AN: So I posted this on my tumblr, and I think that there is something here. It is just a short fic to get me over the fact that my other fic isn't having enough Dean and Cas interaction at the moment. This is also an attempt to write an SU since my last fic was an AU. This is a season 10 fic, so maybe spoilery. Demon!Dean. Post Ask Jeeves timeline.
There were things that they could not say to each other. That had been the case for a long time, since the beginning maybe. It was not always so important, though, the talking. They understood each other well enough. Castiel wondered if that was still the case now though. He understood, or so he told himself. Did Dean understand? Was he still capable of that much?
He looked to him in the darkness of the Impala as it rumbled down the long stretch of road. It was December and there was a coldness in the air that should not have affected him so much. Perhaps it was the diminishing grace. Instead of thinking about it though, he turned, instead to the window, pressed his head to the glass, and stared out at the streaks of desert soaring past in the night. The irony of the cold desert was not lost on him.
They had not slept in days. He was tired. He remembered when that wasn't an issue. He craved those days now. Dean was humming a tune at his side. It was not one of his classic rock songs, not that he had been much for music lately. They mostly just drove in silence. They had stopped though, a few hours ago when there was still a little light, at a truckstop. They needed to fill the tank. The gas station was pumping out music through its outdoor speakers, Christmas music. It was loud and annoying. Castiel had wrinkled up on himself with the first blast of it as he got out of the vehicle.
Dean looked at him as he pumped the gas. "Funny."
"What?" Castiel stared up at him from the side of the car, leaning back on it just a little.
"I thought that angels would be pre-programmed to love this stuff." Dean smirked up at the speaker then back at Castiel.
"No, we are not. It is grating." Castiel tried not to let it get to him, the way that Dean seemed to be enjoying this moment. It wasn't that he did not want Dean to find moments of joy, it was that he was not himself. His joy was at Castiel's discomfort. This was not the way that Dean would have been before the Mark. They had cured him once, sort of. Maybe this time will stick. The light from the too bright gas station blazed down onto them both, throwing shadows down Dean's face in a way that made him seem much more demon than human.
The humming continued. The first song was the same as the one that was playing at the gas station. The second song was "Here Come's Santa Claus." Or at least that is what Castiel thought that it was. Like Dean's singing, the humming too was a little off. The third song was different. It was not one of the whimsical holiday tunes about reindeer or jolly fat men. It was a song of a more somber sort. He believed that it was called, "We Three Kings." It was the story of the Magi and their quest to bring gifts to the new born son of God. He couldn't help but smile as Dean hummed it out.
He had gathered some of what he needed at each stop. He knew that Dean did not understand the mission. He did not understand because Castiel chose to only tell him lies. He had made him believe that there was a solution to his grace slipping away. That had been enough to convince Dean, demon or not, to go on this lengthy mission with Castiel. At the time, there was apparently enough humanity left in Dean to make him want to go on this journey. Now it was just habit. Dean would keep going as long as Castiel did not rock the boat too much. He couldn't talk about the changes he saw each time he looked at Dean. He couldn't let him know that he saw more in those fleeting glances and sometimes prolonged stares.
The song hummed out around him, rising in volume. It made him drowsy. He rested his head against the glass again and let his mind slip a little. The story of the Magi played out in his head along with the song. Their tale was not unlike his own present life. In fact, the similarities were troubling in this moment. He wondered if Dean had really thought about the items that he had been collecting before he had started humming the new song. He worried that perhaps Dean was more aware than he was giving him credit for.
He hadn't been aware that day at the bunker. So much had happened in the time that he had been separated from them. They had not followed his advice. He had thought that Sam would be more sensible, but with each shred of communication between them, he knew that Sam was failing. He was failing too, but in a different way. Hannah had been his companion, and things between them had escalated rapidly. He had been plotting ways to leave her, not because he did not want her company, but because he could not drag her into his mess. He knew that she would be harder to manage if they continued in this way. She would want to save him, and that would not be possible without unacceptable sacrifices.
So, he began making his way back to the bunker with her in the seat beside him. He made the journey, because he could kill two birds with one stone. He could solve the problem that was Hannah's need to save him, and he could save Dean, really save him. He had come to know some things about what saving Dean really meant. He and Sam, and especially Crowley, had gone about it wrong. So wrong in fact that living was more painful than the dying for Dean. Castiel wanted to solve for that too.
