The Smell of Naplam in the Morning

by Linda Atkinson

: Set in the Croatoan/Post Apocalypse verse. Dean leaves Castiel, who is falling, to find Sam, then meets up with him again. Dean/Castiel slash, dark fic, see warnings in post.

The Smell of Napalm in the Morning

Author: Linda92595

Fandom: Supernatural

Characters/Pairings: Cas/OMCs, Cas/Dean

Rating: PG-13 implied M/M sex

Word Count: 8609

Warnings: M/M sex, implied prostitution, violence, angst up the wazoo…duh, post-apocalypse Croatoan verse fic, dark behavior, dub-con, End verse dark Dean, domestic abuse, drug use.

Summary: Set in the Croatoan/Post Apocalypse verse. Dean leave Castiel, who is falling, to find Sam, then meets up with him again.

Note: I love Robert Wisdom; my Gunnery Sergeant Parker is based on a younger version of the man from a few years ago (okay several years ago) when he was on Poltergeist the Legacy, and looked hot as a voodoo priest. So when you read Cas/Parker think Cas/Uriel.

Time blurred on him again. He wasn't sure how much; it had been doing that a lot lately. Probably the cocaine kicking in again. He pushed enough of it up his nose in the last couple of days to kill a normal human. Too bad he wasn't normal. Or even completely human. Cas sighed.

He thought he might be in Detroit. It seemed as if he and Dean had been there when things went from bad to worse to shot to shit all in the course of one weekend. And that had been…what…two months ago, maybe more …give or take. He couldn't be bothered to keep track any more. Dean was gone, left without a word or a backwards glance over his shoulder but truthfully, and he was always truthful wasn't he, Cas had felt Dean slipping away a long time before he walked out the door.

Somehow Castiel couldn't help but think that he may have made a mistake when he had agreed to join Dean in his fight against Heaven and Hell. Maybe if the former angel had herded Dean in the direction of his brother Sam would have never given in to Lucifer and the world wouldn't be tottering on the brink of destruction. But Dean had kept a stiff neck and refused to call Sam after their argument instead turning to Castiel for comfort and comfort had become need for Dean and wanting for Cas./ And soon the two had tumbled into bed and Dean had made good on his promise that the angel wouldn't' die a virgin.

Of course things never stayed good between the two of them and Dean couldn't never resist the siren call that his brother sent out. Sex was one thing, brotherly co-dependence another and Castiel had found himself cast off quicker than he had bargained for.

The buzz from the drugs was fading, quicker than it had before, and he sighed digging into his pockets for the baggie. He drew it out, crumpled, into his palm, and bent low smoothing the thin plastic against the thigh of his jeans. Bone dry, empty… he was out of luck. In more ways than one and all he had now was a battered, drug-dimmed memory of how it had all come to pass…

Dean had gone first, just walked out the door after bolting upright in bed, voice cracking in a half-strangled scream. Cas had shifted in the bed, dragging the blankets off his head and blinking against the harsh neon glare spilling into the room from beyond the ragged, torn curtains. Dean was gasping, chest heaving like he had just ran a marathon.

Cas' slender fingers reached out for the human's shoulder, slipping on sweat-slicked skin. Dean flinched a little from his touch, not that he wasn't used to Castiel touching him. Cas had been touching Dean for a while now, and true to Dean's promise Cas wasn't going to die a virgin…not any more. With a sniffle and a grunt, the angel, and he had still been mostly angel then, shifted in the bed feeling the slick glide of half dried semen on his buttocks. He cringed, "Dean…what's wrong?"

"Sammy!' Dean huffed scrubbing his palms over his face. Cas could hear the sandpaper scrape of stubble against calloused skin. Dean gulped in a breath and let it out in a hiss, "Sammy…he said yes."

Now Cas frowned rising up as far as he could with his thigh pinned beneath the man's palm. Shuffling around on his butt he managed to escape the death grip Dean had on his leg and raised his own hand to his own face fingers raking through the days worth of stubble on his own chin. Briefly he wondered why Dean had felt it when he had not, then he decided it was some weird brother thing, not evidence of how far Cas had fallen from Grace. That he wasn't even privy to Their whispered snatches of conversation.

"I have to find him, Cas."

And Dean had gotten out of their bed, dressed and piled all of his meager possessions into the battered duffel bag he carried and left. The angel had scrambled after him, rooting around the floor for his jeans and boots, the suit and trench coat having long ago having been abandoned in favor of studier clothing.

"Wait…" Cas called after the retreating form, "I'll come with you. Wait for me…Dean…please don't leave me alone."

"Go back to your brothers, Cas. I'm going to mine. I don't want you around anymore…it's not safe."

Two days later Castiel had woken with a dull ache in his head, and an urgent need to urinate. That alone left him believing that something was terribly wrong. Although over the past six months Castiel had been cut off from the Host he still maintained some shreds of his Grace and power. He did not need sleep or nourishment, was not subject to the whims of the human body. Now these simple aches and pains could mean only one thing. That he was beyond all redemption as far as returning to his brethren was concerned. He struggled upright from his position resting, almost daydreaming, on the bed and sent out the thinnest tendril of Grace, searching for the presence of the Host. He found nothing. So he was well and truly abandoned now. He was terrified.

