They were in...it didn't even matter where they were because, quite frankly, Castiel had more important things to fill his brain with than the name of some backwater stink-hole of a town he was stuck in this week with the two overgrown, codependent children that were his companions. And as far as he was concerned right now, if you've seen one small town, you've seen them all and while Castiel was usually one to stop and smell the flowers so to say – he always enjoyed taking the time to appreciate the beauty of all his father's creations - there was no beauty that he could see in the peeling paper or the mould spot in the corner of the ceiling or the likely unwashed bed that was so hard he felt like he was lying directly on planks of wood.
The angel forced himself to haul a breath through his nose, it took a great deal of effort to rip his train of thought from it's depressing trajectory and redirect it, and close his eyes.
Just as he brought his breathing, and his annoyance, under control, the very source of his disgruntled thoughts barged loudly through the door like the moose he always accused his brother of being.
"Hey, Cas...you sleeping?" The hunter asked, a curious twist to his mouth as he blindly dumped the two plastic bags of food on the table.
The question caused Sam to halt in the doorway and throw him a strange look as well, a white plastic bag swinging in his hand.
Cas resisted the urge to roll his eyes, barely, and sat up. "Of course I'm not sleeping." It was a bit snappy even to his ears and he forced his voice to come out more gently, "Angels don't-"
"-require sleep." Dean finished for him, his tone flat and a little mocking.
"Or food." Sam added, his tone mimicking his brother's.
"We know." They coursed together while sharing a smirk.
Only then did it occur to Castiel that they were making fun of him somehow and his annoyance returned. "Then why did you ask me if I was sleeping when you already knew the answer?"
The brothers shared another look and Sam started digging through their bags of disgusting smelling take out food while the elder of the two pulled three beers from the fridge, but both of them remained infuriatingly silent.
He watched them through narrowed eyes. Sam's large hands enveloped the small cardboard containers, already stained through in spots with grease, like they were doll toys, opening the lids to briefly check what was inside and then separating them in to his and Dean's. Meanwhile, the other hunter was over at the counter, grumbling and cursing as he tried to work the shitty motel bottle opener he'd found in one of the drawers, pausing every now and then to scratch flakes of rust off the instrument.
He tore his eyes away from both of them, unreasonably and irrationally irritated by the small sounds of their movements; but as soon as he removed the distraction of their presence and noises, he suddenly became aware of just how hot and oppressive the air in the room was and he pushed a desperate sigh past his lips, stripping off his trench coat.
It seemed as if it was not one thing bothering him it was another and he smothered a growl in his throat before it passed his lips, thinking of how he'd never been bothered by such human inconveniences before he met Dean.
Dean.
He tugged at his tie, feeling like the warm air was struggling to get past his constricted throat.
"Cas?"
The strip of blue silk slipped from his fingers, where it coiled on top of the coat on the dirty floor, and he expanded his lungs, wondering why his head felt so fuzzy. Absently, he let his face fall into his hands and gripped at his hair tightly, trying to focus on the sting of it rather than the heaviness of the air that was refusing to enter his lungs.
"Cas...hey."
He felt Dean's strong hand squeezing his shoulder and the feel of it through his thin shirt was like sandpaper on his skin and he jerked away from the touch.
The hunter pulled his hand back hastily with a shocked look, like Cas had slapped him, before his face crumpled into a frown of confusion and worry.
"You ok?" He asked after a second.
"I'm fine!" This time he didn't bother to keep the harshness from his voice and out of the corner of his eye he saw the brothers share a look and Sam shrugged. He immediately felt bad and decided to attempt to elaborate, even if he had to strain his words through clenched teeth. "It is very warm in here and I...feel like I can't breath."
He had hoped the admission of it would someone boost his muddled mind into realizing that what he was feeling shouldn't actually be possible, but acknowledging it out loud only seemed to allow the deception of the human sensations to root themselves more firmly within the perception of his surroundings.
Speaking of which, was the room getting smaller or was it just him?
"Well, why don't we just step outside for a minute, huh? You probably just need some air." Sam suggested. "You're not really used to being cooped up in the car and small motel rooms for so long."
"Yeah, come one." Dean agreed, gesturing for the angel to follow him out the door and into the sun drenched parking lot.
How ironic it was that Dean was trying to help him feel better when Dean was the very source of his predicament in the first place. Or at least Cas was fairly sure he was; to be fair, he'd been stubbornly ignoring the logical part of his brain that was telling him he should probably look into these things he'd been feeling but, to be quite honest, he was a little apprehensive of what he might find should he go poking around in such dangerous places.
Once they were outside, the sun beat down on him but the gentle breeze blowing past was enough to leave his skin feeling cool and the air seemed to get past his constricted throat a little easier out here in the openness of the parking lot.
"So you wanna tell me what's got your feathers in a knot?" Dean asked after a few blissful seconds of silence had gone by.
He tried not to scowl. "No."
The stunned silence lightened his mood a little, enjoying the small victory of getting Dean Winchester to shut his beautiful mouth for a few seconds.
He blinked, realizing what he'd just thought. Dammit.
"But there is something bothering you." Confirmed the hunter.
He refused to answer, instead spotting a fat little bee struggling to collect pollen from a dandelion. The thin stem had given out under the weight of the insect and the bee was now trying to cling upside down on the head of the flower but his back end kept slipping and he dangled there, indignation rolling off him in waves to the point where Cas couldn't help the small twitch of his lips.
He took the few steps over to the small flower and crouched down. He hovered his hand over the plant and closed his eyes, channelling his grace into the tiny flower and mending the weak fibres in the stem and strengthening them until they could support the weight of ten bees, should such an occasion arise.
When he straightened, the bee had already finished gathering the pollen and hovered around his ankles curiously before flying away.
With the fuzzy creature's departure went Castiel's distraction and he was once again forced to acknowledge the tight feeling in his chest. So, steeling himself, he turned back to face Dean and was a little surprised by the intensely concerned look on the hunter's face.
"What's wrong?" He took a few steps closer to the man.
"You, uh..." Dean cleared his throat and seemed unsure of what to do with his hands. "You watching the bees again?"
If Dean hadn't looked so apprehensive of his answer, Castiel might have laughed. As it was, he felt the corner of his mouth pull up with mild amusement.
"I'm not going crazy, Dean."
Strangely, his words seemed to do little to ease the hunter's tense posture and he merely licked his lips and shoved his hands in his pockets.
"It's just...you've been acting kind of weird lately." A nervous laugh wobbled past his full lips. "I guess, what I'm trying to say is you can, you know...talk to me. If you need to." He roughly cleared his throat. "Might help."
Some of the tightness in his chest eased back as he watched Dean shuffled his feet and bite his lip nervously and bless his soul, he was trying to help, so he decided to indulge him. After all, it was the least he could do, since he'd likely been terrible company the last couple weeks – he doubted being stuck in a car for hours on end with a surly angel was the brothers' idea of a good time – and perhaps it would make him feel better.
He decided to start with an apology, "I'm sorry. I know I haven't been good company lately, despite my efforts to...control it." He grimaced, realizing it was going to be difficult to talk about what was bothering him without letting something important slip.
"Control what?"
He suddenly regretted admitting there was a problem at all and the annoyance was back. "I've been struggling with..." The words died on his tongue but he tried again to come up with something that made sense. "...human emotions."
He blinked. Well that hadn't been too difficult to say. Perhaps he was over thinking things again.
"Ok..." Dean drug out the word, looking a little less tense. "Like what kinds of emotions?"
"All of them!"
Cas blinked, startled by the volume of his own voice. He hadn't intended to shout and anger coiled in his stomach. "You see! I didn't mean to do that!" Dean looked mildly uneasy, a hand held up before him as if he thought the angel might suddenly lunge at him, and for some reason this only served to make him feel angrier. "I shouldn't be feeling these things, Dean! I am an angel. I am a soldier. We are not programmed to feel emotions-"
The hunter's strong hands were suddenly on his shoulders and squeezing tight, "Cas, breathe, man."
Castiel wanted to say that Dean touching him pretty much made breathing impossible for a few seconds but ruthlessly tore the very thought itself to shreds, letting his anger with himself burn through him and purge his body of any other feeling. Anger was familiar; anger he could deal with. He knew anger.
