Hi :)
Wrote this fic a while ago and then chickened out of publishing it until now. This is my first published proper smut - it's pretty lightweight but it still counts - and I am a tad nervous about it, but also weirdly proud. I'm a biiiggggg fan of holy hell as a dark, angsty, sexed up version of destiel and whilst I am a huge advocate for consent always being crucial, holy hell just doesn't really feel complete without a touch of dubcon. That is probably not alright but hey, here I am and I've written it anyway. Oops.
WARNING: If you're not OK with reading something that involves low levels of sexualised violence, some knifeplay and definite dubcon (but not noncon) then please consider whether this is the fic for you.
I really hope you enjoy, please leave your thoughts as I greatly appreciate reading them!

Holy Hell

Cas isn't sure what he thinks he's doing here, or why he thought it was a good idea to come alone and without back up. Without his powers functioning. Without Sam. All he knows is that it's taken a long time to even get a faint lead on Dean and Crowley's little honeymoon tour, so when he got the call from his paid-off demon insider that their location was confirmed, he had to move fast.

Luckily he'd been within five hour's drive of the casino-hotel they'd been spotted at. Of course, he called Sam, but he got voice mail. He couldn't afford to sit and wait for the younger Winchester to get back to him. Sam did call back hours later and insisted that he was already on his way, but reluctantly agreed that Cas should go ahead instead of waiting. He's an overnight trip away even driving non stop and won't arrive until almost eight hours after Cas. The angel is alone and horribly weak but he finally has an opening to get to Dean, and he is damn well taking his shot.

He's shaking slightly as he pulls into the mostly deserted car park of the small town casino. It's a bit run down but clearly aimed at people looking for cheap thrills and drunken fun. Cas has to admit that Dean would have happily spent an evening here even before becoming a demon, but it's easy to look at the place as a symbol of his friend's fall from grace.

At least I'm not alone in that experience, now, Cas thinks wryly as he climbs out of the car, fingertips curled into his sleeve to touch the handle of his angel blade. He looks around. It's only about seven and the neon hues of sunset are starting to stain the sky. He can hear music coming from the entrance of the building to his left but otherwise, things are pretty quiet. His contact told him that Crowley often likes to book out whole places for his demonic debauchery. Looks like that's what's happened here.

Cas takes a deep breath and starts towards the row of rooms facing him, attached to the casino. His contact told him that Dean's in number six and that he should be in his room until around nine, when he'll probably hit the bar for the rest of the night, or long enough to drag the nearest willing demon back to his room. Cas tries not to think about the things his old friend might be getting up to nowadays. The feelings that those thoughts stir up are confusing and upsetting.

He approaches the door, checking his blade again. He can hear rock music being played inside and he thinks that it reminds him of Dean, before he remembers that it is Dean. Dean is in there. Twisted and blackened, but still Dean. What the hell is Cas going to say? What if Dean's not alone? What if Cas gets taken out before he can say his piece? What even is his piece?

Stamping down upon his terror, the angel draws himself up, squares his aching shoulders and knocks firmly upon the door. The music instantly stops and a moment later, the door swings open. Cas blinks at the empty space in front of him before remembering that of course, demon mojo, Dean no longer needs to physically open doors. He peers into the softly lit room.

Dean is sprawled back on the bed with a tumbler of whiskey in his hand. He's wearing a black dress shirt open halfway down his chest, fitted black jeans and his hair is longer and combed rakishly to one side. He looks surprised to see his ex-ally standing in his doorway, but his shocked expression quickly morphs into a smirk, green eyes gleaming.

Cas stares at him, hating that his immediate reaction to this sight is to think that Dean looks really fucking good. Belatedly, his angelic powers struggle to the surface and he catches a glimpse of Dean's demonic face; it shocks him out of his idiotic thoughts. His borrowed grace is barely there, though, and the image is gone a moment later, although not forgotten.

"Cas," Dean drawls, and his familiar voice stings Cas sharply. The angel steps into the room, door closing quietly behind him. The old words come naturally to him, though they ache in his chest:

"Hello, Dean."

The demon's smile turns more genuine and he swings his legs over the side of the bed, standing up in a smooth movement. Taking a sip of his scotch, he surveys the angel.

"Thought you'd show up at some point. Never could shake you, could I?"

Cas frowns at him and Dean chuckles, eyes coolly amused. He continues without waiting for Cas's response.

"Didn't bring the moose then?"

Dean never called Sam moose; that was Crowley's joke. Cas sighs, looking sadly at this parody of his best friend.

"Sam is not here. He was too far away and I had to come and talk to you while I knew where to find you."

"Oh, you want to talk? Great! How are things?"

Cas narrows his eyes and Dean winks at him. Suddenly, it's harder to see the differences between this Dean and the one Cas adored.

"Dean, don't play games. You're still in there. I've come to appeal to what's left of you: come back with me. We can fix this!"