A few more days of bathing, sleeping and humiliation, and the dull ache in his head had churned into a furious pain. There was a hollow, empty feeling in his gut and Cas supposed that was hunger. He had no money for the few places that still accepted currency, and few skills to barter with. It was by accident that he stumbled upon the one thing that he could provide that was considered worth trading for food and shelter.

The truck was huge, one of the eighteen wheeled monstrosities that once transported goods across the country. Now it was reinforced with steel re-bar and barbed wire. The man behind the wheel was big, raw looking, with dirty red hair and a thin beard on his homely face, but he looked well fed. So the former angel approached him with caution, and some trepidation.

The trucker glared, "You want sumthin', boy?"

"I was hoping to get a ride, or maybe food."

With a glare the larger man's eyes swept over Castiel's body, lingering on his slim waist and narrow hips. "Well, you ain't my usual…but I can get food and I'm headed out to Chicago…you willin' to trade."

Castiel sighed by now familiar with the look of lust although heretofore he had only seen it in one man's eyes, "Yes."

Nodding the trucker motioned the smaller man to the diner in the motel parking lot, "Then I guess we'll work out the details after lunch."

It hadn't been too long after that that he had discovered a lot of men were willing to "work out a trade" and all of them wanted the one thing that Castiel, or just Cas as he was beginning to think of himself, could provide. Castiel had been a righteous angel of god, Cas was just a prostitute.

A prostitute who was working his way through half the still healthy men in the Chicago area. One of his john's was a former detective with the Chicago PD and it was he who got Cas high on pot for the very first time. Pot soon heralded the way for cocaine and harder drugs. He found out that the dull haze of the drugs eased him into the "job." So it became a vicious cycle drugs to ease the pain of prostitution and then prostitution as a means of acquiring the drugs he craved to ease the pain of abandonment, of both his erstwhile family and the man he had given everything he had for in the beginning.

Things got bad after that. Mired in his solitude and misery, Cas almost didn't realized how badly things were falling apart. But from whispered snatches of conversation in the dark he gathered that the Croatoan virus had spread rapidly and pretty soon even the most rudimentary forms of government were all but wiped out. He went on surviving the best way he knew how, doing the only thing he could do.

A few days after the cop Cas had his first real brush with death. And his first up close and personal experience with the Croats as he had heard them called. He was riding with some nameless john, an older man… maybe sixty, with salt and pepper hair and bad breath. At least the guy never wanted to kiss him, it was the one thing Cas had held back from, the one thing he never did with all the nameless men he ended up with since Dean's departure.

They were huddled on the side of the road on top of two down-filled sleeping bags the guy had hastily tossed on the ground to protect their knees from the frost-bitten muddy ditch. Cas was all but dozing, hands and knees slowly going numb from the cold, while his current patron grunted behind him. His mind wandered to the long stretch of asphalt ahead of them and the even longer stretch behind. He barely felt the old guy's stuttering thrusts or heard the steady stream of profanities pouring from between his clenched teeth when a sudden noise from the underbrush about twenty feet to the right of the their position caught his attention.

A face appeared in the dimly lit clearing between trees, a bloodied vacant grimacing face. Something Castiel had seen one too many times since he had parted from the elder Winchester.

"Hey," Cas said roughly. The old guy ignored him in favor of quickening his pace. The shallow stuttering thrusts continued unabated as Castiel swung around trying to swat the man away from him. "Hey, they're coming."

"So am I," the old man growled slapping Castiel on the ass, "I paid for this and I'm getting' it."

"You're going to get us killed, you idiot."

Castiel finally managed to shake the older man off reaching down to jerk up his jeans. He punched the old guy in the face once to discourage him from clinging then charged to the truck grabbing his back-pack and heading up the road at a fast trot. The client managed to extricate himself from the tangle of sleeping bags screaming at Castiel, "Hey come back here you fuckin' whore. You already ate the food I gave you."

As Castiel glanced back over his shoulder the Croat had made its way across the rough, ice slicked terrain and jumped on the guy. There was a shriek that made the fallen angel hiss in anger as the first Croat was joined by half a dozen more. The old guy was screaming and as Castiel watched a cascade of blood shot out of his torn veins soaking into the mass of fabric at his feet. Swearing silently he briefly mourned the loss of the sleeping bags. They were well-filled and warm, worth a couple days of rations or some good dope.

The Croats finished their meal and turned toward the fallen angel sniffing experimentally at the air as if trying to scent him out, locate more food. There was a communal growl from the assembled mass and Castiel gaped.

"Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit," he stammered bolting for the center lane of the highway.

The mass of Croats shot into hot pursuit. Castiel ignored the impulse to look behind him concentrating on running on the smoothest portion of the road. He could hear the ragged panting of the creatures behind him but kept his eyes on the asphalt knowing that to trip now would be fatal. If he went down he wasn't getting up again, at least not alive, or more precisely not alive in any true sense of the word.

The pavement rose slightly under his feet and Castiel staggered for a moment. His heart climbed into his throat and he was sure that he was going to fall, but luck stayed with the fallen angel more than he thought it should. Gasping for breath Castiel scrabbled to the top of the hill and skidded to a halt staring down the barrel of the largest gun he had ever seen. Eyes widening Castiel felt his jaw drop.

