Disclaimer: Not mine, never have been, never will be
Warnings/Squicks: angst, some non-canonical angels, schmoop, and the abuse of pie
"If it's not too late I think we can make it out of this rain to somewhere the daylight is shining again."- If It's Not Too Late, Todd Wright
AN1: So several ppl seemed to want me to fix what I did in Belong to Me Tonight, including Kyo. Only she threatened me with an angry Dean and a very put out Cas, and well she knows the way to my heart, or at least to my fic. See extortion does work. :) I believe her exact demands were 'major awesome flufftastic schmoop' I bargained her into 'angsty get the boys back together schmoop with make-up sex' (which is apparently the way to Cas' heart- good to know, that is).
Kyo, 'm afraid Cas wasn't nearly as dommy as I was hoping he'd be, but he was too busy trying to, well, you know…
AN2: Okay, I grabbed two Archangels from here (www . angelfocus . com / archangels . htm) to play with, Camael "The Archangel of pure love", and Raguel "the Archangel of Justice and Fairness" he's also in charge of harmony in Heaven and on Earth. I also made Joshua and Archangel, he kinda reminded me of Jophiel.
Every day that Castiel was in Heaven hurt. The words he'd whispered to Dean so many weeks ago burnt into Castiel's mind. He felt them, every word, as they ripped through his being leaving painful gouges in their wake; his Grace covered and filled the wounds quickly enough, but it didn't take the ache away- it couldn't, not when it was his soul that was being torn apart.
Despite the pain, or perhaps because of it, Castiel looked in on Dean every day. Seeing with his own senses that his hunter was alive and still fighting, and guiding him whenever he could. Castiel had vowed that he would keep Dean safe; whatever it cost him.
And at night, when no matter how far into a bottle he climbed, Dean still cried for Cas, sometimes begging for him, sometimes cursing him, always missing him, Castiel would whisper a prayer of comfort over his brokenhearted hunter. Those times where the hardest on the angel. They were the times he should have been able to be right there on Earth offering true comfort, the kind he knew they both desired. Those times, the ones that happened every day, were what was slowly killing Castiel.
The angel's around him didn't notice and most were too afraid to say anything if they did. Castiel was 'upper management' now, and most of those around him were accustomed to Zachariah's views on loyalty and his wrath.
It wasn't until several months into his return when Raguel came to look in on their newest and youngest Seraphim that anyone acknowledged the angel's waning health.
"Dear Father!" Raguel exclaimed. Castiel's form looked tired; his Grace appeared a weak spark deep within him. "Castiel, why have you not come to us with your troubles? The burden of your office is not unknown; a weight such as this is not something any angel should have to face alone."
Castiel looked on as his brother spoke, trying to understand what was wrong. He'd taken quite quickly to his new duties, and in truth they seemed slight after his time on Earth- searching for God, while attempting to keep the Winchesters alive and out of Zachariah's hands made almost any Heavenly task seem simple in retrospect. "I thought I was attending my duties, Raguel. Please, show me where I have erred?"
The Archangel studied Castiel for several moments, trying to understand what he was seeing. It took a close eye, one trained to detect the wellbeing of other angels to finally see. Castiel's Grace was there, muted and dulled by pain, but it was there strong in its own way. Raguel's presence softened, "What troubles you, Castiel?"
Castiel's being shimmered for the briefest of moments, as he fought the urge to tell Raguel how he'd been watching over Dean and how much the mortal still meant to him. Not wanting to lie, he merely said, "Nothing worthy of concerning yourself with," hoping that would placate the Archangel.
Raguel chuckled, "Castiel, you forget my place. The harmony of all, not the least of which my fellow brethren, is my concern."
"Yes, Raguel. Only, I do not wish to discuss this." Castiel knew he was taking a great risk refusing to answer Raguel's question, but Dean had always and would always be worth the risk.
Thankfully Raguel didn't press the issue. "As you wish, brother, but I shall check in from time to time. It will not do for you to overtax yourself as you appear to be."
"Of course, Raguel."
"What do we know of Castiel's time on Earth?" Raguel asked the group of Archangels congregating in the Garden.
The angels looked to each other for answers. None of them knew much beyond the facts that after Castiel left Heaven, no one would call him a rebel after their Father had rewarded him, he had been on Earth aiding the Winchesters and been killed by Lucifer himself.
Joshua huffed, derisively, as he tended one of the perfect plants in His Garden. It would never cease to amaze him how blind even Archangels could be. Finishing his work, he turned to Raguel, "What is it you wish to know?"
"I'm not certain. He is troubled, yet reluctant to share his pain. I hoped something of his time among Father's creations might help me understand what ails him so."
