Author's note: First off, I apologize for how long this took. This one was definitely a doozy of a story to reformat and edit, but I wanted it to be just perfect for those still interested in this series. Of course, I appreciate any and all reviews, so please do so. Also, just a friendly reminder that this will be very confusing to any who have not read the other parts to this series, so I recommend doing so. As always, I invite you all to sit back, relax, read and enjoy!
And for those who need the head's up: this is female Cas and female Balthazar. Thank you for reading.
Pale light filtered in through the window, casting a golden glow across the angel's cheek. He kissed the tender spot just beneath her ear and smoothed her long dark hair back with several fingers. She wasn't sleeping because, according to her, angels didn't sleep, but she lay there comfortably with her head rested in the crook of his arm, eyes and mouth smiling in contentment.
"Hello, Dean," he heard her murmur in a tranquil voice.
"Hey," he purred, rolling his head to the side for a glimpse of her beaming face.
He had spent mornings like this with Lisa, but normal was not in the cards for him then. The reminder that the colt and a bottle of holy water were just within reach stuck with him even as he tried to be the laid back boyfriend. They made every day conversation, transitioning from 'how did you sleep?' to 'What's on the agenda for today?' but all the while, his mind was with the weapons he had stashed under the bed, and the reminder that his brother was in Hell's cage being tortured, and that his best friend was now sheriff up in Heaven which meant he might never see either one again.
But this was his first morning waking up with Cas next to him—his best friend, his true love (according to his soul) and he could not have felt better. He was still puzzled by the concept of true love. What made their love truer than anyone else's? What was the difference? And why was it ten times harder to attain it than it was to win the lottery?
Castiel spoke in response to his thoughts, something she had gotten into the habit of and now could not seem to break. "All angels are not equipped to love," she explained softly, "Love is a human emotion." She pressed her shapely lips together and squinted her eyes shut, "I apologize, Dean. I am unable to ignore your thoughts. I guess I forget that by doing so, I may be invading your privacy."
"It's weird sayin this, Cas," he started, clearing his throat, "but you gate crashing my head doesn't feel like an invasion."
She smiled a genuine smile at him.
"I was kind of expecting you to take off, Cas. Getting braver with your newfound vessel?"
She sat up. "I feel at home here," she admitted. "More so than up there." She gestured to the ceiling and Dean frowned, sitting up, too.
"They've always been dicks, Cas. You are the only exception to that rule."
She pulled her knees up to her chest beneath the blanket and gazed at the door solemnly. "I am still an archangel, Dean, and I have work to do."
Dean nodded, taking her hand to enfold in his. She looked over at him with a grateful smile. He sighed when she eventually dropped her head onto his shoulder. "Stick around a little longer, Cas, huh. You deserve the break after performing your civic duty and dealin with Balthazar all friggin week."
She nodded and shuffled closer, allowing for Dean to wrap both arms around her. Her deep meaningful blue eyes strayed to his almost by accident. He was not prepared for the angel's reaction. First it was just a kiss—harmless, communicating her gratitude to him, but one kiss was all it took for her to abandon self-control and pin him down under her. He remembered the night he asked her (in the vessel of Jimmy) if she had ever, in his words, 'done a little cloud seeding'? Her answer was no. His answer was no.
"You think too much," she interrupted, drawing her mouth back from his to hold and grip his eyes.
"I thought this was dangerous," he rasped heavily.
"There is only one line we cannot cross," she explained. He laughed, impressed with her sudden need to find a loop hole.
"What makes you think we won't cross it?" he asked, taking both her hands and threading their fingers together.
"I have done a lot more to protect you than just keeping my… feelings… in check," she said confidently.
"Those aren't feelings, Cas," he teased. "And trust me that we're both fightin a losing battle here."
She sat up, tossing her hair back. "Either you are talking or you are thinking. Can you not just be silent?"
"That's not part of my DNA," he responded with a laugh.
She pressed a finger to his lips and leaned forward. "Shush…"
He relaxed instantly, all his thoughts turning to mist and dissipating. He lay still and silent as her lips travelled beneath his shirt—incredibly warm lips. He warbled out a sigh, enjoying this without being plagued by thoughts of… he couldn't remember. He laughed and tangled his fingers in her hair, finding exposed skin for his mouth to covet.
She propped herself up over him, the fiery eyes now melting into pools of sapphire. In a low, breathy whisper, she spoke words that shook him to the very core.
"Amidst all the darkness, you are the light, Dean—my light."
He was drawn to her. Ordinarily, she wore makeup, but not this morning because she couldn't stand it, she washed it all off. Now he was gazing into a fresh face, cheeks flushed, eyes glimmering. He was reminded of a full moon on the water. He framed her face in his hands and their lips met. Something pulsed within him—his soul in response to her, to the piece of his soul still inside her, protected by her. The kiss was soft at first, but Castiel was not in the vessel that seemed to make it easier for both of them to curb their raging emotions.
"We'll go too far," he breathed into her neck.
"We're stronger than our emotions, Dean," she whispered.
"I'm not… I'm friggin weak!"
He tightened his hold around her, drinking her in. Her lips were soft and warm and tender.
Screw control, he thought, pulling her up with him and tearing the t-shirt over his head. He gripped around her head, slid his fingers into her hair, kissed her with the kind of urgency reserved for their last night on earth—then again, it might be. At this point, he really could have cared less. Hell, if he was going to die, he would die happy. The desire to have her right there and then was overpowering. She did not smell like every other woman; her aroma was a tantalizing combination of all things natural. She was the earth after it had been washed clean. He was coaxed into images of newborn stars, and raging rushing ocean waves crashing hard and fierce on the sand. The lamp on his side shook before the bulb exploded. The same happened to the lamp on her side.
"Are you okay?" he asked, feeling foolish for asking since he had seen her—him explode and yet still survive.
"Yes, Dean," she replied, drawing back from him to strip her own shirt off.
Their eyes met in the dim shadow of early morning.
He had only one thought now, one thought he passed desperately across the tether.
Don't leave… please!
They advanced at the same time, their lips crashing, hands exploring, hearts thundering in urgency and desperation. The bedroom door swung open followed by a shout of "Dean!" immediately followed by a sharp inhale of shock and the flap of wings. Dean was alone in the bed now. Sam stood there on the threshold, pistol still held up, t-shirt, jeans and hair all rumpled, and an awestruck look on his face.
"You can put the gun down, man, she's gone," Dean snapped, exhaling heavily.
Sam slowly lowered the weapon, mouth closing even slower. "I just… I heard an explosion… I assumed the worst."
"You thought I exploded?"
Sam pressed his lips together sheepishly. "I didn't know you and Cas…" he stumbled. "I'm sorry."
