The pale moonlight shined brightly on Dean Winchester as he stumbled down the road, drunk as hell and needing to kill something. The odor of whiskey still clung to his breath and his black button-down shirt was mussed and hanging to the side, like he had fallen on the concrete and roughly brushed himself off. As he dragged his weary body along, all he could feel was anger. Nowadays, being drunk was his only escape, if he could call it that. It brought the horrors of his life into a much more dream-like vision, and distracted him from bottled up feelings and regrets that made him despise himself. When Dean finally reached the "Clover Motel", which he thought was a horrifically gay name, he dragged himself to his room, 199, and collapsed on the worn bed. He looked up at the ceiling that had a ridiculous design of cherubs on clouds…
"Ha, little reminder of Cass huh?" he slurred, chuckling to himself at what wouldn't be funny at all if he was sober. There was a sudden flutter of wings and Dean rolled his eyes. He lolled his head over to the right to see the angel standing near the window, looking at Dean quizzically.
"You called?" he asked. Dean scoffed.
"You know, its funny how you come when all I want is to be alone, but when I call you to do something useful you can't manage to high tail your feathery ass down here," Dean said, stumbling over his words. The angel shrugged and stayed rooted to the spot.
"I heard my name, knew it was you… That's all that mattered," said Cass.
"Yeah, right. Well right now could you be an angel and get me another beer?" Dean said, laughing at his own joke. Cass glanced over to the miniature fridge that was near the door and shook his head.
"No. How much have you had to drink Dean? You aren't even…. You aren't even with a woman," said Cass quietly, knowing that it was a sure sign that something was off. Dean huffed in exasperation.
"Is that all you think I am? A sleazy human? Wow, that's a dick comment, even from you. Just leave Cass, I don't need you here lecturing me on my habits," Dean spat, rolling over so that his back was to the angel. There was a sudden flutter of wings and Cass was gone. Minutes later, Dean passed out and had a dreamless sleep.
#
When Dean awoke, he had an enormous headache. He groaned and rolled over, only to jump up in surprise.
"Dammit, don't do that!" he snapped at Cass. The angel instantly backed away from the side of the bed towards the window.
"I'm sorry," he muttered.
"What the hell do you want?" Dean asked, sitting up against the headboard.
"Sammy wants you to come back. He could use your help hunting. He is worried…"
Dean looked over to Cass with a look of disgust. "So now you and him are best pals, is that it? You have to rescue little Dean from his drinking and solitude just because he is tired of all of the crap? That it Cass? Well you can take your lectures and fake emotions and shove it up your feathery ass. I don't want to help Sammy, and I certainly am not helping you," Dean said with contempt. Cass' expression took a sudden change, and Dean detected hurt in his weary eyes.
"Dean, please just come back," he said, sounding more pleading than his usual self.
"Why should I? So that Sam can fall off the wagon again in some amount of months, or so that you can disappear randomly and leave us, leave me, abandoned and up against Heaven and Hell? So that I can experience more pain, like when we were in Purgatory? No, Castiel, I'm done," said Dean, turning away. Cass looked at the broken man sadly. He didn't want to do this, but Sam and him had made a pact… Castiel slowly walked over to Dean and sat down on the bed. Dean turned back, feeling the depression as the angel sat, only to find two fingers pressed to his forehead. He went limp, falling against Cass, and blacked out.
#
When Dean woke up he was sitting on the bed in Bobby's old panic room. He groggily looked around. Cass and Sam were standing in front of Dean, and the older hunter was strapped down by his wrists.
"Dammit guys let me go! I'm not hunting! I'm not pretending to be some big happy family! Let me the fuck go!" Dean growled, shaking the bed as he tried to get loose.
"No Dean," said Sam firmly. Cass nodded in agreement.
"Why the hell not?" asked Dean, nearly spitting in disgust.
"Because you are destroying yourself Dean," said Cass softly. Dean's eyes laser-focused on the angel, giving him a look that could kill.
"Shut up Castiel," he spat. The angel looked hurt that Dean wouldn't use his nickname, that he was treating him so harshly. Sam put a hand on Cass' shoulder.
"It's okay man, he's not right in the head," Sammy said. Cass nodded.
"I know…" Sam turned to his brother.
"Listen you ass, you are going to hunt with us whether you like it or not. We have a job to finish. Remember? Killing demons? Ridding the world of the Leviathans? What happened to the Dean that we both know and love? Now you're just a monster," Sam said sadly. Dean looked at Sam in shock. Now he knew how it felt to be called a monster…
His face untightened slightly and his eyes met Cass' frightened gaze.