He pushed Dean's hands off his shoulders and snarled. "I don't need to do that either!"
The hunter took a few steps back and pulled his bottom lip between his teeth. "You're really starting to freak me out, ok, just...just calm down."
Calm down. That was easy for him to say. "You've been dealing with emotions for your entire life, Dean, I've only known what it means to feel like this for three months – I don't know how to calm down!" The anger was ebbing away and in it's place something else was clawing it's way to the surface, something cold and dark. "I...this isn't right...I shouldn't be able to..."
"Cas, stop." Dean's hands were on his shoulders again. "Look at me."
He did, raising his eyes from the ground to stare into Dean's ridiculously green ones. He had that look of determination on his face, any unease in the face of Castiel's outburst vanished.
"You've gotta stop thinking of yourself as a number, man. You should know more than anyone that nothing is written in stone."
Dean's fingers dug into his shoulders and Cas was grateful for the slight pain it caused. He focused on it, let everything else go, and tried to pay attention to what the hunter was saying.
"There's nothing wrong with...feeling."
The absurdity of hearing that sentence come from Dean Winchester's mouth had Cas pursing his lips to keep from grinning, the sudden amusement mixing strangely with the lingering coldness of whatever had been clawing it's way up his throat a moment ago.
"Shut up." Dean grumbled, fingers loosening and sliding off his shoulders. "All I'm saying is that just because one of your dick brothers told you angels aren't made to feel emotions doesn't mean it can't happen. You're an individual, Cas, not some robot with a product number stamped on his ass." He scratched the back of his head, "Not to mention you've been spending a lot of time with me and Sam. Maybe we're rubbing off on you."
Castiel merely stared at him, feeling surprisingly more balanced and incredibly glad that whatever had been clawing it's way up his throat seemed to have gone away.
"So you don't feel any different physically, right?" Dean suddenly asked.
Heat flared in his face and he blinked rapidly, caught off guard and unsure of what to say. That cold feeling was back, sweeping through his gut like icy water and for a brief moment Castiel began to worry that somehow Dean knew.
"How do you mean?" He stammered.
The hunter looked confused, "Like are your batteries drained or anything?"
Relief flooded through him and he released the breath he'd been holding. "No. No my grace is strong."
Suddenly Dean grinned and clapped him on the arm, "See? People change. They grow. There's nothing wrong with you."
With no evidence to disprove what Dean was saying, Castiel made the decision to believe he was right. Until something else came along to prove him wrong, that is. Still, knowing there might not be anything wrong with him, other than the absurd amount of time he'd been spending with the brothers, only eased his discomfort a little. He was still left with the daunting task of identifying these new feelings and dealing with them so that they didn't cause him any problems.
If someone as emotionally stunted as Dean could deal with it then Castiel certainly could learn.
"It is just overwhelming." He tried to explain. "They come out of nowhere and sometimes they are very...intense."
Dean spotted a picnic table sitting under the shade of a tree on the tiny amount of grass beside the motel and motioned for Cas to follow. They sat down and Castiel was momentarily distracted by another bee as it landed on the weathered wood of the table and ambled towards him.
He smiled, putting out his finger for it to crawl on to and then lifted it closer to his face to watch it's antennas twitch curiously.
"Cas." The hunter's deadpan voice made him look up.
"I'm listening." He focused back on the bee and smirked when he heard Dean sigh with mild annoyance.
"Fine. I want you to give me an example of something you feel that you don't understand and I'll try and explain it a little better for you."
He floundered for a moment, the bee forgotten as it clambered over his knuckles. How was he meant to separate one emotion from the other? Often he felt like he was at the centre of a giant melting pot and everything was mixing together. There was no way he'd be able to isolate just one feeling.
The turmoil must have shown on his face for Dean rephrased the question.
"Ok, tell me what your body was doing. Like when you're nervous people say it feels like there are butterflies in your chest or if you're sad you might feel really tired or even sick." The hunter explained patiently.
"I feel cold sometimes." Castiel said at once, understanding now what Dean was asking him to try and explain, and he thought first of that disconcerting chill that had swept through him only a few moments ago. "Inside. Like I've swallowed ice." He grimaced, feeling the ghost of the very sensation he was describing. "But then it gets worse and it feels like claws in my throat and I can't breath."
Dean was nodding, hands clasped before him on the table. "Ok. So does that sort of feeling usually only happen when your thinking about shitty stuff?" He asked.
He thought back to the few times he's felt that terrible sensation and realized that Dean was right.
"Yes." He said with a frown.
"That's anxiety." Dean's mouth was half twisted in a sympathetic grin. "It's probably one of the shittiest feelings there is. Sometimes it goes away really quickly, other times it sticks around for fucking ever. Sometimes there's a reason for it and sometimes it just pops up out of the blue." He shifted in his sheet and looked down at his hands, "In our line of work it's something you get used to."
"I don't like it." Castiel mumbled at once.
"No one likes it." Countered Dean immediately
When Cas looked back up he was smirking and realized Dean was quoting what they'd said to each other when they'd met the cupid and he smiled.
The sun was beginning to sink towards the tree tops and the sky was turning orange as the day came to an end. The shift in temperature was subtle but Castiel could feel it plainly and could see the bees flying sluggishly from flower to flower now.
A small child on the other side of the parking lot shrieked loudly as her brother chased her around their parents' car and around the corner of the building out of sight.
A stray cat caught his eye and he smiled. He liked cats. This one was orange with golden eyes and a nick in his ear from a fight. He sniffed curiously at the large bins by the curb but moved on quickly, either deeming it a lost cause or just not hungry enough to dig for scraps, and disappeared into a patch of long grass off the side of the road.
When he looked back to Dean, he was surprised to find the man already staring at him, one corner of his mouth twisted up slightly and his green eyes softer looking then he'd seen them in a long time. He remained quiet, unwilling to do anything to disrupt the rare content on the hunter's face.
He own eyes went, as they often did whenever they got the chance, to the dusting of freckles that fell in a band across the hunter's nose. But when Dean huffed a small laugh, he looked back up into green eyes, delighted to note that they were shinning with good humour.
He felt a smile tug at his lips. "What's so funny?" He asked, genuinely curious. Dean smiled so rarely these days.
But the hunter merely shook his head, smile still in place as he looked back down at his hands. "It's nothing. You're just..." He trailed off, seemingly unable to come up with the words he needed to communicate, but then, "I like having you around, is all."
He felt a new sensation then, one that was, thankfully, not unpleasant. It felt warm and comforting and it swelled in his chest like a rising tide and he felt oddly...light. He grinned and looked away, feeling the warmth rise all the way up to his face.
"You're blushing!" Dean chuckled, smile nearly splitting his face.
"Am I?" He blinked and pressed his fingers to his cheek, stunned to feel that the warmth wasn't just a sensation but something that had manifested itself physically. "Hm."
Dean was still smiling. "So what are you feeling now?"
He turned his focus inward. "Warm and light...like when I'm flying." He looked skyward to the now pinkish clouds as they rolled by and flexed his wings longingly; the warmth in his chest vanished, crushed to dust in a sudden vice.
He sighed and looked back down. "You're blushing now." He observed.
Dean's head snapped up and he stared at the angel with wide eyes. "No I'm not!"
Cas rubbed at the ache in his chest distractedly. "Yes. You are." Though he didn't particularly care right now why he might be, his attention fully turned on the desire to stretch his wings and fly. It had been so long.
"You ok?"
He grimaced. "It aches now. Here." He slid his hand over his heart and looked skyward again, seeing Dean follow his gaze. "It has been a long time since I have had the chance to fly."
A small sigh, barely audible, passed the hunters lips and he looked down again to see a look of intense relief flood Dean features. For a moment Castiel was confused until he realized what Dean must have thought he meant when he looked skyward and told him his heart was aching.
"I am not thinking of returning to heaven, Dean." He clarified. He wanted to make sure there were no doubt in the hunter's mind. "I want to stay here with you and Sam."
The other man huffed a nervous laugh. "I know, Cas." He cleared his throat. "So why don't you fly then?"