When he had walked into the bunker and saw the brothers at the foot of the stairs, he knew at a glance, just how bad their situation had become. His eyes fell on Dean and the once glowing white light of his soul was foggy with a swirling madness of black. It had not yet taken over entirely, but it would, again. Sam had taken Hannah on the "grand tour" in a thinly veiled attempt at giving Castiel time to more fully assess Dean's state. Sam had told him much in their last phone conversation, but it did not prepare him for this. He had stepped up to Dean in a manner that was reminiscent of their old ways. Personal space was not a consideration.
"Hello, Dean," he had said when they were alone in the room.
"Hello, Cas." Dean shifted about uncomfortably in front of him. The soul fighting for purchase at the forefront of Dean's existence. The fog swirled away into the background the closer Castiel stood. He had moved nearer. This was further proof to him later, that the plan would work. He was surprised that the demon could tolerate him even now in the car. Back then though, in the bunker, that part of Dean had been weaker, and Castiel had been stronger.
"Are you okay?" He had asked.
"Yes. You?" Dean had tilted his head in consideration of Castiel's face. "You look stronger than the last time that I saw you."
"I'm well enough." He lied, but it did not matter. He wasn't well enough at all. He had added, "I am here to ask you for a favor?"
"A favor?" Dean shifted back a little. A tiny distance felt large to Castiel in that moment. He thought that maybe Dean would refuse him. It was important that he accepted Castiel's plan.
"Yes, I wouldn't normally want to trouble you. You have much to contend with on your own, but I can't think of anyone else that I can trust to help me." Dean stepped back toward Castiel as he spoke. Apparently, his soul was still mostly in charge and it wanted to be helpful.
"Name it."
"My grace is slipping away. Soon, I will lose it entirely." Castiel had taken a seat at the long table finally feeling the weight of all of the recent events pressing in on him.
Dean sat beside him, "So, you'll be human?" There was a slight uptick to Dean's question that Castiel wondered at, but not for long.
"Not for long."
"What do you mean?" He looked concerned. The light coming from him throbbing at the surface for Castiel to see.
"When it leaves, I will die. It isn't like before." He let out a long, pointless breath and dipped his head down to his chest a little. Dean reached over, a comforting hand to his shoulder.
"Tell me what to do. We'll fix this."
"I need to retrieve some items. They are special to say the least. They can be used to perhaps undo what has been done to me." He looked up into Dean's eyes and added, "I can't ask Hannah. She is too desperate to fix this, and she will make mistakes."
"Let me get my bag, and we can go. Should Sam go too?" Castiel had considered bringing Sam along, but had decided against it. Sam might not go along with the plan if he came to fully understand it.
"No, Sam can take care of the little things that will crop up in your absence. Not to mention, he still needs to heal up."
"Fair enough. And you don't plan to bring Hannah with us?" Castiel heard the tone shift as Dean used Hannah's name. He was likely not fond of her after the interaction that he had with her at the old angel headquarters.
"Like I said before, she should not aid me in this. It will be too much for her. I hope that I can trust you in this." He knew that the phrasing would set the deal in motion. Dean craved trust and he had the need to take care of the broken things that came into his certainly qualified as broken. Dean was broken too so maybe it was a kinship of the broken that he needed to feel.
So they left that night. Dean had needed sleep back then, so they had stopped several hours later at a run-down, cheap motel. Castiel stayed up and stared out the filthy motel window at the stars. He had not been as tired then. Dean slept, and he did his best not to watch him too much. He had not realized it, but eventually he too fell asleep, head pressed down on the table.
Dean woke him up with a cup of coffee and food that he had picked up without Castiel noticing. "I don't need the food." Castiel had said, but he took it anyway. They made their way to the car. He had done a fair amount of explaining during that first night. The items were old, not Castiel old, but old enough. He worried that the driving would take too long. He worried that somehow he would be wrong about the solution. That doesn't matter. He had thought. First things first.
