The angel's blade dug deeper into Dean's shoulder, twisting to increase the pain. Dean groaned, but refused to let out any sound louder than that for the pleasure of the angel standing above him, or to the angels circling him. He was on his knees, his jeans already torn from the lost fight, gravel digging into his shins. His hands were tied behind his back with grace, and his head was pulled back to expose his throat to the angel above him.
There was little doubt in his mind that he had lost this battle, but, as long as they didn't have the satisfaction of hearing him scream, he didn't truly care. In fact, after everything that had happened, this was probably exactly what he deserved.
There had been signs that an angel was in this town. Not killing, or anything too horrible, but the signs were so obvious that they couldn't just ignore it in case it did lead to something bad. Cas, with his borrowed grace and determination to do as much right as possible, tracked the angel to this warehouse, but couldn't help much more than that. It was okay though, Dean had thought then, because it was just one angel, and there were three of them, with two of them wielding angel blades and each in possession of holy oil.
Easy cases tended to get difficult, though, when they concerned the Winchesters, and once Dean had found access into the warehouse, Sam and Cas had been kept out. The one angel they had thought they'd find turned out to be about fifteen angels, are royally pissed at the one and only Dean Winchester. Dean hadn't stood a chance against that many, with grace pressing him against the wall and then slamming him into the ground, and then forcing him up again. Powerful fists slammed into his face and the angel blade that the leader wielded made quick work on marring his body.
"What do you want?" Dean had spat as the taste of blood filled his mouth. "Otherwise, just kill me you cowards!"
"All we want is for you to be punished for your crimes," one of the angels in the background informed him as if it were a casual conversation.
"What crimes?" Dean tried to talk as the angel blade kept striking his skin. "Averting the apocalypse? Geez, don't you guys get over anything?" How many years had that been? Four? Maybe five? When were the angels going to let that one go?
"Not the apocalypse," the angel replied. "Your crime of corrupting an angel?"
Of corrupting an angel? Dean thought in the haze of pain. "Cas?"
"His name is Castiel," another angel furiously corrected, and Dean thought he heard a hint of protection there, along with rage at the thought that what he wanted to protect had been damaged anyway. Damaged by Dean.
"I didn't corrupt Cas," Dean tried to deny, but as strong as his voice was, internally he doubted himself. 'When Castiel first laid a hand you in Hell, he was lost,' one of them had screamed before, and the thought had hurt then too, red hot and boiling in his chest.
"He was once a strong and holy Seraph," yet another angel informed him, and there was love in his voice, or at least as close to love as a programmed angel to get.
"Castiel was once devoted completely to the Host," the angel that held the blade said, "His loyalties were unshakeable and his love for our Father was undeniable."
It was then that Dean realized what had happened. These were not the same fraction of angels that were after Cas because of anger. The angels that surrounded him now had no desire to even hurt their fallen brother, no matter what Castiel had done in the past to put that idea in others' minds. These angels, Dean realized, were Cas' true brothers and sisters, the angels that truly felt the kinship of the Host as Cas had (still did). Each of these angels, furiously looking upon him, wanting nothing more than to see him in pain for what had become of their favorite brother, had adored Castiel more than anything. He was the big brother, the powerful Seraph, that still cared about the cherubs, thrones, guardians, virtues, and powers and never tried to use his rank as leverage or to his favor. Castiel had truly been the epitome of an angel, even to other angels, and he had been beloved.
Until Dean had come into the picture. As soon as Castiel had reached down into Hell and pulled out the Righteous Man, and then had stayed on Earth to guard him, the angel had begun to lose his brilliant shine.
"You manipulated our brother," the angel above him drove the blade into his other shoulder. "You brainwashed him so he would no longer care about his mission, but follow you instead."
Between the labored breaths, Dean spoke, "I didn't brainwash him."
"Lies!"
"You used his curiosity of you, and his doubts concerning the Dominions to secure his help."
"I don't know what you're talking about." Except Dean actually did know what they were talking about, and hearing the truth pained him so much more than the blood that was clotting around the newly formed wounds.
"Because of you Castiel gave up everything," and in that statement Dean could hear it, the loss that he had caused them. The loss of a brother. When Cas had chosen to side with Dean that day in the Green Room he had given up his family, not just the siblings that had wanted the apocalypse to happen, but also the angels that had been stuck in Heaven without clue of what was going on.