This time Joshua laughed, a deep rich sound vibrating the air around him. "To understand Castiel, you must understand his heart. And his heart no longer rests solely in Heaven. Seek Camael's guidance; he will be of most help to you."
Raguel wasted no time before seeking out his brother. He found Camael in one of the further reaches of Heaven, Raguel had known the other angel was likely to be here, Camael often said it was the best place to watch over the mortals. Raguel had never understood that, since Heaven was a fluid thing and all vantage points were the same, but something about this tucked away space gave Camael pleasure.
"Hello Raguel." Camael studied the other angel, "What brings you here?"
"Castiel."
"Ah," the Archangel's being pulsed softly, knowingly. "Our dear little brother, how is he?"
"Not well, I'm afraid." Raguel moved closer to his brother wondering what Earthly vision was holding his amusement today. "Joshua said that I must understand Castiel's heart before I could help him."
"Joshua always was able to see the larger picture better than most of us. Part of being the conduit of our Father, I suppose." Camael's being pulsed again harder this time, "Here," Camael indicated a spot near him, "look."
Raguel did as he was bid and peered into the abyss his brother had indicated. It took a moment but eventually figures began to come into focus. At first it was nothing more than a mass of thrumming thing, but slowly it became fields and roads then cars and people until it settled down to one person, Dean Winchester. Raguel turned a quizzical gaze onto his brother who merely nodded.
Raguel watched as Dean worked, studying and eventually killing the creature that had been feeding off the city he was in. It wasn't until afterwards, when Dean was left with nothing to focus on that Raguel saw the cracks- open gulfs if he was honest. He watched as Dean methodically went through the motions of the day as if following some mental checklist.
Raguel was about to speak, when Camael cut him off, "Just watch. He's always been better at hiding it during the day. I believe it's because he can pretend he's not truly alone, until nightfall."
On Earth Dean was lying propped up on the bed in his motel of the week. It had apparently been decorated by a colourblind lab rat with an obsession with Swiss cheese, all blues and purples and brain frying polka dots. Next to him lay a large bottle of cheap rotgut whiskey, the cheapest and most unpleasant to drink form of the stuff he could find. Slowly Dean began drinking, the first hiss of pain as the liquid burned its way down his throat felt good, the last thing he wanted was smooth bourbon that would allow him to think as he drank. What was the point of drinking yourself to oblivion if you took yourself and your world with you?
Dean had made it half way through the bottle before he began to rock slowly; repeating one slurred word, 'Cas'.
Raguel's shocked expression was almost comical.
Camael 'shh'ed' him before he could speak, silently telling him to keep watching.
Moments passed with only Dean's slurring to be heard. Then a silence spread, slowly soaking through the room; Dean's shaking slowed, eventually stopping, and his keening dissolved into nothingness. Soon a peaceful sleep overtook the man.
Astonished would only begin to cover Raguel's feelings at this moment. "Castiel?"
Camael smiled, "Yes."
"But, a human? This human"
"Brother, it was not his desire to return. Father called, he came." Camael explained sadly. It was his job to bring souls together, not watch them torn apart.
"No wonder his Grace is shrouded in so much pain and he seems so worn." The amount of Grace it would take an angel to provide the peace Castiel had just given Dean was not on its own dangerous, but to keep a daily flow of it would exhaust the angel physically and mentally. Add to that the pain Castiel obviously felt layering itself over the angel and the strains of his new position and you had recipe for Heavenly disaster.
"I dare say, I don't know what Father was thinking, ordering him home like that."
"Father has his reasons," Raguel said dutifully.
"I can't see how keeping those two apart accomplishes anything," Camael added tersely a moment later.
The two angels sat in silence for long drawn minutes, hours. "Camael?"
"Yes, brother?"
"We must end this. There can be no harmony when one of us is in such pain and there is no room for love in such a broken heart."
"So how will we fix this?"
"What were Father's exact orders?"
Camael's nodded; seeing where his brother was going. "We must discuss this with Joshua."
"Ah, I was wondering when you two would be showing up," Joshua greeted the two angels warmly.
Raguel and Camael exchanged glances. This was almost sacrilege, but if the recent events had taught them anything it was that questioning one's orders and looking for true meaning could be good things. They believed their Father saw it as a learning experience; a test, one Castiel had excelled at.
"Camael has helped me understand what torments Castiel."
Joshua nodded.
"We agree something must be done, for their sakes and for the sake of Heaven."
Joshua chuckled and nodded, giving the impression of a teacher listening as his pupils tried to explain a complicated equation that had been answered eons ago.
Camael stepped forward, "When Castiel was recalled, what exactly were his orders? And the orders given us as his superiors?"