"I'm sorry," he murmured, looking only at the angel. Cass nodded.
"We know," he said quietly. Sam looked back and forth from his brother to the angel, astonished at what had just happened.
"Um, good then. You won't try to gank us if we unchain you?" he asked hesitantly, walking towards Dean. Dean shook his head, still locking his gaze on Cass. Sam unlocked the cuffs and Dean jumped up from the bed, standing rigidly still. He looked to Sam with a hardened expression.
"So, what are we hunting?" he mumbled, defeated. Sam motioned for them to follow and they left the panic room behind, walking upstairs.
"We're not exactly sure. But, in Ashville, Pennsylvania, there have been four odd deaths, all apparently related to either drug addictions or other causes that could be related to obsession or addiction. Here," Sam said, handing Dean a paper. It was a murder investigation report, and there was a picture of a woman who was found dead on the floor of her bedroom, supposedly from an OD. Dean read the article with an interested expression on his face.
"Hmm. Sammy, doesn't this sort of remind you of famine? I mean, when you were forced to hulk-out and Cass here, well, gorged himself to no end?" Dean said, looking up from the paper.
"That's what worries us," Cass said, feeling a little relieved that Dean was using his nickname again. Dean nodded.
"Well, lets go gank this son-of-a-bitch," he said, his whole demeanor changing. Cass nodded. Dean then paused for a second.
"Um, just wondering, where was I when you found me?" he asked, turning to Cass.
"You were in Oregon," he said matter-of-factly.
"Oh. And where's my baby?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
"We still have her. You left ten days ago in a stolen pick up truck and told us to keep her, remember?" Sam asked. Dean nodded.
"Right. Well, at least she's safe," he said. With that, the trio packed up the usual precautions, rock salt, rifles, machetes, silver bullets, etc., and loaded up into the Impala. Sam drove, Dean rode shotgun, and Cass sat in the back seat. It was a tiresome drive to Ashville, and it took nearly a whole day, but when they finally made it they were relieved. They walked into the cheapest, off the grid motel they could find in the city, the Good Eats Bed and Breakfast, and holed up until morning. As soon as Dean walked in, he collapsed on the bed and slept, and Sam soon followed suit. Cass however, sat in the plush armchair and watched the older hunter sleep. It was an interesting process, watching his usually hardened face slip into an expression of peace, and his vigilant body release and fall into a comatose sleep. Dean was surely peculiar. Why had he listened to Cass but had ignored his own brother? The hunter was a riddle of contradictions, and his emotions were about as stable as a teenage girl, but he always had a reason for what he did…
#
"Get up Dean-O!" yelled Sam, blasting AC/DC's "Highway to Hell" on the radio. Instead of being frustrated, Dean laughed and sat up against the metal bed frame, looking at his brother who was already in his suit.
"I always found this song ironic. Reminds me of, well me…" he laughed, getting out of bed. He rushed into the bathroom and brushed his teeth really quickly. Sam had left Dean's suit on the counter, so he quickly changed and left his clothes on the towel rack. It was only then he came out that Dean noticed Cass standing near the motel room door with a brown cardboard box and a Styrofoam cup in his hand.
"Sam told me you like coffee," he said, walking forward and put the box and cup in Dean's hands.
"Thanks Cass," Dean said, looking in the box.
"Pie!" he said happily, looking over to Sammy.
"Don't look at me," he said, pointing to the angel.
"You? Thank you," Dean said, setting the coffee down and taking out the pie. He forgot all else and sat down in a chair to eat while Sam continued to pack up. It was blueberry, Dean's favorite.
"Thanks Cass, seriously," he said again, happily stuffing it down his throat. Then, Dean stopped and looked at Cass, who was watching him eat.
"Do you want some?" he said through a mouth full of blueberry. Cass shook his head.
"It's for you," he said. Dean rolled his eyes and motioned for Cass to sit in the chair opposite him. He handed him the spare fork from the bag.
"Here. Take some," he said, passing the tin to Cass. Wanting to make the hunter happy, Cass took some on his fork and put it in his mouth.
"Hmm, this is surprisingly good," he said, eating the bite of pie.
"See? Told you," Dean said smugly. They shared the rest of the pie while Sam tried to be as discreet as possible with his giggling. When the tin was empty Dean threw it into the trashcan that was several feet away. It landed in it perfectly with a low thud.
"You have excellent aim," said Cass. Dean shrugged.
