Artificial light streamed in through the clumsily drawn curtains and illuminated a strip of the dusty, cheap motel room. As specks of dust swirled in the only ray of light, the room was still and silent. A man slept soundly in each bed. Limbs sprawled across the mattress, lost in their own separate dream worlds, the Winchester brothers slept off what had proved to be a much more difficult fight than they had anticipated.
Crossing the room in less than a blink of the eye, Castiel drew the curtains, shutting out the light from the outside world; isolating the Winchesters in the safety his grace allowed them.
Looking down upon Sam in the bed closest to the window, Castiel noticed how much younger the face of the larger Winchester looked when relaxed in sleep. With his eyes closed so innocently, his face not animated with his usual dour angst and exasperation, Castiel noted that only the most basic, primal pieces of his soul were active.
The taint was never as bad when Sam was asleep. Tugging gently at the centre of his grace, Castiel sent waves of tranquility and deep relaxation over Sam who fell into an even deeper slumber.
Castiel then appeared at the side of Dean's bed. Dean never slept as soundly as Sam; his eyebrows remained furrowed in his sleep and his mouth was set in a steely line. Rather than quelling all of the inner turmoil, sleep opened parts of Dean's mind that he was meticulous about keeping shut when awake.
Castiel had never understood the human obsession with the sensation of touch. In Heaven, touch was never needed, for the spiritual connection among the Host, though intangible to humans, was far more materiel than any electrical signal interpreted by the human brain as touch. But at that moment, Castiel wanted nothing more than to run his vessel's fingers through Dean's short, disheveled hair. To cup his cheek in his palm, savouring the human connection that touch allowed him.
Castiel felt a small pull on his grace as Dean began to stir restlessly in the bed. Though cloaked from human eyes, Castiel knew that Dean could sense his presence in the room. Even in his state of unconsciousness, Dean's soul was always reaching for Castiel's grace.
Having been mended and made whole by Castiel's grace, Dean's soul pulsed at the same frequency and glowed within him as a blindingly stunning gold light swirling and tumbling with effortless beauty. Castiel could stare at Dean's soul for the rest of eternity and never tire of it. This soul was a gift to Castiel from his Father, entrusted to him for protection, guidance, and companionship.
Dean's dreams were changing; the calm scene being overwhelmed by darkness, stench, and deafening screams. Castiel knew this place well, and he bristled with righteous anger as the face of Alistair took centre stage in Dean's subconscious. Castiel allowed Dean's reaching soul to touch his grace, and immediately Dean's face relaxed and his mind calmed into a warm, contented nothingness. Once more, Castiel felt the urge rising in him to reach down and brush his fingers across Dean's face. Uncloaking himself, Castiel allowed his vessel to materialise around him as he continued to watch Dean's chest rise and fall in a steady rhythm. Each cycle singing its own ethereal chorus to Castiel's grace, he lost himself in the miracle of Dean. His human.
As so often happened when Castiel watched Dean sleep, he felt resistance at the waves of relaxation and comfort he sent to Dean. Soon, Dean was stirring in the bed and then suddenly his eyes opened. His vivid green irises shone in the darkness as they always did to Castiel but even more so at night when Dean was filled with Castiel's grace keeping the nightmares at bay.
"Cas?" Dean's hoarse voice whispered into the darkness. Still slightly disorientated after rousing from such a deep slumber, Dean's mouth uttered Castiel's name before he could even fully recognize the figure standing over his bed. Blinking a few times, he saw the trench-coat, tie and general Holy Tax Accountant look resolve itself on the angel standing by the bed.
"Yes, Dean." Castiel responded in a normal voice as Sam was still fast asleep under the relaxation Castiel's grace had afforded him. Sitting down slowly on the edge of Dean's bed, he felt a hand reach out and wrap around his waist. As was usual, Castiel's grace leapt as Dean's touch and physical proximity created an unparalleled harmony between the human's soul and Castiel's own grace.
"Maria safe?" Dean asked as he gently pulled Castiel to lie next to him in the bed. Though his mind was still clouded by exhaustion of the battle to save the seal, he immediately thought of Maria who had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time, and had found herself possessed.
"I returned her to her home, and placed protective sigils around her." Having obeyed Dean's wordless demand, Castiel was laying on the bed with Dean's arm wrapped possessively around him. "She is an innocent who knows nothing of this. They will not return for her." Castiel said as he wrapped his wings protectively around Dean's body.
Though Castiel's wings were invisible, he felt Dean curl into his body and relax into the warmth Castiel's wings encircled him in. With a deep sigh, Dean relaxed even further into their embrace. Castiel could see the fatigue in Dean's eyes, but he knew that even if he attempted to lull him to sleep using his grace, Dean would fight it all the way.
