Title: Faith
Author: starlight2005
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Dean/Cas
Spoilers: Season 4
Warnings: kissing, mild torture (?), established relationship
Word Count: 3,569
Summary: Dean is destined to do great things. One is to kill Lucifer, and demons will try to stop him. He only has two weaknesses—his greatest weakness, his most loved, is lying pliant underneath him. And they know this. Are aware of the risk they're going to take. But they're going to survive this. Together. Until the end of time. It's all a dream but the horror lurks at the edges and it blinds him, keeps him winded down and paralyzed. But the thing is, he's never going to drown in the terror of his nightmares because Dean always calls him back. Always keeps him safe. And for the meantime, that is enough. Until he can brave his dreams finally.
A/N: It's a bit longer than its predecessor, For Now, but hopefully no one gets confused in the end. Please leave feedback. They are love. Thank you.
~*~*~*~*~
The light burns his skin, the pain piercing though like small spears plummeting into defenseless flesh. Castiel gasps audibly, recognizing the iron shackles that bind his hands from the ones that were used on him before. Eyes widen as the same iron shackles keep him hanging like meat, freezing. Gasping for scarce air. Even when Sariel stands before him, his eyes luminous with cold righteousness and mercy, Castiel cannot begin to think of what is to happen. Only thinks about how he can escape like Dean has instructed. He knows Sariel only by name, hears his name whispered in battle like a warning. Caution for angels planning to break Heaven's laws.
Here is the angel of the Lord who punishes; deals with the transgressions of God's soldiers.
Seeing Sariel doesn't surprise Castiel, who by now has already known the reason behind his presence. He grimaces, though, and wonders if Dean is safe. If the angels have gotten him as well and are keeping him somewhere else. Punishing him for Castiel's grievances. He hopes not because despite all, Castiel doesn't want anything to happen to the hunter. Not when he can do something about it.
"Castiel, you have disobeyed."
Sariel calls his attention back, voice steady, matter-of-factly and leaving no room for objections whatsoever. The chain-bound angel has no intentions of saying anything. Almost laughs and thinks about Dean. How the hunter responds to this, with an overconfident smirk, proud and bland remarks. False bravado and a "No shit, Sherlock." Taunting, baiting. Dry humor that Castiel misses hearing. Funny how the hunter's words can amuse him so much that he actually faces Sariel without hesitance.
"I have done what I thought was right," he stubbornly defends because he knows what Sariel wants him to do. What all the other angels want him to do. Knows they want him to repent and knows Castiel isn't willingly going to. Sariel is going to force him to admit that his disobedience has been a mistake. Make him understand that everything happens for a reason. All for the bigger picture, without thought of who's going to be caught in the crossfire. Of the people who will get hurt. And Castiel scowls angrily, images of Dean breaking and hurting in Hell just for the seals to start breaking coming to mind. He looks at Sariel unflinchingly, "Are you going to rip me from Jimmy Novak's body now and make me see what I have missed all along?"
It is a challenge and from the surprise on Sariel's face, Castiel feels ultimately proud of himself. That he does not cower, does not back down when he knows he is right. The angel shakes his head, frowns at Castiel like a disappointed parent. But Castiel isn't done yet. Decides to pre-empt the blow.
"No one deserves death. No bloodshed because we cannot control Hell. They are not playthings that we can throw away because they have gotten so meddlesome," he says defiantly. Thinks of Dean and his willingness to go to Hell to save his brother. Thinks that kind of selflessness exists in every being, therefore vetoing Heaven's right to simply take their lives away. Throw them to the hounds.
"There are many things that you do not understand. Have not begun to understand," Sariel answers instead. Avoids the confrontation; seeks to pacify. There's no pacifying Castiel, though, as he frowns stubbornly. Sariel continues despite that, "They are destroying themselves even without cosmic intervention."
"Who are we to judge them for what they have done? We are God's soldiers, not He, himself," Castiel argues. And it must have shown on his face—his adamant refusal to believe in Sariel's half-truths, his conviction because finally, a frown mars Sariel's ageless, stoic face. Shows his disapproval at the younger angel's pigheadedness. He stiffens instinctively as the angel walks towards him. Expression closed and dangerous.
"Be careful with the words you use, Castiel. You do not understand the greater scheme of things," Sariel warns, face close enough for Castiel to see the disgust in his eyes. "If even for one moment you believe your actions bear no consequences, if you think you and that human can escape these consequences, I warn you to think again, child."
And Castiel never notices how stuffy the air is until Sariel vanishes into air in a nanosecond, leaving him hanging. Staring, mind reeling. Sariel's words filling him with ice cold dread.
"Cas!"
