Title: Love Be There
Summary: Sequel to Spread Your Wings. Dean's on the run, training with his pervy guardian angel to stop the coming apocalypse, but begs the question, "what about Sammy?" Dean/Castiel, Sam/Ruby. One-shot. 4.01 spoilers.
Rating: T
Warning: Spoilers for 4.01. Dean/Castiel.
A/N: So, the response was good enough for the D/C one-shot I wrote the other day, and I had enough of an idea to carry it on into a series of one-shots. There will be three or four all together, I haven't decided yet.
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or its characters. If I did, this show would be seriously screwed up.
Love Be There
He turned to look at her, at eyes so dark with lust that they almost seemed black. She blinked, and suddenly it wasn't the heat of the moment. It was her, in all her glory and splendor, smiling at him, teaching him, training him, making him all that he could be.
He still felt sick about it sometimes, about the lies and the deceit and the nature of it all. But she had helped him. She had come back to him. She had promised to keep him company, to make him never be alone again.
She was his, sworn to him by an oath of blood.
Damn, he could get lost in her eyes, in the pools of blackness. So lost that sometimes he forgot what he had once hated about them. They were pure, unmarred, smooth. He could see himself then as she saw him.
He was royalty in her.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
It felt wrong. It felt wrong and he knew that it was wrong and that little voice in the back of his head, that whisper that, if it were ever to grow into its own proper volume could kill him, kept telling him that it was wrong, that as soon as he'd finished his course they were going back, both of them, together forever and eternity, but he didn't waver. It felt right.
Well, no. That was wrong, too. It didn't feel right. It didn't feel right because it wasn't really him.
The man's name was Leslie. He thought it was a ridiculous name, probably because it was. He would never tell the other man that. He got enough kidding about his real name as it was, didn't need more joking about this one, too.
Leslie, it turned out, was the other man's type. He was tall and well-built, with blue eyes and dark hair, and he exuded and air of mystery that excited him. He was strong and safe. He smelled good, apparently.
But it still wasn't him. Leslie was nothing compared to what he really looked like, and he wished he could show the other man, because, really, that would end the catcalling. That would end the jokes.
He sighed and washed his hands. He was starting to get annoyed. Humans and their bladders, constantly filling and needing to be emptied.
He walked out of the bathroom in time to see the other man with a phone to his ear, hunched down in the booth that they'd chosen to take their breakfast in that morning. He was trying to be secretive, not realizing that every detail of that call had been known before he'd even woken up that morning.
He smiled as his partner dropped the phone to the floor, his hand flying to his ear as his bit back a scream. Castiel picked up the cell and slid into the bench across from him. "Dean, I thought we discussed this."
"The fuck was that?" Dean asked, pulling his hand from his ear and grimacing at the thin coating of blood.
"You can't let Samuel know where we are."
Dean wiped the blood from the side of his face. "Next time you want to remind me of that little rule, tell me in person, ok?" He reached across the table and grabbed his phone, wrenching it from the angel's hand, and Heaven help him if it didn't send a shiver through the creature's borrowed body. "It's been seven weeks since I left. The kid's probably worried sick."
"It's you that should be worried about him."
Dean smirked. "Not after what I did last night."
The angel flinched, ducking his head, eyes traveling to the ceiling, as if searching for the disapproving gaze he knew must be trained on them. "Not so loud."
"All I'm saying is that I think I should go back. I mean, I was out for, what, a week before I ran?"
"And how many time has Samuel called you?"
It was Dean's turn to flinch. "Three. Maybe four. But-"
"I told you he was different."
"Yeah, I know. Sleeping with the enemy." He offered a smile to a mother walking by with her two young children. "But, you know, four months in Hell, you're technically doing the same."
"I was sent to save you."
"And make me beg for it."
The angel felt his face redden. "I'm trying to be serious, Dean-"
"And so am I, Cass. This whole thing has gotta be pretty taboo for you, right? What with Big Brother always watching and all."
"First of all, that's not my name, and second, there are more pressing matters to attend to than what we do in our free time."
"Right," Dean said. "Sam. My brother. The one you won't even let me talk to."
Castiel leaned forward, elbows sliding against the greasy tabletop until he was in Dean's bubble yet again, a place he'd become rather fond of in the past couple of months. They were almost nose to nose before he spoke. "You have no idea what was happening up here while you were down there, the things that he did, the promises that he has broken. You have no idea what he has become."
