Summary: Dean and Castiel goes hunting together. Takes place between Free to Be You and Me and The End.
Disclaimer: I don't claim anything as mine.
Warning: Unbeta'ed. All mistakes are my own.
A/N: This is the birthday present for the lovely Kelly, (caswouldratherbehere over at Tumblr) Happy birthday yesterday, hon. Sorry for the lack of Porn.
There are three things Dean Winchester knows for sure. One: Bert and Ernie are gay. Two: Working a case alone is a bad idea. And three: Working a case with Cas is an even worse idea.
But five virgins suicides, all girls from different small towns at the edge of NezPerce National Forrest, Idaho, has forced Dean to go against his better judgement. He sure as hell isn't going to call Sam. That ship has sailed; HMS Winchester Bros has crashed against the giant iceberg of trust issues and is now damaged beyond repair, as far as Dean is concerned.
"I only know of a a few spells that would cause someone to commit suicide."Castiel volunteers, looking at Dean with great concern. "And I don't sense any witches in this town."
"That makes sense. As far as any of this makes sense, I suppose." Dean says and continues to pack the books back into his bag. "If they move from town to town, they would already have left."
"Unless there's another explanation."
"I'll take anything that isn't a witch." Dean says, aware that he's sounding just a bit too eager, as sudden relief rushes over him.
"I didn't say anything about this option, because I've never known any of them to leave southern Europe." Castiel starts, looking apologetically at Dean.
"Fill me in, dude. I'm not the mind reader here."
"I don't..." Castiel snaps, but Dean holds up a hand and Castiel falls silent.
"Just get me up to speed on this, so we can go kill the damn thing." Dean says and resumes packing the last few books and the files on the dead girls into the bag.
"I believe we're dealing with a faun."
"A what-now?"
"A faun. They're a well known mythical creature, native to the mediterraneanarea, prefers woodland and moist climate, often found near smaller streams and deltas." Castiel explains, and continues quickly, knowing that Dean isn't a man who needs time to let information sink in. "I should have concluded this much sooner, the location is ideal and the virgin suicide is just their thing. But as I said..."
"Yeah, this one seem to be vacating very much out of it's usual hunting grounds, I get it." Dean shrugs and swings the bag over his shoulder, grabbing this duffel in his free hand. "Weirder re-locations have happened. And if it quacks like a duck and it walks like a duck."
"Then what?" Castiel asks, frowning.
"Then it must be a duck." Dean explains, watching as Castiel's frown grows deeper.
"I thought I just explained that it is most likely a faun."
"You're adorable when you're clueless, has anyone else ever told you that?" Dean says, half smiling as he pushes past Castiel through the door.
The woods are deep and rough, but luckily Castiel has a mental image of the area in that huge angel-head of his and they soon find the most likely area for a faun to dwell. It's a beautiful little clearing, where a small brook enter a larger, fast-streaming river, rocks littering the banks.
"So how does these bad boys do their mojo, anyway?" Dean asks, very much aware that he probably should have asked this before walking into it's territory.
"It lures virgins to it's premises by playing it's flute and then the music will slowly drive the human to it, crazy with longing, sealing the enchantment with a kiss. He then basically have a willing slave until he tire of the human, which will happen, most likely, within a week, as the human starts to waste away from lack of sustenance and sleep. The faun will then abandon the human somewhere in the forest and the human will, grief-stricken, take it's own life."
"Weakness of the human heart, hu?"
"Or the strength." Castiel corrects absentmindedly.
"So how do we kill it?"
"We stab it in the heart with the horn from a female faun." Castiel recites quickly, ignoring when Dean turns his eyes at him. "Which I'm well aware that we don't have. Or you can chase it away by breaking it's flute. He then has to return to the underworld to carve a new flute from the roots of the..."
"Break flute, got it." Dean interrupts stepping out into the clearing and looking around. "Does these guys have a curfew or should we expect happy tunes any time soon?"
