean what they were going to do. When the address pulled up, he grinned. She wanted to go to a go cart track. Dean could get behind that. He pulled away from the resort, giving one last glance at it in his rear view window.

Vera was…. awesome. She didn’t exactly show up like she was ready for a date, but Dean didn’t mind. She had on the same jean short cut offs and boots, but had changed into a nicer shirt, and had applied just a little makeup that made her lips look fuller and her eyes brighter. She had a sweet as honey laugh that never failed to make Dean smile, and she was a huge flirt, touching him any chance she could. Her taste in music was incredible, even if she did prefer Fleetwood Mac to Led Zeppelin. She knew a ton of mechanics, even though a boat isn’t exactly the same as a car. She was funny without trying to be, confident, clever, and thought her little brother Ivan was just as annoying as Dean thought Sam was. She also managed to tell Dean all of this over the best burgers and beer in town and wasn’t joking when she described them as such. Had it not been for the fact that Dean was on a date, he probably would’ve ordered a second burger, but didn’t have time to dwell on it before Vera asked him to play pool with her. Dean may have beat her at the go cart race, but she was kicking his ass at pool…and he kinda loved it.

“You know, I’ve spent my whole life thinking I was good at pool.” He mumbled as the 6-ball bounced off of a corner pocket instead of going in.

Vera laughed, causing him to smile. “You are good. I’m just better.” She winked and got her ball in no problem. Dean’s ego was only hurt a little, until she got the next ball in, followed by the 8 ball, and then bowed grandly with a grin on her face. Dean put on a fake, dramatic pout that made her giggle. She came over to him, patting him on the hand. “There, there.” She said, not at all condescending. “There’s one more stop I want to make.” A huge grin spread across her face.

“Anything you want.” Dean replied, a little surprised that he meant it.

“It’s still pretty early, but the sun is about to set. I say we go out in my boat. Have you ever been out on the water during sunset? It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah, we can do that.” Dean was a little breathless over how beautiful she was this excited and kissing her out on the open water was probably more romantic that trying to make a move on her in a dive bar.

Her face lit up and she grabbed his hand. “Sweet. I’ll drive.”

Normally, Dean wasn’t exactly the type to let others drive, but he couldn’t say no to her if he tried.

Vera wasn’t kidding about how beautiful the open ocean was during sunset. The sky was pink, orange and gold, cascading soft light across the waves, painting the water so that it almost looked like a deep purple. Vera was so carefree and relaxed behind the helm, her blonde hair tossed about in the wind and a constant smile on her face. She laughed when she took a particularly sharp turn, causing Dean to stumble and have to grab the side of the boat to stop himself from toppling over into the water.

Vera let the boat slow to a stop, her hair in wild, sexy waves as she looked back over her shoulder playfully. “You alright there, stud?” She asked teasingly.

Dean stood up shakily, adjusting his flannel which had done it’s best to fly off in the wind. “I guess I just don’t have my sea legs.”

Vera laughed and turned her seat around, smiling up at Dean as he approached her. He smiled down at her, returning a smile at how effortless this evening at been with her. He hadn’t thought about Cas once, and of course this thought reminded him of Cas and his smile dropped. As effortless as this date had been, and as much as he liked Vera, she certainly didn’t give him the same feeling that Cas did. It wasn’t like he had expected her to, this was the first day he had even known Vera, and Cas… well, he was in love with Cas. This date had felt fun, but Cas made anywhere Dean was with him feel like home.

As though Vera could see he was distracted, she grabbed him by his shirt and pulled him in, bringing their lips together. Dean stumbled into the kiss but kissed her back enthusiastically, her soft lips just the distraction he needed. When he pulled away, she looked up at him, her big, blue eyes sparkling with longing. “I’ve had fun tonight.” She admitted.

“Me too.” Dean confessed, helping her up with every intention of pulling her in for another kiss. Instead, she giggled and danced out of his reach, suddenly grabbing the hem of her shirt and pulling it over her head. Dean swallowed hard, not intending to move this fast, but 100% on board with it.

“Have you ever been skinny dipping?” She asked, kicking off her boots.

“What?” Dean asked dumbly, completely distracted by the bounce of her chest as she worked the boots off.

“Skinny dipping. You know, going swimming in your birthday suit.” Vera replied with an eyeroll, sliding out of her shorts once her boots were kicked out of the way.

“Uh… I don’t… think so?” Dean honestly couldn’t even think of a time when he had the opportunity to go skinny dipping.

“Now is a good time as any.” Vera responded, winking and reaching around her back to unlatch her bra.

Dean groaned, having to force himself to be responsible. “Vera, I don’t think this is a good idea.” He put a hand on her shoulder, causing her to pause. “My partners and I still don’t know what’s going on with this case, but we do know that the water probably isn’t safe right now.”

Vera just smirked, her bra finally unlatching. She slid it off, tossing it to the side. She slid her underwear off next and sat on the edge of the boat kicking her feet out over the edge so that her feet dangled less that a foot above the lapping waves. “C’mon, Dean. You gotta learn to live a little.” She hopped off the edge of the boat and Dean immediately peered over the edge worriedly.

“Vera?” He called out nervously. “sh*t.” He muttered when she didn’t resurface, stripping himself of his flannel. He ripped his shirt off over his head, only the see her head break the surface as his shirt dropped to the ground. He dropped to his knees and leaned over the edge of the boat, peering down at her, his unamused frown not matching her mischievous grin at all. “You scared the hell out of me.” He said, offering his arm to help her out of the water.

She grabbed his arm, gripping it firmly. “Aw, you’re not fun Dean.” Her grin dropped, and when she blinked up at Dean her blue irises glowed green, her round pupils now thin slits in her reptilian eyes.

“What the f*ck-“ Dean tried to pull back, but the grip on his arm tightened painfully. He twisted attempting to get out of Vera’s grip, but her dainty, manicured nails were now replaced with long, sharp claws attached to webbed fingers.

“I hope you can hold your breath.” Vera hissed.

Dean didn’t have time to respond before she drug him into the crashing waves of the ocean.

Chapter 27: Mercy

Chapter Text

As Dean slowly regained consciousness, he was certain of exactly four things. The first thing was that there was a sharp, searing pain shooting up his arm from the Mark of Cain, causing his blood to run hot with anger that was stronger than he had felt in a long time. The second was that he was sitting in water from his abdomen down, and his hands were bound behind his back with some sort of coarse rope, judging how it was digging into his wrists. The third thing was that him trying to stamp out his feelings for Cas was making him a dangerously sloppy hunter. The fourth and final thing he was certain of , was that he had sand all over him, especially in places that sand absolutely did not belong.

Dean blinked the sting of saltwater and the grit of sand from his eyes slowly. It barely helped with his vision. Wherever he was trapped was dark, but there was just a sliver of moonlight peeking in from a hole above him, and as he squinted through the darkness, he was able to make out that he was in some sort of cave. He could hear the waves crashing somewhere outside the cavern. Based on how the pool of water he was sitting in was gently sloshing against him and then pulling away, he assumed that the mouth of the cave was connected to the ocean. He took a deep breath and coughed, causing his lungs to seize and splutter. He groaned at the pounding headache he was developing that throbbed in rhythm of the mark’s pulsing. Wondering how long he had been underwater, Dean tried to stand. He almost immediately lost his balance, and stumbled onto his knees, thankful that the sand helped soften the impact. He was getting too old for this sh*t.