Spreading his fingers wide, Dean buried his hand in Castiel's soft, downy feathers. He couldn't see his angel's wings, not totally, but they pulsated with a pure, effervescent energy and Dean could sense them. He remarked that it was much like the negative of a photograph, he could see their presence but he couldn't physically see them.
Dean loved Castiel's reaction to having his wings touched almost as much as he enjoyed the feeling of his hand amongst those invisible feathers. A small, incomprehensible noise of pleasure and surprise escaped from Castiel's lips and Dean plunged his hand even deeper into the delicate, balmy warmth of his wings, his fingers gently caressing each individual feather.
"How's Sleeping Beauty?" Dean asked quietly, as Castiel's hand moved to begin stroking his hair; Dean's eyes moved to look over Castiel's body at the bed next to him. Sam's chest was rising and falling in a slow, strong rhythm.
"Sam is sleeping soundly." Castiel affirmed. His voice warmed as he added, "He cannot fight my grace as you can." Dean loved the way the angel's face relaxed with affection as a small smile curled at the corners of his mouth.
Dean moved his free hand to the back of Castiel's neck; shortening the distance between their faces, he planted a kiss on the angel's lips. A shudder of pleasure running through the body next to him, Dean felt Castiel return the kiss with his characteristic urgency.
Just the feeling of Castiel's lips on Dean's caused a stirring in Dean's groin. Obviously sensing Dean's rising libido, Castiel's hand suddenly made an appearance under the covers. Dean moaned deliciously into Castiel's mouth as the angel's hand wrapped around his growing erection.
Slightly unwilling, Dean moved his hand from Castiel's wing to fight with the zipper on Cas' trousers. Noticing that Dean was eager to remove his clothes, Castiel was immediately naked in the bed.
Dean felt it when suddenly his body was no longer pressed against Castiel's clothes but was flush against his hot, smooth skin. Dean himself was wearing only boxer shorts, with Cas' hand dipping below the waist-band. As Dean moved his lips to trace Castiel's jawline, placing kisses every few inches, he made a pleasurable grumbling sound. "Hey, maybe I like undressing you." He said, slightly miffed.
Castiel gripped Dean's cock harder and increased the tempo of his strokes. "Shall I redress myself?" He asked in a teasing, breathy voice. Guttural moans emitted from Dean's throat and his hips bucked against Castiel's touch. With his free hand, Cas squeezed Dean's ass before rubbing his hand all the way up his back and bringing it to rest on the back of Dean's neck.
"Cas…" Dean whispered, his voice tight with arousal. Dean was still nibbling Castiel's neck when the angel's free hand found the handprint on his shoulder. Fitting his hand perfectly over the brand, Castiel felt a harder pull on his grace.
Dean didn't quite understand how it happened, but it usually did anytime he and Cas were physical. As things escalated and Dean felt his pulse rising, the sweat beginning to pool in the crevices of his body, there was a connection. A tangible flow between Castiel's grace in Jimmy's vessel and the pieces interwoven into Dean's once-fractured soul.
Castiel's breath hitched and Dean felt the angel's stiff cock press hard against his thigh. The flow ebbed for a moment as Dean began to lift his head from where he'd been resting it on Cas' shoulder. Dean opened his eyes as a surge of blinding, golden light burst forth from Castiel's core.
Even though this was not the first time this had happened, Dean gasped and his mouth remained open as he was driven almost to insanity by Castiel's everything. For from that bursting, brilliant light rose two wings, thick with feathers and burning with the splendor of a thousand suns. Dean willed himself not to blink and was successful until he finally fell over the falls, coming in Cas' hand.
Dean watched Castiel's wings begin to flicker as his body still pulsated with the aftermath of his orgasm. His hands reached greedily to rest within the feathers as Castiel made small moaning noises into the side of Dean's neck. "Dean…" Cas whispered his human's name, and Dean felt the exhale of steaming breath against his skin.
Dean placed another kiss on Castiel's swollen lips and wrapped his arms around the angel's body. He felt Castiel's wings encircle his body once more even though they had returned to their near invisible state.
It was always warm in Cas' wings, and Dean was so content that he hardly fought the sleep which Castiel was raining over him. As he laid next to Castiel, his head still slightly scrambled from orgasm, it almost didn't register when he heard the sound of wings in their motel room.
And Cas was gone.
Sighing with frustration that was tempered by his post-orgasm exhaustion, Dean turned to lay on his stomach, and was immediately fast asleep. Cas would be back.