First there had been the gold coin. It was old, said to have been pressed specially by members of the Qin dynasty. He had found it with the help of Sam's careful research. He had wanted to retrieve it without drawing much attention. It had been held in a private collection in a home that had once been a plantation. So, Castiel took the devil down to Georgia, so to speak. Dean had wanted to take care of the job himself. He thought that Castiel was weak. Truth be told, he had started feeling weak the moment that he got into the car with Dean. The night at the motel only added to the feeling. He was certainly weaker by the time that the Impala came to a stop just after midnight outside of the high wall surrounding the plantation house
Castiel had only closed his eyes for a second. It was enough though. He had fallen asleep. That was all that Dean had needed. He did not want to bring Castiel into a place that could be dangerous. He was still human enough for that feeling to trump all. Although, it was also possible that he really just wanted to have no one holding him back. The desire to unleash some violence was likely nibbling away at him. Castiel had worried that this might become a problem, but he had no solution beyond the broad reaching plan.
When Dean had returned to the vehicle, he had been covered in blood. It was a terrifying sight, or rather, it would have been if Castiel had not seen worse, done worse. "What have you done, Dean?" He had asked quietly.
In response, Dean held out the coin, also covered in blood. Castiel took it and felt the sticky blood in his palm. Dean came around the car, stopping at the trunk to deposit weapons. Then he got into the driver's seat, mess, gore, and all. He turned to Castiel and then back to the front. He turned on the car and they headed out.
Many hours had passed before Castiel had spoken. He did not want to deal with the horror show that was next to him. The blood was all over the normally pristine seats of Dean's baby. The smell, metallic and earthy had been filling his body with so much concern. Finally, though, the silence had to be broken. "We are going to head to Oklahoma, the pan handle."
"Hmm." Dean grunted out, then turned off the road taking the car in a more westerly direction. They had been traveling more toward the north.
"We will need to stop at a motel so that you can clean up. You are a mess." He felt the worry growing with each passing moment of silence from Dean. Then over the horizon, there was a lonely motel. It could have been condemned. It looked like the least inviting place in existence. The vacancy light was on though. Dean pulled in and waited in the car for Castiel to take care of the arrangements.
Once they were in the room, Dean silently cleaned himself up in the shower. Castiel waited by the door staring out through the window again at the night. He got up and tossed himself down on the far edge of the bed. He was very tired now. He closed his eyes. The bathroom door opened and Dean came out with fog trailing behind him. He was wrapped in a towel and a fine sheet of water droplets. Castiel followed his movements to the duffle bag on the squat 1970's era dresser. He had pulled out clothes and then went back into the bathroom without acknowledging Castiel in the slightest.
Castiel did not feel tired now, but he continued to lay on the bed, staring up at the popcorn ceiling. He was directing his thoughts down safer paths. Dean came out of the bathroom again, but this time he was dressed. He held out his hands in front of him and gave them a bit of scrutiny before dropping onto the bed next to Castiel. There was another bed, unused, just two feet away, but Dean did not go to it. Neither of them was fully committed to this bed. Their legs hung off the edge as though they had both been sitting just moments before.
Dean rolled onto his side and looked at Castiel. He could feel Dean's stare. He was afraid of what he would see if he turned to him. Would he see the darkness taking over? He sucked in a breath, unnecessarily and rolled onto his side to look back. There it was, the white glow, pressing forward. The black fog was nowhere to be seen. "Are you okay?" He asked Dean in a whisper. He knew that the answer was really no, just as he knew that Dean would not give utterance to a truth.
Dean didn't speak. He reached out a hand to Castiel's face and touched it. It was a nervous motion, as if he thought that he would be rejected. When he wasn't rejected, he moved closer, pressing his hand back into Castiel's hair. They stayed like this for a time. Neither daring to move or really breathe. Castiel moved closer next. He settled his arm on Dean's side in a type of distant hug. "Talk to me, Dean."
"M'kay." It was something at least.
"Okay, then." Castiel stretched out his other arm and angled it under Dean's head. He pulled him to him. He took a few shallow breaths and then said, "Rest now. Just rest. I'll be right here." He felt Dean nod into his chest, and, not long after, the tiny sleep breaths puffing out on his body let him know that Dean was asleep.
Review, Fav., Follow, Rec. This is likely going to be a couple of chapters if there is enough interest. I will be posting it on ao3 too and maybe in my tumblr too (It's where I tested it out first). You can find my tumblr link in my profile. All the best to you.