A splash to his right pulled his eyes in the direction, but at first all he saw was darkness until a glowing light appeared, getting brighter until he realized it was Vera that was glowing, or at least parts of her. She was sitting atop a rock in the water and still looked eerily human excluding her new, clawed and webbed hands, annular pupils and freaky yellow eyes, and patches of scales scattered in clusters across her exposed skin since she had ditched her clothing. As Dean blinked and strained his eyes, he realized it was the scales that were glowing a soft seafoam green, providing the cave with more light. At this point, Dean was surprised she didn’t have a mermaid tail or tentacles sprouting out somewhere.

Smirking with feigned bravado, Dean opened his mouth to say something witty about the situation, but a low hiss came from his left and he shut his mouth and turned. More soft green light revealed Ivan, looking much like Vera, only with longer claws and larger patches of scales across his human-like skin. Upon closer inspection, there was also something around his neck. Dean attempted to scrambled further away from the two, which only made Ivan hiss again, causing fins on the side of his neck to flair out threateningly. This was officially the weirdest version of the Little Mermaid that Dean could think of, and he was all too familiar with Hans Christian Andersen.

“So…” He started slowly, wracking his brain for a thought on how to escape. “Turns out you two are mermaids. I have to admit, that was not where I thought this case was going.”

“We’re not mermaids.” Vera snapped, drawing Dean’s attention back over to her. “Mermaids aren’t real. They were something you humans made up to try to identify us. We don’t have tails.”

Dean almost laughed at how offended she sounded. “Okay, then what are you?” he asked her, stalling as he tried to work the rope from his wrists.

“Vera, we owe him no explanation.” Ivan warned, but Vera ignored him.

“We’re rusalka.” Dean just blinked at her, and really wish he spent more time in the bunker’s library like Sam. Vera hissed in annoyance, her scales glowing brighter in irritation. “Slavic water nymphs.”

“So, basically, mermaids…” Dean muttered to himself, but apparently Vera had heard him because one second he heard a splash and the next she was resurfacing from the water in front of him, her claws fingers around his neck. She pushed him back so that he was once again flat on his ass, his head just an inch above the water and his bound hands digging into sand beneath him.

“Call us whatever you want, but just know that you’re at our mercy, Dean Lector.” The way she sneered at his false last name made it all too apparent that the jig was up, and it was one of those times Dean wished he wasn’t such an infamous hunter. Being damn good at his job meant his survival rate was higher, but it also meant that word got around about him.

“Well, here’s the deal, sweetheart.” Dean choked out. Her grip on his throat wasn’t stopping him for breathing but was keeping him on edge, making the mark throb harder. “I get that I’m in your playing field right now.” He gestured at the water surrounding them with a shrug of his shoulders and a quick glance around. “But I can promise you, killing me would be a bad idea. You see that nifty little mark on my arm? It’s not some douchey tribal tattoo. It’s the Mark of Cain. If you kill me, I come back, and I come back a hell of a lot more pissed off and dangerous than I am now.”

“That’s what we sensed.” Ivan finally spoke up. “That’s why he’s special.”

“You flatter me.” Dean replied boredly.

“He means you’re not quite human.” Vera replied, shoving his throat down aggressively before releasing her grip. Dean’s head went under water for a second and he came up coughing indignantly.

“I am human.” Dean said, all too aware that his voice quivered slightly, and his words didn’t come out as confident as he hoped.

Vera turned to Ivan. “If he’s right, will this still work?” She asked her brother.

Ivan nodded but still a little looked uncertain. “There have always been tales of our species using humans when our numbers have started to dwindle. He can still be used regardless, but that mark he carries… it should only help at making the offspring stronger.”

Dean jaw dropped comically as he looked back and forth between the rusalka siblings. “Offspring? Excuse me?”

Vera shot him an unimpressed look. “I wasn’t looking to kill you, Dean. I was looking for a mate.”

Sam tried very, very hard to focus on the lore on his laptop, but kept getting distracted by Cas pacing a hole in the floor of the living room that joined their rooms. He had his laptop set up on the coffee table, missing persons articles surrounding it, and all the information that Vera had given him haphazardly taking up the space next to him on the couch. Cas had not stopped being fidgety, to say the least, since he had found out that Dean had left. When Sam had told him that Dean wasn’t there, he had very carefully danced around the subject, avoiding words like “date”. He hated doing damage control for Dean, but he also couldn’t bring himself to deal with whatever hurt expression Cas would probably throw his way if he knew Dean was out trying to get laid. Cas had not been pleased to find that Dean had went “out” during a case where people were disappearing, and his worrying was putting Sam on edge.

When Sam found himself reading the same sentence on his laptop for the third time, he finally sighed and looked up at Cas. “You want to take a seat, Cas?” He suggested gently. Cas stopped and looked over at him, his eyes a little wide, probably not fully aware that he had been pacing. Sam remembered a time when Cas would stand stock still, eerily statuesque, without any issue. But the longer Cas spent time on earth, the more human Sam was seeing him become.

Cas sat down awkwardly in the wicker chair across from Sam on the other side of the coffee table, his hands placed just as stiffly on his knees. He squinted at the coffee table before looking up at Sam and saying “I think it’s a rusalka.”

“A what?” Sam asked in confusion, definitely not expecting Cas to bring up the case, but a little relieved. They weren’t getting anywhere, and Dean certainly wasn’t helping.

“A rusalka. Humans often referred to them as mermaids, sometimes even sirens.They’re aquatic, humanoid creatures, known as water nymphs. The monster has to be something aquatic, most likely nocturnal, or mostly nocturnal, based on the time of the day most of the disappearances have happened.” Cas relaxed a little bit, but there was still a stressed look hidden behind the blue of his eyes.

Sam tried to pull up lore on rulsaki from the database he had stored on his laptop, but there were no hits. He frowned at his screen before looking up at Cas. “Yeah, uh, the Men of Letters don’t have any information on those. Are you sure?”

Cas sighed. “I’m not positive. A rusalka being near America is almost unheard of, and it’s believed that they are extinct. It’s why I haven’t mentioned it. They normally lived in much colder environments, Nordic regions.”

“So, what makes you think that’s what we’re dealing with? I get that you’re saying it’s unlikely, but there has to be a reason you would think to bring them up.” Sam wasn’t trying to be pressing, or say that Cas was wrong, but he wasn’t exactly elaborating on the subject.

Cas shook his head. “They could, I suppose. They use various tactics to attract prey, but it’s generally done by taking a form that’s appealing to the victim. They could send their young out to attract a motherly woman, thinking the child is hurt or lost. They could send one of their attractive adults out to attract a lustful victim-” Sam froze, and it didn’t go unnoticed. Cas narrowed his eyes at Sam, the gears in his brain turning as he asked. “Sam… where did you say Dean went?”

Sam shifted nervously on the loveseat, worry forming at the pit of his stomach. “I didn’t. He’s uh...Cas, he’s out with Vera. You don’t think…?”

Cas immediately stood up. “We need to find a boat. Now.”

“You… you want me to be your mate.” Dean state slowly, trying to wrap his head around what Vera had just said.

Vera rolled her eyes. “Saying I ‘want’ you as a mate is...absurd. But we’re running out of options.”

Dean kept trying to work his wrists out of the rope, as he spoke, but all it was doing was causing the skin to become raw and inflamed, the saltwater biting at the newly exposed skin. He could hear the quiet whispering of the mark in his head, completely useless unless the strength it could give him was about to kick in. “Vera, sweetheart, I’m flattered, and I was definitely hoping this date was going to lead somewhere… but it’s a little soon to be talking about kids.” The comment was supposed to be a cheeky distraction, but it didn’t exactly work out in Dean’s favor when she slapped him across the face, her claws dangerously close to ripping into his skin.