"Angel mojo trashed the lights in here," Dean explained, climbing off the bed to gather his shirt off the floor and drag it over his head. "I'd be pissed at ya right now, but, to be honest, I don't think messin around with an archangel is the best idea."
"You think he—she hates me now?" Sam asked, sliding his weapon onto his belt.
"Nah! I think she's grateful, too."
"Maybe if Cas… you know… takes Jimmy's vessel, it might be easier to resist temptation?" Sam suggested, scrubbing at the back of his neck, a nervous tick he could only assume he picked up from Castiel.
Dean slumped down on the bed, gripping the shirt Castiel had left behind in her haste to leave. "I don't think so, man. It's hard enough convincing Cas that Jimmy's vessel makes it easier. I don't have it in me to convince you, too."
Sam stepped over the threshold, eyebrows drawn in worry. "I'm sorry, Dean."
"Yeah," Dean muttered, getting to his feet and smoothing a hand through his hair. "So, this day is startin off with a bang," he said, "you find anything we can use?"
"I haven't been up that long, Dean," Sam admitted sheepishly. "I uh… went out last night, had a couple of those… purple nurple shots, and uh… it wasn't until I heard the explosion that I actually woke up."
Dean grinned at his little brother—the one brother that barely drank, barely partied and barely ever hooked up with some random chick at a bar. "Tell me good news, Sammy!"
Sam cleared his throat. "I uh… I did something stupid last night."
"Define stupid," Dean said, losing his grin almost instantly, "Did you drink bitch blood?"
"No."
"You hook up with another demon?"
"No."
"Did you lose your soul and now I've gotta bargain with Death again to get it back for you?"
Sam's eyebrows knitted in slight irritation. "Look, Dean, I'm being serious with you here."
"Unless you did any or all of the above, your definition of stupid is probably a random hook up."
Sam laughed nervously and began scrubbing at the back of his neck again. "You wouldn't be wrong about that, though it's more complicated." He laughed again. "I uh… I kissed Balthazar last night."
There was an overwhelming silence followed by a small gulp of shock from Dean. "Jesus, dude! You serious?"
"As a freakin heartbeat, man," Sam admitted.
Dean pressed his hands to his face. It had taken him a year to get over his brother's betrayal with a demon, and now this…
"But it's Balthazar—the angel who screwed us half a dozen times, threatened you and me at one point or another, and does nothing but piss us off on a freakin weekly basis!"
Sam nodded. "I don't know what happened, Dean."
"You lost your friggin mind is what happened, Sam," Dean accused.
"It's no different than you and Cas," Sam defended.
Dean laughed. "Cas isn't a dick! That's a huge difference in my book!"
"Come on, Dean…"
"No! Sam, what the hell? What is it with you and hooking up with things that want to use you? Huh? What's the friggin appeal?" He stepped closer to Sam, eyeing him, "Balthazar is only in it for himself, you know that. He is using you to get his kicks, and once he's done… he'll screw us both because that's what he does."
Sam dropped his head in defeat. "It was a mistake," he muttered. "I know that." He turned and walked towards the exit then stopped as though he had just remembered something. "I know the kind of angel Balthazar is, but you're wrong if you think I'm the only one being used."
"Sammy…" Dean started in a voice meant to soothe his little brother, but Sam was gone, door slamming shut behind him. "Sammy!"
Dean was just about to pursue his little brother when one of the many phones set up in the kitchen rang. He had never needed to answer these phones before now. He was under the assumption that Bobby had these calls somehow forwarded to his new place. It was very possible he and his new woman, Becks, had made up after she had shot Dean, but that would have to have been quite the apology. After the third ring, Dean snatched the phone off the cradle, answering in a smooth, convincing voice, "FBI—Dean Smith speaking."
"Dean Smith, why the hell are you ignoring your cell phone? I called ya fifteen times last night and five times this morning!"
"Bobby?" Dean choked. Bobby's voice sounded worn and worse for wear.
"Of course it's Bobby, you idjit! What the hell's goin on over there?"
"Nothin. I just… I turned off my phone," Dean explained. This part was true; he did turn off his phone, however, he was not about to share the reasons with Bobby.
He had tried everything the night before to contact Castiel. He even went so far as to call the cell phone the angel had been using when he had been temporarily cut off from Heaven's mojo and had made him as well as Sam virtually undetectable to all angels, Castiel included. The voicemail message had not been revised, so when the female prompt stated that Dean had reached the voicemail of: Castiel's reply was "I don't understand… why… why do you want me to say my name?" This was followed by a random pressing of buttons and a long beep, indicating that Dean was now able to leave his message.
"Cas, it's Dean. This might not get to you. I'm pretty sure you're ignorin me now so I'm not expectin a reply, but I just… I needed to say… sorry. I'm an idiot." He began pacing with a hand clutching his forehead. "I'm always an idiot. I don't know when to shut up. I get all the signs but I ignore 'em. I am not one for listening to that voice in my head. Cas… I made a mistake and I'm sorry. I don't know how else to say it." He sighed, "Anyway… if you get this… my number hasn't changed so… call."
Dean closed the phone, allowing his arm to fall to his side. Feeling hopeless, he walked to the guestroom. Two steps from the door and he heard the familiar guitar rift of "Smoke on the Water." Shakily, he lifted it to his ear, but he didn't have to speak first.
"I have not used this phone in ages, Dean. I suppose I should change that voicemail prompt. I was unclear about the instructions."
"Cas?" he whispered, recognizing the low voice of the angel's female vessel.
She arrived in a familiar rush of wings, appearing several inches from him. "Hello, Dean," she greeted still with the phone to her ear. Tonight, she was dressed in slim fitting black pants and a lace v-neck tank, pale pink with wide straps that crossed at her back. She clearly was not wearing a bra beneath.
Dean slipped the phone from her and turned both of them off, dropping them on the table in the library. "About what I said earlier…"
"You don't have to…"
"I'm sorry, Cas. You told me once to keep my opinions to myself regarding well… God, and I should've remembered that."
Castiel framed Dean's face in her hands, tilting her head slightly. "I admire that quality in you, Dean," she admitted.
"What… quality?" he murmured.
"Speaking what's on your mind," she replied with a smile.
"It gets me in trouble a lot of the time."
"Yes it does."
Dean stepped back from her, clearing his throat. "Uh… not that I'm complainin, cause well… I'm lovin the new you, but… what's with the drastic wardrobe change?"
Castiel made a face of discomfort and pulled at the lacy bottom of her tank, shaking her head. "I would have preferred Jimmy's vessel, especially since I do not much like Audrey's choice in garments, but… he is currently… indisposed." She cast a glance down to the black strappy sandals and tossed them both off with a kick.
"Was he drunk?"
"No."
"Sleeping?"
"No."
"You wanna give me a hint?"
"It is a private matter between him and his wife," she explained, turning several shades of red and massaging the back of her neck, a tick that Dean noticed whenever the angel was particularly uncomfortable or embarrassed.