"Alright, ready to hit the road?" Sam asked with a huge smile. He had known for a while now that his brother was hopelessly in love with Cass. He just hoped that Dean would admit his feelings one day, so that he could at least have some happiness in his life. But, Dean was always stubborn and private… So, sometimes Sammy had to take matters into his own hands. This time, he had cleverly made sure that the front seat to the Impala was "broken" so that Dean would have to sit in the back while his brother drove around town… It wouldn't last long, but it was something to push the two together…
"Yeah. Why are you so cheery? This isn't freaking Mary Poppins Sammy," Dean said as he slung his duffel bag over his shoulder. Cass stood and the three quickly loaded the car. It was only when Dean went to open the passenger door and sit down that the chair nearly collapsed, falling backward so that Dean jumped up and yelled "No Baby!"
"What's wrong Dean?" asked Sam, pretending to be oblivious and poking his head around from the trunk. Dean looked irritable, but the plan was working.
"She's… broken… A bolt in the damn seat just came out or something," Dean said, looking for the source of the problem.
"Aw, sorry bro," Sam said, shutting the trunk and coming over to look, pretending to be interested.
"Yeah. Well we are going to have to wait on fixing you Baby," Dean said, talking to the car. Sam rolled his eyes.
"Yeah, that sucks. Well, one of us will just sit in the back with Cass," said Sam. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Cass walk out of the motel, having accomplished his task of checking them out.
"You're up Sammy. I'm driving," Dean said, holding his hand out for the keys.
"Come on Dean, you never let me drive anymore," Sam said, starting an argument. Dean glanced over to Cass, and clearly didn't want him to see them arguing over who had to sit by the angel.
"Fine. Rock, paper, scissors?" Dean muttered.
"Sure," Sam said, trying to hide his delight. It was no surprise that Sam won; Dean always chose scissors… He eagerly hopped in the driver's seat and Dean opened the passenger door.
"Aren't you driving Dean?" Cass asked, approaching the hunter.
"The front seat's broken and Sammy's driving," Dean said through his teeth.
"Are you alright?" Cass asked, sensing Dean's anger.
"Just get in, I'm fine," he said. Cass slid into the car and Dean followed, slamming the door behind him.
"Alright," said Cass. The three drove to their first stop, the police station. The boys all looked pretty convincing, decked out in their suits, and once they grabbed their fake ID's from the back seat, they were all set.
#
"Hello, I'm Jensen Collins, this is my partner Jared Ackles, and this is Doctor Misha Padalecki," said Dean, pointing to himself, Sam and Cass respectively. He had laughed at Sam when he originally picked the names, but what better fake names than mash-ups of actors that didn't exist in this universe?
"Officer Raymond Brown," said the tall, dark-skinned policeman, shaking their hands.
"What can I do for ya?" he asked. Dean took charge here, putting his ID away and pulling out a notepad and pencil.
"We're here investigating the deaths of Rachel Tanner and Michael Smith," said Dean, ignoring the other two deaths. They could talk to the coroner about that.
"Oh yeah, major drug junkies apparently. And they died such peculiar deaths," Raymond said, shaking his head.
"What sort of peculiar?" Cass asked, cocking his head to the side and giving the officer his odd stare.
"Well, they were both apparently taking some strange new psychedelic drugs. One was supposedly from crushed up insects, and the other had venom from a rattlesnake in it. I have no idea how people can be so stupid," the officer said, shaking his head.
"Hmm, anything else you can tell us? We believe that there might have been foul play involved from the dealers," Sam said, doing his acting job well.
"Yeah, according to both victim's friends, the drugs were made out of things they were both deathly afraid of. I mean, Rachel was terrified of rattlesnakes, and Michael would kill even a cricket if it got near him," said Raymond. Sam scrawled down some notes and nodded.
"Thank you, that's really all we wanted to know," he said. The officer tipped his head and turned on his heel. The trio walked back to the car and climbed inside.
"What are you thinking Sammy? I'm starting to put some stock into the theory that we've never dealt with anything like this before," said Dean.
"I'm not sure. Is it possible that famine could have come back with more power?" asked Sam.
"I wouldn't count on it. He only had one power ring. This has to be something else. Besides, these people are killing themselves with their own fears…" Cass interjected.
"Alright, well let's check out their bodies," Sam said, starting the car. The drive to the hospital was silent, and Dean kept looking over slyly at Cass, who was staring out of the window. He didn't know what it was that made him feel so uncomfortable to be close to Cass… But whatever it was bothered him greatly…
#
"Here they are," said coroner Tammy White. The man and woman looked completely normal on the outside yet were cold as ice. Dean nodded and turned to her.
