Fic Title: There's a Part of Me in You
Genre: SPN AU
Rating: R
Warnings/Spoilers: Spoilers through Season Four finale. Some violence. Character death.
I don't own any of the characters only the plot.
Ascension
Dean felt still-warm blood seep into the back of his shirt. Every inch of his body ached with exhaustion and pain. Why Sam? He held his breath as his brother's body strode gracefully from the room. He didn't even look back. The footsteps echoed down the stone corridor for what seemed like years, until only silence remained.
Not even a glance? It isn't Sammy, not any more. Dean sighed.
Dean opened his eyes to see Castiel standing over him. The angel was searching Heaven for answers, and, for the life of him, Dean couldn't believe he was getting any useful advice.
He needed to go after Sam. He needed to stop him, to stop Lucifer, the apocalypse, everything that wanted to fuck his life up anymore than it already was.
Dean lifted his head. He stifled a groan and tried to steady his swimming vision. He laid his head back on the stone, shifting as his muscles clenched. His eyes involuntarily fluttered shut; the blessed black of unconsciousness eased his aching body and he didn't want to have to think any more.
"Dean? Dean!" Someone was yelling at him from down the hall. Sam! Dean's eyes snapped open; the room spun dangerously. Brilliant blue eyes gazed down at him as Castiel's concerned face wavered back and forth in his vision.
"Dean."
Dean moved his mouth to reply, but sound was so far away. His voice seemed so weak. The pain had numbed into an angry throb, destined to return at full force when Dean could remember what pain was supposed to feel like.
"Cas," he mumbled. The angel nodded fretfully.
"We need to leave. Dean, can you stand?" Castiel offered a hand. Dean took the offered support. His arm wouldn't bear his weight so he let Castiel pull him up. Merely standing tilted the world in three directions at once as the blood rushed from his head.
When Dean wavered, the angel caught him, swinging Dean's arm over his shoulders. Dean leaned heavily on his support, very much aware that Castiel was staring at him. The metallic taste coating his mouth slid into Dean's throat, like liquid copper.
"Don't look," Castiel's voice echoed through the air. A black cloud bulged from the flagstones, bursting into the convent.
Castiel closed his eyes and held on to Dean.
Dean should have closed his eyes, too.
The light in the convent flickered dangerously, all the colors melting into a stream of grays and browns. Stone walls were replaced by the tan patterned paper covering the motel's walls. Dean retched up the empty contents of his stomach, his shifting vision doing nothing to settle his pounding head. He couldn't remember how to move his legs and they collapsed under him, one arm tucked against his convulsing stomach.
Castiel caught him, easily supporting the extra weight. He waited till Dean had settled, and asked if he was alright. Sam wouldn't have needed to ask. Dean couldn't remember his answer but it came out in a pained moan. Castiel steered Dean to the bed with an ugly green comforter tucked neatly over the sheets. Dean closed his eyes, and allowed Castiel to manhandle him around the room.
His jacket fell silently from his shoulders, and Dean felt a soft pillow cradling his head. When had he lain down? The soft tearing of fabric broke the silence.
Cool air struck his open wounds, making Dean flinch. Pain coursed through his chest in waves. It gathered behind his eyes and struck deep in his stomach, making him shift restlessly, trying to escape the pain.
Castiel caught his hand and held it down on the bed. The embrace was soft and reassuring. "Dean, stop moving. You will only make it worse," he chided. Electric blue light caught Dean's attention, and he found himself staring at Castiel's eyes. They were a rare color, almost unearthly.
He pushed against Castiel's light grip; his arm was shaking under the stain. Dean let it fall against the bed when a struggle was obviously useless. Castiel left his hand in Dean's a moment longer before returning to Dean's shirt. The angel pulled it off easily, placing the bloody clothing on the small table a few feet away.
Five deep, smooth cuts raced down Dean's chest with an ugly gurgle of blood rising to the surface of his skin. They were wide and gaping up at him like the crooked smile of, and Dean wanted to laugh at the irony of it, the devil. The tattoo under Dean's left collar bone was distorted and smeared with drying brown-black blood. It was useless now that Lucifer had broken it. His fingers brushed against his skin and the tattoo flared white hot, like a fresh brand blazing hellfire into his flesh. Dean jerked his hand back, hissing at the new pain.