He knew immediately what this private matter was and was forced to restrain from laughing. "You caught Jimmy doin the nasty? That's awesome!"
She gazed at the floor then the window, making sure to keep her eyes off of Dean. "Yes well… I did not want to be rude."
He snorted and was no longer able to keep a straight face.
She glared at him. "It isn't funny, Dean!"
He shook his head, but the grin would not go away. "You're right… I'm sorry…"
"You are not," she snapped then began rubbing the back of her neck again. After a few tense moments, she glanced up but could not look at him directly.
He approached her to cup her face in his hands. "You wanna talk about it?" he asked.
She glared at him but said nothing.
"I know my stuff, Cas, so if you have questions…"
She stopped the rest of that sentence with a look of warning. "I assume what you know could fill a book!"
"Hey," he laughed, "I'm just trying to be helpful."
"You are teasing me. I am learning the difference!" she said clearly unimpressed.
"Only a little," he finally admitted, no longer wanting to be probed by that stare.
Her expression relaxed into a smile and she shifted closer until they were nearly nose to nose. He ran his fingers through her hair, now crimped and falling over her shoulders. He knew the reason Castiel avoided this vessel; it was the same reason he wanted the angel to avoid this vessel. Jimmy was married—secured to his vows in turn keeping Castiel's feelings for a human in check. But Audrey was single. Audrey, unlike Jimmy, wore emotions on her sleeve, carried desire around with her like a clutch purse in search of mister right or, in most cases, mister right now. Dean wrestled with his desire, too. She told him it would be dangerous. But he died more times than was normal for a hunter. He lived in between danger and death most of the time.
"Tell me why we shouldn't…" he started to which her eyelashes fluttered almost nervously.
"I accept your apology, but I must go," she said, tugging back from him.
"Cas…"
"Trust me," she insisted, "resisting is best."
"For who?" he laughed.
"You!"
He tried to take her hands but she dodged his attempt. "I don't know if you've noticed this yet, but it's possible that I'm immune to death."
She crossed her arms and tapped her toe lightly, jaw tightening as she regarded him. "You have been lucky."
"I don't really believe getting biblical with an angel will kill me," he remarked with a shrug.
"Goodnight, Dean," she dismissed, but she didn't move. There was something about her posture that told Dean she was not looking forward to returning to Heaven.
"Will you stay if I don't… you know…?"
She walked over to him and wrapped her arms around his neck. He held her close to him, so close that he was able to hide his face in her hair. He felt the stirrings of desire, but fought it and just continued to hold her until she eventually released him and stepped back. Without a word, she left him to approach the kitchen, taking a seat in one of the chairs and staring blankly at the wall opposite her.
"Cas," he called, stepping up behind her chair to place a hand on her shoulder.
"This is perfect, thank you," she murmured, glancing up at him with a smile of gratitude.
"You wanna stay here by yourself?"
Castiel gazed at him, tilting her head. "I don't see the harm."
"There's no harm, but… if you need company…" he started with a grin, but she cut him off.
"This is safer… for you."
Fighting back the urge to simply carry her out of the chair, he bent down and pressed a kiss to her temple. She closed her eyes in response, squeezed them shut in desperation.
He left her there. He had to. The bed was uncomfortable with the springs digging into the middle of his back, but this wasn't the reason he couldn't sleep. He just couldn't find peace while Castiel was in the kitchen stiff and silent and forlorn. He thought about going to her when he heard the sound of wings, her wings.
"Dean," he heard her whisper and he turned to see her standing next to his bed. There was something about the way she was standing there that compelled him to take her hands, they were trembling.
"I can't sleep," he admitted to her.
She climbed in next to him, the whole of her quaking. It took seconds to realize why. Dean embraced the sobbing angel, pressing a hand into her hair. "I am hated… I am hunted… I will never gain the acceptance of my family after everything that has happened. My own father does not care and I am starting to lose my faith…"
"Your father cares, Cas," Dean attempted to comfort. "He brought you back, didn't he?"
"Yes but for what reason?" she whimpered into his shirt. "We both know I have done the unforgivable…"
"That wasn't you," Dean argued softly.
She pulled back, swiping the tears off her cheeks with the back of her hand. "It was me, Dean! I was full of pride in that moment, so full of power that did not belong to me! I take accountability for everything I said and did the night I lost you. It was no one's fault but my own."
"You never lost me, Cas," Dean said firmly now.
"They are right. I do not deserve redemption."
Dean cupped the angel's tear streaked face in both his hands. "Everyone deserves redemption. I said some stupid things about your dad tonight, but here's what I really think on the whole God issue. He's definitely alive and kicking. And it might be possible that you're independent enough not to have him worrying so much. So he just checks up, you know, from a distance."
Her tears slipped slowly down her cheeks, but the sobbing had stopped. "Thank you," she whispered.
"I'm not good at this mushy stuff, Cas," he admitted, pressing a kiss to her wet cheek.
She brightened considerably, her voice cleared of the tears. "You care enough to try. I could not ask for more. Logically, if my father really had abandoned me, I would not have you." She made herself comfortable in the crook of his arm. "He must understand how much you mean to me."
These words sent a surge of remarkable warmth through Dean, and he could not suppress the smile…
"Dean!" Bobby called, awaking Dean from his thoughts.
"I'm here," he replied. "What's goin on, Bobby?"
"You tell me," Bobby demanded. "What the hell happened last night?"
Dean tensed, realizing that their effort to protect a demon was going to spread throughout the hunters' camp. "Where are you?" He asked, deciding that he would rather talk to Bobby face to face instead of over the phone.
"After the big showdown at your pal, Jareth's, I left to do some more investigating here in Helena, and I came across a hunters' convention. Apparently, they are all convinced that two hunters—you and Sam—are playin spy for the demons."
Dean could not think of anything more irrational. "Seriously?"
"You know how the mind of a hunter works, Dean. We're paranoid sons of bitches and if one of our own does something… out of the ordinary, we have to assume the worst!"
"What are you sayin, Bobby?" Dean asked, feeling anger boil inside him as he gripped the edge of the counter.
"I'm sayin that these hunters are assuming the worst about you and Sam," Bobby replied.
"That we're spies for demons?"
"You're a hunter, Dean. Exactly what would you be thinkin right now?"
Dean knew the answer. He was just as paranoid as all those sons of bitches that were now conspiring against him and his brother. "What the hell do we do, Bobby?" he muttered.
"You and Sam lay low. These hunters are callin everyone they know and puttin you on their most wanted list. You find anything suspicious goin on, you call me, understand?"
Dean laughed, but the laugh was harsh with disobedience. "What? Are we in witness protection now?"
"If you don't want a bunch of pissed off hunters on your ass, then yeah," Bobby snapped.