"Thank you."
"No problem. Just holler if you need anything else. It's my break," Tammy said, leaving the room. Sam gave the bodies a close examination, looking everywhere for a trace of anything unusual. He looked at their tox screens, but found nothing… They then took an X-ray of both the man and the woman.
"There's nothing, absolutely no sign of our kind of problem," Sam said, defeated.
"Maybe this creature doesn't leave a trace," said Cass.
"No shit Sherlock," Dean said with a laugh.
"I don't understand that reference," Cass said. Dean just rolled his eyes.
"I think we need to do some serious research on anything to do with desire," Sam said. The other two nodded. They all agreed to go back to the hotel for the day and try to figure this out.
#
"Wait, what if it's the seven deadly sins?" Dean asked, looking up from his computer.
"It's possible," said Cass. "That would make sense, considering each of the four people died from different causes. Greed would make sense for the drugs, and the prostitute that was raped and killed by another woman could be Lust…"
"No, no that wouldn't make any sense. Why on earth would they be here?" Sam asked, putting a hole in their theory.
"I dunno, maybe they feel like making this Sin City?" Dean laughed.
"Dean, this is serious. We have a lot of work to do," Sam said. They holed up in the motel room for the day to research, and Cass decided to pop around the city to see if any other cases were being reported. Finally, around seven o'clock Dean shut his laptop.
"I'm going to drink," he told Sam, and left the younger brother to continue his research. Sam didn't want to go out anyways…. He wasn't in the mood to sleep with some random woman.
#
"What can I get ya, sugar?" asked the busty redhead bartender.
"Got anything homebrewed?" Dean asked. The waitress nodded and moments later a twenty-two-ounce glass with the homebrewed draft was sitting in front of the hunter.
"So, where ya from?" she asked, leaning over the bar so that her breasts pushed together.
"South Dakota," Dean lied, ignoring the woman's boobs. Tonight he really wasn't interested. He just wanted to do some detective work out on the town instead of in the room.
"Hmm, interesting. I'm from North Dakota," she said with a kind smile. Dean returned the smile.
"So, did you hear about the strange OD's of those poor people, Rachel and Michael I think?" Dean asked casually. The waitress suddenly looked like she was going to cry.
"Oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean—" The girl broke down and came around the bar to hug Dean.
"I never thought that Michael would do such a thing. He was my cousin!" the waitress cried.
"Oh," Dean stammered. "I'm terribly sorry." The waitress wiped her tears and sat next to him.
"It's alright. It's just that I'd never imagine him to do drugs… He always seemed so level-headed," she said.
"Well, usually those are the people that always do it, the one's that seem perfectly normal," he said, hoping to coax more information out of her.
"I know… It's just sad…"
"So, was Michael close to someone? I mean did he know that girl Rachel? I thought maybe they OD'd together or something," Dean asked.
"He didn't know her, but I did. Rachel was a teacher at the local school. My nephew goes there," she said.
"Wow. I guess you can't trust anyone these days," Dean said, shaking his head. The waitress nodded.
"Karen, by the way," she said, reaching a hand out.
"Ryan," Dean said, coming up with a quick lie and shaking her hand. The rest of the night Dean watched the bar, looking cautiously from person to person, trying to see if the culprit was here… When he finally left at midnight, he was sufficiently buzzed but able to drive back to the motel.
#
"Okay, I don't think this is anything that even exists," said Sam in disbelief.
"What?" asked Dean, surprised that his intelligent college-boy brother hadn't found anything.
"Is it possible that we missed something?"
"No, I've been up all night searching…"
"It could be a new race of supernatural creature," Cass said.
"Come on Cass, wouldn't you know about it?" asked Dean. Cass shook his head.
"Not if it was a hybrid," he said.
"Hmm, well maybe we should all just look around town for clues, see if there is any local lore. I mean this isn't exactly a large town. The sign we saw when we arrived said there are only a couple hundred residents," said Sam.
"I think that's the only way we'll pull this off. How about you go look around and see if you can find a local college with a lore professor, and Cass and I'll visit the local shops. In this kind of town there's bound to be some voodoo stores or something of the kind," said Dean. Sam almost laughed when Dean said that he Cass and would go together, but he kept his composure.
"Alright. Meet back here in two hours?"
Dean nodded.