"He lost his way because of you!"
"Took the souls of Purgatory for you!" There was another stab into the meat of his body, anger fully behind the power of the blade.
"Cast us out!"
"No!" Dean denied vehemently. "He didn't do it on purpose. He was tricked."
"By you."
"By Metatron. Cas, he…"
"He allowed himself to be open to outside attacks because you had weakened him," Dean couldn't track of the angel voices anymore. His ears were ringing. "Our brother had once been the most skilled warriors of the garrisons, but upon meeting everything he once was was gone."
If angels could cry, Dean thought in the haze of the pain, these angels would be crying in fury and sorrow. Suddenly, Dean wanted to cry too for the same reasons. They were right. Cas had done those things for him. Had allowed himself to be weak for him. Even now, he deflated, Cas was just outside the warehouse with someone else's grace because Dean had dragged him through the pile of crap that was their life.
"Do you still deny this? Do you still deny your punishment?" It wasn't just the blade causing him pain now, nor just the emotional turmoil, but the grace of all these angels pressing aggressively upon him.
"No," he practically sobbed, and almost hated himself for it. It wasn't for them he cried out, he told himself, but for Cas. Only for Cas. "I don't deny it. I'm sorry. I'm sorry Cas."
There was still grace heating his skin, burning away the sin that tainted him, but there was so much sin there that very little would be left in the end.
"You're right. I manipulated Cas. I knew he was infatuated with me." Had known since that day Dean had asked him to save his brother from the prophet's message about Lilith, when Dean had threatened he would never speak to Cas again and then suddenly the angel was aiding him exactly as he had wanted. "That day in the Green Room I threatened that we were over," he was saying this aloud more for his sake, now, rather than theirs. They wouldn't understand past the point of knowing Dean had 'corrupted' Castiel, but it was always a thought that rang regretfully in Dean's mind never to be spoken aloud...until now. "I knew exactly what I was doing when I told him that...knew that he would try and help me...that he would hate to make me angry at him." That he would give up so much just because he asked him to. "I had to, though," Dean tried to explain, trying to justify his manipulation to himself. "The world was about to end, and Cas was our only hope."
"You're saying you'd do it again, if possible?" The angel above him sneered, pressing the blade and his grace deeper into Dean, searing his soul with a brightness that he couldn't' handle.
"Yes." Because in a room full of angels just wanting revenge for the pain their favorite brother had been through, how was anything but the truth to be spoken? "Millions of lives were at stake. And he was our only hope."
And, Dean wouldn't dare speak the next part aloud, Cas hadn't really been that important to him. That whole year Dean had barely tolerated the angel, usually too frustrated with the heavenly games that were being played to even attempt friendliness. In fact, the only reason Dean had tolerated Cas as much as he had was because out of all the angels he had met, Cas was the easiest to manipulate, because he had figured that he could use Cas' crush on him to their advantage...which he had.
He hadn't even felt guilty at the time, because he knew he was doing it for a righteous reason, while, if Cas did follow through with his request, would have been doing it for a selfish reason. Because, as much as Cas might have started to doubt his Father or the orders from his superiors, it hadn't been enough to disobey to that extent. Because, as much as he thought humanity to be God's greatest creation, he hadn't been completely devoted to earth as he had been to heaven. Saving the world, averting the apocalypse, had been solely for Dean. Not humanity, not for free will, just Dean. And how could Dean have cared if that's what this was about? Dean might have manipulated the angel, but he was doing so for righteous reasons, while the angel, who ended up doing something righteous, had only done so because of selfish reasons.
Still...Dean sagged in resignation. Though he would in fact do it all again, simply because so many lives had been at stake, the consequences of that action had been so much more than Dean could have ever imagined. He hadn''t thought that afterwards they'd grow to be friends, or that Cas would take the idea of free will and make so many mistakes with it. That Cas would quickly learn to humanity with every fibre of his being, unrelated to what Dean had to offer or say about it, and had done crazy things not only because of his devotion to the hunter but also because of his love for the world in general.
The blade sunk deeper, this time going between one of his rib cages, and it was too much for Dean's mortal body. Through the pain, the aggressive grace, the guilt, and walls that seemed to be enclosing around him, Dean moved into the realm of unconsciousness.
"Dean?" He could hear the pleading above him, barely a whisper, but powerful in its unspoken desire. "Dean?"