“Do you think I want this?!” She snarled, her shrill voice sounding hysterical. “Do you think I want a human mate?! After what you’ve done to us?!”

“He doesn’t know, Vera.” Ivan reasoned. “You know how unaware humans are of what they do to impact the world around them.” Ivan swam over to the two of them, standing up in the water next to his sibling. “This is a last resort.” Ivan explained. “Our numbers… we’re almost extinct because of humans. You pollute and you litter, not caring what it does to all the other living creatures on this planet. There already weren’t many of us. We’ve never had large numbers like werewolves or vampires. In the 19th century, humans caught on to what we are. Almost, at least. Many of us were mistaken for witches and burned at the stake.” Vera shuddered. “Throughout time, humans have only killed more and more of us. Every time there was an oil spill, some of us died. Every broken net has the potential to trap and kill one of us. Some of us have starved because of humans over fishing, depleting the number of edible fish for us. We don’t want human mates by any means, Dean Winchester, but if we don’t do something, there will be none of us left.”

“Is that why I’ve never heard of rusalkas? Rusalki? You guys are supposed to be all dead?” Dean could feel the familiar bubble of panic in his chest. The mark wasn’t pissed enough to give him the strength to break through the rope, and he couldn’t free his hands. Vera was slowly inching closer, and he was running out of options.

“We normally fair better in much colder climates.” Ivan scrunched up his nose in disgust. “These waters are too warm, especially this time of year. But it was too risky. Nordic countries pass down stories about us from generation to generation, and while nearly no one believes the tales, it makes things too risky. Fishermen are superstitious, and women are...more careful. I’ve had no luck at luring any females in our homeland or here… but Vera has had a lot of luck.”

“So, why do you need me? What about all the men before me? Enough men have went missing to put you on hunters’ radars.” Dean tried to wiggle back through the pool of water, Vera much too close for comfort.

“They didn’t survive the mating ritual.” Vera replied with a toothy grin, her clawed hands reaching for Dean’s belt.

“You couldn’t just zap us there?” Sam asked nervously, squinting out on the open water from the stolen boat that he and Cas were on. The lights on the boat did very little to help with how pitch black it was at this time of night on the water, and he kept his hands planted firmly on the helm as Cas concentrated on zeroing in on Dean’s location.

Cas’ eyes were screwed shut, a pained expression on his face as he struggled to locate Dean. “Rulsakas use old Nordic cloaking magic.” He explained. “I’m only able to locate Dean using his longing.” He opened his eyes for a moment to look at Sam, and when he noticed Sam’s facial expression he added “His longing to be saved.”

That almost made Sam take his eyes off of the ocean, but he tried not to let himself get frustrated over the fact that Cas could feel Dean’s longing, and still didn’t realize how Dean felt about him. The only time Dean was any good at poker was when money was involved.

“There.” Cas said suddenly. his eyes snapping open and pointing to a small embankment not too far away in the water. It could barely be called an island, and Sam was pretty sure that if it were high tide the “island” might disappear completely under the waves. He squinted at it, noticing the entire piece of land was taken up by rocks, and what seemed to be a cave. Cas’ fingers extended until his hand was completely open, a faint, blue light pouring from his palm, making it much easier to see, to Sam’s relief. He circled the small island until he found a sandy patch to pull the boat up to. He drove the boat right up onto the bank, not caring about the damage to the stolen boat.

Checking his duffle for all of his weapons, he finally spoke again. “How do we kill these things, Cas?”

“They’re not too terribly difficult to kill.” Cas explained. “There’s a reason they’re almost extinct. If they’ve taken their scaled forms, light weakens them further. They’re from the bottom of the sea, their skin and eyes are sensitive to bright lights.” He gave Sam’s flashlight in his duffle a pointed look.

“And if you’re wrong about what they are?”

Cas turned to Sam, a terrifying look on his face that reminded Sam that he was in the presence of an angel, not just some socially awkward guy in a trench coat. “We kill them anyway.”

Dean scrambled back as Vera pulled at his belt, but when he backed into a jagged rock, he had nowhere to go. He frantically tried to rub the ropes against the rock, struggling to break through his bindings, but suddenly his jaw was crushed in Vera’s powerful grip, her claws digging into his face painfully as she forced him to look her in the eyes. “This will be a lot less painful if you stop struggling. You may actually enjoy yourself.”

Without thinking, Dean immediately spit in her face, completely disgusted. She barely blinked but looked over to Ivan expectantly. Ivan made his way over and pinned Dean to the rock by shoulders and Vera worked on undoing his pants. Dean squeezed his eyes shut, feeling bile climb its way up his throat when he heard his name being yelled, echoing in the cave.

“Sam? Sammy?” He croaked, his throat burning from the saltwater he had inhaled earlier, making it impossible for him to scream too loudly.

“Dean!” and that was two voices then. Sam and Cas both answering him from somewhere in the cave.

“Kill them.” Vera hissed at Ivan. He immediately disappeared into the dark water with a splash, and Dean immediately opened his mouth to try to shout a warning to Sam and Cas, but Vera slapped a slimy, webbed hand over his mouth. “You’d better hope you last long enough to mate. If not, I’m going for them next.”

Sam stumbled through water, up past his waist, struggling against the undercurrent every time the tide pulled back. Castiel was faring better, leading the way using the glow of grace coming from his palm and concentrating on Dean’s longing. “You can’t fly us to him yet?” Sam asked urgently, trying to move quicker through the water.

“I’m scanning the cave, but in case you’ve forgotten, rusalka use cloaking magic.” Castiel snapped gruffly. The path in the cave was winding and cramped, and along with the tide, it was impossible for them to move any quicker. The path finally opened up a bit, revealing two different ways they could break off and go. Castiel’s palm was pointed to the right, so Sam pointed his gun and flashlight to the left. “It’s this way.” Castiel muttered, taking the right just as a loud splashing noise came from behind them.

“Go.” Sam urged, as they both turned to the sound, watching as the water a couple of yards away rippled towards them. “Cas, go! I’ll hold this one off but I’m only going to slow you down. Go save Dean.”

“Sam-”

“GO!” Sam bellowed. Castiel nodded, making his way through the water much quicker than Sam could have. He grimaced at the sound of grunting and splashing, and sent a silent prayer for Sam’s safety. The cave path finally opened up completely, and Castiel’s eyes immediately zeroed in on Dean. Vera was on top of him, her body pressing him into the water as he struggled beneath her. It only took a moment for Castiel to realize what she was trying to do, she was trying to pin him down using her weight and one hand pressed to his shoulder while the other was struggling to get his jeans off.

An anger, a possessiveness like Castiel had never felt before immediately surged through him like fire, his eyes glowing ethereal blue with with grace, the whole cave lighting up with it as his hands shook. Vera immediately hissed in pain, the light far too much for her scaled form. She scrambled off of Dean to dive into the shelter of the dark water, and all it took was one flap of his wings for Castiel to immediately be at Dean’s side now that he knew exactly where he was.

“Cas.” Dean croaked hoarsely, his body immediately sagging towards Castiel in relief despite his arms being pulled taut.

“I’ve got you, Dean.” Castiel replied, his gravelly tone somehow soothing as his hands worked quickly to undo the ropes that were binding his wrists.

“f*ck, that was a close call.” Dean sighed weakly. “You know she was trying to mate with me? What the f*ck.”