Behind the gun was a tall, burley looking black man dressed in camouflage. He hissed, "Say something."

Castiel swallowed and the gun jerked in the soldier's hands. His smooth dark voice rumbled again, "Look …fucker…say something."

"What…what," Cas stuttered, "What do you want me to say?"

"Get down," the soldier grated hefting the gun. The sound of thunder ripped through Castiel's senses and he dropped to his knees, the irony of it not escaping him, as a slightly hysterical giggle bubbled on his lips. The soldier shot him a look like he thought the fallen angel might have lost his mind. Castiel wasn't sure he wasn't right.

A volley of gun blasts later and Castiel staggered to his feet glancing behind him for the first time. The Croats lay scattered across the highway like broken dolls. When he turned again the Marines, not soldiers…he was told bruskly, were casually packing their belongings into several armored personnel carriers. The big man who the fallen angel belated recognized as Staff-Sergeant Parker from his chevrons and name tag made a dismissive gesture in Castiel's direction, "You coming with us?"

A tall skinny guy with buck-teeth and red hair, appropriately enough called "Red" scurried up pushing a map at the sergeant's chest, "Staff-sergeant, the roadmap says the camp is in this direction. Still a few days travel off though."

The big man worried his lower lip with his teeth for the briefest of seconds, "Frito, how's the gas holdin' up?"

Lance-corporal Alfredo Ramirez, Brother Frito to one and all, the unit's medic and driver made a half-way gesture with one hand and Staff-sergeant Parker sighed, "All right boys and girls load 'em up. We're burnin' daylight."

Frito hummed to himself tunelessly before shoving the door to the APC open and making a rough impatient gesture at Castiel. The fallen angel quickly gathered his back-pack and climbed on board hugging his meager belongings to his chest to make himself as inconspicuous as possible.

The Marine driving stuck a hand out at Castiel, "Hey, I'm Frito."

"Yes, I know." Castiel said awkwardly. Finally after a moment he shook the Marine's hand then muttered, "Cas…I'm Cas."

"Cas, huh…the old guy hollering at you called you a whore. Are you really a pro or was he just pissed off?"

Chuckling Castiel sighed, "No, I'm pretty much a whore. Is that a problem? I can get out if that's a problem for you all."

"Not a problem for me." Frito smiled and went right back to humming to music that only he could hear. The fallen angel began to wonder if the Marines were as right in the mind as he was, which wasn't saying much.

The APC he was riding in was occupied by four Marines and two truck drivers they had picked up somewhere south of Boise. As they drove Castiel learned that they were traveling from Chicago to a small Boy Scout camp in South Dakota, near Sioux Falls. The fallen angel flinched remembering the last time he had been in Sioux Falls before Sam Winchester had made his lone trip to Detroit and Dean had fallen into his self loathing and self destructive behavior of hunting without remorse.

Castiel dozed head falling back against the seat as visions of the elder Winchester brother danced in his head.

Castiel rolled over in the bed. Dean was standing beside the window. Coughing the angel sat up. He was technically still an angel of that Castiel was certain. H could still feel the dull thrum of his almost depleted Grace humming just under his stolen skin. Stretching Castiel slipped out of the bed cold air raising goose bumps on his bare skin.

Stumbling to the window the angel slotted himself in behind the human skulking at the frosted glass. "Dean," Castiel hissed. The hunter shook off the falling angel's hand.

"He's out there, Cas. On his own. Why didn't I call him when I had a chance. Why'd I let it get this far?"

Castiel sighed folding his arms across his chest, "This isn't on you, Dean. It's not always up to you to set things right. Sam made his own choice."

Dean glare, "But he made it because he doesn't have faith in me. He doesn't believe that I can get the job done."

Now Castiel looked angry, "There is no job left Dean? Lucifer walks free. The angels are leaving. Every day I can feel them slipping away a little more. Soon I'll be all alone here. The last vestige of God's Grace on Earth, and a piss poor example at that."

Dean growled, "Then go! Get out while you've got the chance. It's all goin' bad here, Cas. Can't you feel it?"

"Go where? I have stood beside you since I raised you from perdition. I pledged myself to the Righteous Man. I fought hell and heaven for you. I'm not leaving you."

"Then you're a fool, Cas." Dean said shoving the smaller figure away. Castiel watched as Dean stalked across the room slamming to door open. He didn't move from the spot by the window. He'll be back the falling angel whispered to himself. This time he'll come back. It was a mantra and he prayed it every time. And it worked, each time Dean walked away. He came back a little while later. Because, for better or worse, Castiel was all Dean had now that Sam was gone. They were all each other had. It would be enough until it wasn't.

The fallen angel started awake when a hand fell on his shoulder. He found himself staring into the Staff-sergeant's face. The bigger man shot him an apologetic half-smile. "Sorry, we're takin' a dinner break. Come on out and stretch your legs. We still got a few miles to put in before we set camp for the night."

Tucking his back-pack under the seat Castiel climbed to his feet cracking is back as he stepped out of the vehicle. He followed the Marines and the two other men to a small clearing beside the road where a fire was burning. As he sat down a small packet was shoved into his hands and the fallen angel glanced down frowning. A tall, blonde girl dressed in the camouflage that identified her as one of the Marines shot him a crooked grin, "It's a MRE. Here I'll show you."