He breathes in relief. Glad to know Dean is safe. Has found him. In the darkness, he sees Dean stalk his way around the place, liming from time to time but his gait ever alert. The shackles that bind him disappear as instantly as Sariel has and he collapses to the ground. And Castiel doesn't have to look up from where he is to know the hunter has heard him. That Dean is making his way to him, saw-off in his right hand, grip firm and ready to shoot if anyone attempts to hurt Castiel.
"Dean, in here!" Castiel cries out and wonders how fast Dean has located him. Only remembers how he was separated. Abruptly taken from his side of their bed while they wove a spell to keep Dean deep in sleep. To keep him unaware of Castiel's apparent kidnapping. The angel shivers uncontrollably, reminding him of his inappropriate clothing. A simple pair of sweatpants and t-shirt borrowed from Dean simply cannot ward off the cool breeze, nor can it protect him from long periods of exposure to the cold.
Dean hears him, thankfully, and runs towards him. The worry, in spite of the lack of light, evident on his pale, freckled face. Castiel closes his eyes in relief, feeling the hunter's arms wound around him and pull him up. Hears Dean whisper his own relief at finding Cas. But the moment Castiel touches the floor, his knees give in and he falls, Dean catching him in the process.
"Shit Cas, you're burning up!" Dean exclaims, their distance finally revealing the truth to the angel's constant shivering. And the words sound so far away for Cas, who simply nods. Leans on Dean, relishing the body heat that he moans helplessly as he settles comfortably in Dean's arms.
"Dean," he sighs and it's enough to quiet Dean's sudden, loud voice. Castiel faintly remembers being lifted and his arms wrapping around Dean's neck as his head tilts and lands on Dean's chest. The last thing he remembers hearing is Dean's promise to get him out there soon before unconsciousness consumes him.
When Castiel wakes up, it is to the feeling of a damp towel on his forehead and the bed sheets covering him chin to toe. He blinks confusedly, the recent events apparently foggy in his mind. Dean's silhouette catches his attention and he opens his mouth to say something. Ask what's going on and the elder Winchester sees him. The worry visible on his face as he heads to the bed and putting a hand on Cas' forehead. Checking the temperature, most likely.
"Hey Cas, feeling better?" Dean whispers, brushing tousles of Castiel's sweat-damped hair away from his forehead. The angel looks up, eyes asking all he needs to say. Sends the unvoiced What's going on? The What happened? And Dean simply shakes his head, obviously deciding to fill him in afterwards. "You have a fever. Rest, man. You'll need it."
Castiel's brows furrow. Pieces in the shadows that he sees in his mind. The light, the argument. Another angel. His eyes widen, realizing who the angel was. He has seen Sariel! Sariel was there. And Dean is unexpectedly quiet about what happened in the warehouse. It's always a warehouse, the angel thinks wryly.
"Dean, Sariel was in the warehouse. He—"
"Sariel? Who's he?" the man asks, flipping his phone open and texting Sam to bring them food.
"Sariel. He is in charge of making angels obey the laws. He was in thewarehouse with me. You were there, too. You found me and I was… he was talking to me… said…" At Dean's honest bewilderment, the angel decides to end there. Apparently, Dean doesn't know about the conversation that he's talking about. "He warned me, Dean. He wasn't specific about it but it was a warning."
Dean nods and kisses him on the forehead. Pushes him gently to the mattress.
"We'll talk about this when you get better, alright? For the meantime, you rest. Don't worry, I'll watch over you this time." Dean says, grinning as he did so. Sympathizing with Cas, trusts Cas enough to know whatever the warning is, is in fact important. Just not this time because the angel is sick and that's a bigger matter to solve. It leaves Castiel with no choice but to comply. He cannot push down the feeling that they need to settle Sariel's warning now, though, and so he sits up immediately after lying down.
"We can't risk anything if someone's after us, Dean," he reasons.
"It's fine, Cas. I'm okay. See? Sam's—well, he's probably angsting over some dead squirrel or something, but he's fine. And you, you're sick. But you're okay, too. Sure you're sick and you're kind's not supposed to get sick but hey, you're exceptional obviously. So how about we talk about it tomorrow morning?"
At Castiel's disbelieving stare, the hunter sighs and wraps him in an embrace.
"Just rest. Please, Cas?" Dean can't help it. He worries. About Sariel's warning. About Cas' health. He told the truth. Last time they checked, angels are immune to human diseases and yet Cas is sick. Which is probably the most controversial issue they have to address as of the moment.
Castiel eventually nods, conceding because he's simply too tired to do anything else. His body feels like it was crushed between two rocks and every bone, every muscle aches. The pain must have shown on his face, though, since Dean leans in and cradles his face. Tenderly, eyes cautious of the causes of the hurt. Their eyes meet and has Castiel ever mentioned how unbelievably beautiful Dean's worried emerald eyes are?