"Manifesting my wings into this plane of existence takes a great deal of energy. So much, in fact, that I don't have enough to send them back for a while and walking around with wings draws a bit more attention then I desire, especially since, as a manifestation of my grace, an injury to them would be...bad." He glanced over to the impala. "It would also make riding in the car impossible."
Dean snorted a laugh. "Sorry." He said at once, "I just got a mental image of someone driving by us on the road and seeing nothing but feathers pushing up against all the windows."
He felt mirth bubble up from deep in his belly and allowed it to escape in a chuckle as he envisioned the scenario also.
"Well," Dean said, standing up from the table. "We should probably go to the bar. I promised Sam I'd buy a round of beer if he found a less disgusting way to kill that stupid wendigo crossbreed. Should of known better than to make a bet with him that involved researching."
Castiel followed the hunter back to their room, feeling better than he had in weeks and it was all because he'd simply talked about what was bothering him. It was a strange concept that he still didn't really understand the mechanics of; though he didn't need to understand why it worked to appreciate that it did.
He decided not to think about it anymore, simply willing to be glad that he wasn't being crushed under the weight of these knew sensations and knowing that he had Dean to help him should it become overwhelming again.
Dean merely stuck his head in the door and yelled at Sam, who was apparently in the shower, to hurry up and meet them at the hotel bar when he was done and then the two of them walked the short distance across the parking lot and through the lobby, taking a seat across from each other in a booth.
A handsome man with dark hair and even darker eyes brought them menus almost immediately and if Castiel was honest with himself, his eyes may have lingered a bit too long on the sharp angle of the man's stubble jaw line than was socially acceptable.
As it happened, the waiter's eyes seemed to linger on him a little longer than was likely socially acceptable as well and his gaze was drawn downward when the man flashed him a smile, revealing straight white teeth.
"Just wave when you're ready to order." He said, speaking to Cas as if he was the only one at the table.
"I will." He returned the man's confident smile with a tentative one of his own and the waiter beamed before leaving.
The sway of the man's hips as he walked away caught his eye and he gave his backside a once over, finding that he liked the particular way his tight black dress pants hugged the skin of his-
He jerked in his seat when he realized the direction in which his thoughts were headed and he shook his head slightly as if to shake the thoughts loose.
He grabbed the drinks menu and opened it clumsily, desperate to have something else to put his eyes on to help him ignore the intense urge to seek out the waiter again. He glanced briefly up at Dean over the top of his menu and did a double take the the look on his face.
At first glance, it looked like something stuck between murderous intent, seething rage and a sprinkle of amusement. But upon reflection, Castiel assumed he was misreading the situation because he was relatively sure feeling those three things at once was impossible.
"Can you believe that guy?" Dean snarled, eyes flicking darkly over to where the waiter was leaning against the bar and talking to the tender. "Sleazy jerk."
Castiel blinked. "He seemed very friendly to me."
The hunter's face fell into a look of exasperation. "He was pretending to be nice 'cause he wants to get in your pants, Cas."
He blinked again and then looked back over to the waiter and was mildly surprised to see the man already looking at him. When their eyes met, he was flashed another smile and a wink this time and he quickly looked back down at the menu, heat rising in his cheeks. Again.
"Cas!" Dean snapped accusingly. "I'm telling you, that guy is trouble. Just...stay away from him." He tapped his finger against the angel's menu. "Come on, pick a drink."
He wasn't entirely sure why Dean seemed put off by the waiter. After all, he'd watched Dean flash that same smile at plenty of women before. Why was it ok for him to do it and not the waiter? He decided to ignore it all, he'd had lots of practise with that when it came to Dean as the man frequently did strange things that he didn't understand. He briefly contemplated asking him to explain himself but somehow felt that would not go over well.
He wondered if intuition was another human trait he was picking up or if he was just getting better at deciding which questions would and would not upset the touchy hunter.
"I don't know what any of these are." He grumbled at last, eyes sweeping over another arbitrary name that made no sense. "Purple haze? Cosmopolitan?" He squinted at the menu, making sure he'd read the last drink correctly. "Sex on the Beach?"
Dean suddenly choked on something, causing him to frown up and forget the menu in his hands.
"You boys ready to order?"
The waiter had appeared beside their table again, but his eyes were firmly on Castiel and the angel bit his lip, following the curved junction where his neck met his shoulder and following the skin until it disappeared under the dark purple dress shirt.
"I'm not sure what to get." He confessed, not bothering to look back down at his menu, preferring instead to keep watching the man's dark eyes.
He pushed gently with his grace and could immediately see the soul burning fiercely behind his eyes. It crackled energetically, full of life, scarless, fearless and passionate.
Beautiful.
Warmth was rising in his core again but it was very different from the warmth he'd felt when Dean had told him he enjoyed his company. This burned much hotter and was coiled low in his belly and his fingers curled tight around the edges of his menu when the waiter moved closer to him to peer down at the drinks listed.
"Hmm." The man hummed contemplatively. "You know, you seem like a guy who might enjoy top shelf stuff. Like whiskey or bourbon. I'll bring you one to try."
"Thank you." He rumbled, distracted when the waiter twirled the pen in his hand.
He had very long fingers.
"What's your name?"
His eyes snapped back up to the man's face and he grinned, "Castiel."
His eyebrow quirked a little. "Gorgeous name for a gorgeous man."
The heat coiled tighter.
"And your name?" Castiel asked.
"Vincent, but everyone calls me Vince."
"Vince." He rolled the name on his tongue, noticing when he said it that Vince shifted slightly.
"I'll be right back." The waiter said, voice low.
He walked right past Sam and Dean scooted over so his brother could sit down.
"You guys order yet?" Sam asked.
"Nope. Cas was too busy flirting with the waiter." Dean said with no small amount of snark, still perusing the drinks menu.
The taller brother startled at the words and looked at Cas for confirmation, looking more than a little sceptical.
His eye roll was unintentional but his irritated tone was on purpose. "I was not-"
"Yes you were!" Dean cried, finally looking up from his menu. "You were practically eye fucking each other." He finished with a grumble.
"I was simply-"
"Oh don't even-"
"Here you go."
A tumbler of dark amber liquid was set on the table before him, effectively halting their conversation.
When the waiter caught sight of Sam, he smiled. "You guys know what you want?"
"Beer. Lot's of it." Dean snapped.
Sam was grinning down at the table top, the waiter was scowling at Dean and Castiel was incredibly confused.
After Vince had left to get their beer, Sam turned his eyes on Dean and simply stared at his brother with the same grin on his face until the elder turned and snapped.
"Shut up!"
"I didn't say anything!" Countered Sam defensively.
"Just make sure it stays that way."
"Hey man, I'm not the one who's-"
"I said shut up!"
It was at this point where Castiel felt frustrated enough to speak up. "Excuse me, but could someone please explain what is happening?"
Dean glared at him but Sam's eyes turned soft and he turned to face the angel.
"Well Cas, Dean is jealous-" He cut off abruptly when his brother punched him in the arm so hard he nearly toppled out out the booth. "OW!"
"I don't understand."
"Yeah, neither does he." Sam mumbled, rubbing his arm angrily.
Feeling more lost than ever, Castiel picked up the glass that Vince had placed before him and took a sip. The spicy burn was pleasant and he hummed around the sweetness underneath it all contently, taking another mouthful right away.
"You like it, hey?" Vince purred, suddenly at his side.
"I do. You made a good choice." Castiel said.
The waiter placed two house beers before Sam and Dean and then immediately turned back to Cas.
"Can I get you anything else?"
"Another one of these." Castiel answered and then drained the glass.
Vince shot him an unmistakably sultry smile and took the glass from his hand, their fingers brushing and sending odd sparks of electricity shooting up his arm.
"Sure thing, angel."
"Oh my God." Dead muttered, closing his eyes and shaking his head.
"Drink your beer." Sam ordered sternly
The hunter obeyed instantly, pulled the large glass towards him and chugged it. After eight seconds, the beer was gone and he held up the empty glass and wiggled it when Vince looked over, causing him to roll his eyes skyward and turn back to the bar tender.
Two hours later and they were all piss drunk. At least Castiel was fairly sure they were. Sam could barely hold himself up and Dean's cheeks were red while he threw his head back and laughed at something Cas didn't understand.