She ripped open the packet dumping the contents at Castiel's feet. With a flick of her wrist she pulled out the heating pack and shook it up. "Here…just pull this and the pack will heat it. Hey, you got lucky you got the chicken noodles. I mean everything in an MRE tastes like chicken at least yours really is."

Frito settled in besides the smaller man, "Oh cool, you got the skittles. Everybody loves the skittles."

Castiel picked up the brightly colored packet and offered it to the younger man. "I do not eat candy."

With a grin Frito winked, "A man of many principles and few vices, huh?"

Castiel shook his head, "No, I have very few principles left and many vices, but sugar isn't one of them. You take it."

The Marine accepted the packet of candy, "You're alright, dude."

Groaning Frito settled the remains of his near empty packet by the fire. The rest of the Marines tossed their trash on the pile before heading back to the vehicles. The Lance corporal tapped Castiel on the shoulder, "Come on, my back teeth are floating. I need a potty-buddy."

"What?" Castiel said scrunching his face up. The Marine laughed.

"Staff-sergeant says we go nowhere without someone to watch our backs. Not even to take a leak so come on. Taylor calls us 'potty-buddies'."

"Oh okay."

Slowly the former angel rose following the younger man to a secluded area. Castiel, himself, had only recently begun needing food on a regular basis, although he still ate less than most normal humans. He also found himself in need of relieving himself frequently as well. Tugging the zipper on his trousers open Castiel slid into a spot near enough to the other man to be an effective look-out but still far enough away to be able to piss himself.

They drove for a few hours until the sun had settled behind the slight rise of the hills and darkness descended over the road. Just ahead on the freeway was a small cluster of rough wood beam building. When the convoy pulled into the parking lot Castiel could see that the structure had been some kind of roadside restaurant and gift shop.

The group fell out of the vehicles pulling their packs out. Parker sent his Marines around the building telling the three civilians to stay put in the APC until the area was secured.

But the surveillance was unnecessary since the buildings were long abandoned and completely empty. There were traces of blood on the walls and floors among some scraps of fabric that might have once been clothing, but the bodies were long gone. Either consumed or dragged away. The air was stale, a little tainted by the scent of decomposition but mostly clean.

They swept through the building checking every corner and closet making sure that no Croats were present, but the building was stark empty and completely silent. Once they had secured the doors and windows they set out checking the facilities.

The tall blonde, who Castiel had learned was Taylor, went through the kitchen checking the lights and water. She turned shouting out to the Staff sergeant, "Water and Gas are still on but no electricity."

One of the truck drivers, a younger man with improbably large mutton-chop sideburns grinned as he scoured the cash register prying open the doors beneath the counter. Carefully he pulled out plastic wrapped packages, "Hey score," he said excitedly. Bundles of sweatshirts and pants and packets of tee-shirts spilled out. "Look at all this stuff, clean clothes folks!"

Several of the others pulled large soup pans from the cabinet filling them water and putting them on the stoves to heat, "Yeah," Frito exclaimed, "And hot bath water."

After they had washed and eaten a late meal the Marines set watches. Castiel told the Staff-sergeant that he could stand watch as well, but he was turned down. He settled into his borrowed sleeping bag and drifted off.

Sometime during the night the fallen angel was awaken by a hand settling heavily over his mouth. He grunted struggling when he was pinned by a heavier body. The hand clamped over his mouth didn't move but the figure's other hand wandered down his body settling on Castiel's groin. He jerked trying to throw off the body on top of him finally biting the hand over his mouth.

The figure uttered a string of curses and slapped at him, but Castiel scrambled away. There was a rumbling and he finally recognized the voice as belonging to the older of the two truck drivers traveling with the group, "Damn you, you bit me you fuckin' whore."

"Well," a deep voice rumbled, "what do you expect? Since you tried to rape him."

"You can't rape a whore. It's what he's good for."

Parker hauled the other man off Castiel throwing in a few good punches to the side of the head with his free hand as he did. With a dismissive gesture he tossed the trucker aside like so much garbage and knelt down beside the fallen angel.

"You okay?" he asked kindly. Shaking his head in the affirmative Castiel straightened his clothes then began to settle down again. Parker stopped him motioning Castiel to his feet,
"Come on over here by me. It's getting cold anyhow. We all can double up."

It took them three weeks to make the trip to Camp Chiquita, near Sioux Falls. By the time that they small convoy rolled into the gateway of the camp under the watchful eyes of the guards Castiel was sitting behind the wheel of the small APC. He wasn't the world's best driver but he managed. He had a good grip on the steering wheel and kept mostly in the road.

He had also been sleeping with Staff-sergeant Parker since the night that the truck driver had tried to rape Castiel. The Marine was very open about their developing relationship, remarkably so considering he had been a military man. And the others in the small group didn't really seem to care either way. So Castiel had taken this small bit of good luck, grateful for it while it lasted, and deep inside stifled the resentment he felt towards Dean Winchester for the abandonment, wondering… although admittedly briefly, if he'd ever see the man again. And somewhere in the back of the fallen angel's mind he waited for this too to get shot to hell. As it turns out he didn't have long to wait.