Castiel had felt the presence in the room immediately, and it took him less than a second to surmise that this was not Anna. However, he did not react with violence. Castiel knew that if their angelic interloper had come to kill or wound, things would have already taken a turn for the worst, so as he begrudgingly left Dean alone in the bed, he tugged on the other angel in the room and they found themselves standing in a large open field. Castiel's face was perplexed as he surveyed his surroundings. This was not where he had intended they go.
Turning, Castiel was finally able to look upon the presence that had brought him to flight. The angel was currently occupying the body of a tall, waifish woman in her late twenties with long copper hair. When Castiel looked in her vessel at the grace within, he was taken aback.
"Seraphiel?" He whispered to the angel, not believing that he was truly laying eyes on her.
Dropping her head into a nod, she did not answer immediately. "I am sorry for coming unannounced, Castiel." She said quietly, meeting his eyes with hesitation. Castiel took that moment to survey her appearance; he had never seen her in a vessel before, and as he looked past the flesh at the grace within her, his own grace twisted with pain and sorrow.
"You've just come from battle," Castiel stated as he approached Seraphiel. Her wings were injured, liquid grace flowing out of the lacerations. Castiel did not know what garrison Seraphiel was fighting with, but he feared what her presence indicated. And in his fear, he was unable to form the question he desired to ask.
"I have not been with my garrison for some time now," Seraphiel began, breaking her eye contact with Castiel in shame and surveying the familiar field she had directed Castiel and herself to. "After the fight in Perdition, I was not returned to Remiel's garrison. I was told by Zachariah that Micah had important work, and I was re-assigned to him." Seraphiel's face was expressionless, but Castiel thought he could sense a burdening sadness in her eyes.
In Castiel's mind, he pictured the fight in Perdition, Seraphiel dispatching demon after demon as the angelic army fought its way through the horde, towards Alistair's lair, towards Dean. "And what of Micah's garrison now?" Castiel asked.
Seraphiel's face once again contorted with pain; it was then that Castiel was fully aware that Seraphiel had not been one with the Host in quite some time. He approached her and extended his hand towards her wing. "May I?" He asked politely.
Nodding almost imperceptibly, Seraphiel took a step towards Castiel to accept the healing he offered. The feeling was beyond description when Castiel's grace rushed into her, healing the wounds she was carrying. It was like a breath of fresh air after the last time she was one on one with another's grace.
Castiel watched Seraphiel close her eyes as her wings became whole once more. He certainly wasn't a healer, but her wounds were not grave. They had simply become exacerbated by her obvious isolation from the Host. "Thank you." She said with more strength. "My ability to heal myself has been greatly impacted by my leave from the garrison."
Now that Seraphiel was whole and seemingly out of any immediate danger, Castiel began to walk through the field, and Seraphiel followed suit. "I should have known that something was wrong," She began, looking down at the ground as she walked beside Castiel. "From the moment we returned from the fight in Hell, Micah stationed most of the members of his garrison on earth. I thought we would have returned to the Outer Realm to continue the war but each of us was given a seal to guard and free range to take a vessel."
Castiel surveyed the field, remembering the last time he had walked on this spot just after the battle that Seraphiel was reminding him of. This was the field where Dean's body had been buried.
Knowing where his mind had gone, Seraphiel wondered if this were the best place to bring Castiel for this discussion, but it was too late now. She continued. "I obeyed, and guarded my seal without rest until I received a call from Uriel's garrison to defend another seal. As I prepared to take my leave, Micah came to me and forbade me from joining the fight," Seraphiel paused and looked Castiel in the eye. "Micah told me that the seal was already falling, and it would be unwise for me to abandon my post.
"I thought that the seals were the top priority of Heaven, but I obeyed my commander." Seraphiel felt anger boiling up inside and she admonished herself for feeling so…human. "It wasn't until more seals began to fall that I noticed the pattern: the falling seals had all been found and guarded by members of my garrison." She turned her eyes to Castiel whose face was grave. "And mine was next. I was attacked with qeres by members of my garrison to incapacitate me before the attack, and I was left with no choice but to depart after alerting Uriel's garrison. Anna has helped me avoid detection over the past few months, but her re-instatement into the Host has made it difficult for us to communicate. I have not had any contact with her in over three weeks." Castiel was nodding with a look of grave concern.
"How did you find us?" He asked simply. Feeling rather downtrodden with the news Seraphiel relayed to him, he added, "Why did you come?"