Castiel spun around at the noise. "Dean, are you alright?" Dean's back arched as the fire spread, blanketing every other sensation. Something slid under his skin filling his entire body with pain. It seeped into his bones and ached of something powerfully dark but intensely pure at the same time.
Castiel's eyes flared bright like stars against a night sky, his entire body enveloped in light. A white fire consumed the angel and Dean would have shielded his eyes if the movement were possible. Dean couldn't look on the brilliance filling the room. He couldn't even process the fear he should have been feeling for Castiel.
"Dean?"
Dean forced himself to look away, to close his eyes. He shook under the pressure. It was enveloping his soul, merging, clinging, coveting and he just couldn't take it. It was inhuman and cold; it was light and warmth and power and, oh God, it hurt.
Castiel hesitated, and then the light drifted closer, coloring the inside of Dean's eyelids with an ocher tint. He felt a hand on his forehead and gentle pressure on his mind. The invasion of sensation fell back with an angry hiss. The light wavered, and the dark crept in like a reaper.
Dean felt his body relax, even as his mind writhed. The pain raged on as unconsciousness swallowed him.
Pulled between life and death, Dean dreamed darkly. His mind was restless, falling in and out of sleep. Consciousness was filled with harsh pain before he was pulled under again. All he could see was light and odd symbols etched against his eyelids; they might have been nokian. He felt like his body wanted to fall apart. He needed to wake up but Dean couldn't break what bound him to sleep.
Filling the endless minutes between waking were images and memories flashing viciously before his eyes. Time warped and images came flooding in at random.
Sam stood over him.
The world burned with flickering fires, and red flooded his brother's eyes, as Sam grinned cruelly at the death of everything Dean had cherished.
Lucifer clawed through his chest, invisible hands shredding Dean's flesh in an effort to get out, razor claws tearing him apart from the inside.
Blood ran in rivers around countless bodies. He was running over them, crossing an endless field of death. Something waited for him on the other side. He had to get there in time. In time for what?
Sam's hand locked around his throat. The hand fit snuggly around Dean's neck, cutting off his air.
The tainted light entered his chest like a round of buckshot. Pain flooded Dean's limbs, as if he could no longer fit in his body without it bursting. Lucifer possessed him, their minds merging and there just wasn't enough room to contain the power coursing through him.
Everything was on fire. Dean couldn't hear himself screaming but he could feel the power catching a ride on his voice, burning his throat and lungs. Blood red filled his thoughts and he felt his eyes change as Lucifer took hold, even as the blood dripped like tears down his cheeks.
Sam's arms still held him even as Dean's chest split open and Lucifer climbed out, a menacing being of pure light. Then he was falling to the ground, falling from Sam and he knew that it was over, all over. As his back struck the floor…
Dean's eyes snapped open as he finally broke free of his dreams. Air rushed into his dry throat, violently burning his lungs as he sat bolt upright. The cuts on his chest had been bandaged, but the white cloth was spotted crimson. A dark purple bruise covered his entire chest. Hands gripped his shoulders gently and for an instant Dean thought everything was a dream, that Lucifer was still in Hell, that Sam was still Sammy.
But it was not Sam who held him down. He squinted at the strange light filling the room and jumped when he looked at Castiel. The radiance still consuming him lit the room like the noon sun. As soon as Dean blinked the light vanished.
"Easy," Castiel commanded. Dean felt himself shaking against Castiel as the pain and exhaustion flooded back into his body. "Relax, Dean. You're safe… Dean?"
Dean shifted to get out of bed.
Bad idea.
His muscles screamed with pain. Castiel traced the handprint scar on Dean's shoulder, as he easily pushed Dean back down onto the pillow. "Don't try to get up."
"I'm… I'm fine," Dean argued.
"Really," Castiel asked as Dean's face contorted with pain again. "You need to rest."
Castiel started changing Dean's bandages. His bruises were black around the long cuts, and there weren't any signs that the bleeding was slowing down.
"How long was I out?" Dean mumbled past the pain.
"Not as long as you should have been," Castiel whispered. Sadness flickered across his blank features. "Almost eighteen hours. You needed more."
"I need to find-"
"Sam?" Castiel watched Dean struggle to keep his eyes open. "He has been possessed by Lucifer. You can't go find him, Dean. You are in no condition to fight him now."