Dean was about to come back with a clever retort, but Bobby charged in before he could. "If I find out you stepped even one foot outside the door, I will come down there and kill both of ya myself! You idjits do as you're told for a change!
Dean swallowed his comeback. "Fine, Bobby. We'll stay in, but you need to update us every chance you get! We need to find the sonofabitch that framed Jareth and put an end to him!"
"If you have to, get your angel buddies in on this! We could use as much juice as we can get to nail this bastard to the wall," Bobby added.
The two hung up and Dean was forced to practically drag his brother inside, locking the doors and drawing all the shades. Sam stood there, watching, confused by this sudden need for solitude. "Dude," he called, "You need privacy or something?"
Dean turned to face his puzzled brother. "We're public enemy number one now, Sammy," he explained, leaning against the counter.
"Demons?" Sam guessed.
"Hunters," Dean corrected.
Sam's eyebrows arched. "Hunters? What the…"
"Bobby just called from Helena to let us know that protecting a demon is apparently a very un-hunter thing to do, and if the hunters find us, we'll probably be publically executed."
"Sounds fun," Sam sighed. "So, what now?"
"We keep our heads under water and hope that we can nail the sonofabitch that started this before the villagers come with torches and pitchforks."
Sam agreed with a short nod. "What do we do in the meantime?" Sam asked.
"Research."
Dean called both angels to help in the search.
"Demon?" Castiel asked as Balthazar (in her female vessel) attempted to stand very close to Sam in Bobby's library. She wore a flattering little black dress with a plunging neckline in addition to matching stiletto sandals. Sam shifted uncomfortably away from her, refusing to make eye contact. However, Sam was not the only one avoiding eye contact. Dean noticed that getting Castiel to look at him was nearly impossible, and she kept her distance, too. This unnerved Dean, but he tried to overlook it and move forward.
"Bobby and I were working on some leads before he booked it outta here, and this only looks like the work of a demon," Sam explained.
"What else could do this?" Castiel asked, looking directly at Sam. In the time it took her to leave and come back that morning, she was able to change yet again into a pair of skin tight blue jeans and a pink bell sleeve blouse with black high-heeled boots zipped right up to her thighs. In addition to her new attire, she wore pale blue eye shadow, a color that only enhanced the deep blue of her eyes, her liner was the same pale blue. On her cheeks, was brushed a hint of pink blush and on her lips, a deep rose. He didn't think it was possible, but beneath the dim lights, she managed to shimmer.
Dean forced back the images of her wrapped around him, submitting to him, in order to remark. "There are tons of monsters roaming the area, take your pick."
"All evidence points to someone not something," Sam said, glancing sideways at Dean."
"A human did this?" Castiel said, voice infused with a fresh burst of fury.
"Becks practically jumped at the chance to kill Jareth," Sam said, eyeing Dean in hopes that he would chime in.
"You think Becks is the one behind this?" Dean choked, "Oh man, that chick is goin down! Using Bobby, shootin me, and now… first-degree murder? Humans, man!"
Castiel gazed at Sam now, but managed a peripheral glance at Dean before saying her piece. "I will find this… Becks and I will interrogate her."
Dean met her eyes for the first time since she had chosen to avoid him. Unlike earlier, she had her hair done up in a French braid. Several strands broke free on either side to gently kiss her cheeks. "I'll go with you," he suggested.
"I do not need a bodyguard, Dean," she said, blinking her gorgeous eyes at him.
Balthazar interrupted, gazing from one face to the other. "Sweeties, you understand that this is just a theory, don't you? It is just as likely that we're looking for some Purgatory dweller that busted the cage—the cage being our lovely Cassie here—" To this she received a glare from Castiel, but she continued on, "and not some woman with a motive."
"We've gotta lift all the rocks here, Balthazar. And if we've got hunters on our ass, then best bet is Becks is behind it," Dean said firmly.
Balthazar's human host wore makeup, too, a sweet bronze eye shadow, blush, and a spot of burgundy lipstick. Anyone else would peg her as just a beautiful woman getting to know the brothers personally—well, Sam—but beneath the disguise, she was still Balthazar, still an angel with a motive. She crossed her arms.
"Getting involved in the torture of a human is more than just going against some unwritten angel code; this is punishable by banishment. You do remember what happened to Cassie, don't you? And that was simple hear-say and rumour!"
"Actually, that was Crowley," Dean corrected, "And this is not about killing sixteen innocent people; this is about taking down a bitch who may or may not be a murderer but who is definitely out for our heads and who probably has all the answers we need!"
Castiel agreed with a nod. "I will do whatever is necessary to catch the one responsible for the deaths of three women."
"Cas…"
She rounded on Balthazar. "This is not about Heaven's rules, Balthazar! This is about more innocent people dying if we stand idle!"
Dean nudged his brother hard in the ribs because he was suddenly staring intently at Castiel.
"Ow, man! Geez!" Sam whined, massaging his ribs with a glare Dean's way.
Dean walked over to Castiel, taking her hand gently. She tugged it away. "We need to talk," he said, voice low and serious.
"You do that," Balthazar chimed in, taking Sam's arm to lead him away. "We will just be… getting comfy elsewhere."
Sam's gritted teeth soothed Dean's concern for the time being, giving him a moment to confront Castiel. "You wanna tell me what's up with you?" he started, knowing full well how he sounded. He had never been the one to worry about a relationship. Even when he was with Lisa, he expected it to come to an end eventually.
"Nothing… is up… with me," she emphasized, "but I am not a damsel in distress, Dean. I do not need you to… protect me just because I happen to… look like this. I'm still an angel."
Dean laughed a low guttural laugh. "You think I would let you run off if you weren't wearing miss freakin fashion model?"
"Yes," she said boldly.
"Yeah, well, you're wrong," he stated, trying to take her hands again. She dodged his attempt, stepping back from him. "But this ain't about my hero-complex; this is about what happened this morning…"
"It can never happen again," she interrupted. "I'm supposed to be keeping you safe, not leading you right into danger!"
"I lead me into danger, Cas, not you."
"I should stay away from you from now on. It is the only way to keep you safe," she suggested, but there was a slight tremor in her voice. "I started all this, Dean. I never should have kissed you. I did it to save your life, but that should have been my last."
Dean pressed his hands to her face, smoothing his fingers over her ears. "Don't even think about bringing up the m-word," he said in a low husky drawl.
"What is the m-word?" she asked, wrapping her fingers around each of his wrists.
"Mind wipe," he answered.
"That is two words," she corrected.
"Whatever, Cas, you know what I mean," he groaned, dropping his forehead low to touch hers. He met and held her eyes, "You know your prego fashion model loves hammin it up, huh? Trends don't change as often as she does."
Castiel laughed. "She travels a lot, Dean. She is always meeting people, talking with people, posing in strange positions for very large cameras."