Castiel pressed his lips into a thin line, his hands shaking in anger, but he didn’t reply. Dean eyed him curiously, unable to fully see his expression in the dim lighting, but still able to pick up on Castiel’s tension. When his hands were finally free, Dean immediately rolled his shoulders, trying to work the strain out of them. Castiel helped him up onto wobbly, unsure feet. The sound of the water moving was the only warning they had before Vera lurched out of the water at them. Castiel gracefully caught her by the throat with one hand, slamming his other palm to her forehead. Dean immediately shielded his eyes as the cave lit up and Vera’s eyes burned out , her body going limp in Castiel’s grip. Castiel threw her body unceremoniously into the water before turning back to Dean.

“Are you alright?” he asked, noticing that Dean was buttoning his pants up and was unable to stop himself from tracking the movement with his eyes.

Dean laughed shakily, trying not to think about the searing pain coming from the mark of Cain on his forearm. “A lot better now that you’re here. Where’s Sam?”

As if right on cue, the sound of gunshots echoed through the cavern. Dean and Cas immediately began wading through the water towards the sound. Sam appeared in front of them turning the corner sharply and nearly running into Castiel, and the angel had to grab him to keep him upright. “I...I think I killed it.” Sam said with uncertainty. “I got him really good in the eyes with my flashlight and he kinda freaked out and tried to claw my face off, but he couldn’t see. Then I shot him. There was blood in the water so I know the shot landed, but I don’t know if it killed him.”

Castiel nodded, and then vanished, leaving Sam swaying at the sudden absence of his grip. Dean snorted. “You know, I think I liked it better when he couldn’t do that.” He said with an eye roll.

Castiel appeared next to him with a glare, causing Dean to jump. “I wanted to make sure he was dead.” He replied airily, causing Dean to give him a sheepish grin. Castiel then turned his attention to both of them, though he struggled to pull his eyes away from Dean. “We won’t have to worry about either of them anymore.”

“So...case closed?” Sam asked hopefully.

“Case closed.” Dean sighed definitively. “Let’s get back to the resort.” He added, his arm rubbing the mark. “I would kill for a beer right now.”

Sam laughed, bringing Dean back down to earth. They were both sitting in the joint living room, a couple of beers split between them. Sam was dicking around on his laptop and Dean...Dean was on the other side of the coffee table, worrying. Cas has managed to zap them all back to the impala, but had immediately stumbled when they landed and Dean had to catch him. The moment they got back to the penthouse, Cas had muttered something about being tired in his “weakened state” and had flopped across their bed and immediately fallen asleep, not even bothering to undress. It would have been endearing had it not been so worrying.

“What’s so funny?” Dean asked, trying to distract himself as he took another sip from his beer.

“Well, it’s not really ‘ha ha’ funny, more ‘wow, I’m an idiot’ funny. Before we headed out, I was trying to find out information on rusalki and nothing was coming up. I just assumed it was because the Men of Letters didn’t know about them. It turns out they just had them listed under a different name. The Men of Letters had them listed as ‘mavka’, which was just another name for rusalka.” Sam laughed again and Dean just raised a single eyebrow at him.

“Yeah, you’re right. Definitely not ‘ha ha’ funny. Nerd.” Dean replied with a smirk. Sam balled up a no longer needed news article and threw it at him, but Dean ducked easily.

Sam’s computer made an obnoxious chirping noise, and Dean was about to ask what the hell was wrong with it when Sam said “Shut up, I have to take this.” with a little smile. He clicked somewhere on the screen. “Eileen!” He greeted, his voice soft and endearing.

Dean immediately started making kissing faces, aware that only Sam could see him since the laptop was facing away from him and towards Sam. They hadn’t actually talked about it too much, because Dean had no idea how to breach the subject without being a teasing dick about it, but he knew his little brother was crushing hard on this mysterious female hunter he kept “helping out” on cases. Sam completely ignored him other than sending one of his infamous bitch faces Dean’s way before returning his eyes to the screen. He then made a movement with his hands that Dean was going to ask about before remembering that Sam had mentioned Eileen was deaf. He was signing to her.

“Hey, Sam.” A voice responded to him. “You’ve been practicing.” Sam honest to god blushed and Dean couldn’t wait to make fun of him when he got off the phone? Video chat? Whatever the f*ck he was using. “Are you busy?”

“No, uh, I just finished wrapping up a case with Dean and Cas. Everything okay?” Sam was pointedly not looking at Dean, despite Dean trying his hardest to get his attention making sexual hand gestures.

“Everything is fine.” Eileen answered. “I was going to see if you were anywhere near Kentucky and wanted to help me out with a case.”

“Oh, he would LOVE to help you out with a case.” Dean replied loudly, knowing that Eileen wouldn’t actually be able to hear him.

Sam shot him another disgruntled look, but Dean smiled noticing that his expression immediately softened when he looked back at Eileen. “I’m in South Carolina right now. I could swing by on the way back to the bunker. It would be a few hours though. ‘A few’ being generous.”

“That’s fine, Sam. I’m still not completely sure if it’s a case, but I think it might be a skinwalker. I could handle it myself, but cases are more fun when you tag along.” Eileen laughed at how Sam immediately started blushing again, and Dean couldn’t stop grinning. Oh god, Sammy had it bad.

“I’m actually already packed up, I didn’t really unpack in case we had to get out of town fast. If you give me like five minutes and I can head your way. Just text me the info and I’ll meet you there.”

“No problem. Bye, Sam.” She singsonged his name suggestively and Sam signed ‘goodbye’ stiffly, immediately slamming the laptop to glare at Dean who was currently laughing hysterically.

“Oh god.” Dean choked out through laughs. “It’s like watching you trip over yourself around girls in middle school all over again. When can I meet her?” Sam ignored him, going into his room to grab his bags. “No seriously.” Dean asked when he came back in the living room, dropping them on the couch to cram his laptop in one. “When are you going to bring her around?”

“I don’t know, Dean.” Sam responded pissily. “When are you going to make a move on Cas?”

Dean’s grin immediately fell, his eyes darting nervously to the bedroom that Cas was currently sleeping it. “That’s not f*cking fair.”

Sam sighed. “Yeah, you’re right. Sorry. But Eileen and I… we’re just friends right now. I haven’t crossed that line with her yet. I want the timing to be right.” Dean nodded. He could understand that. He was pretty sure the timing would never be right when it came to Cas, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t sympathize. Sam bit his lower lip uncertainly. “I do want you to meet her soon though. You would like her.” He scrunched his nose up in feigned disgust. “And for some reason, I think she might actually like you too.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Everyone loves me. It’s both a blessing and a curse. Give me a second to wake up Cas and we’ll head out.”

Sam slung his two duffle bags over one shoulder and hesitated before saying “Uh, actually, I was gonna head that way by myself. I can meet you and Cas back at the bunker.”

“I wasn’t planning on cramping your style.” Dean said, frowning. “Me and Cas could just get a hotel room and let you try to flirt with Eileen and fail miserably on your own.”

Shrugging, Sam replied “I can just hotwire a car. Ricardo rigged the system so this place is booked the whole weekend. You and Cas might as well stay here.”

Dean just stared at him, feeling his eyes widen a little. Sam had a point. It’s not like they ever got a vacation, and this was the perfect excuse to have something similar. Especially since Cas apparently needed the rest. If the mark still burning on Dean’s skin was indication, he could use it too. The only problem was Sam wouldn’t be here as a buffer. Dean sighed. “Just make sure you change the tags on the hotwired car the first chance you get. We’re not exactly close to Kansas by any means. Jody has pull in a lot of states, but none this far south.”