The last of the three APCs pulled into the compound and the Marines plus their civilian passengers fell out. A group of curious bystanders immediately began gathering around the small convoy chattering excitedly as the Marines began unloading the boxes of MREs and other supplies they had gathered on the trip.

A small mousy looking man emerged from the crowd and Castiel turned at the sound of voice eyes widening, "Chuck?" he gasped.

The erstwhile prophet scrambled around the vehicle throwing his arms around the angel, "Cas!"

Chuck leaned back surveying the angel, "You look like shit. Tough trip?"

"Yeah," Castiel said sighing, "What are you doing here, Chuck?" He leaned back a frown flitting across his face. If the prophet was here who else from his grim past did Castiel have to worry about stumbling across? Certainly not him.

"I came to Sioux Falls with a bunch of survivors from Detroit. I remembered Bobby Singer had a place near here. We all camped out at his place until we picked up stakes and moved here. After the last Croat attacks."

Castiel perked up, "Bobby is here? Does he know anything about…" the fallen angel drew a deep ragged breath closing his eyes. "Does he know anything about the Winchesters?"

"Bobby's not here. I mean he's dead." Chuck said quietly. "He went back for some of his books after we cleared the place. At least we thought we'd cleared out the place. He should'a never went back alone. We all told him…but, well… you know Bobby."

"Yes, I remember. So you've heard nothing of Sam…or…" Castiel's voice faltered as he caught sight of a figure moving through the crowd. Closing his eyes the fallen angel let out a breathy sigh, "Dean."

Dean looked up mouth hanging open slightly before he glared at the other man. Grasping Castiel's elbow the elder Winchester brother tugged the fallen angel away from the crowd. The tall, black man in the back shot Dean a look that would have frosted an active volcano, but he kept quiet. His eyes never left Castiel's face. Looking for even the slightest indication that the smaller man wanted Dean stomped hard. Dean swallowed; he'd been on low rations lately and the other man could probably kick his ass right now. But Castiel just shrugged Dean's hand s off following him a short way to the side of the vehicles.

"I see you managed to land on your feet." Dean said with a sneer. Castiel glared at him.

"No thanks to you. You just left me Dean."

"Well, pardon my ass. You were some all powerful Angel of the Lord. I didn't think you needed me to hold your hand."

"Oh cut the bullshit, Dean. You knew I wasn't all powerful…you just didn't give a damn. You heard some little sniffle from Sam in your head and ran after him. You didn't give a good god damn about me anymore. Not since my grace was slowly dwindling and I was less than useful to you."

Dean frowned raising a hand and for one minute Castiel was certain that the other man was going to strike him. But Dean just raked his fingers through his hair, "Well, boo hoo. I had an apocalypse to stop."

"You had a brother to find. Did you find him, Dean? Did you find Sam?" Jerking around Castiel motioned to the crowd gathered in the center of the half-tumbled down camp buildings. "Since I don't see Saint Sammy here, you must have not gotten there first. I'd say Lucifer must be wearing dear Sammy…"

"Shut up you little wingless prick," Dean snarled and then he did slap Castiel with the flat of his hand. The sound cracked loudly in the still air, but not so loudly it drew the ire or the attention of the Marines. The crowds around them continued unloading all the supplies and chatting animatedly.

Castiel staggered back hand climbing to his face fingertips brushing over the scarlet mark gradually darkening into a bruise. Dean swallowed hard, "You don't look like you suffered any. You and your shiny new boyfriend, GI Joe, over there."

Castiel scoffed, "They're Marines not soldiers. GI Joe was a soldier…"

"You know damn well what I mean."

"Oh that's rich Dean. You're a big one to talk about fidelity. How many nights has your bed been empty since you abandoned me?"

Flushing Dean scowled, "I thought you were…dead."

Castiel laughed drily, "But you didn't bother too hard to try to find out did you? David was there for me. I drove into the compound because he taught me to drive. I can fire a gun because he taught me how to do it. I survived being attacked by Croats because he killed them."

Dean flinched but the fallen angel pressed forward grabbing the slightly taller man by the front of his shirt and shaking him. Tears slipped from Castiel's eyes and his lips trembled, "It should have been you, Dean. It should have been you!"

The sound of footsteps caught both men's attention and Dean turned. The big Marine was staring a hole through his head and Dean was sure that if looks could maim he would be a cripple. The Staff-sergeant moved forward catching Castiel gently by the arm, "Cas, are you okay, honey?"

Castiel nodded turning loose of Dean's shirt, "Yes, David. I'm fine."

Parker cocked his head raising an arm as Dean casually tried to catch the fallen angel by the shoulder. The Marine intercepted him, "I know your name Winchester. I've heard all about you."

Thrusting his chest out Dean nodded, "Oh yeah…is that so?"

Smiling Parker pushed past the elder Winchester, "Yeah…Castiel talks in his sleep."

Dean snarled after him but the bigger man didn't turn around.

The Marines and their small group integrated into the camp easily. And it was helpful to Dean to have others who were familiar with weapons and not afraid to use them. He kept his distance from the fallen angel and his friends, but a thin vein of anger began welling up inside him.