"Jesus," Dean exhaled, "You tellin me your girl here is an actual model?"
"My understanding is that she models eye makeup products," Castiel explained. "She will be in Hawaii next week."
Dean laughed. "You've got it made, Cas! There's absolutely nothing wrong with showing yourself off a bit, huh?"
She rolled her eyes. "It is not my idea of… fun… Dean."
"What is your idea of fun?" he teased, "I don't think you told me what you and your buds do to get wild?"
She stepped back from him, folding her arms beneath her impressive breasts. "You mean joining you in a den of iniquity wasn't what you would call getting wild?" She was teasing with a half-smile and a wink.
"I kind of regret that now," he admitted with an awkward laugh. "I'm pretty sure your idea of a good time is… sitting quietly," he said.
She beamed at him. "You remembered that?"
"I remember that whole day, Cas. Trying to get the teenage mutant ninja angel to spill his beans regarding God…Kinda hard to forget."
"You helped me when no one else would. I owe you… everything," she admitted. Tears emerged in her eyes—glimmering silver and threatening to spill.
Dean inhaled sharply to the abrupt attack of arms around his neck and heavy sobbing into his shoulder. He embraced around her and this elicited a sigh from her. "Cas…" he started awkwardly into her hair, almost absentmindedly smelling her hair. This scent was not perfume but the sweet aroma of a spring morning, flowers blooming, the earth awakening from sleep.
She pulled herself back from him to clear the tears off her cheeks with the back of her hand.
"Something strange is happening with this… vessel, Dean. I did not mean to…"
He interrupted in a soft and warm tone, a tone he had used very few times in his life. "You said you don't have full control of Audrey," he reminded. "She's prego and obviously messin with your mind mojo."
She glanced down at the small bump only slightly protruding over the waist of her jeans. "I cannot take this," she muttered, returning her eyes to Dean. "It is just a child! How could a child cause so much emotional chaos?"
Dean cleared his throat. He wasn't used to this kind of emotional attachment; he stayed away from it and for good reason. "I'm just gonna take a wild stab here, and guess that Jimmy was… indisposed again?"
She nodded weakly. "Yes."
"Oh man!" Dean exclaimed with a laugh. "Go Jimmy!"
Castiel groaned. "You men are all the same."
From the kitchen, Balthazar snapped her fingers and hollered "Here, here sister!"
"You've been a female way too long," Dean chuckled, squeezing Castiel's shoulder. He hoped that humour might diffuse the situation. Castiel always seemed to be slightly cheered by his jokes. And this time was no different. She smiled a smile that lit and warmed his insides like a steady flame.
"I should go. Please… do as Bobby says, and do not leave here."
Dean cupped her face in his hands and kissed her immediately surprised by the jolt it gave his insides. "You uh… you be careful out there, Cas. You know what Becks is like."
She nodded, pressed a hand to his chest in a reminder that the wound Becks had inflicted was gone, before vanishing.
"See you around, beefcakes," Balthazar shouted and vanished, too. Sam edged his way back into the library and took a seat to slowly massage his head.
"She's bad news," Dean reminded to his conflicted little brother.
Sam continued massaging. "I know, man. And God knows I've been manipulated by enough monsters, but Dean…" he lifted his head, "she is Cas's only ally. And when push comes to shove, and it will, you're gonna need her—him to be there."
Dean was unable to disagree with the facts. But he didn't have to like it.
Castiel would have been on her way to grab and interrogate Becks if she had not felt a familiar vibration in the earth that made it's way into her. Something was happening in Yellowstone National Park—right now. Balthazar's voice was smooth behind her shoulder.
"You feel it, too?"
Castiel turned to face her companion, her only friend, her sister. "Yes," she replied.
"I think Becks can wait, then. Let's find out what's going on in Yellowstone," Balthazar suggested, and together, they teleported, arriving in a remote part of the park dense with trees and devoid of most light. Shadows lay across the mossy earth. Something else lay there, too—something human.
"She's alive," Castiel said, bending down next to the small girl and pressing a hand on her chest. "Her soul is intact. But she is hurt. She tried to run and… tripped… on this." She lifted a stone from the earth that was much bigger than the circumference of her hand.
Balthazar lifted the girl into her arms effortlessly. "I will take her to the nearest hospital."
"And I will find the brute that is doing this," Castiel put in, her jaw tightening.
"Cassie," Balthazar started, walking towards the angel. "We both know what you might do to this… human… especially in your condition." She gazed down at the bump in sympathy, "but you need to remember that you are still an angel. And killing humans of any type is punishable by banishment."
Castiel nodded. "I remember, Balthazar. Thank you."
"Just… use what your vessel's mother gave her, and give the human a reason to spill his beans."
"You wish me to use… this body… to attain answers?" she asked quizzically.
"Trust me that it will work, Cassie. Flash your melons at him and he will never see it coming. Then get him back to the Winchesters and let them handle the rest."
Castiel didn't wait for Balthazar to leave; instead, she broke into a run through the forest upon hearing the sounds of heavy panicked breathing and whimpers. She stopped behind a tree, gripping it as she watched a human male push two young girls to their knees in the dirt, both tied at the ankles and wrists, both fighting against the gags in their mouths.
"Just think of this as supporting a very worthy cause," the male spoke through thick lips. He was tall and built, and he was a hunter. She was able to read his heart—understand that he grew up in a situation much different and yet similar to that of Sam and Dean. His father died when he was only eighteen—torn apart by a werewolf. He was alone without any other family. He took up hunting for two reasons—to avenge his father's death and to find a place to fit in, another family. The hunters offered him this. Now he was a killer, destroying everything supernatural no matter their innocence. He was on a mission.
She was drawn to the whimpers of the two innocent females that were going to die in order to frame an innocent creature. Slowly, she edged out from behind the tree, speaking the hunter's name smoothly.
"Drake Hardison"
Drake was alerted to the sound of his own name and turned to face her. His dark hair had been cut close to his head and his eyes were a threatening green and yellow combination. This was not the man that had saved so many lives. That man was gone replaced by this man—no longer a man but a monster.
"You just passing through, sweetheart?" he asked in a voice so gritty, it sounded like he was gargling gravel.
"Actually," she murmured, stepping closer, "I've come to stop you."
Drake's eyes drank her in from head to toe, eliciting a feeling of violation she had never felt before now. "You?" he laughed, crossing his arms. "That's cute, but impossible."
"Let the girls go," she ordered now, gazing briefly at the two girls who had both stopped whimpering. "Let them go and come with me now."
Drake pulled a knife off his hip holster and twirled it in his fingers with expertise. "What's your name, sweetheart?"
"Cassie," she replied, gripping onto a nickname she was not entirely fond of, but that was bound to help her now.