"Oh, Cas, baby..." The pet name rolls easily off of Dean's tongue and Cas feels slightly winded. He never thought he'd hear Dean call him anything like that. The demon gives him a pitying smile which turns mocking with his next words: "It's not broken."

Cas closes his eyes, turning his head away. This is horrible. Hearing his own words parroted back at him in that smooth, familiar voice, watching the casual cruelty on that well-loved face... But this is what the demon wants. He wants to hurt Cas, break him and drive him away. The angel takes a deep breath and looks back at Dean, who is swirling his drink and observing Cas with interest.

"I am not leaving here without you, Dean."

It's his turn to do some quoting, and Cas watches with grim satisfaction as recognition flickers in Dean's eyes and his smile disappears.

"Cute," he growls. Suddenly, without any warning, he throws the almost-empty glass at the wall behind Cas, face barely changing with the violent movement. Cas jerks, gripping his angel blade, but before he can draw it he's thrown backwards and slams into the wall just like the glass. Head ringing from the impact, he slumps against the wall and watches in a daze as Dean saunters towards him, shoulders relaxed but expression zeroed in on the angel.

"What exactly did you think you were gonna do, huh?" he asks, eyebrows raised. Cas looks away, ignoring the truth of his words. He's not being held against the wall. Maybe he should try to fight, overpower him. It's worth a try. Dean is still talking. "What, did you think you'd just walk in, and we'd stare at each other like the good old days, and run off into the sunset? Hmm?"

Cas is slipping the angel blade out as Dean speaks, but of course he notices. He moves fast, snakelike, grabbing Cas's wrists and pinning them either side of his head. Cas grunts and then sucks in his breath at how close Dean is. His chlorophyll eyes are inches away, sparkling with mirth, every freckle visible on his face, his warm whiskey-tinted breath fanning across the angel's lips. His smile remains in place as he squeezes Cas's right wrist mercilessly, watching his victim cry out in pain. Feeling like his bones might actually snap, Cas drops the blade but Dean doesn't loosen his grip immediately. He watches Cas's trembling, panting face and glazed eyes for a moment longer, gaze dark and heavy, before giving him relief. He doesn't let go of his wrists and he doesn't back away.

"I don't think you've quite realised this, bucko," Dean murmurs, eyes travelling warmly across Cas's face. "But I am a fucking demon. You think you can mess with me just because we used to be friends?"

"Family," Cas grits out, glaring. "We were family. Does that mean nothing to you, now?"

Dean laughs, low and sultry, the sound ghosting across Cas's skin all the way down to his toes. Then he blinks, and his eyes are black and bottomless. There it is again: a flash of his true face, monstrous and tortured, gone before Cas can really register it. The angel stares into Dean's inky eyes, shock spiking through him.

"What part of 'demon' don't you get?" Dean whispers. Then he blinks again and the human eyes return, pupils dilated but ringed by unmistakable green and blessed white. Cas's breath hitches with relief and he talks fast, convinced that he can get through.

"Dean, please, your brother needs you and I do too. I know that still means something to you. You are not soulless, just damaged." He speaks earnestly, holding Dean's gaze, blue eyes shining with hope and faith. Dean smiles fondly, thumbs rubbing softly at Cas's inner wrists. The angel's heart stutters.

"You are so sweet," Dean tells Cas, and Cas gives a small huff of disbelieving laughter. Was that really all it took? Has he gotten through?

Suddenly, Cas's arms are wrenched above his head. Dean is holding them there with one hand and with a click of his freed fingers, a pair of handcuffs come zooming out of the duffel bag next to the bed. Dean's easy smile remains as he catches them without looking, and he winks again at Cas's confused expression. Then, looking up at Cas's hands, he clips the cuffs on and pins them up high, so that Cas is stretched almost onto his toes. Cas gives a muffled protest. Dean's body is pressed against him and their cheeks brush one another, stubble rasping against stubble.

Cas's skin flushes and he mentally curses his ridiculous attraction to the man; this is not the time to be aroused or flustered. Mind on the job, he reminds himself, it's not even Dean, not properly. Craning his neck upwards, he sees that Dean has used demon mojo to retrieve the angel blade from the floor. Dean artfully twists his fingers in mid air and the blade drives into a link of the chain between the handcuffs, securing them firmly to the wall. Dean shifts back slightly and lowers his eyes to Cas's glare, looking smug. He settles his hands back on the wall at head height, leaning his weight into them.

"That's better," he says in a low voice. "I do love me some handcuffs, don't you?"

Cas doesn't reply, only inhales deeply through his nose, eyes still narrowed and mouth set. Dean tuts, his gaze wandering casually over the angel's lips before moving back up again.

"You really shouldn't have come here. You do know that, right? I would have stayed away if you'd left it alone, but now..." he trails off, eyes burning. Cas tugs ineffectually at the handcuffs, but the blade was driven deep into the wall and he's weak anyway, not even strong by human standards at the moment. Despite himself, Cas wonders what Dean was about to say. But now... what? Dean's quiet laugh catches his attention.