#
"So have you sold anything lately that was rumored to have high powers?" Dean asked the owner of "The Voodoo Man", a small street shop that sold high-priced "magical" objects.
"Hmm, well there was a supposed cursed necklace that a young girl bought yesterday. Sir, why exactly are you here again?" the owner, Jeff, asked.
"I'm really interested into the whole voodoo, pagan, wiccan world," Dean said with a fake grin. Jeff turned to Cass.
"What about you, pretty boy?"
"I'm just here to protect my friend Seth," Cass lied awkwardly. Dean almost slapped his hand on his forehead at Cass' inexperienced comment.
"He means from bad mojo. He's really into spirits," Dean said. He leaned in close to the cashier. "A little too obsessed if you ask me. He thinks I'm cursed or something…"
"Oh, well I have just the thing for you young man," Jeff said with a sudden beam on his face. Bingo. Jeff walked back behind the purple curtains and returned with a small, wooden box.
"What's that?" Dean asked interestedly.
"This is a charm that I made myself. You seem to be a troubled lad. Maybe I can help." Jeff opened up the box to reveal a small bracelet made of black beads that had several carved charms hanging off of it.
"This is meant to turn all of your fears into nothing. Just slip it on, say the attached chant, and poof! They're all gone. I've been wearing one my whole life and never have felt more brave," the shopkeeper said, holding up his left arm. On his wrist dangled a similar bracelet, only its charms were different.
"Well, thank you. How much?" Dean asked.
"For you my friend, free," said Jeff kindly. Dean nodded.
"Thanks," he said. After that, the shopkeeper bagged up the box with the bracelet and Dean and Cass headed back to the car.
"Its him. I'm completely sure. Something's not right. I mean, first of all, this bracelet is supposed to rid you of fears… Sound familiar to our vics? Not to mention that voodoo stores are known to make thousands of dollars in the underground markets of real witches, who claim to be large companies. This guy might not even know that he's hexing the people," Dean said excitedly.
"Are you sure? He seemed pretty innocent to me. I looked into his thoughts and there wasn't anything that suggested he was knowingly doing anything wrong. There must be another piece to this Dean," countered Cass.
"Well, I'm going to use the bracelet and see what happens," said Dean.
"Dean, you really shouldn't. Even if it isn't him, someone could have put a powerful binding spell on that…" said Cass, a little worried.
"Don't worry, I'll be fine. Besides, if anything happens, you'll be there to angel mojo the ass of whatever shows up into hell," he said a bit jokingly.
"I'm serious Dean," Cass said. Dean rolled his eyes.
"Come on, let's go back to the motel. I want to see if this works…"
#
"This incantation looks ridiculous. It isn't even Latin," Dean said, reading the little scrawled paper that was supposedly the spell to make him fearless.
"You still shouldn't try it," said Cass. Dean rolled his eyes.
"This probably isn't even our case. Relax. Okay, it says we need to blood of the wearer, meaning me, sprigs of rosemary collected at the waning crescent moon, and a seed from a Sycamore tree… Where are we supposed to get that?" Dean asked, but before he could answer himself there was a flutter of wings and Cass was gone. Moments later he reappeared with the ingredients in his hand.
"Here," Cass said, handing Dean the seed and the rosemary.
"Thanks. Where on earth did you find rosemary collected at the full moon?" Dean asked curiously. Cass shrugged.
"I infiltrated a convent of witches in Canada," he said simply. Dean almost laughed at the angel.
"And that took you what, a second?"
"Yes," said Cass. Dean shook his head in amusement and prepared the ingredients. Lastly he took out his knife and cut his forearm, allowing the blood to drip out into the cup. He quickly bound it with a cloth afterwards and turned to their makeshift alter.
"Ready?" he asked the angel. Cass was rigid, but nodded all the same.
"Okay, here goes nothing," said Dean, sprinkling the rosemary over his blood and dropping the seed into it so that it swirled around.
"Oh-a-na-ca, te man se put chup," Dean murmured as he completed the ritual. He said this several times, and there was a sudden rush of wind in the motel room that extinguished their candles. The lights flickered, and the glass from the windows rattled. Dean and Cass looked around, expecting anything, but nothing more happened.
"That's it? Well, maybe this was a wild goose chase. There's got to be something else killing our vics," Dean laughed, ignoring the bracelet on his wrist. They cleaned up the ritual and left the motel room in search of Sam. They found him at the library, studying intensely.
"Hey book worm!" Dean said, clapping his brother on the shoulder a little harder than necessary.