“Yeah, sure thing.” Sam said, giving Dean a look that made his skin crawl. Sometimes Sam was completely oblivious, but sometimes Dean could swear his brother could see right through him. “Make sure you both get some rest, okay?” He didn’t give Dean time to respond before he was out of the penthouse, leaving Dean alone with deafening silence. The silence was a hell of a lot better than the whispering of the mark, or screaming if it was angry enough, but it was still heavy and left Dean feeling uneasy.

Dean knew it was selfish, but there was a part of him that was jealous thinking about Sam and Eileen. There was a time when the jealousy would have stemmed from him feeling like Sam was leaving him behind, like how he felt when Sam went to Stanford. And he knew that there was always be a miserably codependent part of him that felt that way, but now it was something more. Sam and Eileen were clearly friends, but they didn’t have years of tragic, passionate friendship under their belts. This was still new. If one of them messed up, and things didn’t work out, it wouldn’t be… devastating. It wouldn’t completely turn either of their worlds upside down. They weren’t risking nearly as much, and Dean was so envious of having so little riding on their budding romance.

The bedroom door opened and Cas stumbled out, his hair in complete disarray as he rubbed his eyes sleepily. Dean’s stomach flipped at the sight, and tried to convince himself that it wasn’t the feeling people described as butterflies. “Hey, buddy. How ya feeling?”

Cas huffed grumpily, causing Dean to laugh. “I hate needing sleep. It’s so inconvenient.”

“Yeah, tell me about it. What’s the deal with you going comatose on us?”

Cas flopped down on the loveseat next to Dean gracelessly. “My grace is… dwindling. It’s been too long since I’ve been to Heaven, and I’ve been… careless with the distribution of it.” Dean bit his tongue to stop himself from saying ‘I told you so’ because they had had this discussion multiple times since Cas had moved into the bunker, deciding that he might leave Heaven permanently.

“So, are you regretting your decision? Are you still planning on cutting yourself off from Heaven completely?” There was a nervousness building in Dean. He wanted Cas to stay, more than anything, but wanting Cas with him and wanting him to completely sacrifice his grace were worlds apart. Cas didn’t need powers to be useful by any means, but Dean couldn’t even begin to imagine what it was like to have that kind of power and then have it stripped from you. The Mark of Cain suddenly throbbed, and he swallowed hard. Actually, he knew exactly how that felt, and he had only had a taste of it.

Cas hummed thoughtfully. “I’m not sure. I’m still uncertain on the best choice.” He had been fixated on a scuff on the coffee table, but finally turned to meet Dean’s eyes. “I don’t think it would be smart to let me grace completely diminish while you’re bearing the mark. I’m going to have to return to Heaven.”

Dean panicked, and with that came word vomit. “Stay.”

“What?”

Dean swallowed hard, feeling himself start to sweat. He wished he could blame it on the three beers he had already drank. “I.. I want you to stay, Cas. I know Heaven is your home. But with me, with Sam… that’s your home too.”

Cas smiled. It was a small thing, just a slight movement of the corner of his lips, and almost entirely in the way his eyes shone. “I wouldn’t be leaving permanently Dean. I would just be replenishing my grace and seeing how things are going there. As much as I wish I could, I can’t bring myself to leave Heaven in complete disarray.” Dean licked his lips just to have something to do, and Cas tracked the movement before snapping his eyes back up to meet Dean’s once again. “I meant it when I said I would always return to you.”

Dean stood up quickly, placing his beer on the coffee table and rubbing his sweaty palms against his jeans. Sometimes Cas having no social grace was funny, sometimes it was handy, but at times like this it was unbearable. “Wanna go down to the bar?”

When Dean and Cas had made their way downstairs, they had run into Ricardo. They filled him in on the case, and Ricardo was so relieved that he hugged them both and immediately followed them over to the tiki bar to let the bartender know that they didn’t need to worry about running up a tab. The bartender was clearly suspicious until Ricardo pulled out the FBI excuse, and convinced her that they had solved a case involving a murderer earlier that day. After that she had no problem making them drinks in which she absolutely did not skimp out on the liquor.

One thing Dean was learning about diminishing grace was that it made Cas human in more ways than just needing sleep. A couple of drinks in, and Cas was clearly tipsy. Dean would be lying if he claimed he wasn’t himself, but he was too enamored by Cas being tipsy to enjoy his own buzz. The bartender kept shooting them curious glances, but the bar was so large that she made herself scarce to give them privacy, and Dean was incredibly grateful.

A giggle caught their attention, and they both turned to see the bartender had returned to refill their glasses. “It’s a peach sangria. Not exactly the type of drink that I would expect a big, bad FBI agent to go for, but hey, whatever does the job after a long day.” She set the pitcher on the bar in front of them, along with the whiskey she used to top Dean off. “My shift is about to end. Technically that’s supposed to mean last call for you guys, but I won’t say anything if you don’t. It’s a thank you, you know, for your service. Just don’t get too drunk and fall in the pool or somethin’ and we should be good. You gentlemen have a lovely night.” She shot them a wink and untied her apron, tossing it on a hook behind the bar and leaving with a wave over her shoulder.

Dean couldn’t help it, and burst into a fit of laughter. Cas watched him curiously, his eyes a little unfocused. He raised a questioning eyebrow. “Sorry, it’s just… do you know how long I’ve been doing this? Hunting? Hunters almost never get rewarded. I know she thinks she’s thanking the FBI, but it’s just...funny. I’m practically an old man at this point, and this is the first time I think I’ve ever been thanked like this.”

Cas smiled, a small but pleased quirk of his lips. “You deserve good things Dean.”

Dean scoffed into his whiskey before downing his glass and pouring another. “Yeah, well maybe if a certain angel is right, good things’ll eventually happen.” Dean leaned in closer to Cas, ignoring the voice in the back of his head telling him to distance himself more. He had noticed Cas gravitating closer to him throughout the evening. He brought his glass to his lips again, looking at Cas through his lashes, their knees bumping. Dean knew exactly what he was doing. He was flirting, and laying it on thick too. He wasn’t exactly sure if looks worked on angels, but he knew he wasn’t bad on the eyes, and Cas liked his soul or whatever. So, why not? Cas seemed into it. He was all smiles, even if most of them were in his eyes and not on his lips. And occasionally Dean would say something to get one of those full fledged smiles, and it had his stomach doing somersaults.

“Dean, are you okay?” Cas suddenly asked, his concern showing in the tent of his eyebrows. Dean thought maybe his flirting was a little too obvious, but Cas clarified by adding “After what happened today.”

“Oh.” Dean breathed a sigh of relief. “I mean, yeah it was kinda freaky. But that comes with the job. Freaky sh*t happens all the time.”

“And the mark?”

Dean made a noncommittal grunt. “Just as angry and bitter as ever. It’s, uh, starting to get louder again. But nothing I can’t handle. Not yet at least.” Cas’ eyes scanned Dean’s face sadly, making him squirm. “It’s my fault though, right? I’m the one that put myself in that position. I guess that’s what I get for thinking with my dick and not my head.”

Cas tensed, frowning at him. “It certainly wasn’t the logical choice.”

Dean barked out a laugh. “You’re not wrong.” He sighed. “How many times have I gotten ‘kidnapped’ in the past few months? I’m getting sloppy.”

“And why is that?” Cas’ tone wasn’t judgmental, merely curious.

“I guess sometimes I just need a distraction.”

“In the form of carnal pleasure?” Cas raised an eyebrow, causing Dean to choke on his drink.