"Mmm," Joshua smiled. "Very good." He took a moment to recall the information, God's exact Words. "Castiel was to be granted the rank of Seraphim with the rights and duties afforded him by that position. He was to return to Heaven immediately to take control of the office once filled by the angel Zachariah."
The two Archangels smiled, but waited for the other half of their question to be answered before getting too self-assured.
"His superiors were charged to guide and assist Castiel in his new position, to help aid the transition, and to ensure Castiel's ability to see out his duties."
Now the angels let themselves smile brightly, their entire beings shimmering with excitement.
"I gather you heard what you wished to hear?" Joshua asked with a knowing smile; they were the same words that had been spoken for millennia when an angel was promoted or given new office, but now, thanks to Castiel, old words no longer held the same meaning they once did.
Both angels bowed slightly to the older Archangel, "Yes, yes we did. Thank you Joshua."
He waved the two away, turning his attention to a slowly climbing vine.
"Hello again, brother," Raguel greeted Castiel, Camael following closely behind.
"Rageul, Camael. I wasn't expecting you to return so soon," Castiel admitted to the Archangel.
"Well, you did ask me to tell you where you had erred in your duties."
If Castiel had still been in his vessel he would have gulped, a small swallow and bob of his Adam's apple, but a gulp none-the-less. Instead he nodded and tried to appear attentive.
Raguel picked up on Castiel's tension immediately. "Castiel, please don't worry," he tried to calm the younger angel.
"You look ragged brother, your Grace in shrouded in pain and it worries us. We have seen from your work that you have been here non-stop since you arrived, is that correct?"
"Yes, Raguel."
"Why?" asked Camael.
"Pardon?"
"You heard me, Castiel. Why?"
"It is my duty."
"Ah, we thought as much."
"You need rest, Castiel." Raguel admonished, "And not just now, regularly. We all need it, we are all allowed it."
Castiel deflated, he didn't want rest. Heavenly rest was not the same as an Earthly one. To rest in Heaven meant a break from your duties, yes, but it didn't mean much more than that, and especially for Castiel that only meant more time to think and wish.
Camael moved closer to Castiel letting his Grace brush Castiel's being. "Go to him," he whispered.
Castiel moved away from the archangel as if he'd been burned.
"Castiel, relax. We understand. Go to him," Camael reassured.
Castiel continued to watch the others skeptically. This was unheard of; angels were not allowed to wander willy-nilly around on Earth without a specific calling.
"We reviewed your orders, and have chosen an advantageous way to interpret them. We have explained this to the others and it was agreed. You shall be allowed to take your rest where you see fit, so long as it does not interfere with your duties." Raguel explained, trying not to give in to the smile that threatened. He was seldom able to see the instant effects of his work so definitively.
Vibrating like an electrified wire, Castiel was nearly shaking apart with the thought of seeing Dean in the flesh.
Camael laughed heartily, "Brother, finish your current duties and take a break. That's an order."
Castiel nodded mutely, unable to form a coherent sentence, and went back to work. His Grace still dulled and hidden by the pain began spidering out through the cracks and crevasses, hope was a powerful thing.
Dean slammed into his motel room tired and sore from driving through yet another epic hangover. He tossed his duffle onto the bed and stomped towards the bathroom.
Cas stood in the corner, still cloaked, invisible to the human eye. He wanted to watch Dean for a while. Just see him, follow the flow of his body, even with the aches and twinges he the man suffered after a long drive. There was something beautiful in watching Dean.
In the bathroom Dean groaned as he stretched and pulled tightened muscles. He kicked his shoes off and turned on the shower, hoping he would be lucky enough to actually have hot water here and not just lukewarm. The spray immediately steamed over the mirrors and Dean moaned in appreciation. Quickly shucking his clothes he climbed under the heated water.
Cas thought about following his hunter, but decided to wait rather than shocking him in the small room.
The shower ran quickly, Dean only taking the time for what was necessary, before stepping out and toweling himself off. It was only a moment before the door opened and Dean stepped out heading for his bag.
Cas silently moved out of the invisible and into the room. His mouth was dry, he hadn't believed this was possible, and he had no idea what to say. So he started as he always had, "Hello, Dean."
The hunter turned around and glared, first shock then anger painting his face. Dean stared. Stared the way Cas used to stare at him, intense and foreboding. "What the Hell are you doing here?" he growled with such vehemence that Castiel almost jumped back.
This was not the welcome Cas had hoped for. It was one he deserved, but not one he'd wanted. "I came to see you," he said, voice low and soft, sad.