And Castiel knew the feeling of intoxication all too well, though it felt a bit different now than it had the last time he'd gotten drunk. Before there had only been disappointment and anger in the face of his failure to locate his father. But now there was a whole slew of things he was feeling. Chief among them was hot.
He stripped off his suit jacket and unbuttoned the top few buttons on his dress shirt, draining his twelfth glass and slamming it back down on the table a little harder than intended.
"Jeez, I forgot how you can put 'em away, Cas." Sam slurred with a grin.
Dean ushered his brother out of the booth, muttering something about having to go to the bathroom, and after a few minutes Sam finally managed to coordinate himself enough to get out of his brother's way and then it was just Sam and Cas staring at each other across the table.
"So, this waiter guy." The hunter said curiously.
"Vince."
"Right. Vince. What's the deal? You interested in him or what?"
Castiel took a moment to marvel at how direct drunk Sam was with his questions as apposed to sober Sam and then just laughed, picking up one of the random bottles of beer that had yet to be touched.
"I find it interesting that a mere three or four months ago I would have had no idea what your were talking about but now..." He trailed off as his eyes sought out the well dressed, trim, tanned form of the waiter, immediately finding him in his usual spot leaning up against the bar. "I've been feeling things." He muttered darkly into his beer, "Things an angel should not feel."
Sam shot him a knowing look and gave a single, solid nod. "You mean feelings for Dean."
He was thankful that he did not need to breath, otherwise he might have choked on the beer in his mouth. As it was, he had trouble swallowing the mouthful of booze, coughing slightly.
"What?"
Sam just pulled a face. "Dude, come one, don't play dumb."
Castiel remained silent, mostly because he couldn't think of anything to say, which he belatedly realized was likely more condemning than flat out denying what Sam had said. But the longer he spent trying to think of something to say the more his brain seemed to crawl to a sluggish churn and the wider the other man's smirk became.
Eventually, after thirty long seconds had passed in which Castiel did nothing more useful than opening and closing his mouth a few times, he finally gave up and chugged the beer in his hand while Sam whooped gleefully across from him.
"I knew it! You totally have feelings for Dean!"
Cas hissed across the table, slamming his beer down in a sudden flare of alarm and anger. "Say it a little louder, I don't think Dean heard you in the bathroom."
"Oh come on, you know he has the hots for you too." Sam said dismissively, waving a hand at him as if to swat away his concerns.
Numb shock cooled the anger like it had never been there as Castiel stared at the younger brother, unable to come up with words for a second time.
"What?" He snapped.
The hunter looked surprised through the drunken glaze in his eyes, but only for a split second, then he was back to looking exasperated. "I know you heard what I said."
"Well...how could you possibly know that?" The angel demanded. This wasn't something to be taken lightly and if Sam's drunken mind was just making this up...
He refused to entertain the possibility, instead focusing on the tiny spark of hope struggling for life in his core.
"Uh, because I'm not blind." Sam patronized, draining his own beer and trying to set it down on the table but somehow knocking it over at the same time. He didn't even notice and clasped his hands on the table, leaning forward conspiratorially.
"You've just put your elbow in some ketchup." Cas pointed out.
"You wanna know how I know Dean likes you?" Sam continued, obviously not hearing the angel and smearing the condiment into his plaid shirt even more. "How about the way he looks at you all the time? Like you've got rainbows coming out your ass."
Castiel blinked at the mental image those words conjured in his hazy brain.
"Or the fact that all he does is talk about you whenever you're not around." Here he mimicked Dean's rough voice, "So, uh, you heard from Cas lately? Oh man, this one time me and Cas did this. Do you think Cas likes pie? Cas, Cas, Cas!" With the last few utterances of the angel's name, Sam's voice had turned high and feminine. "Not to mention he's been asking me a lot of questions about angels."
Castiel frowned, intrigued by Sam's last admission. "Why kind of questions?"
"I dunno, random stuff, like what does an angel's true form look like and can their wings manifest themselves while their in a vessel? Can they sleep if they want to? Just random stuff but it's all the time."
"There...there could be a lot of reasons for Dean's sudden spike in curiosity regarding angelic-"
Sam threw himself back into the booth and clutched at his hair with a howl of indignation, drawing startled looks from the other patrons in the bar. "Are you kidding me?!" He cried, hands slamming down onto the table as he stared at Cas with his mouth hanging open.
Castiel silently moved the alcohol on the table out of Sam's reach.
"God, I thought trying to talk sense into Dean was painful!" The intoxicated hunter continued. "Your denial is...is..." He struggled to come up with a word to explain himself but failed miserably.
"Sam. Dean does not think of me that way." He said firmly.
"Yes. He. Does. And if the two of you weren't so fucking hung up on what if's and thinking and worrying then you could both be very happy." His long arms easily reached across the table and grabbed one of the beer bottles Cas had moved out of the way.
On the outside, Castiel made sure his face was as still and unchanged as ever but on the inside he was screaming. This couldn't be true. He couldn't allow himself to believe what Sam was saying because if he confessed his feelings to Dean and Sam turned out to be wrong then everything would be ruined. After all this time, he couldn't lose Dean to something an angel should not be feeling in the first place.
For the thousandth time in the last few days, Castiel cursed the onset of these human feelings and desires. His brothers and sisters had been right. He spends far too much time with the brothers.
He raised his head again to look at Sam. "I cannot...pursue a relationship with Dean. Angels aren't...we don't have the ability to..." He sighed and hung his head, muttering dejectedly. "I wouldn't be any good for him. I don't know how to be like that."
When Sam remained silent, Castiel finally looked back up, mildly curious about why the giant of a man suddenly had nothing to say.
Sam's face was sad. "Cas, Dean likes you. Just as you are." He shook his head. "When are you going to start seeing that?"
He stared into Sam's big, earnest and slightly bloodshot eyes and couldn't help the small smile from tugging at his lips, feeling warm when Sam mirrored him.
"Man, that bathroom is classy as hell for such a dive." Dean said, suddenly back at the table.
He gestured for his brother to move over but, with a pointed look at Cas that he didn't try to hide even a little bit, Sam suddenly stood and announced that he was turning in for the night and then left.
In the wake of his brother's abrupt departure, Dean was left staring after him confusedly before he looked down at Cas. "What's up with him?"
He shrugged, throwing back one of the whiskey shots left on the table in an attempt to calm the sudden roil of nerves in his stomach. When that did nothing, and Dean sat down and pinned him with those green eyes, Cas desperately downed the last three shots and then raised his hand to Vince for more.
"Uh...did something happen when I was in the bathroom?"
He merely blinked at the hunter, partially distracted by the sway of Vince's hips in his peripheral vision. "What?"
"You seem on edge." Observed Dean, gesturing to the four recently emptied shot glasses.
"Oh...uh..." He was saved from trying to explain when Vince sidled up beside him, pressing in so close that he could feel the heat radiation from him, and plunked a fresh glass of whiskey on the table in front of him.
"Here you go." He flashed a smile when Cas thanked him and turned for the first time to give Dean a lingering look before turning back to the angel and pressing even closer and sliding a folded napkin across the table. "I get off at two." Another smile and soft eyes, "If you have no other plans."
With a final look at Dean, which Cas did not see but made the hunter stiffen in his seat, Vince left and it was a few seconds before Cas' fuzzy brain realized that Vince had just given him his number and invited him to spend the night with him.
He blinked rapidly down at the napkin in his hand, eyes tracing the elegant scroll of ink. Seemingly without his consent, his mind began to fabricate images of what a night with Vince might be like. He was sure the waiter's skin was soft. He bit his lip. And warm. The man was definitely warm and his soul burned bright and fierce and-
"Cas!"
Dean's voice jolted him from his thoughts and he felt heat rise in his cheeks when he realized what direction his mind had been heading in. This was not what he was supposed to be doing! He was supposed to be talking to Dean about...he wondered what it might feel like to have Vince's weight pressing down on him, the feel of bare skin pressing against bare skin.
He shook his head. No!
"Sam thinks I should tell you something." He admitted, forcing the images of Vince's naked, writhing, well muscled - "He thinks it's important."
"Uh...ok." Dean said, looking both intrigued and wary. "What's on your mind?"