“Jesus, Cas.” he muttered. That was absolutely not a sexy comment at all, and yet somehow, coming from Cas’ lips in that gravelly tone had Dean’s dick stirring in his jeans. “You can’t just say things like that.” Cas’ fingers fidgeted around his martini glass, and Dean’s eyes were immediately drawn to them. Dear god, when had he ever thought someone’s hands were attractive?

“You need to be more careful.” Cas muttered, glaring at the umbrella in his glass.

“Yeah, tell me about it…” Dean whispered when he noticed just how close they were sitting. Dean knew he could be a bit masoch*stic, but he was quickly finding out that there was no limit to how far he would push the one thing that was tearing him apart the most. It was less than 24 hours ago that he had woken up practically holding Cas’ hand, and here he was practically in Cas’ lap just because he had a little whiskey in his system.

Cas looked up at him, their faces much too close. As a hunter, Dean had plenty of close calls, but it was as if with every single one that happened, it was only making things harder. What if one day Sam or Cas didn’t come to the rescue? What if one day he died without exploring this thing between them? He reflexively licked his lips, shivering when Cas’ eyes were drawn to them. Every cell in Dean’s body, every fiber of his being was screaming for him to move in even closer. He knew he should stop, but he didn’t want to.

Cas was looking impossibly attractive, wearing his cheap, dark walmart v neck and jeans, which was practically naked in Dean’s book compared to the holy tax accountant get up that he was so used to. His hair was an absolute disaster from his nap earlier, his beautiful, blue eyes happy and focused solely on Dean. Happiness was a good look on Cas, and Dean was completely overwhelmed at the realization that he was the reason it was there. Cas was an angel. Older than time and infinitely powerful. He had seen all the universe had to offer, and he was choosing to sit next to Dean at a cheesy tiki bar on earth. He chose to sit in the bunker and watch westerns with Dean when he could be changing the world. He chose to fight alongside Dean, to always come back to him. He chose Dean. Every single time. Dean didn’t have faith that God ever answered prayers. He had learned a long time ago that his prayers went unanswered. But this one time, Dean was praying that God would just have mercy, would just let him have this one thing.

Maybe if Dean would have been sober he would have thought it through. Maybe if the case earlier had panned out differently, he would have second guessed it. Maybe if Sam was still at the resort with them, or if they wouldn’t have had that conversation earlier, he would have contemplated his actions a little more. Dean didn’t do any of that. Instead, he grabbed the front of Cas’ shirt and pulled him in for a kiss.

Chapter 28: Levees Going to Break

Chapter Text

Dean had a moment of panic (what the f*ck was he doing?) where his stomach flipped unpleasantly and he cursed himself and any deity that would listen, and started to pull away when he felt the fingers of one of Cas’ hands cards through the short hair on the back of his head before pulling him back in. Dean’s brain immediately went offline. Cas. Cas was kissing him back. Holy f*cking sh*t Cas was kissing him. Cas’ lips were chapped, which was really no surprise because they always were. Dean had done enough staring to know. But despite that, they were soft and insistent, and even though there was some clear trepidation at first, the moment Dean relaxed and leaned into the kiss, a new found confidence arose and Cas started to kiss him with purpose. Dean’s brain spluttered and coughed before it came back online and immediately started reeling, shooting off so many thoughts and anxieties that he couldn’t even begin to keep up with it.

Cas suddenly pulled back, his eyebrows tented in sudden worry. “Dean.” And oh god, the way his said Dean’s name should be a sin, but it sounded a lot more like prayer. “Is this...okay?” His tongue darted out to swipe the taste of Dean off his bottom lip and Dean shuddered.

“What do you think?” Dean asked, once again hauling him back in by his shirt. He felt Cas smile into the kiss, and he tried to ignore the fluttering in his stomach. Now that his brain had caught up to the party, Dean pulled out all the tricks, tilting his head just right to deepen the kiss before hesitantly teasing Cas’ lips with his tongue. Dean could taste the lingering fruit of sangria, and he moaned when Cas’ mouth opened up for him. It was clear that Cas was inexperienced and unpracticed, but he was a quick learner, his tongue meeting Dean’s with fervor.

They both parted for some air, and Dean realized just how badly he was shaking. There was a voice in the back of his head telling him this was a catastrophically bad idea because they had both been drinking, but a louder one was telling it to shut the f*ck up for the time being. The string lights hanging from the roof of the tiki hut bar were sparkling in Cas’ infinitely blue eyes, and they were wide with wonder. Dean wanted to know what he was thinking, wanted to know where Cas’ head was at in all of this, but before he could ask, someone to the left cleared their throat.

The pool boy was standing there holding a pool vacuum, looking just as awkward as Dean felt. “Uh, you guys might want to take this to your room.” He lifted the vacuum to show them. “This thing is pretty loud. Not exactly music for a romantic setting.”

Dean felt his face heat up, not even thinking about how the tiki bar was next to the pool and how they probably cleaned the pool late at night, but before he could think of something clever to say, Cas grabbed him by the wrist and jerked him out of seat and started pulling him towards the lobby elevators. Dean’s skin was buzzing like the no vacancy sign out front, vibrating with so many emotions he was trying to keep in check. He wasn’t going to let himself think about it, about what this meant. Not yet.

The door wasn’t even closed before Cas was crowding him against the elevator wall, cupping his face and bringing their lips together again. Dean accepted that he was only along for the ride now that Cas was a little more practised, and his hands went to grab Cas’ hips. One of Cas’ thighs worked its way between Dean’s legs as Cas’ tongue explored his mouth, and Dean nearly choked trying to stop a moan from escaping from deep in his throat. The moment the elevator pinged, Cas was gone so quickly that Dean huffed (he was not pouting), but he didn’t have time to complain because Cas intertwined their fingers and was pulling him towards the door to the penthouse, the key card already in hand. Dean was pretty sure the key was in his own pocket, and had no idea when Cas had retrieved it.

Dean wasn’t sure at what point Cas had taken the lead, but he was incredibly thankful. It made it so that he didn’t have to think, didn’t have to over think what was happening. Before he could even register what was going on, he was inside and Cas was closing the door behind them, tossing the keycard in the general direction of the kitchen table and once again pulling Dean in. This time Dean completely melted into the kiss, wrapping his arms around Cas’ neck while Cas’ big, strong hands stroked down his sides before resting on his hips. Dean’s brain started firing off thoughts of it’s own when he realized Cas was slowly backing him backwards towards their bedroom, and oh f*ck. Dean wasn’t sure where this was going, but he was one hundred percent on board, especially when the back of his knees hit the bed and Cas practically shoved him onto it. Cas was a solid weight on top of him, pressing him into the mattress and invading his senses the moment Dean was laid out on the bed. Dean let out another choked off moan when Cas broke their lips apart just long enough to leave a trail of wet, hot kiss kisses down his jaw to his throat.

“Do you know how long I’ve waited to do this?” Cas growled in his ear.

“I can imagine.” Dean replied weakly. He was painfully hard in his jeans, and he wasn’t sure if that or the butterflies in his stomach were more uncomfortable. The scary happy feeling causing a pounding in his heart was also giving either one a run for their money.

Cas pulled back, his eyes searching Dean’s. “I need you to tell me if you want to stop, Dean.” There was concern in his voice. He was giving Dean an out. He was giving Dean the opportunity to shut all of this down, as if Dean hadn’t fantasized and fixated on this exact moment for longer than he could remember.