"Hmm?" Slowly, he began to open his eyes and found that he was no longer in the warehouse, but tucked safely in his bed in the bunker. "What happened?"
"Sam and I managed to get through whatever spell they put on the warehouse," Cas informed him calmly, and it was only because Dean knew the angel so well so he could hear the underlying anger and fear. "When we came inside you were bleeding out from multiple blade wounds. I tried to heal you, but their grace kept me from closing them up completely."
"Hey," Dean tried to comfort, but his voice was weak and he wasn't sure how much reassurance he could actually provide. He couldn't stand to hear his angel be filled with the guilt at not being about to heal him, not after all he had done to him. "It's not your fault." His chest tightened. "It's mine. Cas...I'm…."
"I heard." Cas kept him from finishing. "The spell kept me from entering, but I could still hear what they were saying to you." And what Dean had admitted in return.
"Cas…"
"It's not your fault. I understand." Cas bent his head, his hands clasped together. "My brothers and sisters...they seemed to mean well...but they were wrong." Blue eyes rose and stared determinedly at Dean. "You did not corrupt me."
"But I did manipulate you." Dean almost broke.
"I know." Came the soft response, without any judgement or pain. "Dean, I have always known." Before Dean had the chance to speak, he continued, "You seem to have forgotten that, at that time, I still had the ability to sense your thoughts and emotions. And at that time, your thoughts had been very loud." Silence ensued, and Dean sat there froze, staring into cerulean eyes. "I knew that you cared very little about me as a being, and that everything you said back then was to get me to agree with you so that the world stood even just a little chance of winning."
"Cas..."
"It is okay," the angel was strong in his resolve over this point. "I am glad you did. Because that one manipulation, done for the greater good, changed me for the better." Again, Cas bent his head down in shame at the memory of what had occurred in the past years, but his shoulders were set there was still that resolve about him that everything that had done for the hunter laying before him had been worth it. "I may have made mistakes, but it," he was careful with his words now, slow in letting them escape his lips, "was worth having the world still be here. To have humanity still alive. When I fought for the Host...it was wonderful, but it was nothing compared to what I've experienced these last few years fighting by your side. There may have been pain and loss and all those horrible things, but there's also been joy, connection, love, and all those brilliant things that made your kind God's favorite. I am blessed that I was able to understand that."
"Cas…"
Cas smiled, brilliant if not a little sad. "It's okay Dean. I forgive you, if that's what you need to hear. Just as you've forgiven me for my sins."
"But that's the point," Dean tried to argue now that there was something tangible there to fight against. "You shouldn't have sinned in the first place. The only reason you sinned was because…"
"Because I misunderstood free will. Because my plans backfired. And maybe because I felt too much devotion towards you, but you did not make me do anything." Blue eyes sparked. "You didn't force me, did you? Didn't actually brainwash me as my own brothers and sisters had tried so many times before?"
"No, but still…"
"So don't worry about it Dean. I forgive you." Again, Cas smiled, but this time he also reached out a hand to lay upon his shoulder. "And things have changed, have they not?"
"Yea."
"You did not just think of me as something to manipulate when we were fighting against Lucifer, did you?"
"No." After thinking Cas truly had sacrificed himself for the cause, and then had seen him face to face again, Dean had felt a bond between them. Then, with Sam gone for a couple of months, with Cas occasionally coming by to help him with a case, or needing something from him, they had grown to become friends.
"You did not think of me as something to barely tolerate when you were searching for me in Purgatory for a year, correct?"
"Of course not."
Cas nodded, sad and content at the same time. "To be honest, I do sometimes worry that I am just a burden, or just a tool," the angel's voice dropped its husk in its honesty, "but I try to remember all the times you've done something truly selfless for my sake and my sake alone." It wasn't a lot, granted, but when it did happen it meant the universe to the angel.
"Cas, I'm sorry to ever make you feel like you're a burden or a tool." He took the angel's hand that was at his shoulder and held it in comfort and reassurance. "You're not. You're family. And I'm so sorry for everything I've ever done to you that made you feel like that. I'm sorry for not being there for you more. I'm sorry."
A peace passed over him, and it took a second to realize it was Cas' attempt at covering him with what little grace he had. To ease the pain of the wound and the guilt that still plagued him. Damn him. "I forgive you."