"Great," Dean huffed. "How 'bout this, you just turn your winged ass around and go back to Heaven and I won't break my hand on your face, again?"
"Dean, please."
"Uh, no Cas." Dean sat on the bed with his back to his angel. Dean heard a shakily gulped breath and the flutter of wings, and he knew his angel had gone. Collapsing on the pillow, Dean curled in on himself, gritting his teeth against the pain and cried.
The next morning Dean found a hot coffee and large slice of still warm peach cobbler beside his bed. He threw them both across the room, before getting out of bed.
Cas didn't come back that day, or the next, but Dean woke up to another coffee and pie which his anger sent flying against the far wall.
Cas stayed away, or at least didn't show himself, but Dean kept waking to coffee and pie. And every one wound up plastered against the wall or the ceiling and on one occasion it took out the TV.
This went on every day for almost two months. And then it didn't. There was no coffee, no pie, just one disheveled angel sitting at the small table across from Dean. "I had not meant to hurt you by returning," he grated out, voice cracking around the edges as if he hadn't used it in too long. "I… had hoped… After the way…" Cas finally looked up catching Dean's eyes "I should have known. I am sorry, Dean."
Dean was dumbstruck, he'd been trying not to hear the sadness in Cas' voice, too much like the despair he'd heard when he'd delivered Joshua's message. Then the damned angel had to look at him, had to let him see the tears rolling down his face. All Dean could think as he watched another wave of salty tears fall was that he had to stop them; Cas shouldn't be crying.
Dean was out of the bed and at Cas' side in record time, but the angel just smiled sadly at him, whispering, "I'll always be yours," and vanishing.
"Cas!" Dean screamed after the angel. 'God damn-it, Cas! Get back here!"
Dean started drinking early.
In the morning, his head felt like a balloon stuffed with cotton that had been drug behind horses for half the night, and at his bedside were a glass of cool water and aspirin to accompany his coffee and slice of Boston cream pie. Despite his aching head he smiled, Cas hadn't left him for good. He took the aspirin with the water, finishing it off before sniffing the coffee and taking a bite of the pie. He hoped Cas was watching, he needed the angel to come back, he needed to apologize and beat the idiot senseless at the same time. "Thanks Cas," he whispered.
Another week and still no Cas, but the coffee and pie kept coming. And Dean ate and drank and asked Cas to come back each day.
Dean was beginning to think Cas was never going to come back, and that thought twisted in his gut just as deeply and nauseatingly as when Cas'd first left him over six months ago. Today, Dean decided, would be different; he couldn't take much more of his angel hiding on the sidelines angry or afraid or whatever emotion he had caused the angel to feel the last time he saw him. "Cas?" he asked, feeling stupid. "Damn-it Cas you'd better be listening," he growled. "'m sorry for what I said. And what I didn't say." He stopped to swallow, his throat suddenly dry. "Just, ya can't tell someone goodbye like that and then show up without a word. It…" Dean needed to say this for Cas, he needed to, so he would, "It hurts. Hurts like a festered wound that you just can't leave alone, eventually the pain becomes normal and bearable. Then someone jabs it with a knife and all you can feel is white hot searing agony." Dean was trying to fight back tears, "Cas. It hurts without you."
Dean's sure he imagined the rustle behind him and the shadows that creep closer to him. He wants so much for it to be his angel, but he can't let himself think that it is. He closes his eyes as a firm hand rests on his shoulder. "It hurts me, too." Cas murmurs in something just above a whisper.
"Cas," floats on a shaky breath. Dean's hand closing around his angel's wrist, pulling him down with him as he stretches out on the bed. "You came."
"Of course," Cas states softly, tears running slowly from his impossibly blue eyes.
Dean wrapped himself around the angel, holding him tight enough to hurt a normal person, "Don't go. Not again."
Castiel snaked an arm around Dean securing his own hold on the mortal shh-shing him as he stroked his face and following his hand with peppered kisses.
Dean turned his face towards Cas' catching his lips with his own. Sighing deeply at the feel of those lips, slightly chapped and warm, pliant and eager; lips he'd missed and dreamt about. He wanted to fall into the tenderness he felt as he melted against his angel.
Cas rolled them until Dean was stretched out beneath him, towel long forgotten. Castiel's every present trench coat spreading over them like a blanket.
Dean ran his hands under the coat and jacket tugging at the dress shirt beneath, trying to get to skin. Skin Dean wanted to feel against him, pale from lack of sunlight and smooth from Jimmy's mundane life, but all Cas. The power that throbbed under his skin a constant reminder of the powerful being that now resided alone behind those piercing blue eyes.