Drake nodded, holding the blade erect as he moved towards her. "Well, Cassie, this is your lucky day. I did have three girls here, but one decided to fight back so… I guess you can be number three. And you can help support the cause."
Castiel thought about killing him. One touch to his forehead and his soul would be dust in her fingers, but she thought about Dean and how her actions might affect him. He was her light, her everything. If she lost him… she would have… and be… nothing. So she breathed in and down, fighting every impulse to eliminate this monster.
"I will not be number three," she spoke firmly, arms tight against her sides.
"I don't think you have a choice, little girl," he snarled. He attacked her, blade outstretched and aiming for her abdomen. The girls' screams echoed off each of the trees in concern for her. She grabbed the hilt of the blade, thrust it back behind Drake's head and pulled him close in order to hiss.
"I am so much more than a little girl!" With that, she chucked him backwards into the nearest tree, and there, he crumpled. "I am an angel," she finished. Pulsing with anger but keeping her cool—for Dean—she stalked over to him, pried the knife out of his fingers, unhooked his holster and tightened it around her waist. One look over at the girls and she was untying them and taking the gags from their mouths.
"You're an angel?" one gasped, rubbing at her sore mouth, "A real angel?"
"I… um…" Castiel stammered unsure how to speak without spilling the truth. Dean was always so good at fabricating a name and ID for himself. He had no problem telling innocent humans that he was an FBI agent or a sheriff, or even a social worker. She had a difficult time lying especially since lying had nearly severed her relationship with the brothers—her friends. The truth was best, she decided finally.
"Yes… I'm an angel."
"Wow," the girls murmured at the same time, gazing at her.
"You uh… you saved us," spoke the younger of the two, her long blond hair tied back in a braid.
"Yes," she whispered with a nod. "And I am now going to take you to your homes where you will be safe."
The two girls exchanged gratified looks before nodding and saying at the same time, "thank you… Cassie."
Dean met Castiel on the front stoop, a heavily built man limp and dangling over her shoulder. "Jesus, Cas! This doesn't look like Becks!"
"Oh my god," Sam gasped from the doorway.
"He is not Becks, Dean. He is Drake Hardison… and he is the man responsible for the murders in Yellowstone National Park," she said, and he was forced to follow her down to the panic room where she deposited the unconscious Drake onto the small cot.
Sam had followed them quietly and stood on the threshold to the panic room, gazing in awe at their new prisoner.
Dean shot him a look that clearly communicated that he was just as out of the loop as his brother was. "What makes you think Drake is the big bad wolf, Cas?" he asked her, watching as she dragged a rope off the holster around her waist and began tying Drake at the wrists and ankles.
"I saw him try to kill two innocent girls," she replied nonchalantly, shoving a gag in his mouth next. He coughed behind it.
Sam's voice was small. "Uh… so… what now? We just keep him here?"
"We interrogate him and make him tell us everything about this… so-called cause. We will find out who is behind this and what their endgame is," she said, glaring down into the man's face almost willing him to wake up with just the power of her gaze.
Dean pressed a hand onto her shoulder gently and was cognizant of a tremor there. "You know what? I can handle this from here. You just… go relax or something, huh?"
She rounded on him, eyes flashing. "He murdered humans, Dean! He is a hunter and he murdered humans in cold blood!"
"So… what?" he snapped, challenging her gaze—a difficult feat to say the least—and charged ahead, "you gonna wait till he snaps out of his coma and kill him? Huh?"
"I will not kill him," she said, voice low and threatening.
"Why don't I believe you, Cas?"
"Leave, Dean," she ordered, eyeing him fiercely, "Take Sam and close the door behind you! I will handle this… monster my way!"
"I'm not letting you take on this idiot by yourself," he protested.
"I am not weak!" she shouted at him. "I do not need you to protect me! This body does not make me vulnerable; if anything, I am stronger!"
Dean grabbed her arms, but she threw him off. "Cas…"
"Go!" she demanded louder.
Drake had awakened, eyes opening slightly to witness the argument. Dean noticed him first and instinctively grabbed Castiel's arm, heaving her back. "Dean Winchester," the hunter snarled against his gag.
"You're not lookin too good, man. Actually, it looks like you might have gotten beaten up by a woman! How does that feel?"
Drake's throat constricted and he spat the gag out of his mouth with a cough before laughing hysterically. "Feels good…"
Castiel did not try to remove Dean's hand from her arm; her gaze was locked on Drake's face. "You wanted me to find you," she whispered in a sudden and cruel epiphany.
"Of course, Castiel," the hunter purred, sitting up but unable to release his bound wrists and ankles. This, unfortunately, didn't seem to bother him. "I actually expected your boyfriend to get to me first, but… I'm glad it was you. I've heard… things."
"What things?" she spat, breathing heavily.
Dean wanted to hold her but knew that it was bad enough the hunter thought she was vulnerable as a woman. He didn't want to add to it.
The hunter laughed again, eyes darkening as he swung his bound legs over the edge of the cot. "Well, let's see. I really didn't expect you to look like… that," he said with an arched eyebrow signalling his approval. "But I did expect to see you with him." He gestured at Dean sharply. "The two of you are causing quite the stir."
"Shut up," Dean fired, knowing that the hunter wasn't going to, not if he knew that he was getting to his prey. And he was.
"Tell us what you know! Are you the one responsible for the deaths of those other girls?" Castiel interrogated, shifting out of Dean's grip to approach the cot.
"I would rather not talk while your boyfriend is in the room," the hunter said with a malicious grin to Dean.
"Like you have a choice, Chuckles!" Dean snapped.
"Dean…" Castiel whispered, turning to face him.
"Like hell, Cas!"
"Do you want to know what's happening in hunter town or not, there, Dean?" Drake taunted. "Besides, it's not like I can do much to your precious Cas, now can I?"
Dean was furious and he flew at the bound hunter, grabbing tight around his throat. "You do so much as touch her and you'll be eatin hot lead!" Unable to hold back, he delivered a punch right into Drake's stomach, causing him to buckle. "Call her Cas again, and you'll be leavin here in pieces!"
Castiel grabbed his shoulders to heave him away from the stunned hunter.
"Touchy," he choked. "Better watch out for that short temper, Castiel. It's a relationship killer."
Dean was shoved across the panic room to the door. "I'll take care of this," Castiel told him, "but you have to go, Dean."
"Fine," he submitted gruffly, "but if he does or says anything…"
"I will handle it," she finished for him, squeezing his arms reassuringly. "Go."
He forced himself over the threshold and up the stairs, but he didn't even get halfway when the door closed behind him. "Come on, man," Sam urged, tugging at Dean's arm. "Cas is tough, remember? She's been through it all so I'm pretty sure she can handle some horny dude."
"Thanks for the friggin mental loop, man. Like I'm not already freakin out!"