Sighing loudly, Seraphiel shook her head. "I was attacked by my own brothers," She stated resolutely, and Castiel could see the confused hurt and betrayal sitting squarely in her eyes. "My brothers who fought along side me turned their violence against me. I couldn't imagine the pain of falling being any worse." Seraphiel stopped walking and turned to face Castiel. "You know, Castiel," She said with emotion cracking her voice. Her disconnect from the Host was causing her vessel's emotions to bubble to the surface and overflow into her speech and action. "You know of the rebellion and the pain of our brothers' betrayal. I came here because there is no where else to go, no one else able to be trusted." In a moment of surprising humanity, Seraphiel reached out her hand and placed it firmly on Castiel's shoulder where his wing brushed gently over it. "Because Dean Winchester is our only hope."
As a lazy breeze blew stray pieces of Seraphiel's hair into her face, Castiel knew he should be on his guard, as she said, no one was able to be trusted. But the edge to her voice combined with the pure agony he felt throbbing in her depleted grace softened his expression. Placing his hand over Seraphiel's on his shoulder, Castiel nodded. "Let us return," He stated. "There are protections around the Winchester's motel room. We will be safe there."
Without thinking, Castiel tightly gripped Seraphiel's hand and together they disappeared, leaving the field empty.
Dean was unsure how long Castiel had been gone because he hadn't awoken even once during his absence. His dreams were gilded and quiet, and he slept as soundly as if Cas had been next to him the whole time. As he shifted position in bed he heard the rustle of feathers and Cas appeared at the foot of his bed, but he wasn't alone.
Sitting straight up in bed, Dean pointed over Cas' shoulder. "Behind you!" He warned in a loud voice, startling Sam out of his slumber with a grunt. Castiel did not react to Dean's warning.
The woman standing behind Castiel looked down and began to slowly slide her angel blade out of the sleeve of her non-descript black suede jacket. Dean bristled as he caught sight of the silver blade, but his face slackened as he watched her kneel and place it on the floor, pushing it away with her foot.
"I mean you no harm, Dean Winchester," she said in a calm, even voice, finally meeting Dean's eyes. Shooting Castiel a dubious, questioning look, Dean nodded and looked the woman over as he noticed Sam doing the same thing in his peripheral vision. She was no more than an inch shorter than Cas with small, angular features and hair the colour of a newly minted penny. She stood with a straight back, her shoulders relaxed to accentuate her mile-long neck.
"And who are you, sweetheart?" Dean asked, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.
"This is Seraphiel," Cas answered. "Many years ago we fought in the same garrison, and she was a member of the army which rescued you from the Pit." Dean tried to hide the vast array of emotions which flowed through his body upon hearing that. He broke eye contact with this Seraphiel and looked at Cas. "An entire garrison of my brothers has rebelled. They are seeking out seals and facilitating their fall under Raphael's orders. Seraphiel's unwillingness to aid in the rebellion has forced her to distance herself from the Host."
Dean and Sam sat up straighter in their beds, and Dean shook his head as he shrugged. "So?" He asked in a rough voice. "We know Raphael is recruiting. What are we supposed to do about it?" Realising that his tone was a bit more jaded and biting than he'd intended, Dean swung his legs over the side of the bed and planted his bare feet on the worn carpet with a deep sigh.
"All I need is your help finding Anna," Seraphiel said, her eyes making Dean shift uncomfortably on the bed. "But I might have information that interests you in return." Both Sam and Dean perked up at the chance that Seraphiel might have useful information.
Raising his eyebrows inquisitively but with a measured expression in his eyes, Dean stood and sauntered to the other side of the room and grabbed a beer from the mini-fridge. "Well, Cas probably told you that we haven't heard from Anna in weeks." Dean took a long pull off the beer and stared at the two angels in silence.
"So that's why the seals are falling at a faster pace," Sam's voice was still a bit husky from sleep, but Dean could see the gears turning in his head. "There is an entire garrison of angels devoted to finding and breaking the seals?" Sam said as a mixture of question and statement. "And The Burning Church? That was the garrison?" The battle of the day before was still fresh in Sam's mind. Something had impaired the power he gained from the daemon blood, now it made perfect sense.
Seraphiel's face was grave and she nodded stiffly. "Yes," Her voice was tight and wiped clean of emotion. "I have been following them since I left and alerting others of their action. The tip which led you to the church was initially from me. If you had not answered, I would not have found you."
Sam considered that for a moment in silence and then reached over and pulled his shirt over his head. "You know the order they're going in?" He asked, rising to walk towards where Seraphiel stood next to Cas. "So why weren't you there?" Sam's voice had an edge to it that Seraphiel recognized as hopelessness, she could see it multiplying in the demon tainted soul that Sam carried, and yet despite all she had heard about Sam Winchester from her brothers, she had no choice but to trust him.