Dean blinked, swallowing hard against the sudden confession. "What are you talking about?"
"Ruby. She's been training him to take down Lilith, to take down Lucifer himself."
"That's impossible. Sammy would never-"
"He's not aware. She's been tricking him, leading him on. She's been lying to him."
Dean leaned back, moaning a little as his wings sandwiched between his back and the bench. Castiel felt Leslie react, tried not to let on. "You wouldn't be my Ruby, would you, Cass?"
He pulled his thoughts away from his budding erection long enough to respond. "What?"
"Lying to me? Leading me on for your own twisted purposes? Let me guess, she's in that Kristy girl, right?"
Castiel nodded. "Yes. They've been together for some time. Since about a month after your death."
"Great. But you still didn't answer my question." His eyes flicked up, met the angel's. So tortured. So scared. In those eyes, in that moment, he saw thirty years of loss and abandonment, of torment and fear, he saw four months in Hell and an eternity without faith and hope. He saw the chance for salvation, a chance that he truly believed that only he could give the man.
He reached across the table, grabbed Dean's hand- the scrapes and bruises from clawing his way out of his own grave long since healed- and smiled. "I would never lie to you. I can't. I'm an angel of the Lord, remember? It's in the job description."
Dean cocked an eyebrow. "Is that the same job description that includes butt sex?"
And the mood, the one that had been building steadily for the better part of the conversation, was dead in a sea of red embarrassment. "I told you to keep your voice down."
"All-knowing, all-seeing," Dean said, smug smirk firmly in place. "If we were going back to Hell, we'd be there already."
Castiel sighed, letting go of his hand and leaning back in the booth, grimacing as the plush backing of the bench pressed up against the hidden feathers, the invisible wings. "Don't be so sure. Our job isn't done yet."
"And what is our job, exactly?"
"To stop the coming apocalypse, the release of Hell upon Earth."
"And you think Sam has something to do with that?"
"Sam has everything to with that."
"No. It's Ruby."
"Ruby's pulling the strings, yes. But Samuel is the one with the real power in the equation."
"But if we stop her-"
"He's too far gone."
"No."
"Dean." He hated doing this. Hated giving him so much hope, hated pulling him from the pit, saving him, and then doing this. Taking everything. Watching his whole world crumble. He hated it like he hated the whole situation.
"Why?"
"Why, what?"
"Why me? Why Sam? Why here, why now, why ever? Why the hell?"
Castiel sighed. He'd been doing that at lot in the past seven weeks. He'd also been asking himself a lot of those same questions. Why him, why Dean, why now? Hand-picked by God to journey into the pits of Hell to pull out the one being that could stop the coming apocalypse, and he couldn't even talk to the man without nearly melting his brain.
Not that they did much talking. Mostly, it was Dean watching him, or him watching Dean, surprised that anyone could go through Hell and come out relatively unphased. And when they weren't talking, they were doing. Either training, or, well… he felt himself blush.
"I don't know," he said, and that was the truth. He didn't know. He didn't know why he'd been chosen. It should have been known, long before he ever set out to save the man, that as soon as he saw him he would take pity. That as soon as his hand touched the raw flesh of Dean's tarnished soul a spark would run through them both, carrying through to a time when the man wouldn't remember and the angel couldn't forget.
It was wrong, but it was chosen. Wasn't it?
"Am I gonna have to kill him?"
Castiel paused. "I'm not sure. It depends on how far he's gone, how far she's taken him into the darkness. There's a lot he wasn't telling you, Dean."
"Like there's a lot you are?"
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
He had gotten lost in her eyes, hadn't even heard the phone start to ring. Not that it mattered. It stopped almost instantly. "Ruby," he asked, "do you think we'll ever find him?"
She smiled, a knowing grin, and breathed deeply. The bed reeked, reeked of sex and sweat and come, of good and pure and light. Of angel. Of Dean. She knew that he could smell it, that they had been there just days before, that the demons were lying in a once-sacred place, that they were getting close.
"Yeah, Sammy," she said, unable to tear her own dark gaze from his amber one. "I think we'll find him real soon."
The End. For now.
I'll probably have another one up within the week (college willing), so keep your eyes peeled!