"Admit it," Sam started, practically tugging Dean up the stairs, "if Cas was riding Jimmy's vessel, this wouldn't even be an issue."
"A friggin horny hunter? No, you're right. I'd be peachy, but he's not just a horn dog, man, he's a killer. And Cas is down there with him, so no, you're wrong. If Cas was riding Jimmy's vessel, I'd still be freakin out!"
Both brothers collapsed on the sofa and Dean leaned forward with his head in his hands. "You know this was all planned, right? I was supposed to be the catch of the day, but Cas was there, instead. Jesus! I should have just gone with her! If he wanted me, he could've just taken me!"
"She's finding out things we need to know, Dean," Sam said consolingly. "You've got to let her do her job. She's good at this stuff. Ask Bobby. Apparently, while we were takin some kids back to their family, Cas was busy interrogating a demon. Plus, he also got info out of a Purgatory native. This is his—her territory, man." He laughed awkwardly. "I don't think I'll ever get used to him… as a… her. It's weird."
"Balthazar's a… her, now," Dean reminded, lifting his head. "That's a lot more weird."
"Speaking of," Sam started, gazing around the empty house. "Where is she?"
"Who knows, man? But wherever she is, she can stay there until all this crap is over. And she can also keep her freakin hands off you!"
Sam bit down on his bottom lip. "I hate to say it, Dean, but the kiss was kind of… really amazing—like mind-blowing, dude."
Dean looked over at his blushing brother and groaned. "Oh come on! Seriously? What? You crushin on her—him now? You need me to take you outside and beat some sense into you?"
Dean leapt to his feet to the sound of a scream so piercing, his ears rang from it.
"Dean!" Sam called after him, but he was already bolting downstairs and grabbing the heavy iron door to pull it open.
"Cas," he shouted, crossing the threshold. "Cas!"
"Dean?" Castiel acknowledged, turning from the cot to face him, eyes wide in confusion. Drake was laid out on the cot, mouth twisted in a grimace, body tense and clearly in pain.
"Hurts so good, sweetheart," he gasped with a gurgling laugh that produced blood at the corners of his mouth.
"The hunters are after you," Castiel said to Dean in a serious whisper. "You and Sam are harbouring a demon and they want him dead, so they are going to do whatever it takes to get to the two of you."
"Why do they want the demon so bad?" Dean asked, hating that he could see blood on her hands.
"Because he's a demon," Drake stormed. "We are cleansing the earth of all the filth, including demons with a soul. Eventually, he'll kill. We're just… what you might call a prevention technique."
Dean grabbed for Castiel's hand, but she dodged his advance. Her voice fell low and husky as her eyes barely reached his. "They are not just after Jareth, Dean. According to this… monster… they want Sam because of the demon blood."
"He's clean," Dean spouted angrily.
"And they want you," Castiel finished, but her voice caught this time. He heard her composure slip.
"Me? Why?" he asked, heavy glare landing on their prisoner.
Drake grinned maliciously. "Because rumour is spreading about your soul, Dean Winchester, how it's… infinite. That just ain't normal," He dragged himself up to a sitting position on the cot. "Because you are now… one of them."
Drake laughed, but the laugh turned into a raging cough. "You're also on the list for being traitors to your family," the hunter explained. "You protected two demons and killed two hunters. Look, I will give you a hail Mary, here, Winchester. All you gotta do is tell me where you and your angel buddies stashed the demon and all hell will not break loose on your asses."
Dean chuckled menacingly. "You're a twisted sonofabitch, you know that! Like we would ever tell a killer where to find his victims!" He reached for Castiel's hand again, and this time, she gave it. "Do the other hunters know whatyou did, Drake?" he demanded, "who you killed?"
"They would be proud," the hunter spat.
"Actually, they would probably tear you apart," Dean retorted.
"I had help, Dean. You think I'm the only one supporting this cause?"
Dean and Castiel exchanged looks, both disgusted with this monster who dared to call himself a hunter. "I think you're the only one stupid enough to let them use you as bait," Dean replied, getting close enough to put the hunter out with an elbow to his face.
Castiel slipped her hand out of his. "I have his blood on me, Dean," she told him, but before he could say a word meant to soothe the tension and agony of torturing a human from her face, she abruptly vanished.
"Cas," he called, leaving the panic room, locking it, and bolting back up the stairs. "Cas!"
"Dean," murmured a familiar voice that made his blood simmer. "Nice to see you again. How did the interrogation go?"
"Bite me, Balthazar," he snapped.
"Dean," Sam chided, emerging from the living room to fill the doorway with his inhumanely large frame. "She did a good thing, today. She helped someone."
"Good for her! I'll give her a gold star at the next meeting."
"I'm looking for Cassie," Balthazar said, voice a lot firmer and heavier now. "She was on the verge of killing a human, and I wanted to make sure…"
"She didn't," Dean interrupted more in response to the look of pure horror on his brother's face than Balthazar's concern. "You know you might have a brand new vessel to take advantage of, but you'll always be a dick," Dean remarked. "Kiss my brother again and it will be the last thing you ever do!"
"Let's be clear, beefcake," she started, clicking her tongue. "He kissed me. Look, I've got some swagger, Dean. It's not my fault if Sam wanted a taste."
Dean made a noise of disgust in his throat. "Vanity don't look good on you, sweetheart," he said, crossing his arms. "No doubt, you probably manipulated his ass to get what you wanted."
"I did no such thing," she defended with a gasp. "We met at a bar, had a couple drinks—well, he had one but that's beside the point—and at the end, he did what any hot blooded American man would do."
Dean could feel his insides writhing. "Don't go near my brother again, understand me?" he growled.
"Ooh! Do I detect jealousy? So the subtext is true!"
Dean attempted to grab the angel, but she fluttered out of sight, returning several feet from him. "My brother is not gettin into bed with angels, understand?" he shouted, rounding on her, "You are all just a bunch of manipulative, self-serving douchebags!"
"Even Cassie?" Balthazar teased with a smirk.
"Exceptions to every rule, man."
"Sure, sure. Cause Cassie never once manipulated you, never once betrayed your trust, never once hurt your brother by tearin down a certain wall…"
"Shut up," Dean demanded.
"If we're all douchebags then, just like Cassie, we can all change. We can all be better. We can all be eternally loved by a human!"
"You're using Sam!" Dean stormed.
"Maybe, but I'm using him gently." She winked at Sam, causing the hunter to cringe and slip away.
Dean grabbed Balthazar's arm, forcing her to face him. "If you go near him again, I will ask Cas for the blade that kills you sons of bitches and I will make damn sure you don't come back, you understand me? Sweetheart?"
She wrenched her arm out of his grip. "Good luck with that. You know, Sammy is a big boy, don't you?—a big boy," the smug angel emphasized with a provocative grin, "he does not need his older brother to make decisions for him, anymore."
