Author's Note: This is my first try at slash of any kind so please be gentle with me. I know the story starts out a little light on action but it'll get there. Trust me. :D
I've split it up into three parts because it was getting a little long. Now you get three chapters to read instead of one. And I'll be upping the rating from T to M after this chapter just to be safe. You've been warned.
Hope you enjoy my weird little AU.
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural and for that I will be eternally sad. But I'm not making any money off this either so please don't sue me.
Deadly Sins - Part One
The first time Castiel meets the demon is in the Midwest, just outside Beloit, Wisconsin.
The End of Days is upon them fast and relentless, demons pour out of Hell faster than hunters can throw them back in, and Castiel hasn't slept more than three hours together in weeks. Dark times indeed.
Castiel had intended to spend the rest of week drinking himself into a stupor, his version of mourning for his dearly departed sister Rachel. No matter what anyone says, the blame for her death sits squarely on Castiel's shoulders. He should have seen the trap before it was sprung. Or at the very least he should have gone down with her, another fallen soldier on the battlefield. But he hadn't. He'd gathered up her bloody body alone and taken it into the wilderness to salt and burn.
Gabriel calls while Castiel starts on his bottle of whiskey. He considers not answering at all, keeps on considering it through the first three rings, but he knows Gabriel will just call again. And again. And again.
"Yes?" Castiel rasps into the phone, still cradling his glass of whiskey in his left hand. He takes another lazy sip while he waits for Gabriel to talk.
"Well, aren't we a little ball of sunshine," Gabriel says. "We could use another man out here."
"Rachel is dead," Castiel says in answer.
"A vamp's nest. I heard." The sympathy in Gabriel's voice just makes Castiel feel worse.
Silence stretches over the phone line filling it in with pops and crackles and, from Gabriel's end, the slam of a car door. "So you in or what?" Gabriel asks eventually.
Castiel downs the rest of the whiskey in his glass. He glances at the far wall of his motel room and the ugly dentist's office wallpaper. If he was a different man, he would throw the glass at the wall just to watch it shatter. As it is, he blinks a few times and sets the glass aside in case he's tempted to be a different kind of man. "Where are you?"
Twenty four hours later, Castiel stands shoulder to shoulder with Gabriel and Michael, all three of them busy loading fresh rounds into shotguns.
"I could be drunk right now," Castiel comments idly as he glances around the clearing. The whatever-they-weres have retreated back into the darkness disappearing almost completely. Like phantoms or trailing smoke on the breeze. "What were those things?"
The trio had been ambushed shortly after Castiel arrived. He hadn't even had time to get his supply bag from the trunk of his car before they were running for their lives. The shotgun in his hands was borrowed from Michael. It sat awkward in Castiel's hands.
Now Gabriel shrugs from beside him. "Fuck if I know, but they're fast."
"I thought you'd done the research," Castiel says, eyes still searching for movement in the trees.
"I did," Gabriel protests. "Campers going missing in the woods. Bodies showing up drained of blood. We thought they were vampires."
"Those weren't vampires," Michael snaps from Castiel's other side. It's the first he's spoken in a while.
"Yeah, I noticed that," Gabriel snaps back with a voice that's gone a little shrill.
Castiel breaks away from the bickering brothers and heads for the trees. "I'll check over here."
Gabriel tries to call him back and gives up halfway through his protest. "Just don't get yourself killed, idiot!" he yells instead. Castiel can hear him grumbling until he gets further into the woods.
Everything is dark and still and whatever it was that attacked them has hidden itself well. He eyes the ground. There are no tracks save those from animals and he has no interest in the habits of raccoons. Castiel pauses beside a tree and gives a little nod. He could wander in the wilderness for hours without finding anything. He doubles back the way he came, skirting the clearing where he can still hear Gabriel and Michael arguing in an undertone, and heads for his car. Something about this doesn't feel right.
He figures out why when he makes it back to the dirt track that passes for a road in these parts. His car is right where he left it. The sleek black side glows in the light of the waning moon but there's an extra shadow beside it that shouldn't be there. Castiel drops low as he comes out of the trees, moving silent as a ghost, shotgun up and ready.
The hunched figure trying to pry open his trunk stops, straightens with a roll of its shoulders, and turns to face him. The face is nondescript and hard to read in the dark but Castiel doesn't miss the smirk curling one corner of the guy's mouth. "Ya caught me, sheriff," says the would-be thief. He puts his hands up lazily.
"Who are you?" Castiel asks, finger itchy on the trigger. It's bad enough the guy was trying to rip him off, but what is he doing out in the middle of nowhere at 1am?
The guy folds his arms, all casualness and charm. He leans back against Castiel's car like he owns it. "You have something we want."
Castiel's eyes narrow. He can barely keep his finger still on the shotgun's trigger. "Who's 'we'?"
The guy chuckles. When his eyes turn full black, it doesn't matter that the sky is ink dark and the moon is a sliver. Castiel can tell the difference. He's seen enough eyes cloud over, showing the demon inside. It's not something you mistake.
When Castiel pulls the trigger, the shotgun blast hits nothing. The demon has already swung around, out of the way. A second later, Castiel flies backwards. He hits a tree and slides down to the ground. The back of his head grates on the bark like sandpaper and he's sure that'll be a bitch in the morning. Assuming he doesn't get killed right now. The irony isn't lost on him. He was all geared up for his own trip to the pearly gates a day ago but now that it's staring him in the face he's rather reluctant to go. Besides, Castiel's not letting this bastard get his hands on anything.