“I don’t want you to stop.” Dean’s voice was low but soft, and he inwardly cringed at the undertone of begging to it. “I want this.” He added, firmer. And he did. He wanted it so bad that his hands were shaking and his thoughts were humming and he was pretty sure that if he didn’t calm down, he could get off on them kissing alone. That comment earned Dean a smile, one of the ones that was real and broad that made him weak in the knees. Dean was so f*cked. He was so in love with Cas. Completely and irrevocably. And Cas was looking at him like he was the entire world even though he had seen the entire world be created, and it was almost too much. Dean swallowed hard, satisfying the slight prickling in his eyes. He expected Cas to start kissing him again, but Cas didn’t. He continued to search Dean’s face, still looking for that out. But Dean wasn’t taking it. After years of them toeing at this line, there was no f*cking way Dean was taking it. Dean knew he was a coward sometimes, and he knew he was stubborn more often than that, but there wasn’t a chance in Hell that he wanted out of this. He leaned up, bringing their lips together again, unable to fight a small smile of his own when Cas sighed into it. Cas sagged against him, his weight reassuring and satisfying. Dean knew it was cheesy and that he needed to slow his roll, but he could barely breathe with how right it felt to be kissing Cas, how it felt like he should have been doing it all along. He was trying not to think about how monumental this moment was between them, how it was going to change everything. He was experiencing the exact moment when the levee broke, and there was a flood coming that he knew he was going to have to deal with, but all he could focus on was how perfect it felt to finally be able to kiss Cas, to finally feel Cas pressed against him with their tongues sliding together perfectly.

Kissing, or in this case straight up making out, wasn’t new to Dean. He had never been the type to have hookups without kissing. Sure, he never planned on calling most of his partners back, but he still craved the intimacy that could come with sex. But he wasn’t sure if that was the direction Cas was aiming this in, and he was so focused on the sheer gravity of the moment that he was keeping their kissing mindful and relatively tame. He could feel the push-pull of Cas trying to match his pace, but he could also feel Cas’ hard dick poking into his thigh and he couldn’t stop himself from grinding his hips up to meet Cas’. He didn’t regret it one bit when it pulled an intoxicating groan from Cas’ lips. The direction had Cas once again zeroing in on his throat, and Dean tilted his head back to give Cas better access. He shuddered at the delicious scrape of stubble of the sensitive skin, and he couldn’t believe that he had ever had the will to deny himself of this for so long. He bit his lip to stay quiet when Cas sucked the tender flesh into his mouth, just the perfect amount of teeth used.

“Stop that.” Cas suddenly huffed.

Dean opened his eyes, not even realizing he had closed them. “Stop what?”

Cas pulled back, looking annoyed. “Stop trying to be quiet. I want to hear you.

Dean swallowed hard because holy sh*t, he didn’t think he would ever be able to get used to the fact that Cas just said things without hesitation, and how that was really doing it for him. “Yeah, okay.” He said smally. He was pretty sure Cas could tell him to do anything and he would agree. Cas smiled down at him, and even though Dean was drunk on both liquor and just Cas in general, he felt like it was a good time to speak up. “What are we doing, Cas?”

Cas squinted at him, his head tilted slightly. “Well, we were kissing before I noticed your annoying habit of trying to quiet yourself. You deny yourself pleasure in far too many ways in life.”

Dean blushed and laughed despite himself. “No, I mean… what direction is this headed?” Dean knew it was probably incredibly unsexy to talk about it instead of just letting it play out, but he didn’t want to push Cas too far, and he wanted their clothes gone like yesterday.

Cas’ eyes widened as if he hadn’t actually thought about that question. He licked his lips thoughtfully and responded “I want to make you feel good.”

“Yeah, okay.” Dean said again. He didn’t have any idea what that actually meant to Cas, but he was on board and would let Cas set the pace. “I want to make you feel good too, budd- Cas.” The nickname “buddy” felt foreign on his tongue after he had had Cas’ lips on his.

Cas sat up and back on his knees, straddling Dean’s thighs. How he managed to do it so gracefully without kneeing Dean in the balls, he had no idea, but he didn’t have time to think about it because Cas’ hands were pulling as his belt and f*ck, f*ck, f*ck. They were really doing this. Dean took a deep breath, the oxygen dizzying him and reminding him to breath. Cas had him free of his boxers and jeans in record time, and Dean was still trying to process that when Cas raised his hand to his mouth and spit (what?) before curling his fingers around Dean’s length and giving an experimental pump. Dean was going to need to revisit figuring out how Cas knew to do that, but instead his head just hit the mattress roughly he and focused on breathing. Holy f*cking sh*t. Cas was jerking him off. Cas. Castiel. An angel currently had his hand on Dean’s dick. What the actual f*ck was his life.

Dean throwing his head back was the only encouragement that Cas needed to tighten his grip slightly and start a rhythm that already had Dean’s legs shaking. “Cas...f*ck…” He muttered, closing his eyes and running his fingers through his hair. He could feel Cas’ eyes watching him intently, could feel their burning presence as they wandered over every square inch of Dean. Dean bit his lip and opened his eyes, making sure to look up at at Cas with hooded eyes through his lashes, pulling out all the best seduction techniques, but he really wasn’t expecting the way Cas was already looking at him. There was so much hunger, so much love in Cas’ eyes like Dean had never seen before, and being on the receiving end of it had his stomach flipping as an embarrassing whine escaped his lips.

Dean wet his lips nervously and curled his fingers into the bedsheets because he was too afraid to touch Cas, too afraid to break this illusion. No one, not Cassie, not Lisa, no one had ever looked at him like he mattered so much, especially not during sex. Sex was always just a means to an end, but Dean could already tell that this was going to be different for both he and Cas.

Cas had already caught onto the fact that flicking his wrist just right gave his grip the perfect twist to have Dean panting and precome dribbling from the head of his co*ck, and it had Dean gripping the bed sheets so tight he was surprised he didn’t hear fabric ripping. “Cas…” he groaned. “I’m gonna come.” And Dean wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but Cas replying to that with a moan of his own was not it, and Dean was coming all of himself, incredibly relieved that his shirt had rucked up during the whole ordeal when he felt a hot, wet streak on his bare stomach. Dean closed his eyes and rubbed his hands over his face roughly, his chest heaving as he tried to even out his breathing. When he removed his hands and opened his eyes, he snorted at Cas observing his own filthy hand curiously. Dean wiggled out of his shirt and sat up, trying to move quickly before his skin became tacky. “Alright, hot stuff.” He teased. “Your turn.” He tried to keep his hands steady as he reached for Cas’ belt, and Cas just leaned back patiently, putting his full weight in Dean’s lap. Dean was so focused on getting Cas’ dick out and in his hand that he huffed out a surprised laugh when Cas caught him off guard, leaning forward to kiss him. Dean smiled into the kiss, and made quick work of Cas’ zipper with more steady hands. It was just handjob. He jerked himself off all the time. It couldn’t be that different.

Dean swiped a hand through the mess on his stomach, figuring it would be better than spit, and yeah, this was definitely one of the gayest things he had ever done. He didn’t have the chance to over think it though, because the moment he had Cas in his hand, Cas’ hips stuttered forward and the only thing on Dean’s mind was making him come, getting to be the reason that composed, calm Cas completely lost it. It was kinda odd and awkward to get the angling right for Dean at first, but the moment he did, Cas was matching the rhythm by f*cking into his fist, slouching closer to Dean’s chest and moaning into his ear in between sloppy kisses to Dean’s neck. Dean was positive if he were just a few years younger, that alone would get him raging hard again. Cas writhing and thrusting in his lap certainly wasn’t helping.

Dean was pretty sure he knew Cas was going to come before Cas did, he could feel his rhythm become messier and more desperate. “Yeah, just like that, Cas.” Dean muttered encouragingly, not exactly one for dirty talk, but jesus christ, he had a lap full of angel that was about to come.