"Oh, hey guys. Look, I don't think it's the voodoo shops. Well actually scratch that, it's a part of it. So, we of course know necromancers, right?" Sam asked, looking away from the book he was reading.
"Yeah, of course," said Dean, sitting at the table Sam had been using. Cass sat too, across from them.
"Well, it says here that necromancers are one of the more odd contradictions in the supernatural world. They are people that raise the dead, but normally people would never do such a thing. Death is a sad thing to most, so it is in fact a combination of pleasure and pain that necromancers would feel when they control their zombie-like spirits. They can't connect with them, but they can use them as soldiers. It also says that many necromancers are powerful witches that sometimes like to take out their anger on the innocent. In this town, it would make sense for those deaths to be so contradictory if a necromancer witch was influencing the people to destroy their lives with something that scared the shit out of them, but also something that brought them pleasure. So, it is in a sense combining your deepest desire with your worst fear. Make sense?"
Both Cass and Dean nodded.
"So, how do we defeat it? I mean, is it going to actually be human if it's this powerful?" Dean asked.
"I've been working on that. From what it looks like, this necromancer is actually already dead. It seems to be killing the living in this way to take in their souls. So, its sort of a reversed situation," Sam finished.
"Hmm. That is freaking creepy. So, how is it doing it?" Dean asked. Sam chuckled awkwardly.
"I have to still figure that part out," he said. Dean nodded.
"So, what do you want us to do?"
"Ah, go back to the motel, go drink or something. I'd really rather work it out on my own," said Sam. Dean rolled his eyes. Nerd boy always loved to get into his lore. It was best to leave him be.
"Alright, just meet us back at the motel later," the older hunter said. Sam nodded.
"See ya," he said as Cass and Dean left.
#
"A tall one for me. What do you want Cass?" Dean asked, turning to the angel.
"I'm really fine Dean," he said, not wanting to drink right now.
"Suit yourself," the hunter shrugged, turning to the waitress.
"Make it snappy!" Dean said, grabbing the waitress' hand a bit roughly. She pulled away, thinking it was a motion of attraction.
"Anything babe," she whispered, turning and walking away to the bar in a way so that her butt shook back and forth. Dean was uninterested though.
"So, why so quiet tonight?" Dean said, turning to Cass.
"I'm just pensive I suppose," the angel said quietly.
"Well, you need to liven up!" he said with a laugh, clapping his hand on Cass' shoulder so hard that the angel jumped. It wasn't out of pain, more than surprise. Dean was acting sort of odd…
"Here ya go doll," came the waitress' sultry voice as she set the drinks down.
"You little whore. Don't talk to me like that!" Dean snapped, and several heads turned his way.
"What?" he growled at the bar goers. They all turned away and ignored him.
"Dean, are you alright? You're acting very, well like you're drunk already," Cass said.
"I'm find Angel," Dean said rather harshly.
"Dean, we're in public. Don't call me that," Cass whispered.
"I'll call you whatever I want," Dean said, downing his beer quickly.
"I think we should go back to the hotel," Cass said timidly. There was a suddenly devilish grin that played across Dean's face.
"You know what, you're right! Come on," he said, grabbing Cass' arm and pulling him out of the bar without paying. They got in the Impala and Dean drove for a while, but it wasn't to the motel.
"Get out," he ordered as soon as he turned the engine off. Cass obeyed. Dean grabbed his duffel bag from the trunk and they walked into the abandoned warehouse that was on the outskirts of town. As soon as Dean closed the creaky wooden door and flicked on the dim lights, he turned the lock and then faced Castiel.
"We're going to have some fun, Cass," he said with a wide grin.
"I don't understand Dean," Cass said. Another smirk played across Dean's face.
"You wouldn't, would you? Well, sit down," Dean said, walking to his duffel bag. Cass hesitantly sat on the ground and Dean rummaged around for a while. There was a sound of clanking and pulled out a pair of silver handcuffs.
"We're going to play a game Cass, 'kay?" he said, walking towards the angel.
"Dean, I don't understand. You're not acting yourself," Cass said, backing up against the warehouse wall. He was against a metal pipe and couldn't escape unless he disappeared. But for some reason, he had forgotten his ability to do that. Dean made a quick move and before Cass could do anything he was sprawled out on the concrete floor and cuffed to the metal pipe behind him by both hands. Dean quickly tied Cass' feet to a concrete block with some rope and grabbed the jug of holy oil from his bag. He poured it on the floor around Cass in a circle. He then pulled out a match and threw it on the oil so that it ignited only the circle while the rest of the warehouse was unharmed. Dean easily stepped over the low flames onto he floor in front of Cass, dragging the duffle bag with him. He looked at Cass with a sickeningly sweet grin and pulled out a silver knife.