Castiel had no right to ignore Dean. They had started together, Castiel had been his first. Dean had taken the angel's virginity back when he was still an all powerful being who could smite you as soon as look at you. This fragile shadow of the once great and powerful supernatural creature was needy and clingy. And Dean should be the one Castiel needed.

The next morning Dean was standing at the gates talking to Chuck. The washed-up prophet had actually turned out to be a decent inventory control guy. But he was constantly nagging Dean about various supplies much to Dean's aggravation. Chuck shifted waving several dirty sheets of paper in the younger man's face, but Dean was ignoring him in favor of staring at the door of one of the run down cabins that had been assigned to the new arrivals.

The Staff-sergeant appeared at the open doorway stretching and yawning. In a few minutes Castiel appeared after him smiling up at the taller man. Parker glanced over at the Dean and the former prophet before slinging a more than companionable arm around the fallen angel's shoulders and ambling toward the dining hall for breakfast.

Dean felt his stomach clenching in anger. The sight of Castiel with anyone else just didn't sit right with him, even if Dean had left the former angel alone when he headed out in Detroit to find what was left of Sammy. It sure seemed as if Cas hadn't taken long to land on his feet, or more like his back since he was whoring around as soon as Dean was out of his sight, and that pissed the former hunter of royally.

But that was okay because now Dean had a purpose, tracking down Lucifer, and he had Cas back in his life, even if Castiel wasn't strictly Dean's any more. He soon would be. If anything could be said about Dean Winchester, post apocalypse, it was he was a man who could get things done. He had this camp to prove that, and he had a plan for getting his angel back as well.

Chuck shifted nervously glancing over his shoulder, "Dean…did you hear me? We need to make a supply run into the nearest city and go through the drug stores. We're running low on antibiotics and first aid supplies."

Shrugging Chuck's hand off his shoulder Dean sauntered over to where the Marine and Castiel were standing, "Uhh…hey, Sergeant…"

"Staff-sergeant," the big man said with a forced grin. Dean cocked an eyebrow then the Marine relaxed, "I guess just Parker now or maybe David."

"Right," Dean said. "Parker, I'm taking a few men into town for supplies and we could use a good man with weapons training. Do you think you and some of your folks are up to a run in with a few mindless zombies?"

"Whatever you're up for Winchester," Parker said with a stiff smile. Waving the group of former Marines over he motioned to Dean. "We're going with the guys into town to get supplies."

The APC rounded a corner at the intersection of the burned out downtown area of Sioux Falls. Dean was sitting in the shot-gun seat with a map laid across his thighs. Parker was driving keeping a close eye on the sides of the street for Croats.

Dean set the map aside picking up the .45 in the seat beside him. The street outside the vehicles was clear, quiet, but the Croats had a habit of traveling randomly around the city in small packs like wild animals.

They had been making regular supply runs into the burnt out areas of the city because the majority of the stores where also located there. Unfortunately, the Croats seemed to maintain some higher brain function and figured out that those areas were the best place to look for fresh meat.

Sliding out of the APC Dean motioned the small group of scavengers closer, "Keep your voices down, they seem to be drawn by noise. And don't shoot unless you absolutely have to. This is the largest Walgreens in the area and we've picked over most of the smaller stores. We need to be quick in and quick out. The biggest bitch is getting into the pharmacy for the drugs; usually everything is locked up tight."

The glass crunched under his feet as Dean climbed through the broken out plate-glass window that once made up the front of the store. Parker edged into the room behind him then turned waving his few troops to fan out around the side of the building. The survivors began a slow methodical sweep of the drug store.

Motioning to the rear of the building Dean gestured for the former Marine to follow him. The two men made their way through the aisles slowly sweeping their guns in front of them as they went. Dean searched through the shelves reading the names of drugs they needed from a list that Chuck has shoved into his hands. Carefully he began loading the few bottles he could find into a canvas sack.

Parker hustled around the shelves picking through the remaining products and Dean grit his teeth when he saw the bigger man shoving boxes of condoms into his pack as well as cartons of tampons and toilet paper.

Once the bags were filled Dean slipped through the room toward the rear door. He could hear a shuffling sound on the other side and pulled back. Chances are there were a few Croats in the alleyway behind the building. Probably from the shattered remains of the hotel across the parking lot. Of course it could be a few of their own people as well.

Clearing his throat Dean leaned against the door, "Hey, who's out there?' he hissed as quietly as possible so as to not draw the other man's attention too quickly. Parker frowned but continued his scavenging off the shelves.

The shuffling sound paused then became the dull thrum of heavy footsteps on the sidewalk. Dean smiled; the sound was too unfocused, too shambling, to be anything other than Croats. Quickly he flicked the lock on the back door and jumped back into the small pharmacy aisle.

"Hey, Parker!" Dean gasped as the bloodied faces of the Croats appeared at the door, "We've got company!"

The other man swore under his breath leaping across the aisle leveling his gun. The first shot rang out ricocheting off the stone wall. Dean ducked as the shell casing whined in the air. Turning he threw the bigger man a look. Parker shrugged grinning. Suddenly Dean whirled foot coming up to catch the former Marine in the stomach. Parker's eyes widened as he jerked around stumbling into the mass of infected living zombies.