He wondered what the best approach might be here. Slow and gently or hard and fast? He bet Vince liked it hard and fast...
He blinked, wondering where the hell that had come from, and then forced himself to focus again and examine the situation before him as well as he could given that he'd drank enough alcohol to kill a horse.
What it boiled down to, essentially, was that Dean seemed pretty sober, maybe a little tipsy, but just blurting out that he had feelings for him likely wouldn't lead to anything good and the last thing he wanted was for the hunter to throw one of his temper tantrums in a crowded bar.
So slow and gentle it was.
"As you know," He began, pushing his drink aside, "I've been struggling with human emotions and urges lately that only seem to be getting stronger every day and I'm not entirely sure what to do about it and spend most of my time wishing I didn't have to deal with them at all because, quite frankly, it's terrifying." He paused, looking away from Dean's intense focus on him, "One of the things I've been feeling, Sam believes, I should share with you. He thinks you can relate."
"Well what is it?" The hunter asked when he didn't elaborate.
The words died in his throat and he shook his head. "I don't know how to do this, Dean." He snapped, frustrated. "I am not supposed to feel these things. I am an angel. I am not made with the ability to be anything but a perfect soldier." He grabbed his drink and swallowed it down in one go, slamming the glass back down.
Dean's face was suddenly shuttered, his eyes no longer locked on Cas' but staring down at the table. "You're not supposed to feel what things?"
He looked helplessly at his hunter; at the blinding soul raging behind his beautiful green eyes and remembered the day he'd finally seen it for the first time, shinning like a beacon of hope in the pitch darkness of Hell and guiding him home.
"I'm not supposed to feel these things...for you." He finished.
There was nothing to do now but sit and wait to see if Sam had been right, so Castiel sat back in the booth and simply watched Dean watch him. It seemed as if the hunter was frozen in shock; he'd expected that.
"Cas..." It seemed as if Dean hadn't really thought out where he'd wanted that sentence to go. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Cas..."
It seemed as if the slow and gentle approach hadn't been the ticket, although Castiel was relatively sure there was no way he could have broken the news to the other man and not have it end in Dean retreating within himself and denying his attraction to another man.
Or maybe Sam was wrong and Dean really didn't feel that way about him and he'd just ruined their friendship forever.
He wished he had another drink.
"Cas..." Apparently Dean was still trying to form a coherent sentence.
He wondered if he had time to wave down Vince or if that would be considered impolite given the circumstances.
"Cas, you said Sam told you to tell me this?" Dean finally asked, voice thick with some emotion Castiel couldn't place.
"Yes. He seemed to think you have feelings for me also. I argued with him about it but he was adamant." He realized then that when he was drunk he seemed to talk more than he'd like and he frowned down at the empty glass in his hand like it was pulling the words from his unwilling mouth.
He watched as Dean's tongue darted out to wet his lips. "Well...he was wrong."
Something cold griped his stomach and twisted violently.
"I don't feel that way about guys, ok? I like women."
Dean wasn't looking at him anymore, eyes fixed firmly on the table top, body tense.
"Sam doesn't know shit!" He snapped finally, hands slamming down on the table so hard that the empty shot glasses rattled loudly against the wood.
The coldness in his gut swept quickly through the rest of his body until Castiel felt like he might vomit. Although, he was, admittedly, unsure if that was because of the alcohol he'd ingested or because of Dean's vehement rejection.
Either way, he needed air immediately, and stood, only stumbling a little on his weak legs and rushing outside into the cool night air. Once he was outside he leaned against the brick wall, catching his breath and wondering why he felt so deprived of oxygen in the first place. When the haze refused to lift from his mind, Castiel angrily called upon his grace and burned the alcohol coursing through his blood, vaporizing it instantly and leaving himself reeling and shockingly, jarringly, coherent.
He groaned when the rejection, which he hadn't realized had been so muted by the alcohol, hit him full force.
It was surprising how fast the cold fingers of dread were burned away by the rising tide of anger. He thought back to Dean's words and realized he hadn't denied any feelings for Cas but instead seemed to be stuck on the gender of his vessel and he couldn't help but roll his eyes.
Trust Dean Winchester, the man who didn't give a fuck about anything but his brother, to get hung up on his sexuality and worry about what everyone he didn't care about would think of him.
Much sooner than he'd anticipated, the anger vanished too and something unfamiliar replaced it. He didn't give it much thought, instead forming a plan as he turned and headed back into the bar. The clock on the wall showed that it was ten minutes to two AM, which was absolutely perfect, and he grinned, not bothering to spare a glance at the table where he'd left Dean, not caring either way if he saw what he was about to do.
If Dean didn't want to be with him, then he would spend his time on someone he knew wanted him.
Vince was leaning against the bar, looking bored.
"You!" Castiel snapped, perhaps a little louder than necessary. It made the other man jump and turn to regard him with a curious expression. He strode up to him and without hesitation, grabbed the front of his purple dress shirt and yanked him forward to press their lips together.
Vince responded immediately, pushing against Castiel as hard as Castiel pushed against him, hands tangling in the angel's short hair boldly despite the audience of a bar full of people.
When they broke apart, Cas pulled back just enough so that his eyes could focus on the man's face clearly.
"You're off soon?"
Vince nodded, his earlier sultry smile and easy persona now replaced with an intense frown and blown pupils as he bit his lip harshly. "Yeah."
"You find me attractive?"
"Oh yeah."
"Do you still want to take me home?"
"Hell yeah." Was the immediate and enthusiastic response.
Castiel pressed another firm kiss to the man's soft lips and then turned, grabbing his hand blindly to pull him along and out of the bar swiftly. All those little daydreams of Vince's soft, warm skin, strong hands and bright soul came crashing back over him, even stronger in the wake of his sobriety and Castiel bit his lip, using the sting of it to push every last thought of Dean Winchester from his head and fill the ensuing space with Vincent.
They hadn't even made it through the door before they were tearing at each others' clothes. Vincent blindly kicked at the door behind him, unwilling to turn away from Cas or let go of the white dress shirt fisted in his hands. It slammed shut hard, rattling a mirror on the wall but it went entirely unnoticed as Vince pushed hard against the angel's chest, forcing him up against the wall at the base of a staircase that lead to the second floor.
"I gotta be honest," The man gasped when he tore his mouth away from Cas' and moved in to press light kisses to the spot where his neck met his shoulder, pulling his dress shirt aside roughly, "I didn't think your buddy there was gonna let you come home with me."
The words penetrated weakly through the fog that had filled Cas' brain and he frowned. "Why?"
Vince pulled back just far enough so that he could shoot the angel a sceptical look. "Because it's obvious he has the hots for you." His eyes darted downward and slowly trailed back up until they were looking each other in the eye again and Cas felt himself swallow hard, "What's not to love?"
The angel swallowed again. "People keep saying that, but I assure you, he does not."
Vince pulled away further and Cas tightened his grip on the belt loops of his dress pants, unwilling to let go of the heat their closeness provided. The other man was wearing a small frown while he stared curiously, the haze of lust in his eye clearing a little.
"You seem pretty certain."
"Well he did tell me as much. Word for word." Castiel grumbled, pulling Vincent back to him so that their hips were pressed together. The contact made him suck a breath past his teeth.
"Oh honey, that means nothing." Chuckled Vince, leaning in again to nibble at Cas' exposed collar bone. "He's obviously one of those," he paused to lick a path up the angel's neck, "macho dudes that can't admit he finds other men attractive."
Cas froze. "That's what his brother says."
"Smart guy."
He allowed himself to be led up the stairs, eyes trained on the gentle sway of Vince's hips and once again forced Dean Winchester from his head. So what if what Vince and Sam said was true? Dean refused to admit it and Castiel was not going to force him and he also wasn't going to wait forever for Dean to come to terms with his sexuality.
The feeling of a mattress hitting the back of his knees pulled Cas' mind back to the present and he felt Vince's warm hands pushing inside his shirt and the dry drag of skin on skin made goosebumps rise up all over his body.
His hands dropped to the man's waist and he pulled sharply, urgently, at the purple dress shirt, pulling it free of the waist band and sliding his hands up Vincent's back, fingers fluttering over ridges of firm muscle.
"Off." He growled into the waiter's open mouth.