"That ambush should have kept you busy a lot longer. But I had a feeling you wouldn't make this easy," says the demon. He's halfway between Castiel and the car now. He takes a few steps closer, hand up, keeping Castiel pinned to the tree through force of will alone. "I've heard about you." He crouches down and stares into Castiel's face. "You're smaller than I pictured."
"I'm big enough," Castiel says, struggling against the unseen force pressing him back.
"I could snap your neck like a twig."
"Go ahead."
The demon sighs and cocks a head back towards Castiel's car. "There's a sigil on that trunk. I can feel it. You hunters and your little tricks. Open the trunk, get the gun for me, and I won't kill you. Fair deal?"
"Bite me," Castiel says.
The demon's smile is instantaneous. "Don't tempt me." He looks down at the thin stretch of dirt between them and then his eyes trail up Castiel's folded legs to his hips. "Ah. Here's a thought." The demon slinks closer, leaning into Castiel's space, and places a hand on his belt. Castiel tenses. Then there's a tug and Castiel's knife slides free of the leather sheath at his hip. The demon holds it up to the meager light. "How about you give me the gun or I pluck out your eyes like grapes? Hard to hunt when you're Helen Keller." The demon grins, obviously enjoying the mental image that conjures.
Castiel shakes his head. He can hear the sounds of movement in the trees but the demon doesn't seem to notice. Castiel just hopes it's Gabriel and Michael. "No," Castiel says a little too loudly.
"You should take my offer." The demon presses the knife to Castiel's throat, drawing a thin line of hot blood in the flesh. The blood runs down into Castiel's collar, soaking through the worn cotton and making it itch. "Your friends won't get here in time to save you."
So the demon had heard the noise from the trees.
"If you kill me, you'll never get the trunk open," Castiel says. He looks up into the demon's eyes and waits. There's a glimmer of uncertainty in them.
"Son of a bitch," the demon growls. His grip on the knife tightens and he swings, burying the blade in the ground between Castiel's legs. "This isn't over," he adds sounding petulant. Then he tosses his head back and screams. Black smoke billows from his mouth. Gabriel and Michael break from the trees just in time to see it disappear.
"What the hell?" Gabriel says.
Castiel's still bleeding from the neck, but now that he can move the trickle has turned into a hot flood. He claps a hand down over the wound to staunch the flow. Already he's feeling lightheaded. How much blood has he lost?
"I think…" he says and then promptly passes out.
When Castiel wakes up he's lying on a motel bed staring up at a ceiling covered in mystery stains. He sits up and realizes why he was lying down in the first place.
"Cool it, kid," Gabriel says and Castiel grimaces. He doesn't know why Gabriel insists on calling him 'kid.' They're nearly the same age. "You lost a lot of blood back there. Lay back down before you fall down."
"Where's my car?" Castiel asks addressing the uneven brown splotch directly over his head. It's awkward to talk to Gabriel when he can't sit up and look at him.
"Parking lot."
"You didn't-?" Castiel begins but Gabriel cuts him off.
"Michael drove it back. Don't get your panties in a twist."
Castiel closes his eyes again, tension slowly draining out of his body just like his blood had done a short time ago. He can feel the pull of cloth tape on his neck. There's a gauze pad the size of a diaper taped over the wound on his neck and, when he pokes at it with rough fingers, the gauze is stiff with drying blood.
"What was that back there?" Gabriel asks.
Castiel grumbles. He was hoping to go back to sleep but that's seeming less and less likely so he scoots himself up the bed and props himself against the headboard so he can see Gabriel when he talks to him. He's unsurprised to find Gabriel sitting in the only chair in the room with his feet propped up on the table. The paper stick of a cheap sucker hangs from the corner of his mouth. It jiggles as Gabriel prods the candy with his tongue.
"It was a demon," Castiel answers. Then he looks around as something finally registers. "This isn't my room."
"No, it isn't. Great detective skills there, Columbo." Gabriel shoots him a thumbs up. "So this demon…?"
Castiel stares, slowly growing irritated by the clicking of the sucker against Gabriel's teeth.
Gabriel sighs. "Care to elaborate here? What was the demon doing there? What did it want?"
"The Colt."
Gabriel nearly inhales his sucker. His feet are on the floor so fast that he knocks the table crooked. "Why was he looking for the Colt here? We're in the middle of nowhere."
"Because it was in my trunk." Castiel can't help a little smirk of his own when he sees the look of bug eyed surprise on Gabriel's face. Then he glances around the room again. "Where's your liquor? Do you have whiskey?"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Why didn't you tell us you had the Colt? How long?"
"You didn't need to know." Castiel slides himself off the bed, testing his legs to make sure they'll hold. When he doesn't immediately collapse like a pile of unsteady blocks, he heads for the nearest duffle bag. He's not sure whose it is. Not his. He roots around inside. "Don't you have anything to drink?"
"Get out of there. That's Michael's bag," Gabriel says, rounding the room and nearly falling over the bed in his haste. "Where did you find it?"
"I haven't found anything yet," Castiel mumbles, moving on to the dresser and opening drawers in search of hidden bottles.
Gabriel slams the drawer shut, nearly catching Castiel's fingers. "We don't have any booze. I'm talking about the Colt. Where'd you find it?"
Castiel smiles and shrugs, pressing his lips together. His eyes dart around the room.
He's starting to feel alarmingly lucid and a lot of that feeling consists of pain. Pain from his nearly slit throat. Pain from the hangover drumming on the back of his eyes. Maybe he should have let the demon cut them out. Then he wouldn't be stuck looking at Gabriel's wide eyed surprise either. Castiel turns away.
"What kind of hunter doesn't have whiskey?" he wonders aloud, ignoring Gabriel's repeated questions.