The Croats caught the man by the arms dragging him down. Dean cursed as one of the Croats broke away from the group coming toward him. Jerking the .45 up he fired, catching the zombie in the chest. Blood sprayed across the wall.

There was a sudden flurry of movement and the room was filled with the other survivors from the camp. Dean took another shot hitting a Croat in the neck and the zombie-like Croat staggered back collapsing across the body of the Staff-sergeant.

One by one the Croats went down in a hail of gunfire. When the Croats had all been taken care of Dean eased forward thrusting a foot gently against Parker's shoulder. The Staff-sergeant's body flopped unceremoniously over unmoving, eyes staring blankly at the ceiling.

One of the other Marines knelt, looking up, he shook his head, "He's gone. Grab the stuff. We've got to get out of here before any more of them show up."

Chuck was waiting in the central quad of the camp when the trucks came through the gate. He and several others came up eagerly unloading all the boxes and bags as Dean looked over at the cabin Castiel was staying in. The fallen angel appeared at the door frowning as he surveyed the group of people milling around the vehicles. Chuck glances over at Castiel as if just realizing that the person that he was waiting for was not with the group. Glancing up at Dean the former prophet made a vague gesture in the direction of the cabin, "Uhh…Dean where's the guy?"

"The guy? You mean the Marine…uh… Parker?" Dean snapped. Chuck pulled back not certain if Dean was annoyed at the fact that he had lost a man or merely annoyed at the reminder that the man had once existed. Taking a deep breath he smiled and Dean relaxed, "He didn't make it."

Now Chuck frowned opening his mouth, but Dean cut him off. "You guys unload this crap. I gotta talk to Cas."

Castiel watched with hooded eyes are Dean stalked across the compound. The fallen angel stepped back as Dean motioned him into the cabin. Taking a deep breath Castiel turned on the elder Winchester mouth drawn into a thin, tight line. "Where is he?"

"Gee, Cas it's so nice to see you,too." Dean snarled grabbing the fallen angel by the wrist. "No words of gratitude that we made it back at all."

Jerking his arm from Dean's grasp Castiel turned on him, "What did you do?"

Dean sneered, "What makes you think I did anything? He died, okay? It's not the first time…"

With a half strangled shout Castiel launched himself at the other man hands coming up. He managed to get one good punch in before Dean caught him wrapping his arms around Castiel's waist holding his hands down to his sides. Castiel coughed, tears coursing down his cheeks.

"Did you just let him die or did you kill him?"

"What the hell, Cas. It happens…every time we go out. You know that it can happen to any of us. You think I'd kill a man just because he had you. That I'd what you so bad I'd kill for it?"

Castiel shuddered, sobbing then shook his head, "You left me Dean. You just left me. What was I supposed to do?"

Dean leaned forward stroking a hand down Castiel's cheek, wiping the tears away with a thumb, "It's okay, baby. It's okay…You've got me now. It'll be just like it was before. You and me together, just like before."

Leaning forward Dean slid his fingers under Castiel's chin, lifting his head. Cas jerked back trying to get away, but Dean gripped his chin tightly. Bringing his hands up Castiel pushed against Dean's chest, but the bigger man just pulled him in tighter against his body. Castiel gasped as Dean's hand traveled down his cheek to his neck, clenching in the short hair at his nape. "No, Dean…don't."

"Its okay, Cas. Just let me." Dean twisted his fingers tugging the silky strands of hair at the back of Castiel's head, forcing their lips together. Castiel tried to struggle but Dean was stronger forcing his mouth down on the smaller man's plush lips.

"Dean," Castiel said gasping, and Dean drove back in thrusting his tongue into the other man's mouth. "No! Don't. I don't want this."

"Sure you do," Dean hissed slipping his hand between Castiel's legs, squeezing his limp cock. "I need you. I missed you, Cas. I always missed you. You want it to be just like it was before, don't you?"

Castiel shifted trying to move away but Dean held him fast. "Dean, let go…you're hurting me."

Moving slowly Dean pushed Castiel back to the bed sitting in the middle of the far wall. The edge of the bed hit the smaller man in the mid leg and he fell sprawling across the mattress. Dean followed him down, pressing against his body. Castiel shook his head, tears slipping from beneath his closed lids, "Please don't."

"Hush," Dean hissed tugging at the thin tee-shirt Castiel was wearing, "Don't worry, Cas. It'll be alright. Everything is gonna be just like it was before."

Quickly Dean reached down loosening the button on Castiel's jeans then his own. Castiel frowned pushing at Dean's hand, "No!" he snarled. Dean wrapped a hand around Castiel's neck pressing down and the fallen angel choked, kicking out he tried to roll away and ended up sprawled on his stomach on the bed with Dean straddling his hips.

Grasping the smaller man by the neck Dean managed to jerk his pants down then tug Castiel's jeans over his hips; the other man unwittingly aiding Dean in undressing him by struggling to crawl away. Rising up Dean got a knee in the middle of Castiel's back reaching around him to the bedside table for a bottle of cheap cooking oil that he assumed the angel and his now deceased boyfriend had been using as lube.

Pouring a splash of oil on the small of Castiel's back Dean raked his finger through the slippery stuff then pressed two fingers into the angel. Castiel growled trying to buck Dean off but he was hampered by the heavy fabric of his jeans twisted around his thighs.