The other man complied instantly, forgoing the buttons and simply tugging the shirt up and over his head and tossing it away.
"Now you."
When their bare torso's finally touched, Castiel felt like his skin was on fire and his hands gripped desperately at whatever part of Vince they could reach; desperately trying to ground himself amidst the onslaught of new sensations he was feeling.
He was pushed backwards and the bed hit the back of his knees again and he tumbled backwards onto the mattress, Vince lowering himself onto his elbows to hover over him.
"You sure about this, angel?" Vince panted, gazing down at him with lidded eyes and blown pupils and, despite his obvious arousal, the sincerity behind his words was evident.
Castiel paused to stare back, his own breath laboured. Dean's furious face rose up from memory.
"Sam doesn't know shit!"
"Don't get me wrong, Castiel." Vince continued when the angel failed to respond to his question. "I think you're a gorgeous guy, but I'm not the kind of man that wants to get between two people that obviously have something going on between them."
It looked as if Vince was having second thoughts himself and even as he spoke, Cas could feel him pushing up and away from him ever so slightly and he grabbed the front of the man's belt, fingers sneaking between the fabric of his clothes and his warm, soft skin.
"Dean and I share and bond that goes beyond friendship but I do not think it will ever amount to something physical." He admitted to the other man, trailing the fingers of his other hand lightly up Vince's arm.
"But you wish that it would?"
Castiel's lips thinned but he did not respond and, this time, when Vince made to move away, he let him go and the waiter rolled over onto his back and laid down beside him. They both took a few moments to stare silently up at the ceiling before Vince heaved a great sigh and sat up.
"I don't think we should do this."
Castiel sent him a halfhearted glare. "Might I remind you that you invited me to your bed."
The other man smirked and let his dark eyes wander appreciatively over the angel's bare torso. "I know. I didn't say I was happy about it. But I'm not gonna fuck this up for you guys. I've had that done to me before and I swore I'd never be that guy, you know?"
"No. But I can appreciate what you're trying to say." He sat up with a sigh of his own and looked around disinterestedly at the bedroom's modern furnishings. "Thank you, I suppose." He grumbled at last, feeling frustrated both emotionally and physically.
Vince chuckled and placed a large hand on Castiel's thigh, squeezing reassuringly. "Come on, gorgeous. I'll make you some coffee."
Vincent's house was small but cozy; packed with much more personal items then the angel would have guessed. There were pictures of family members on every available surface and handmade knick knacks like pillows, and throw blankets on chairs and the sofa and it made Cas smile.
In the kitchen, he was told to sit at the island table and a mug with the words 'World's Coolest Uncle' on it was placed before him.
"You must have a very large family." He observed.
"Ha! We sure do. I'm Italian and what you can see in all these pictures is only about half of us."
When the coffee had finished brewing and the two men were sat across from each other, each with a steaming mug in their hands, Vince blew gently over the surface of his drink and fixed his eyes on Castiel.
"So. Tell me about Dean."
He could feel the corner of his mouth twist upwards slightly but he decided to indulge the man. If nothing else, he may be able to offer some insight.
"Dean is...stubborn and angry. He drinks too much and is reckless and stupid..." He trailed off and then sighed, resting his face on his hand. "He's also selfless and loving and strong. His soul burns so brightly, so fiercely that sometimes I feel like it will blind me. He constantly sacrifices himself to help others, despite my objections." He scoffed, rubbing absently at his temple. "On some level I know Dean cares for me, though I do not know if he feels the way I do. I raised him from...a very dark place and in some ways I know him better than he knows himself but in other ways I am completely ignorant and without understanding. I fear some days that I will never truly grasp when it means to be human."
He realized then that he was rambling and he forced himself to focus back on Vince, who was staring at him with wide eyes, his jaw slack.
"Man, you're in deep, huh?" The waiter said at length, taking a long sip of his coffee. "Well, if anything, when you get back to the motel there's a good chance some of this might get cleared up."
He frowned. "How so?"
With a shrug, Vince absently traced his index finger around the ridge of his mug. "Well, Dean will probably assume we slept together, so when you get back, he'll probably be pissed. Is he the kind of guy that yells when he's angry or gives you the silent treatment?"
Castiel took a brief moment to reflect on his memories of Dean being in a sour mood. "He runs."
"Like goes for a jog?"
"No. He leaves."
He was offered a sympathetic wince. "Oh, one of those emotionally constipated guys, eh? They're super fun." It was obvious from his dark tone that he was speaking from experience. "Well, either way, he's probably not going to abandon you and the tall guy here so he's still gonna be there when you get back. Then you'll be able to tell if he's bothered by you coming home with me or not. If he's all pissy and stuff, he's totally got the hots for you. If he's passed out then you might want to think about moving on."
"I suppose you're right." Either way, the thought of either scenario waiting for him upon his return to the hotel left a cold feeling in the pit of Castiel's stomach and he gulped down the rest of his coffee, wondering if there was some way he could prolong going back.
Instead, he forced himself to his feet and let Vince see him out with a 'good luck' and subtle ass grab that made him jump slightly. He declined the offer for a ride back, claiming instead that he would walk and give him time to clear his head. Once the door was closed, however, he spread his wings and was instantly standing outside room 27, the peep hole staring him down mockingly and the light sprinkle of rain, what was left of the storm that had forced them here in the first place, hitting his face.
When he entered the room, Sam was sitting at the table with his laptop, eyes bloodshot and unfocused as he scrolled through something on his monitor.
Dean was nowhere to be found.
When the door snapped shut behind him, Sam finally looked up. "Oh, hey Cas!" He grinned but then the smile slipped from his face as if he'd suddenly remembered something. "Er...how was your night?"
Sam was looking anywhere but directly at him and Castiel realized that Dean had likely told his brother that he'd gone home with Vince.
"Where is Dean?" He asked in lieu of answering Sam's drunken enquiry.
"Uhh..."
Just then the bathroom door swung open and from within a cloud of steam that billowed outwards into the room stepped the elder hunter, hair wet and clothes clinging to damp skin.
"Oh. You're back." Dean said, voice flat as his eyes raked up and down his angelic friend, no doubt looking for clues as to what had transpired between him and Vince.
"And you're still conscious." Castiel remarked, his words snappish even though he hadn't intended it.
"Yeah well," Dean tossed his wet towel into a corner of the room and flopped down on his bed. "I didn't feel like drinking anymore."
A few moments of awkward silence passed between them before Dean, in an apparently sudden burst of uncharacteristic emotional bravery, sat up and said:
"So, how was it?"
Castiel felt mildly confused. "How was what?"
Dean's smile was strained. "How was Vince?"
Anger began to swell in his core, accompanied by something that made him feel vaguely nauseous.
The sound of the door closing gently alerted him to Sam's stealthy departure.
"You let him fuck you?"
The bluntness of the question caught him off guard but it also alerted him to the fact that Dean was still far from sober. He never would have asked otherwise.
"No." He did not sound defensive. He didn't.
"So what then, you get on your knees for him?" Dean face was devoid of emotion but his voice held no small amount of rage.
Finding himself confused again at what the hunter was implying, Castiel's own anger roiled. "I don't know what that means."
It was then that Dean finally broke eye contact to scoff and shake his head. When he looked back up, the harsh lines around his eyes seemed to have softened slightly.
"You really don't, do you?" He shook his head again. "So you didn't sleep with him?"
"No. He seemed to think it was a bad idea." Castiel grit his teeth through the shocked looked his words pulled from Dean.
"So, uh, you guys didn't..."
"No. We didn't."
"Why not?"
"Why are you still awake?"
"I was waiting for-" Dean's jaw snapped shut when he drunken brain caught up with his mouth and he scowled.
It was Castiel's turn to smirk. Perhaps Vince had been right. He certainly seemed to know what he was talking about. Though having this conversation with the hunter while he was under the influence of alcohol seemed unfair to both of them. Castiel did not want to hear anything from the man's lips that he would not say when sober.
"Go to bed, Dean." He ordered firmly.
The next morning was so awkward even Castiel was aware of it sitting thick and heavy between the three of them. Sam was hungover and was laying in the passenger seat with his head nearly hanging out the open window and Castiel was more than happy with his position in the back seat, where he did not have to look at Dean's stony face or meet his eyes.