"I was there," Seraphiel shot a glimpse at Castiel who had healed her wounds from the battle. "I could not risk detection by going into the middle of the fight, but I aided you from the side."
Dean had been unnaturally silent, and Castiel looked over at him with his beer in his hand and a vaguely vacuous expression on his face. "Seraphiel has been isolated from the Host since Dean's return from Hell, even small injuries can have grave consequences when her grace is pulled so thin," Cas explained while still looking at Dean. Turning to face Sam he added, "And she is the only one who can tell us where the next strike might come with enough forewarning to stop it."
"I bring this to you, Dean, because you are the only person in all of creation that can stop this." Seraphiel's eyes were piercing and Dean shifted his beer to his other hand with a shrug. He took a drink attempting to dispel some of the intensity in the room.
Silence descended once more punctuated only by the creaking of Sam's mattress as he shifted position. Castiel noticed how Sam's gaze lingered on Seraphiel who took it upon herself to speak. "The next seal is the River of Blood and it falls in two days in Osceola, Arkansas." Sam saw Castiel visibly stiffen. "It is a prime seal, so there may be angels present, but typically it is left to the demons to perform the deed. If I am to be of any assistance then I need Anna's help with restoring my grace." Seraphiel moved towards Dean who was still standing next to the mini-fridge. He stepped back instinctively as she extended her hand and placed it on his right shoulder, just over the brand that Castiel left there. "I would be honoured to fight by your side, Dean Winchester."
Seraphiel was unsure as to why she'd felt such a strong urge to touch Dean, but from the moment she made contact with him, she saw a small explosion of gold and felt a faint outpouring of Castiel's grace. Not wanting to remove her hand, she closed her eyes for a moment and savoured the fluid movements of Castiel's grace in Dean's soul.
You have made him whole with your grace, Castiel. His entire being is held together only by you. Have no doubt that you are completing what is required of you and take comfort in the fact that you are fulfilling our Father's will.
"Uh…" Dean cleared his throat as the angel standing in front of him made no indication that she was moving. Seraphiel opened her eyes and Dean smiled nervously as she removed her hand from his shoulder.
Sam felt that something had just passed wordlessly between the two angels, and he hoped that it wasn't anything to do with the battle that they were to face. "So what is this River of Blood thing?" Dean asked.
"It requires the blood of six children born under the solstice eclipse," Castiel provided. Sam felt a stirring at the back of his mind. He had been researching seals and he seemed to remember this one. "There is a ritual that must be performed by Lilith herself at midnight precisely. Once the ritual has begun it will be virtually impossible to stop the power it invokes. Our only hope will be to save the children before midnight."
Dean tossed his empty beer bottle into the bin next to the fridge and clapped his hands together in mock excitement. "Well," He began, picking up the duffle bag on the floor by the table. "What are we waiting for?" He asked the room as he started packing the guns which were neatly laid out on the table.
"Seraphiel and I will go ahead and see what awaits us." Castiel said. Seraphiel watched as a look of displeasure flashed momentarily across Dean's face. Sobering, he nodded. "We will return to you tomorrow, but you must leave now." Castiel's eyes lingered on Dean's face, and they were gone.
Once the Winchesters were alone, Sam stood and walked to the table where Dean continued to pack up their weapons. "You okay?" Sam asked in his concerned tone, his forehead crinkled with unease.
Despite himself, Dean sighed deeply. "It's one thing when you're fighting evil, you know?" He said gruffly as he put the last gun into the duffle and swiftly zipped it closed. "Fighting daemons and monsters is what we know. Hell, it's been our whole lives." Dean stared at the closed duffle bag in front of him. "But now we're up against angels too? If the servants of 'God'," Dean made quotation marks with his fingers. "don't even believe that it's possible to stop the Apocalypse or else think that it's an improvement over the current state of things, then I sometimes wonder just what the fucking point is." Hoisting the duffle bag onto his shoulder, Dean pursed his lips with a shrug. "But what else am I supposed to do?" He asked redundantly.
Usually full of helpful remarks, Sam said nothing. Dean moved towards the door and Sam rose to begin packing his things. Dean was halfway out the door when he stopped and turned. "Oh, and dude?" He said. Sam raised his eyebrows in response. "Try to stop staring at Seraphiel's ass, okay?"
Sam opened his mouth to respond with a witty retort but Dean had already shut the door. Rolling his eyes with a small laugh, he sent a pleading prayer to Heaven.
We need you, Anna.