Rising, Cas rolled back onto his heels, looking down at Dean, naked and wet and beautiful before him. Slowly, Cas pulled off his a skewed tied, letting Dean's hands roam underneath his shirt. His fingers began the tedious task of unbuttoning the thin material.
As each button gave way Dean's eyes widened, soaking in Cas' milky chest.
Eventually, his shirt hung loose, Dean's hands wandering freely across abdomen and chest, fingers dancing teasingly around dusky nipples. Cas shrugged his shoulders, the layers of clothing slid down his body to be carelessly pushed to the floor by Dean's hungry hands.
Cas let Dean explore his body, trembling at every sensitive touch and every blissful look that flitted across Dean's face.
Slowly, Cas took Dean's hands in his, bringing the fingers of each hand to his lips kissing each in turn.
Cas pinned Dean to the bed, hands clasped above Dean's head, Cas' eyes on fire burning with love and power. "The last time you wanted to cause yourself pain and I could not allow it. Now you will let me do this," his voice was calm and forceful.
Dean shivered but nodded his understanding.
"Good," he leaned down kissing his lover with all the tenderness he had. His hand tracing down Dean's face, over his chest, tickling his ribs, finally resting securely on Dean's hip. "Trust me."
Two words like the darkest chocolate roasted over warm coals had Dean's heart sputtering and flipping. He did trust Cas, he always would, no matter how much he hurt from it.
Cas' mouth moved down Dean's body, tracing his collar bone with his tongue, kissing down his sternum, darting to the side to nip at pert nipples, all while Dean squirmed and writhed beneath him. The angel took a moment to think the remainder of his clothes away, he was enjoying his explorations too much to stop and remove them.
The hand on Dean's hip traced lazy lines around his thigh to tease at his entrance. Dean's legs spread instinctively welcoming his angel.
Castiel's breath caught at the open invitation Dean was offering. He slicked his fingers running circles around Dean's hole, letting his finger dip further and further inside as he went until the digit slid home with barely a surprised gasp from his hunter. Cas worked the finger stroking Dean from the inside, relaxing tense muscles. Soon a second joined, sweeping and loosening his hunter's body; then a third slid alongside stretching Dean even fuller.
Dean was a writhing, whimpering mess, begging for Cas to fill him, get inside him.
Smiling against Dean's chest, Cas scooted up, lifting one of Dean's legs over his shoulder and aligning himself with the man's entrance. With a hard steady push Cas enter his hunter, taking a moment to just breathe while they both adjusted to this new Heaven.
Dean wanted to scream, it felt so good to finally have his angel in him again, and like this, not the way he'd tried to make it before all anger and fear. This was something completely different; this was how it should be. He slipped his leg from Cas' shoulder wrapping them both around the lithe body above him, gently putting pressure on the angel, trying to pull him closer, further in.
Elegant fingers ghosted over Dean's body, quiet panted noises dropped like dew from his hunter's lips. "You make such beautiful, joyous noises. Sometimes I wish they could go on forever." He thrust into Dean as he spoke. "Sounds you make only for me that cause my soul to sing." He pulled out and back in, setting an unrushed rhythm. "And it does sing, Dean, the entire Host hears my song, my love." He was starting to shake with the effort of the maddeningly slow pace, but he needed Dean to understand this for what it was. Cas was taking Dean, making a promise before the Heavens that his soul would forever be entwined with Dean's.
Dean's nails bit into Cas' flesh as he holds the angel tight, as if he's afraid he'll fly away at any moment. His body wracked with pleasure from the angel's touch. His heart and soul burning from his words.
They rocked together bodies pushing and riding taking what each could give and giving it back tenfold. Soon the rhythm between them became rushed, thrusts more urgent, and cries more wanton. Castiel's hand moved to the handprint on Dean's shoulder, a connection stronger than mere touch, but only as stronger as they allowed it to be. Closing his hand over the mark, Cas managed a few ragged thrusts before a sound somewhere between a siren and a scream filled the room and he was cumming, empting into Dean, filling him with the physical evidence of his love.
As Cas came, pumping pulse after pulse inside him, Dean felt the emotion flowing through the scar, rapture and love and things Dean could never hope to comprehend. He screamed his own cry of release, his shaft pressed between their bodies, slicking their skin with his cum.
Cas held Dean close to him, a precious gift worthy of protection and honour. He rolled, flipping their positions so that Dean rested limply on top of him and he could card through his mortal's hair.
"Don't go." Dean breathed, exhausted, sated, and still terrified he's wake up without the angel again, just as he had all those months ago.
"Shhh, not going anywhere. Not for a while." He kissed Dean languidly for a few moments. He would have to leave, but not tonight or even tomorrow. And this time he knew he'd be coming back.