"I don't think you realize just how much you mean to me," Dean said, twirling the knife in his hands. Cass began to look very nervous and his voice was shaky.
"Please Dean, stop, something's gotten into you. This isn't the Dean I know," Cass pleaded.
"Oh, this is the Dean you know. This is the Dean that you've ignored for so long. But you know what Cassy? I have feelings too…" Dean said, crawling forward so that he was almost on top of Cass. He reached for the angel's trench coat and slid it off, then unbuttoned Cass' shirt so that the angel's chest was revealed. Dean took the knife in his right hand and grabbed Cass' tie with his left, tightening it so that the angel could barely breath.
"That's right, I have feelings… Do you know how long I've wanted to touch you? Do you understand the pain you've put me through when all I wanted was to let you know how much I cared? Am I really that low to you Castiel?" he asked.
"Dean, stop this. I don't think that! You're scaring me," said Cass honestly.
"Good," said Dean. Before Cass could protest Dean dug the knife into his chest, and blood spurted everywhere.
"Dean, please! Ahh! Dammit Dean Winchester stop!" Cass grunted in pain as Dean began to slash at the angel.
"Please! Dean you are mine!" Cass pleaded. "I know you're mine! I'm sorry if I hurt you! I don't know what I did wrong!"
Dean suddenly stopped and pulled the knife away. He grinned and put it to his mouth, licking the angel's blood.
"That's right. I am yours. And you are mine. It's time that you knew it," Dean said, leaning in again. He then carved the letters D-E-A-N into Cass' chest as the angel screamed in pain, gripping the air in search of something solid to hold onto. His head was swimming and his body was violently shaking as the blood dripped down to stain his pants. Cass sat there, whimpering, tears beginning to fill his eyes as he watched the hunter fall apart. When Dean finished his dirty work he lowered his face and traced his tongue seductively over the bloody letters. Cass nearly exploded and spilled salty tears down his face, and the insane hunter lapped them up like mother's milk.
"Say you love me Castiel!" Dean commanded now, coming so close to Cass' face that the angel felt like he was going to break.
"I—I can't Dean," Cass said, shaking his head in terrified defiance.
"Why the hell not?" Dean said, reaching for the machete in his bag.
"Because this isn't you. I don't like this Dean. I want my Dean back," Cass cried, unable to control himself.
"Oh, that Dean, that pussy, is gone, far away. I'm the real Dean, the Dean that accepts his love of torture, and his love of you. I like to see people in pain Cass, it's a real… turn on," Dean said with a smile. He was just about to cut Cass again when there was a yell from behind him. Dean turned around only to be hit in the head with a crowbar. His head began to spin and he blacked out.
#
When Dean woke up he was lying in the motel room, handcuffed to the bed.
"What the hell?" He growled when he opened his eyes. Cass was standing by the window, watching him, and Sammy was by the door.
"We had to Dean," said Sam bitterly.
"What happened? I had the most horrible dream Sammy," Dean said, a tear falling from his eye. He looked desperately at Cass, wanting comfort…
"It wasn't a dream," Cass said, walking towards the hunter. He unbuttoned his shirt and showed Dean the scar of his name that was cut into Cass's flesh.
"I–I did that to you?" Dean stammered. "Why? Cass I'm so sorry!"
"Because you were under a spell. A spell that makes one's pleasure and pain combine into one," Sam said, holding up Dean's 'novelty' bracelet.
"That? That's the cause of all of this?" Dean asked, still staring at his name carved into Cass' chest.
"Yes. We were dealing with a very powerful necromancer, one that was already dead. And it was very pissed off," said Sam. Dean gulped.
"Am I back to normal?" he asked. Sam nodded.
"Yes. The case is over. We found the spirit necromancer's remains and it's gone now. We've just been waiting for you to wake up," he said. Dean nodded and felt tears welling up in his eyes. How had he done such horrible things to Cass, his Cass?
"Cass, I'm sorry. Please–" he began.
"It's alright Dean. I knew that it wasn't you," Cass said softly.
"I'm gonna get some breakfast Dean. Want anything?" Sam asked suddenly.
"Whatever takes the longest to make," Dean mumbled, knowing that his brother was trying to give them privacy. Sam left and closed the door behind him.