Dean slicked his hand over his cock and pressed forward.

Castiel howled in pain and fury when Dean thrust inside him. Panting Dean rode the bucking body using his taller frame and heavier weight to the fullest advantage. He thrust in deeper pressing Castiel's face into the blankets to muffle the cursing and shouting. Finally he came with a hoarse shout rolling off the fallen angel. Castiel tried to scramble away but Dean caught him by the arm. Tugging the other man close he lay panting. When Castiel made no further attempt to escape Dean leaned over the edge of the bed pulling his jeans up enough to reach a pocket.

"Here, Chuck found this on the seat of the APC. I was gonna toss it but I figure if you need this shit, and it's none of my business."

Tossing the baggie on the bed Dean lay back staring at the ceiling. Castiel rolled over winching and Dean grinned, "Just like old times eh, Cas. Well, except for the pot. You were pretty big on booze though."

"Are you done, Dean?" Castiel asked reaching into the bag for one of the already rolled joints and a lighter. Dean grimaced as the former angel lit the joint and took a deep breath. Smiling he stroked Castiel's cheek.

"For now." Rolling onto one elbow Dean sighed then rose from the bed, "Come on get yourself straightened out. Chuck said lunch was done, and we need to put some weight on your bony ass."

The jeep pulled into the central area of the compound and the driver got out. Dean shook himself out of his light doze crawling across the seat and slipping quietly out the passenger side door. Behind him the new arrivals were spilling out of the various vehicles the camp scavengers had been using to comb through yet another section of the old city.

One of the girls, Risa Dean recalled, shot him a come hither smile but he shrugged it off. He had other things to attend too before he could unwind for the evening. And picking up a random broad wasn't high on his 'to do' list for the night, but he kept an eye on her watching as she sashayed over to where Chuck was standing. Maybe a little up close and personal time with the group's de facto leader was warranted, later after he had taken care of Castiel. But right now if he wanted a warm body to snuggle up to he had one, well sort of.

He and Cas had reached a sort of uneasy alliance. Castiel was reasonably quiet and cooperative when Dean fucked him, as long as Dean didn't forget what the fallen angel called his little 'party favors.'

Climbing the stairs to the cabin Dean and Cas shared the elder Winchester shoved the beaded curtains over ducking inside, "Hey Lucy…I'm home."

Castiel unwound himself from his position seated on the floor and walked over to Dean shooting him a tentative look. Dean frowned holding up his arms, and the fallen angel dutifully walked into them letting Dean gather him up.

Dean stretched a hand down cupping Cas' lax genitals, "So daddy's boy is not happy to see me?"

Castiel glared, "Just cut the crap, Dean. Did you find it?"

Dean sniffed, "Maybe…maybe not. Show me how much you love me."

Dropping to his knees Castiel flipped the button on the other man's jeans then ease down the zipper. Creeping forward on his knees the former angel slipped his fingers into the open fly of Dean's jeans pulling his cock out. Dean didn't miss just how much Castiel's hands were shaking, but he kept his hand tucked into the pocket of his trousers, fingers wrapped around a yellowing plastic baggie. Dean also didn't miss just how much Castiel perked up when he heard the crinkling of the plastic deep in Dean's pocket.

Licking his lips Castiel leaned forward dragging his tongue the length of Dean's erection, pausing to lick around the crown before swallowing the other man down. Dean grunted appreciatively at Cas' efforts swaying on his feet as the former angel applied all his months of hard learned lessons as a whore to the task at hand. Finally, Dean grasped Cas' head in his hands holding him still as he thrust shallowly before ramming his cock as hard down Castiel's throat as he could. Gagging and retching Castiel swallowed as much as he could before the rest of Dean's come dribbled out of his mouth and down his chin.

Grinning Dean stepped back adjusting his clothes then fishing the plastic baggie out of his pocket. He tossed it at the former angel like a man would toss scraps to a dog. But Castiel barely noticed. Quickly he flattened the baggie out frowning, "There's not much here."

Dean grunted dropping into a chair, "Maybe if you weren't such a pothead it would last longer."

"Maybe if you weren't such a bastard I wouldn't smoke so much."

Leaning forward Dean grabbed the smaller man by the scruff of his neck shaking him, "You know Cas maybe if you were still worth something, I mean, besides the obvious. I get so sick and tired of your whining when you can't even help out. I may be a bastard but I'm all you got since your kin bugged out on us and left you useless."

With a moue of distaste Dean slapped the former angel hard. Castiel whined at the blow wriggling around to avoid the backhand slap that usually accompanied it. Dean let him go without making much of an effort to connect and Castiel shuddered drawing in on himself before finally scrabbling one of the joints out of the bag. Settling back against the chair he barely flinched when Dean's hand fell on his shoulder, "Oh well, smoke 'em if you got 'em, huh Cas."

The former angel didn't deign to answer and Dean shrugged, "I guess you missed that one. You never were too quick on the uptake. And now look at you…helpless, hapless."

Chuckling Dean watched as Cas took a deep breath closing his eyes as the pot took effect. A thin stream of smoke circled the former angel's head like a halo and Dean chuckled again. Drawing a breath he coughed at the acrid scent of the smoke, "God I love the smell of napalm in the morning."

The End