"Sometimes, Sammy doesn't know what's good for him."
"I could be very good for him," she insisted in a purr. "I don't even care that he's the boy with the demon blood. I am not biased like that."
Dean rolled his eyes just as Sam's voice broke into the first few moments of silence. He had returned with a look of concern on his face. "Where's Cas?"
Both angel and hunter looked at him then Balthazar spoke. "Everybody loves Cas! Am I so unlovable?"
"Yes," Dean and Sam spoke at the same time, glaring at her.
Dean filled in for the blank look on his brother's face. "Cas is… I don't know where she is," he admitted solemnly. "All I know is that we've got that poor excuse for a hunter out cold locked up in the panic room."
"What are we gonna do with him, Dean, just drug him and toss him into the trunk of the Impala?"
Dean shrugged. "We'll figure out something, but for right now… I just need to find Cas."
A soft sobbing alerted them all to the bathroom door open a crack and light spilling out across the hardwood.
"How about," Balthazar started in quiet suggestion, "Sam, you and I get outta here for a little while so the two lovebirds can sort things out?"
Sam was moving towards the bathroom, but Dean caught his arm. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but… you should go with Balthazar. Don't let her stick her tongue down your throat again, but just… go get some hunter's helper or something, huh?"
"You uh… you sure?" Sam stammered, craning his neck around Dean to spy Castiel, but he couldn't see her just hear her heart breaking sobs.
"Yeah, man," Dean whispered, "I've got this."
"I could get her something," Sam suggested, "Not sure what exactly would cheer up an angel, but…"
"I'll help in that department, Sammy," Balthazar chimed in, also glimpsing the door. "Let's go, shall we?"
Dean watched the two vanish from sight, and as long as Sam was with an angel, he was most likely safe from the prying eyes of hunters that wanted to execute him. He didn't particularly like Balthazar, and a part of him knew she was only in it for herself, but he also knew that she would protect Sam, if not for Dean then to appease her only friend. With this in mind, he walked cautiously towards the bathroom, knocking gently on the door.
"Hey, uh… Cas? You alright in here?"
He crossed the threshold to find her standing at the sink and gripping the edge so tight that her entire body was tense with the effort. The face staring back at him from the mirror was streaked with tears. He eased further in and shut the door with one hand.
"I am not… alright," she spoke in a torn voice. "I tortured a human. I still have his blood on me. And no matter what I do to compose my thoughts, I still think of killing him. I have not changed…"
"Look," Dean started in a warm yet firm voice, "Drake is not exactly what anyone would call human. And you are not the only one here that wants to kill that bastard."
Castiel released the sink to turn and face him. "I just want to redeem myself to you, Dean… to you and Sam. I want you to be able to trust me, again."
"Nothing's changed, Cas," he said soothingly, "I do trust you. I know that what you did was to save our asses from your friggin nutbar of a brother. I know that… I should've had more faith in you. I should've helped you instead of workin so hard to push you out."
She sank against him, burying her face in his shirt. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her closer to him. "You uh… you know this is just the kid doin this, right?" he said, stroking her hair.
"Yes, Dean," she murmured.
"You wanna get out of here? Maybe do a beer run or something?"
She shifted back from him with a look in her eyes that was easily interpreted as seductive. She pressed her hands to his face, cradling it before leaning up to graze her lips across his. He thought he could walk away but there was irresistible and there was this—her, gazing at him with eyes that never changed. He was drawn into another kiss—memories like flashes tearing through his brain.
The first meeting, and the angel's entrance into a warehouse covered in every kind of symbol. Blue eyes on fire as he took shots without flinching and gazing at Dean as he spoke the words that had sunk deep into Dean's soul, the words he would never forget, words Castiel did not use as an accusation but as a tragic fact: "You don't think you deserve to be saved…"
The angel trusting in him for the first time after the first seal was broken back when the mission was keeping Lucifer locked in his cage.
Castiel was slowly creeping beneath his skin with each visit afterward until, despite his determination to hate him, he found himself befriending him, asking for his help, talking to him about his lost connection with Sam, and eventually trusting him more so even than his brother. He had an enemy, turned ally, turned friend, turned best friend, turned…
He lifted her up onto the edge of the sink, kissing her fiercely with an urgency that scared him. It should have been a longing built from learning that she was his true love, but he knew this was coming from much further back. He couldn't pinpoint the exact moment, but it was there, tearing at his chest like some kind of wild animal awakening and pawing at him from the inside, reminding him that this wasn't the first time. Even back when the angel kissed him to save his life; it wasn't the first time he had felt this way. He was just really good at hiding it, really good at pretending that those sharp blue eyes were not scratching away at his soul and making a home there. He had his mouth in her hair when she tore his shirt up and over his head, tossing it into the tub right next to her. The denial was gone, replaced by a strong desperate lust that had been there for a lot longer than he thought. The way she tore at him, kissed him, groped his skin was enough to convince him that her feelings had been buried down deep over a long period of time, too. She had done this for his benefit, to protect him, to avoid confusion. He wasn't confused, anymore. This wasn't complicated, anymore. With this sudden epiphany, he carried her out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, kicking the door closed with the heel of his foot.
He awoke with a jolt like he had been struck by lightning. Dark hair lay scattered on his chest and face and a naked body smooth and warm was sprawled across his. He tried to discern what had just taken place, but it was as though his mind had been wiped clean, left with only sensations and feelings that ran rampant through him. She smelled good. She tasted good. He remembered a light so bright he was forced to shut his eyes, but that same light was absorbed into his wet skin, exploding from within. He had never felt anything like it, like the light had consumed him—she had consumed him. He rested his arm over her back tenderly stroking her hair. He expected her to speak as she always did when she knew he was awake. She didn't sleep. So the deep breathing and the silence where her deep voice should have been compelled him to take a look. With a sweep of one hand, he removed the scattered hair off her face and gazed at her. Her eyes were closed. She was relaxed and… clearly asleep. Since when did angels sleep? He bent down just enough to leave a kiss on the top of her head before falling back to heave a heavy sigh.
"Jesus…"
He had just covered her up with the blankets when she bolted upright, eyes wide and horror stricken, her face suddenly pale. "Dean…"
"Cas, what the…"
She pressed her hands to her temples and began shaking her head. "No! I can't leave him now! No… stop!"
"Cas," he called, taking her hands to grip in his. "Cas, what's going on?" he demanded gently.
Tears welled in her eyes and she embraced hard around him. "I'm so sorry, Dean… I will never forgive myself… not for this…"
"For what?" he gasped.
She clung tighter to him. "No," she choked. "Please…"
"Cas," he cried out now, knowing that he was losing her without understanding why. "Tell me…"
"I love you, Dean," she interjected, and before he could react to this, she was gone… and he was alone.