As they made their way eastward, the blur of trees whizzing by his window gradually thinned and then disappeared to make way for rolling grass fields. Castiel looked skyward out the north facing window of the car and saw heavy looking grey clouds starting to form and when he looked to the south, a solid line of black, rolling clouds were crawling menacingly over the grasslands towards them. By the time they hit Glennville the sky was dark with laden storm clouds that promised yet another torrential downpour and a vague threat of powerful winds.
The energy of the brewing storm crackled along Castiel's senses and he couldn't help but smile and marvel at the power behind it. He closed his eyes, blocking out the roar of the impala's engine and allowing his grace to push upwards in a cruel mockery of flight. It didn't compare to the real thing, not even close, but it was a small bit of relief from the oppressive atmosphere on the car.
He couldn't see, not like he could with his eyes, but he could feel the electricity tingling through him and hear the angry howl of the wind as it gathered it's strength. Higher and higher he pushed until the air began to thin and the icy feel of raindrops rolled along the stretching arms of his grace like a soothing balm.
His wings ached in longing.
"You ok Cas?"
Sam's voice, though gentle, startled him, and his grace snapped back into the confines of his vessel sharply, making him jerk in discomfort.
"Yes, Sam. Why do you ask?"
The tall man, now sitting up straight, glanced over his shoulder with a small smile. "You looked like you were a thousand miles away."
"Technically, I was. I...projected my grace into the storm."
Stunned silence followed this announcement and then Sam spun around in his seat, eyes glinting in the same way they did whenever the man walked into a library, all traces of his hangover vaporized by his eagerness to learn something new.
"You projected your grace into the storm?" He echoed in wonder.
Even Dean was glancing in the rear view mirror now, eyes curious.
"Yes I was just trying to...stretch." He hoped Sam didn't ask how he'd done it, as he wasn't sure the English language would be sufficient to explain such a thing.
"What did it feel like?"
"Mmm I can feel the strength behind it. It will be a powerful storm, the electricity was already seeking me out."
A small frown creased the space between Sam's eyebrows. "What do you mean, seeking you out?"
"Angels have the ability to...take in the naturally occurring powers of nature. If I needed to, I could absorb the power of the storm and control it, to a certain degree. But I've only done it once before and it is quite overwhelming."
Sam's jaw was slack and his eyes were wide and he looked like a child. "What'd you use it for?"
Castiel shifted, recalling the events that had lead to his one and only use of nature's furious power. He supposed he could indulge the man, since the feeling of restlessness was growing and they still had several hours to drive, he decided the distraction of story telling would serve him well. Besides, in the past, he'd often been called up by his brothers to re-tell stories from the battle field and had been told by many that he could paint quite a picture.
"Are you familiar with the battle/war of _ in _?"
He watched as Sam's nose scrunched up in his attempt to recall any information on the subject.
"Well there came a point where we deemed it necessary to intervene. After 37 days of nothing but death and destruction neither side seemed to be gaining any ground. Things were getting bloody and there was no end in sight so we came to earth when we felt a storm begin to swell over the heads of the fighting soldiers. I remember it well." The memories crashed over him as fresh and real as if it were happening then and now. "We flew down. Through the rain and the wind and the blackened, angry clouds and I could feel the icy water hitting my wings like tiny stones. Thunder boomed around us like a horseman's whip; it was deafening. We came through the very centre of the storm and lightning was flashing above and below and the urge to just reach out with my grace and draw it in was so strong. But I had specific orders and had been told to wait until we were on the ground where he could be seen by the humans. When we touched down it was in the very epicentre of the battlefield and my feet hit the ground and I was walking on nothing but mud and blood, packed down over weeks and weeks of constant bloodshed and then soaked through by the rain. The first step I took was over someone's decapitated corps and my six brothers and sisters quickly formed a circle around me to fend off any attackers. But the soldiers were so busy slaughtering everything that moved that at first they didn't even notice us, which is saying something because we'd come to them as close to our true form as they'd be able to handle."
"Hang on though, I thought you said that manifesting your wings takes a lot of energy." Sam asked curiously.
"It does, but it also allows us better control over how our grace bonds with the power of nature. And since I was going to be taking in massive amounts of energy anyway, it really was beneficial."
On que, fat raindrops started falling from the engorged clouds and Dean flicked on the wipers absently.
"Once I knew I wasn't going to be bothered by the soldiers, I reached upwards, I was eager to have that power and it seemed as if the storm's energy was eager to have an outlet as well. I was immediately struck by lightning and it felt..." He came up short, unable to really describe the feeling even as he was remembering it. "I admit that I was momentarily overwhelmed and it took me a moment longer than expected to get myself under control. The urge to just let the power reign free was incredible, but I would have decimated the entirety of the battlefield and that was not what we were there to do." He shook his head. "Eventually I managed to get myself under control and we," he huffed a laugh, "We followed our orders and gave them a bit of a fright."
"Oh, you have to elaborate on that!" Sam cried, now fully turned in his seat, back facing the windshield and his grip white knuckled on the seat back.
Castiel grinned. "I channelled the wind to blow them all over and get their attention, it worked remarkably well, and then suddenly we finally had eyes on us, all ten thousand of them. Once they saw us standing there in the centre of it all it was suddenly very quiet and very still. I remember being able to hear the sound of the rain hitting their armour even through the roar of electricity coursing through me...then I brought the lightning down and split the earth open." He chuckled, remembering the stricken and awestruck looks on the dirty faces of the soldiers. "The effect was almost ruined when Balthazar started laughing."
By now the rain was coming down in droves, fat droplets hitting the roof and windows of the car like bullets, the wipers swinging back and forth furiously.
"I was lost in the feeling of the power coursing through me." Cas continued, feeling the dull echo of the memory tingling at his fingertips. "The rain soaking through my clothes and cutting at my face. The wind was howling, soldiers were screaming and crying but it all seemed to stop for a second when the earth broke open."
Over their heads a loud clap of thunder crackled deeply.
"It was incredibly loud . A deafening boom shook the earth under our feet, tossing the soldiers into the mud. The chasm swallowed a few of them whole and those near the edge scrambled away and it was only a few seconds before thousands of eyes were on us again. I could scarcely make out their expressions through the light radiating from my core and the heat of all that power was becoming overwhelming. I was burning from the inside out but I couldn't let go, my grace was pulling it in so fast..." He shook his head. "Luckily, Balthazar noticed something was wrong and severed the connection, though, not without causing himself some damage in the process."
When he finished speaking the only sound was that of the rain beating angrily at the car as they sped down the highway and Castiel turned again to look out the window and towards the raging sky.
"Shit." He heard Sam muttered and turned to find the younger Winchester staring at him in wide eyed wonder; the same expression that had stuttered onto his face when they'd first met. The young man shook his head slightly, the wonder in his eye holding firm. "Sometimes I forget what you are."
Unsure of how he was supposed to feel about the statement, Castiel remained silent, his attention partially focused on the dull ache that was starting at the base of his wings. Now that the memories of the story he'd told were fading away, so too did his distraction fade. He shifted with discomfort, trying to ease the ache that he knew would only get worse over the next few days if he didn't do something about it.
Apparently Sam took his movement to mean he'd been somehow insulted by the boy's words and Castiel suppressed a grin when Sam paled and his eyes went wide, apologies and explanations tumbling out of his mouth so fast the words were tripping over themselves.
"Sam." Castiel interrupted quietly, effectively halting the litany. "I know what you meant. You needn't worry."
With the reassurance it looked as if a visible weight had been lifted of the giant man's shoulders and he released a breath. "Oh good. I thought...I mean you just looked like you were..."
Dean heaving a sigh and shaking his head a little made Sam stop rambling and Castiel finally smiled when a bright blush crept it's way up Sam's neck and onto his cheeks.
"I was merely trying to dispel the ache in my wings, Sam." The young man's fear that Castiel had been insulted by his words was endearing and made the angel feel warm.
"Your wings?" Sam echoed, the look of wonder back on his face. He twisted around in his seat again as much as his large form would allow, brown eyes trailing up and over the empty space behind the angel.
Dean's eyes flicked up from the road to stare into the mirror.