“Dean.” Cas warned. Dean grinned, pulling back so that he could see Cas’ face. There was no way he was going to miss the exact moment he brought Cas to climax. Cas grunted and thrusted into Dean’s fist one last time before his eyes lit up an ethereal blue and he started coming as his wings suddenly folded out from behind his back, extending as far as they could. The lightbulbs in the ceiling fan above them exploded as Cas covered Dean’s stomach with his load.

“Holy sh*t.” Dean muttered in awe, watching Cas’ eyes return to their normal blue before flickering to Cas’ massive, beautiful wings. Cas was suddenly pressing Dean back into the mattress, kissing him desperately. Dean met his lips with equal fervor, completely ignoring the broken glass on the bed or the come cooling on his skin. Yeah, he was definitely bi. So bi. And watching Cas come had easily worked its way to number one material in his spank bank. His hands roamed Cas’ broad, still clothed shoulders as the angel pinned him to the bed, and he went to reach for Cas’ wings when he winced, realizing that his hand wasn’t exactly clean. “Cas.” He had to push Cas back to even get his name out and it made him grin. “As fun as this has been, we really need to clean up.”

Rolling his eyes, Cas sat back up. Dean grinned again and stretched, maybe peaco*cking a little bit as he did so. Cas smiled down at him before noticing what a mess Dean was. He took his thumb and smeared it through both his and Dean’s come, smoothing it into the flesh of Dean’s stomach. Dean immediately scrunched his nose up, displeased and said “Seriously? I’m getting sticky.” Cas huffed a sigh and waved his hand. The motion completely cleaned up any evidence of sex and broken lightbulbs, and Cas’ wings were neatly tucked back into another plane of existence. Neither of them even had to tuck themselves back in their jeans or zip up.

Dean knew he was probably just coming down from his post org*sm high, but he felt like Cas was being too quiet. “Was that okay?” He asked quietly. Cas nodded and leaned forward to give Dean one more kiss before flopping onto the bed next to him, looking up at the ceiling dazedly.

“Well, the last time I had sex I got stabbed and killed just a few hours later. I vastly preferred this time.”

Dean rolled over on his side frowning, propping himself up so that he could get a good look at Cas. “Listen…” He started, struggling to find words. Cas turned his head to look at him, his expression warm. Dean knew he was joking but the comment still didn’t sit right with him. He zeroed in on a piece of fuzz on the sheets, unable to look Cas in the eyes. “That should have… that should have never happened that way. I shouldn’t have kicked you out of the bunker.” He nervously met Cas’ gaze before softly adding “Your first experience with sex should have never went like that.” He took a calming breath. “It should have been me. If I would have gotten my head out of my ass a long time ago, it could have been me.”

Cas leaned forward and brought their lips together in a sweet, slow kiss. “It’s you now, Dean.”

If Dean were the ‘I love you’ type, he was pretty sure the words would have slipped out of his mouth and wouldn’t have stopped coming. But he wasn’t, and instead he just smiled, reaching down and taking Cas’ hand into his own before bringing it to his lips. It was cheesy and gross but it always made women melt, and maybe not just women because it seemed to have the same effect on Cas. Dean was completely and utterly shocked by how easy this was. He was expecting an inevitable freakout once he came down from sex, and sure there was that anxious hum in the back of his mind, but it just felt...right. It felt normal to be sharing a bed with Cas, to be sneaking kisses and giving each other soft smiles. And Dean couldn’t even blame it on the liquor, the whole experience was very sobering.

“So, where did you learn how to do all of that?” Dean asked, changing the subject for his own sanity. He dropped Cas hand but he continued to idly play with Cas’ fingers. He didn’t exactly expect post coital cuddling, but the contact was still nice and reassuring.

Cas let out a little chuckle that had Dean grinning like an idiot, but he was looking at Dean like he was completely unimpressed. “I have been observing humans since the dawn of their existence, Dean. I may not understand everything perfectly, but I understand pleasure.” Dean shivered at the chill that comment made run up his side, but Cas must have interpreted it as Dean being cold, because he pulled him in close to his chest. Dean was glad that Cas couldn’t see his fast because he was pretty sure he looked love struck and giddy as hell. Cas’ hand rubbed up and down, warming his shirtless skin and Dean had never been more thankful that Sam insisted on helping out on a hunt with Eileen.

“What was up with your wings?” Dean asked, just an excuse to break the silence so he wouldn’t be alone with his thoughts.

“Hmm?” Cas asked sleepily. Dean tilted his head so that he could look up at Cas, and found that his eyes were closed and he looked peaceful.

“You wings.” Dean repeated. “I wasn’t expecting them to pop out like that.”

“Me either.” Cas replied honestly, opening his eyes to observe the ceiling. “My grace must have gotten...carried away.”

Dean frowned and draped his arm over Cas’ stomach. It wasn’t like they were cuddling, he was just… getting more comfortable. That was all. “Did it use your grace to have to do that? Your eyes glowed too.”

“Yes.” Cas responded honestly. He looked down at Dean. “I am very tired now.”

Dean laughed. “Yeah, me too. Good sex will do that to you.”

Cas’ hand paused it’s movement on Dean’s back for a moment and he sighed. “I have been away from Heaven for far too long. That shouldn’t have left me so weakened. I’m going to have to return to Heaven.” Dean immediately tensed up and Cas must have felt it, because his hand once again began stroking Dean’s back calmly. “Only for a little while, Dean. I said I would always return to you and I meant it.”

“Uh, yeah.” Dean muttered, clearing his throat. He was suddenly feeling all weepy and he was one hundred percent not okay with it. “If you’re tired, and I’m tired, we should probably go to sleep.” He sat up abruptly and began wiggling out of his jeans so that he could crawl under the sheets.

“Dean-”

“No, I get it, Cas. It’s fine. You gotta go get all juiced up and sh*t again. That means you gotta go to Heaven. And hey, I’m sure you could stop by and see Ariel while you’re at it!” Dean knew he was being bratty and weird, but that panic he had been worrying about was starting to sink in. With the lights blown out, he was too far away from Cas to be able to see his facial expression, but he could see the outline of the hardset of Cas’ shoulders. He ripped the sheets back with way too much aggression and crawled into bed, squeezing his eyes shut so hard it gave him a headache.

He could hear Cas undressing, but neither of them said a word. Dean kept counting his breaths until they stopped coming out so fast, but he stopped breathing completely when he felt the covers shift and the bed sink in. He fully expected Cas to just roll over and go to sleep, so the arm snaking around his waist and pulling him in almost caused him to yelp. He froze completely, wondering what the hell Cas was doing when he felt a soft kiss just behind his ear, and the gush of breath as Cas sighed.

“All the billions of people on earth since the creation of mankind, and I had to fall for the most stubborn one.” Dean swallowed hard. Did he mean fall as in being an angel that fell, or…? “I didn’t have the best timing bringing that up, did I?”

Dean bit his lip. “Not really, Cas. But seriously, it’s not that big of a deal, I’m just-”

“Worrying. Because this is a big step for you. Everything that happened tonight is huge for you.”

Dean just answered with a small “Yeah.”

Cas pressed another kiss to Dean’s skin, this time his shoulder. “Well, we can both worry. Tomorrow. Right now we need sleep.”

“Okay.” Dean said softly, surprised at just how much calmer he already felt, just by the small unspoken promise that Cas would be there in the morning. Dean finally sank into Cas’ touch, running his hand over Cas’ arm across his stomach until he reached his hand, intertwining their fingers and not caring that it probably made him a sap.