The room went dark around Dean as the cuts on his chest pulsed. He blinked slowly until the tan walls returned. "I have to, Cas. He's my brother. I have to save him."
Castiel looked away. "I won't pretend to know what you are feeling, but with the state of your injuries and the fact that Sam is possessed by Lucifer! There is no way to retrieve your brother without getting one or both of you killed." Dean glared. "The only thing you can do for Sam is rest and heal."
Dean stared blankly at the ceiling, wincing at even the most delicate movement. He didn't want to acknowledge the truth in the angel's words.
"You should rest again," Castiel suggested.
The sensation of falling from Sam's arms gripped Dean, he cringed. "I don't want to." The words passed his lips as another numbing torrent of pain racked his body.
"You need sleep to heal."
"I'm fine," and, as if his body responded to this command, his vision wavered. "Just…just don't put me back to sleep."
"Dean-" The angel moved forward.
He glared at the Castiel. "I said don't touch me! If I want to sleep I'll do it on my own, thanks." Sudden anger and fear flared in Dean, sending a pleasing tingle across his skin. His vision wavered again and the room paled as if bleached. He shook his head but the room remained distorted.
The confusion on Castiel's face did nothing to calm Dean. Although, Castiel probably meant to help. "I'm sorry. Did I do something wrong?" Castiel asked.
"Forget it," Dean mumbled as his chest throbbed relentlessly, meticulously numbing his entire body. Dean welcomed the lack of sensation.
"What happened?"
"Forget I mentioned it," Dean gritted his teeth. "I'm fine." Blood ran in rivers around countless bodies. He shivered.
"Clearly you are not fine, Dean," Castiel scowled.
"Damn it, Castiel. Leave it alone!" The angel clenched his teeth angrily before his features settled into impassiveness. Castiel's chin fell to his chest in a motion suddenly too quick for Dean to catch.
The deadening pain pulled Dean back toward the darkness.
"Cas?" Castiel looked up at Dean's shuddering voice. The room darkened around him. He felt the pressure again, as if something inside him wanted out. It ran over his skin like lingering fingers, this time caressing with an unsettling familiarity. The room faded, to be replaced by a beacon of light. Dark tendrils pulsed through the bright form with sinister energy. It was Sammy and Dean had tried so hard to keep his brother safe from that. The light slowly grew until it swallowed the blackness… It became pure and holy, coldly divine.
Castiel had moved toward Dean, a movement Dean didn't even register. A brilliant glow echoed his features; it was without color and yet clearly defined, without shadow and yet detailed. "Dean what's wrong?" His voice was different too. There was a ringing tone to it, like Dean shouldn't be able to understand it. The sound reminded him of the gas station and hotel room; it reminded him of when Castiel had tried to speak without a human vessel.
His head ached with the new brilliance of the room; again, like the noon sun was captured within the angel. "I don't know… Something's wrong, I can't see…" Dean's eyes adjusted to the light, taking it in without cringing and setting the colors of the room back to normal. The image of Sam, aglow in Lucifer's vision, kept flashing across Dean's mind. "He couldn't see…" Lucifer. Light. Sam. He held his own hand before his eyes.
Tendons subtly moved under a glowing layer of skin pitching the light at odd angles. The light equaled Castiel's in radiance but Dean could swear it was only moving underneath his skin like a trapped beast. He shifted his hand but could find no shadows. "Dean," Castiel whispered. "What's wrong?"
"Cas," Dean looked directly at the angel. Something shifted at Castiel's shoulder, a solid black something had moved. But as soon as the movement was there, it was gone. "He couldn't see… Only light."
"Who are you talking about?"
"Lucifer," Dean uttered. The name startled his nerves, sent the creature beneath his skin into a fit. "Sammy… He was made of light." He reached out as if he could still grab onto Sam's form. His eyes flickered back to Castiel. "He sees the world in light. We were made of light." Dean turned his hand again.
"I don't understand," the angel pushed Dean's hand down bringing his attention back to the conversation.
The light merged. "Lucifer possessed me." His free hand brushed his tattoo and the symbols appeared again, burning with the unsettling hum of that foreign feeling. "And everything was made of light. Me. Sam. And now… You…" His hand moved out to touch Castiel's arm.