"It's just a fever. It'll come down eventually but Cas, you gotta rest for that to happen," Dean requests. It reminds him of how he was with Sammy when they were younger. Sammy being stubborn as usual and refusing to go back to his own bed while he keeps Dean up all night. But the exasperation doesn't even make its presence known. Now there's just concern. And his persistence for Cas to fall asleep and get well. He visibly relaxes as soon as he sees the angel sag back. Good.
"Good. Back to bed for you," he teases and puts the covers back up.
The angel smiles and closes his eyes. In his dazed state, Cas loves this Dean. (Well, he loves all the Deans but this one holds a special place in his heart.) This Dean, whose emotions are barely concealed. Who doesn't have to be sarcastic about everything; who doesn't have to doubt the intentions of anyone who wants to help. The Dean Winchester, not Dean Winchester. The individual, not the hunter. And it's nice to see him for a change. Castiel cannot help it, he sneaks a peak and catches Dean staring at him, eyes warm. This is nice, too, he thinks belatedly. The warmth, not the fire caused by lust. Or anger. Just warmth.
Nice, comfortable warmth…
Cas' eyes closes and he falls back to sleep.
Dean sighs heavily, blowing out the anxiety of his system. Cas is fine, damn it. May have stayed far too long in the rain and foolishly thought kissing Dean when he was sick means he won't be getting the viruses. The angels may have done something to him but there aren't any wounds and Cas hasn't complained about potential injuries yet. And the thing is, Cas is alright now. The fever's going down. It's just a fever, for Christ's sake. Sammy used to have fevers when he was a kid, y'know. And he always was fine after that. Castiel isn't an exception to that. He'll get better tomorrow morning.
So what if the angel looks pale under the sheets? So what if he looks vulnerable? Frail? It doesn't matter. He's here. He's going to be right damn here when Castiel wakes up tomorrow morning and tell him that the fever broke. Dean sighs again, grabs a chair and keeps vigil.
~*~*~*~*~
The first thing Castiel notices is that it's hot and very dark. He's relieved to find that he isn't bound anymore and that Sariel isn't anywhere in sight. There aren't any angels, come to think of it and finally, he breathes in relief. If this is another dream, then maybe this one is better than the last. But when a breeze sweeps over him, something feels strange and he stiffens reflexively. He's a soldier and has enough experience to know that in a moment, something is truly wrong.
"Why, hello, lover boy. Finally agreed to stay, huh? I've always thought blood's thicker than water, especially with us, don't you think?"
Alastair's voice ruins every notion that this is going to be better than seeing Sariel. The demon's words are like acid to his ears. Filthy. Disgusting. Despicable. He senses Alastair's arrival first before turning around, glaring heatedly at the imposing figure who swaggers towards him. Alastair smirks, 'tsks' amusedly. "Looking hot today. Ready to play, Cas?"
"Don't call me that. Only—"
"Ah, right. Dean-boy." The demon laughs, whispers in his hear, "Ready to play with him then? Come on, family share what they have, you know."
"I am not in any way related to you, demon."
"You sure about that?" Alastair breathes above his mouth, caressing Castiel's face and obviously waiting for a reaction the angel isn't going to give. Disappointed, he sighs. "Oh well. You'll learn. Bye for now and play nice!"
He disappears in a second, leaving Castiel and the lights back on just in time for him to see Dean collapse to the ground. Castiel reaches for him and stops as Dean shies from his touch. What.
"Please… don't," Dean pleads. Broken. Anguished; avoiding Castiel's gaze as if the mere sight of the angel can burn him inside out. Castiel doesn't understand at first, though. Mind thinking of a reason why Dean reacts this way so he tries to touch him again. Stiffens when Dean, bruised and bloodied that he is, scrambles back in fear. "No, Cas, don't.."
When the words sink in and Castiel realizes it isn't a call for help but a damned prayer for him to step back, Castiel freezes. Stands still, breath knocked back and heart pounding so fast. He nearly doubles over in horror. What did Alastair do to him? "Oh God, Dean—"
He clenches his fists, noticing the knife in his hand. Sees the blood on the blade—so much blood—and hastily drops it. He didn't do it. He can never do it. He'd never hurt Dean. Dean has to believe him. He'd rather die himself than…oh God, so much blood…
"W-wasn't y-you," Dean coughs, the tremors wheezing through his body like a hurricane on a small boat. He falls even further, body now a messy heap on the floor. Broken. Tortured with Castiel's own hands. And the angel can't even remember how it has happened. If it was one of Alastair's mind games.
"Dean." I'm sorry. Castiel looks down, terrified. Ashamed. Feels small, guilty. He refuses to meet Dean's gaze. Knows for sure Dean won't see this as such. Won't see Castiel's failure at saving him. Or stopping himself from hurting the hunter. Either way, whether he had done the torturing or not, he has failed. To protect Dean. "No, forgive me."