"He might already be here playing." Castiel says looking around. "You wouldn't be able to hear or see him."
A slight flush creeps up in Dean's cheeks, and he wonders for the briefest moment how Castiel can manage to make him ashamed of not being a thirty year old virgin. "So how are we supposed to find him and take his flute?" Dean asks, suddenly feeling really dumb for standing here, not being able to see what they are hunting. "I mean, Jimmy obviously wasn't entirely chaste either."
"Not entirely." Castiel agrees dryly, closing his eyes. "But he was enough of a devout man to let in an angel."
"A virgin angel." Dean corrects, just to get the satisfaction of watching Castiel squeeze his eyes a little tighter shut and straighten his back. "I'd forgotten that part." Dean lies, finding the subject much funnier without the threat of death by Archangel looming over their head.
"Dean." Castiel snaps. "I need you to be quiet."
"Dude, it's just playful banter."
"No, I need you to be quiet so I can concentrate. With my weakened Grace I need all my focus to use my true form. And close your eyes while you're at it. I don't want to take risks. If I cannot control my Grace..."
Dean frowns, but doesn't answer. Instead he closes his eyes and listen for the sound of music he knows he can never hear. When a full minute has passed and Castiel remains quiet, Dean allows himself to open one eye, just the tiniest bit. What he sees is Castiel, wading through the small stream, eyes dreamy and glass-like, completely focused on the large rock perched just where brook meats river.
"Sonuvabitch." Dean mumbles and starts running before his brain has even come the the likely conclusion that if Castiel can hear the music, he can become enchanted by it. Dean's in the water in three long strides, pushing through the waste-deep, icy water in a pace that's making his heart jump to his throat. Sealing the enchantment with a kiss, Cas had said, the though beating trough his brain like a sledge hammer.
He hadn't thought Cas was that human. Obviously Castiel hadn't thought it either or perhaps he had been hoping that he was still angel enough to resist, willing to take the risk. That stupid bastard, he should have warned Dean, and why the hell is it so damn hard to run in water!
Castiel has already reached the rock and is pulling himself out of the water, leaning his face forward with a soft smile that makes Dean's pumping heart hurt.
Finding a reserve of strength he didn't know he had, he surges forward, grabbing a hold of Castiel's coat, pulling him back into the water.
They both emerge from the water, gasping for air. Dean gets to his feet, gripping at the front of Castiel's shirt, dragging the angel half-way out of the water, shaking him roughly. "What the hell were you thinking, man?"
Castiel seems more aware as his eyes slowly focus, but he's still just blinking up at Dean, as if he's not sure who the man holding his wet death-weight out of the water is.
"Cas! Dude, snap out of it!" Dean shouts angrily, bringing one hand up to lightly slap Castiel across the face. There's a reaction, finally, as Castiel squeezes his eyes shut and hands come up to cover his own ears.
"Dean the flute. Make him stop playing!"
Dean spins around, in complete vain, he knows this. He has no chance of finding the faun, he has no chance of stopping music that he can't hear. He looks back down at Castiel, whose eyes have gone glassy again, that soft smile back on the angel's face. Dean ducks Castiel's head back under water and slaps him as soon as he emerges. "Cas, I need your help on this. Stay with me."
Cas spits out water and groan as if in pain, and Dean wonders fleetingly if he actually is in pain. He can't guess at the effect of the music Castiel is hearing. Castiel squeezes his eyes shut, the pain on his face turning into a slight sneer.
"Dean, make it stop!" Castiel demands weakly, just as his body starts fighting Dean to get out of his grip, to get on his own feet. Dean shoves his head back under water, buying time.
When he drags Castiel's head back up he forcefully grabs the angel's face in one hand, efficiently making him focus on Dean. "Tell me where he is, Cas. Help me now!"
Castiel's eyes are completely focused on Dean this time, and Dean looks into them, begging for any help the lost angel can give.
"Still at the large rock. Still playing." Castiel chokes out, with out taking his eyes away from Dean. "Please. I can't, Dean."