"You have Lucifer's sight?"
"Well, it's bright as Hell in here, and I'm pretty sure you're not a light bulb," Dean joked. His choked laugh made his head throb. Humor wasn't the wisest thing right now.
"That cannot be. Lucifer doesn't…"
"Yeah, he does. Trust me. He is one fucked up bastard." Dean couldn't feel much anymore. Sensation was rolling over him but he couldn't process it. The overwhelming pressure within him gave way. The world resettled around him.
The light had disappeared and Castiel's bright eyes still held Dean's. His chest throbbed but he wasn't aware enough to notice. The darkness was closing in again leaving only Castiel in clear view. "Cas?" Dean heard his name a moment before the light winked out.
Dean woke in darkness. Castiel wasn't in the room. Dean would have welcomed the company.
His dreams had been driven by unknown horrors. A murmur echoed from outside the open door. A gentle street light filtered in the windows and door.
Dean swung his legs off the bed and sat up. Black spots rippled across his vision and his chest ached. The pain passed quickly into the dull backdrop of Dean's curiosity. His jeans were stiff as he stood up.
The mumbling grew as he approached the door.
"I don't care!" The voice was familiar and male. He paused to brace himself on the table, not sure if he should reveal his presence yet.
"Why him?"
"Castiel, you have disobeyed one too many times. If you can't handle him, I will and by our Father's command, you will be reprimanded accordingly." Dean moved closer, his shadow almost touching the shaft of light filtering in the doorway.
"Why him?
"Because the choice was made long ago. Set in motion by our superiors, the perfect plan has been created. It is in his blood. He won't be able to escape his duty."
"Do you mean his duty to humanity, or to you," Castiel spat back angrily.
"You speak of the same thing. Our purpose is humanity's," Dean could visualize an evil smile behind the words.
"What about his brother? He won't serve you without a chance to save Sam." Dean stepped into the light to see the two angels arguing face to face. Zachariah's vessel wore his normal suit. Dean felt something settle in his stomach.
"Samuel Winchester was a required sacrifice. Dean should realize that saving his brother is futile. The sooner he kills Lucifer the better. It is the reason they were born," Zachariah said coldly. His back was to Dean and he turned so Castiel could clearly see Dean in the door way. Dean's hand gripped the frame as he stared at the pair. "Dean," Zachariah smiled. He glared a silent warning at Castiel, and disappeared. Zachariah vanished with a faint trace of light running through the space he had occupied.
Dean stared at Castiel.
Castiel hesitated. An intense feeling of betrayal ate at Dean. His bruised chest rebelled at the thought of losing another friend.
Obviously seeing him cringe, Castiel said, "Dean. You should be resting, not-"
"Why are you here?" Dean's voice was cold and shaking.
"What do you mean?"
"Who gets to handle me next? Just pass me off to when I get to be too much trouble?"
"It's not what it sounds like."
"Oh really, cause it sounds like God doesn't want me getting out of hand." Dean yelled. He let go of the door frame and instantly stumbled.
"Dean!"
Dean warned Castiel to stay back.
"That's not what we meant."
"How are you here?"
"What?" The question caught Castiel off guard. "Dean, please sit down."
"You were about to be torn apart by an Archangel, Cas. You couldn't fight off one of those." It had been the question brewing in his mind before he had slipped into the darkness.
Castiel looked away. "I was spared," he whispered guiltily.
"Spared," Dean nodded. The angels had taken Castiel back, and Castiel would obey them like a good little servant.
"Yes… They spared me so that I might bring you back, correct my mistake," Castiel said, voice low. Dean watched light dance around in Castiel's eyes. A swirling brilliance just under the blue. "You swore allegiance to heaven and Zacharias wants that service fulfilled. They believe I am the only one who can control you; that I'm the only one you will obey."
"So the only reason you didn't let Sam kill me is because Heaven needs another servant? I don't serve you or your damn angels. Screw what God wants of me. What about what I want? Just another soldier. Well the war can go on without me, Hell it should have happened four and a half years ago. Thanks for your help, but I don't fucking want it. I'll find Sam on my own," Dean spat. His chest, mottled with purple and yellow bruises, raced with pain. He clutched his stomach, and stepped back into the shadow of the room.