"Possessed!" Because that's the only word the hunter can utter right now, blood spilling from his lips as the coughs wrack through his body. Dean grimaces afterwards and tries to stand. Plans to comfort the obviously distraught angel. Convince him that it hasn't been him. Never Castiel. Can't be his Cas. But Cas won't have any of it. Which is goddamn frustrating, Dean thinks. Finds Cas trembling, complexion far too white for his liking. Chalk white is the best expression. He doesn't speak as if he's lost his voice somewhere between watching Dean and burying himself in shame and guilt.
"Cas."
"I'm sorry, I didn't know. I—"
"Cas, l-listen," and neither of them bothered to think that maybe Dean can still be saved if the angel gets him to the hospital. But the thing is, this is a dream. And in dreamscape, things simply don't go the way they usually do.
"Forgive me."
"I do, damn it!" It's hard to breathe now. "This… isn't your f-fucking fault, Cas!"
"Dean—"
"CAS, WAKE THE HELL UP!"
Castiel sits up almost instantly, diving straight to Dean, who catches him in a hug. He buries his head in Dean's neck, murmuring incoherent apologies and clutching as tight as he can. Thinks this is good. This is Dean and he's alive. He's not going anywhere and he's safe. From Alastair. From him. But despite this, Castiel trembles, his nightmare fresh in mind. Can imagine the blood staining the knife, his hands, his clothes, and he buries himself even more into the hunter's embrace. Sinking in the scent of Dean. Of home. Safety.
"I'm right here," Dean whispers, patting his back comfortingly. "It's just a dream, Cas. It's not real. I'm alive, see?"
This time Castiel looks up and shakes his head. "I hurt you, Dean. Me."
"Then it can't be you," Dean shrugs.
"Dean, treat this seriously, please." Understand. You have to listen, he doesn't say. The way Dean sobers up immediately, a frown making its way to his face, tells Castiel that his message has been heard. But Dean can be stubborn when he wants to. Determined in his belief that no matter what happens, Cas won't willingly hurt him. Dean only embraces him tighter and dropping a kiss on the crown of his head. The way he used to do to Sammy when they were little and the younger Winchester woke up from a nightmare, terrified and crying. Dreaming of deaths he has caused; couldn't stop.
Dean lying bloodied and broken by Cas' hands.
"I'm sorry," Castiel mutters, head bowed, ashamed. Feels bad knowing Dean has had enough of being the one who soothes everyone else's fears away.
"Stop apologizing," Dean admonishes and pulls him in, their lips colliding in a kiss. Cas' eyes close soon afterwards.
This is real—Dean's soft, yielding lips opening under his, Castiel's tongue slip-sliding in and Dean reacting to it by dragging his face closer. Their hands on each other and feeling alright. Alive, hearts beating in synchrony. The texture of Dean's stubble on his otherwise smooth face and the way it feels pliant under Castiel's caresses. Cas' lips on the man's eyes, relishing the way they flutter shut as Dean's breath hitches. He nips the hunter's jaws, leaving small kisses in his wake as he finds that special place between Dean's neck and shoulder that makes him gasp whenever Castiel sucks on it.
Dean pushes Castiel, back hitting the mattress, as he straddles his hips, leg on each side. He grins from above, reaches for Castiel's hands and kisses the palms. When the angel gasps his name, he nips at the fingertips , eyes dancing playfully.
"Dean," Castiel breathes, looking at him so earnestly Dean can't resist devouring the angel's lips again. His hands enclose Cas' and drags them over his heart, the heartbeat fast and loud in the silence. He knows Castiel feels it and from the way he looks at him, eyes wide and dazed with arousal, Dean's certain Cas gets the message.
"See? I'm okay," Dean says, breathless. In this room, nothing else but he and Castiel exist. Living at this moment, no thoughts of Sariel or Alastair. No nightmares, no dawns. Just tonight and them. "This. This is real, and we're going to have this every fucking day because we can. We will. Alright, Cas?"
"I'm terrified." Cas admits honestly but when he glances at the hunter, he doesn't see any trace of mocking. Silly amusement. Only understanding, acceptance. A desire to quench the cause of his terror. And Castiel feels it, the way his heart simply swells right now. The way he feels giddy and light, like this is the best thing in the world. To have that gaze directed at him, to know Dean'll always want to protect him. Will always want to cherish what they share. What they have. But Castiel is anything but unrealistic; has to lay down all his cards before they begin so Dean knows. Can prepare for it. "They're going to use me to get through you."
"We're going to make it," and it's a promise.
Dean is destined to do great things. One is to kill Lucifer, and demons will try to stop him.
He only has two weakness—his greatest, most loved, is lying pliantly underneath him. And they both know this. Are aware of the risk they're going to take.
But goddamn it, they're going to survive this.
Together. Until the end of time.
No matter what it takes, Dean vows, falling beside Castiel and covering them both with the sheets.
No matter what, Castiel echoes and they succumb to sleep.
FIN