"Your wings still bothering you?" He asked, his tone light.
It was the first thing the hunter had said to him since last night and Castiel felt something seize his throat and squeeze.
"Yes. I'm afraid it will only get worse as time goes on."
Sam's attention was flicking back and forth between his brother and the angel in the back seat, jaw slack and eyes pinched in accusation when he realized they'd been discussing something as awe inspiring as an angel's wings without him.
"Well," Dean spoke up again, a determined set to his shoulders. "When we're done with this next hunt maybe we can go somewhere where you can...you know, do whatever you need to do to feel better."
Sam was practically vibrating in the passenger seat. "Rufus' cabin!" He blurted suddenly.
His brother gave him a questioning look but then the corners of his mouth pulled down and he glanced up in the mirror again, catching Cas' eye. "What do you say, Cas? A little R&R will do us all some good."
He looked between the brothers, wondering if he understood what they were suggesting. "You mean...we would not be fighting anything? Or planning to fight anything? Or researching?...Nothing?"
Dean began to chuckle, the sound low in his chest and Sam's face had softened into a gentle smile.
"Yeah, Cas. We'd just be taking a break. No killing or plotting or anything like that." The young hunter confirmed. "And you can, uh, you know..." Sam's hand flailed in the air in front of him for a second before Dean suddenly smacked it down with a roll of his eyes.
"And you can do whatever it is angel's do to chill out."
Castiel smiled at that. He was sure the brothers meant well but he didn't think they'd take well to him messing up their friend's cabin by molting feathers and taking up most of the living room with a giant nest of pillows and blankets. He decided that maybe he would see how far he could push the boundaries of what the brothers considered tolerable behaviour.
Dean's mood seemed to have evened out by the time they'd reached the town of their next hunt. Castiel hadn't asked for the details and his mind had wandered to things more interesting when Sam had begun rambling about the creature they were going to hunt, spewing stories from the local newspapers and facts that he'd just learned from the book sitting open in his lap.
The town was hot and humid, the air heavy with the promise of another storm already. The old, overworked air conditioner rattled pitifully in the windowsill, kicking up lazy swirls of dust that cut through the gold streams of light from the setting sun outside the window.
Castiel watched the glittering particles listlessly, the heat making him feel sluggish and sleepy. He'd long since shrugged out of his overcoat and suit jacket but found little relief from the oppressive atmosphere.
"It sounds like a Yenaldooshi." Was his muttered contribution to the conversation between the two brothers.
They had been, for the last two hours, compiling evidence from the local papers and trying to narrow down what it was they were hunting.
"A what?" Dean asked at length.
"A Yenaldooshi." Castiel repeated, this time louder. "It's a creature from Navajo mythology. Something like a cross between a witch and a skin-walker."
The elder hunter's face morphed into a look of purest disgust. "Awesome."
After they'd spent another hour and a trip to the local library researching the best ways to kill the thing Sam was finally the one to stand from the table and stretch his arms over his head.
"Ready to go?" He groaned as he stood from the table and snapped his laptop shut. The motel room had the air as if the trio were just setting out to go on the road again instead of going out to hunt down and kill a monster terrorizing the small town.
"Yeah let's get this over with."
Castiel felt some of his ribs crack when he hit the wall and he slid down to the dusty floor when his legs gave out under the flare of pain. Before he could regain his footing the beast was upon him, massive paws and sharp claws crushing his torso under it's immense weight. He felt his bones snapping under his skin, puncturing organs and letting blood rush and pool into places it ought not to be.
"Cas!"
The beast's rancid breath was panting over his face, hot and wet with decay, skin rotted and bloody like all conjured familiars in necromancy.
Castiel called on his weakened grace, struggling to reach it through the wards the clever witch had painted around her den as warm blood pushed it's way up his oesophagus.
Across the room, he could hear the two brothers struggling with the other beast but he could not afford to split his focus, beginning to fear for his own life the more the beast on top of him sniffed the blood dripping from his lips.
He managed to free his arm from where it was pinned by a gigantic paw and pressed his hand up against the animal's chest, finally grabbing a hold of his grace and forcing the meagre filament of power out through his hand.
It wasn't much grace but it was enough to make the beast howl and recoil when it's rotted flesh hissed and bubbled like it had been burned with fire. It had gotten the minion off of him but Castiel's broken vessel protested with a flash of agony when he tried to sit up.
"Cas!"
The beast was still howling and whimpering in the corner, smoke lingering from the growing hole in it's chest, the flesh melting away like Castiel had thrown acid on him.
While the witch's summoned minion was occupied, Castiel used what little grace he could access to repair the most pressing of his injuries, enough so that he could move with a tolerable amount of pain. When he managed to stagger to his feet, Castiel saw Sam unconscious on the floor and Dean facing off with the other dog like beast, hunting knife in a white knuckled grip as hunter and monster circled each other.
The witch was nowhere to be seen.
The angel made the decision suddenly, knowing that it was his best option. The monster in the corner was regaining it's senses and the one humouring Dean was in better shape than the hunter himself. Without his grace, Cas had nothing but his angel blade and that had already been knocked out of his hand and was on the other side of the room.
But Castiel had a much more deadly weapon than his angel blade. Something that made him lethal in battle.
With blood still dripping freely from his mouth, broken bits of bone grinding when he moved, Castiel pulled his wings into being and they flared strongly behind him, giving the beast, which had just found it's footing again, pause.
It's black eyes raked over the massive appendages, gauging whether this new threat was something it could handle. While it seized him up, Cas crouched low, ignoring the feeling of his insides shifting unnaturally, and readied himself.
When the beast launched itself at him, Castiel drove the joint of his wing forward to meet it, smashing it right in it's rotted face, ripping out half it's teeth and snapping it's jaw bone with the sheer force of the impact.
The thing crashed to the ground with a groan and Castiel readied his wings again, nothing but a dull throb in the strong bone. As the animal once again staggered to it's feet, the angel was suddenly on the receiving end of both the beasts' attention and he was being circled.
A quick glance across the room saw Dean on his ass, shaking his head with a dazed expression and Sam beginning to stir on the floor.
One of the beasts leapt at him and he flared his wings again to meet it. The flight feathers stiffened, solid and strong as titanium, and when the beast's jaws closed around it, the microscopically serrated edge of the seraph's wing sliced through the bone and muscle and cleaved off the top of the animal's head as easy as a hot knife cut through butter.
The top of it's skull hit the floor with a dull crack, followed shortly by the stiff body.
A stillness descended on the room as the angel turned to the remaining monster, ignoring the disgusting feeling of it's brethren's tainted blood sticking to his feathers and fanning them out, satisfied when those black eyes followed the movement of the blood dripping from his dark feathers.
He crouched lower, the palm of one hand on the floor to steady him against a bout of lightheadedness. Whether it was from blood loss or the strain of manifesting his wings, he couldn't be sure but the pain in his body was getting harder to ignore.
His eyes tracked the beast as it circled him, scraping it's claw across the dirty floor threateningly. In response, the angel's wings flexed powerfully at his back, their length nearly spanning the entire room in an aggressive display.
"Cas?" Dean's voice had turned cautious and questioning and out of the corner of his eye, Castiel could see that he had regained his footing and was standing over beside Sam who was at least sitting up.
Their gaze was heavy but Castiel could not afford to look away from the beast. He tried to move between the brothers and the monster seizing him up but had barely taken a step when it charged him. He moved to intercept it, folding his right wing and driving the top joint forward but the beast had learned from watching it's companion and ducked out of the way, razor sharp teeth snapping at the base of the angel's wing.
Castiel twisted away, rage burning through him and masking the fiery pain of his internal injuries. He spun around as the beast's jaws snapped at him again and, with one strong beat of his wings, lifted off the ground and landed behind the monster in a flurry of dust and dead leaves.
Quick as a striking viper, Castiel's wing struck out with such force that the sound of snapping bones was loud as a whip in the large room.
But the beast was defiant to the end, standing on shattered legs. Castiel advanced on it while it growled low, blood gurgling and bubbling up from it's throat. When it roared, righteous anger flared outward from his core and with one snap of his wing, the beast's head slid cleanly from it's shoulders and the body toppled sideways.
Let me know what you think of the first part of this two part story!