"You aren't strong enough. Let me help you," Castiel stepped forward.
"Then Heaven put its faith in the wrong man. I don't want your pity. Find someone else."
"I only wish to assist you. I believe you will fulfill your destiny either way. Better it be on your terms, not Heavens. I was created and founded on belief. It is all I know how to do… Heaven did not make a bad choice. There is a reason they wanted to keep you safe and as far from Lucifer as possible. You are the only one who can save humanity. "
"So why didn't you stop them, before humanity needed saving."
Castiel faltered, looking up at Dean. "I was unaware of what Heaven intended until it was too late. They wanted this, not me. Defying Heaven is an impossible task."
"You've done it though. You defied them. Cas, it isn't impossible, so cut the shit."
The angel looked away. "Dean."
"Go back to your angels. It's not like you ever cared about what happens to humans anyway," Dean spat. "You don't know what it is like to feel, pain, happiness, anger, love. All of it. You're emotionless. So go, forget about me and all the millions you condemned to death and serve your righteous God."
Dean slammed the door and wavered unsteadily. He slid to his knees, bracing one hand on the floor. Castiel's shoes were abruptly a few feet away. The angel stooped down before Dean.
"I will not leave you. You may want me gone but I can't do that. Humanity needs you, your brother needs you."
"Just leave me alone."
"No." The word was forceful. Dean finally looked up. The light still swirled. Castiel slid a hand around Dean's arm and pulled him upright.
He jerked away and nearly fell. In panic, he reached out to steady himself on Castiel's arm. The angel looked surprised. Light bloomed around Dean's hand and a calm sensation rolled through his limbs twining with that dark touch still lingering under his skin. The pain died away as his bruises faded to yellow and his cuts shrank into scars. Dean's grip remained tight even as his feet promised they would support him.
"What the hell did you just do?"
Castiel's expression was enough to tell Dean that he was as confused as the angel. "I don't know how I did that." Dean stared at the angel. The swirling had stopped. "I'm not supposed to be able to do that."
"Who is?" Dean added sarcastically.
"Archangels," Castiel said bluntly. "Protectors of prophets and other chosen humans."
"So how did you?" Dean said, surprise killed his anger.
"I don't know."
Dean shook his head and tried to move. Minimal pain resulted from the walk across the room. He didn't say anything as Castiel followed him. He sat down on the bed and rubbed his hand over the growing stubble covering his chin. He felt the angel's eyes on him, waiting for the next move.
Castiel finally sat in the chair he had used for the past day. Across from Dean, he averted his gaze and turned to study the wall paper. "Angels are not oblivious to emotion… We do care for others than ourselves," his voice rang. Dean looked up in time to catch Castiel glancing back at him.
"Really," Dean grunted, it wasn't a question, but a challenge.
"Yes." Castiel licked his lips. "Just like humans, we have compassion for each other and our Father-"
"God is a requirement for you, doesn't really count."
"And," Castiel continued, "for humans."
"Like who," Dean spat. "Your kind just sentenced most of us to death."
"Moses, Jesus, his disciples, many devout others, even you."
"Wow, you really are flattering." Dean sighed.
"What do you mean?"
"I'm no Moses. I'm not a disciple. Heaven doesn't care about me."
"No, you aren't either of those. You are a savior. Humanity's salvation. The one to purge this world of evil," Castiel said frankly.
"Me? Ha… No. I was just roped into bringing about the apocalypse. I'm no savior."
"Were you not listening to what Zacharias just said? Or what he told you before this? Heaven recruited you to save the world from the clutches of Lucifer. You are to destroy him, or return him to his rightful place in the prison of Hell."
"How? I've done a lot of things that weren't holy, that weren't right. Why does Heaven still want me?"
"You did exactly what you were supposed to do? You did nothing wrong. I don't think you could have."
Dean looked away. How much of his life was not his own? How much of it was the careful planning, training, building of Heaven's savior? What was actually him? What did he actually choose to do? "So, free will? That's God's big joke, right?"
"No. It was entirely your choice… But I'm sure you had a few good pushes in the right direction. I am not totally aware of the entire plan. I only know that you fulfilled every expectation. You are exactly what you need to be to defeat Lucifer."
"And if I can't?"
"You will. I have faith."