Dean suck in a breath at the weakness in Castiel's voice, at the pain he sees in those eyes, finding strength in the anger he feels as he watches his friend, powerless and scared in his arms. And for the last time, he shoves Castiel's head under water, letting go and turning with all the speed of a tiger leaping through water, as he drags himself out of the stream and onto the rock, hands finding purchase where there shouldn't be any, grabbing for something – anything – hands closing against all logic around the surface of a thin wooden pipe.
And for a moment he feels a rush of thrill and success rush through him, before he feels small hands tangling into his hair, forcing him down, keeping him in place on the cold surface of the rock, with an inhuman power. One hand finds Dean's throat and the hunter panics, squirming to get free from the invisible hold of the faun. He feels his own hands coming up, magic he cannot fight, old magic that no human can resist, and he slowly, shakily bring the invisible flute to his own lips.
Play. The whisper is close by his ear, soft and sharp at the same time. And Dean plays. Just a single note, that he can't even hear himself.
"Nooo!" Castiel's hands are on Dean, dragging, insistent and rough, trying to pull Dean from the control of the Faun, and Dean just have time to think "Why do I always fuck up even the simplest things?" before the insistent hands of the Faun is leaving him, letting Dean and Cas tumble back into the water.
Dean emerges from the water first, surprised to find the flute is still clutched in his own hand. Without any hesitation, before anything else can go wrong, he snaps the flute in halves, and then spins to see if Castiel is alright.
The angel breaks the surface further down the stream, fighting the pull of the river-water, and Dean manages to wonder if the angel even knows how to swim, before Castiel shakes his wet hair out of his eyes and starts a doggy-paddle to the bank of the river.
Dean pushes out of the water, but doesn't get far, his legs simply giving in on him as soon as he's on dry land. He crawls the whole way over to where Castiel has flopped up on shore and is lying on his back on the soft, leafy earth.
"And that's... why... you shouldn't... hold out on...your partner." Dean breaths heavily, lying down next to the angel on his stomach. "Next time you tell me everything, okay? Everything that could go wrong!"
"Okay. Partner." Castiel huffs and Dean doesn't have to look to know the Angel is smiling.
"I broke the flute." Dean says." That's the end of it, right?"
It takes a short time for Castiel to answer, just enough to make Dean get up on his elbows to look at the angel's face. "In a way. " Castiel says unsure, staring out into blank space.
"But in another way...?" Dean presses. "Level with me, man."
"Breaking the flute doesn't break the spell. I'm still under the spell of the flute. But since the flute is broken it obviously won't draw me in to complete the spell. With out the music playing I won't feel compelled to kiss the one who enchanted me."
"So I don't have to worry about you running after a faun when I'm not looking?" Dean asked, half joking, but fully worried.
There's another pause in which Castiel is looking at something distant. Dean wants to grab his face again, force those eyes back on him, but he doesn't.
"The faun isn't the one who holds my enchantment, Dean. He wasn't the last one to play the flute." Castiel says, and then sits up, looking down his wet clothes with a sigh, before getting to his feet. It takes that long for Dean to catch up.
"I was. I was the last one to play." He says unsure, and the his eyes widen. "Does that mean...?"
"That means," Castiel cuts him off, offering a hand to Dean, who takes it and is drawn to his feet. "That as long as we don't kiss we're fine." Castiel ends and looks into Dean's eyes. Dean doesn't understand what he sees there, but he keeps looking.
"Okay. That's fine then." He says, and wonders why those lies are coming out of his mouth. "That should be doable." He musters up something close to his normal pride and swag and smiles brightly at Castiel. "Just stay out of the water then, man. With a swimming style like that, I don't want to have to do CPR on you." Dean winks, and Castiel offers a small, soft smile.
They leave the clearing, walking side by side, Dean keeping as close to Casas he can get, looking into those blue eyes for as long as he can handle it, knowing that this is all he has now, all he can ever have.