"Oh, Cas. Poor little angel. You really thought you could do it, didn't you? Thought you could charge in here and win me back with talk of friendship... And loyalty..."

He leans in, lips to Cas's ear, and the angel stills. Dean whispers, his voice dripping with amusement. "Our 'profound bond'. Hmm?"

Cas closes his eyes, furious that Dean is yet again using his own words against him. When he opens them, the demon has pulled back to stare at him, full lips quirked upwards. Cas opens his mouth and is about to retort when Dean speaks again.

"I mean, seriously? You think you can save me from being a demon with the power of your boner?"

Cas freezes, a slightly panicked frown settling on his face. What the hell is this? Dean cocks his head to one side, clearly enjoying Cas's reaction.

"Did you think I didn't know about your little crush?"

No. This isn't happening. Cas's heart is thundering in his chest and he feels suddenly nauseous. Dean chuckles, leaning in again to speak into the angel's ear.

"Of course I knew. Everyone knows. I just never said anything because... Well, I couldn't let you know that I felt the same way, now could I?"

Cas's face twists with pain and he jerks his head away from Dean's mouth, hands fisting above the cuffs.

"Fuck you," he rasps, throat tight. Dean follows him, breathing a laugh against the sensitive shell of his ear, making him tremble.

"Got a bit of a dirty tongue tonight, haven't we Cas?" He pauses and then pulls back, gaze smouldering as he stares at the angel. "It's true though. Damn, I used to fantasise about you in all sorts of ways."

Cas's eyes go wide, his mouth slack. He stares back at Dean in confusion and disbelief even as his body reacts to the words. He shakes his head infinitesimally, a silent denial. Dean smirks and brings one hand off of the wall to finger Cas's collar, watching the skin beneath it flush.

"Hmm," he murmurs, seemingly to himself. He glances back up at the breathless angel before flicking the top button of the shirt open. "I got pretty creative about it, too. Downright dirty, if I'm honest. God only knows how many ways I dreamed up for us to fuck."

He says the last part boldly, staring straight at Cas, who makes a weak sort of pleading sound, shaking his head again but unable - or unwilling - to form words. Dean's smile is gone, his gaze hungry. He stares at Cas's mouth for a long moment before returning to undoing buttons slowly, one by one, using both hands now. When he speaks his tone is low but conversational.

"You ever have a favourite fantasy of us, Cas? I did. Wanna know what it was?" His fingers tug Cas forward slightly by the shirt as he looks back up, that damned smirk returning. He speaks against Cas's cheek, voice wicked.

"Back of the Impala."

Cas's eyes flutter shut and he sags against his bonds, biting his lip with a quiet moan. Shit, shit, how does he know? How many times has Cas stared at the back seat of that stupid car and imagined himself pressed down against it, skin caressed by cool leather and rough hands? Dean is grinning against his neck, tugging another button undone, fingers brushing the bare skin on Cas's lower rib cage and making him twitch.

"You too, huh?" he breathes hotly and Cas gulps, eyes still closed, breath coming fast and shallow. This is insane. Dean likes women, strictly women. Dean has always made it clear that he sees Cas as a brother. Dean would be horrified to know how Cas daydreams of him, how he watches him and wants him, how much further than simple friendship his love reaches. But this IS Dean, close enough that his familiar scent is making Cas dizzy, watching him with lustful eyes and whispering about fucking him. Insane, insane, insane.

"Imagine it now, Cas," he's saying softly, smoothly. "Summer night, we're parked up somewhere, hot, sweaty-"

"Stop." Cas's voice is rough and shaking but loud. To his shock, Dean does fall silent and his hands still on the last button, the backs of his knuckles still resting on Cas's tense stomach. He pulls back, eyebrows raised.

"Oh?" His voice is dangerously even. Cas's gaze is steady and angry but his lips are parted and trembling.

"Stop," he repeats. "You're lying. Dean has never... YOU have never felt that way abou- about me. I don't know what game you're playing here but it's..."

He stops and swallows, eyes bright and pained. Dean gives a small, surprised huff of laughter.

"Wow," he says in what seems to be genuine surprise. "You poor, sorry bastard. I really put on a good act, didn't I?"

Cas frowns, face hard and shuttered. Dean grabs his chin suddenly, thumb dragging across his lower lip, imitating the movement on his own mouth using his tongue. Cas exhales in a rush and his head spins.

"Oh, baby..." Dean drawls and the angel almost whimpers again, horrified at how much he likes that stupid fucking word. "You are just way too much fun."

With that, he kisses Cas, crowding in and pinning him to the wall with his whole body, hand sliding into his hair and twisting harshly. His other hand pushes into Cas's open shirt, fingers digging into his bare waist. Cas isn't really in control of the sounds he's making against Dean's tongue and he's sure that later, he's going to be mortified that an angel of the Lord was reduced to such a mess by mere desire. He's just too human nowadays for his own good.