"Please heal yourself Cass," Dean begged. The angel obliged and seconds later Dean's little inscription was gone and Cass' chest was clean of blood.
"Uncuff me please," Dean asked kindly. Cass nodded and unlocked the handcuffs. Dean instantly rose and grabbed Cass. pulling him into a hug.
"I'm so sorry. I would never do that to you if I was really me," he breathed, gripping Cass tightly.
"I know."
Dean pulled away and looked into Cass' eyes. Without any hesitation he reached up to cradle the angel's face and pulled him into a soft kiss. When Dean's cracked lips met Cass's soft ones, it was as if everything in the world was right. He pulled the angel on top of him and fell back onto the bed, instantly wrapping his legs around Cass's waist.
"Cass," he breathed, grinding against the angel and giving him hot little kisses on his lips, ears, and nose.
"Dean," Cass muttered possessively, gripping Dean's shirt tightly and ripping it off so that it tore right in half. He pressed Dean against the mattress and instinctively trailed his right hand up to the spot where his hand print was still a faded scar… As soon as his fingers clenched around the muscular skin Dean jolted in lust and anticipation. He was Cass', and the angel knew it.
"Oh, babyyy," Dean moaned, now pulling at Cass' trench coat. The angel made it easy, slipping it off so that it fell lifelessly on the bed. Dean grasped at the already opened dress shirt, pulling it off quickly in anticipation, but left the angel's tie on. He worked at Cass's dress pants with experience and moments later they were reduced to nothing more than a heap of black on the carpet. Cass undid Dean's jeans, slipping them off quickly and discarding them on the floor. He leaned in to press his warm body against the hunter's and gave him loving kisses on his earlobes.
"Fuck me Castiel," Dean whispered, grabbing the angel's underwear and pulling them off. Cass followed Dean's lead, but at the last moment took the hunter by surprise when he flipped him over onto his stomach and leaned in close to whisper in his ear.
"You think you're the only one that likes playing games Dean?" came the angel's low voice. Dean's heart jumped at the astonishing revelation.
"You—you got off on what I did to you?" he asked with a smirk.
"No, but I would have if it was really you and it was less, unpleasant," Cass whispered.
"Oh, so the angel is a bit of a masochist now, is he?" Dean laughed.
"And the hunter is a sadist," Cass said, smiling slightly as he hid his face in Dean's back.
"You little devil," Dean said, bucking upwards and flipping himself on top of Cass. Before the angel could respond Dean positioned himself and thrust into him without giving any warning. He knew it would hurt, and at first Cass groaned in pain, but then again, Dean liked it. He wouldn't actually cause harm to his angel, but he loved to "play rough". Dean reached over to the bed table, where the handcuffs now lay, and quickly chained Cass's wrists to the metal bedposts as he pounded his hard dick into the angel.
"OH DEAN!" Cass moaned, liking this dominant hunter, this sinful partnership, this beautiful fucking. Dean smirked and pounded the angel harder, making his cum in seconds. Usually Cass wouldn't have such weak resolve, but this was Dean Winchester he was fucking.
"Do you like that Cass? You like being my little bitch?" Dean whispered into his mate's ear.
"Yessss, oh yesss," Cass hissed, now just a crumpled heap of flesh on the bed.
"Good," Dean grinned. And then, suddenly he was knocked to the side and Cass was pinning him down.
"What the?" he asked, looking around for where the handcuffs disappeared too. Cass grinning eagerly and pressed his mouth against Dean's with incredible force. Dean gave in, parting his lips and allowing their tongues to battle each other in a dance of ownership, a tango of domination.
"Oh, Cass," he moaned, as the angel slid his hand down towards Dean's hard dick. He stroked it, feeling the hunter shudder from his touch.
"Do you like that Dean? You like it when I touch you, when I take your manhood in my hands?" he asked, biting the hunter's lip roughly. Dean nodded, loving this new side of his angel. He instantly rolled his head back, moaning in ecstasy. He was so close now, any second.
"Oh Cass, please finish, please, YESS!" Dean cried, orgasming and collapsing under the angel. Cass wrapped his arms around his hunter, his Dean, and craned his neck for a soft kiss.
"I love you Dean," he whispered, cuddling closer.
"I love ya to Cass," Dean said, squeezing him tightly. He never wanted to let go, never wanted this moment to end. Cass was his now, and vice versa. They were one with each other. Suddenly, the angel blushed randomly.
"That is really sexy Cass," Dean said huskily, rubbing his nose against Cass's.
"Glad you think so… Its just that, I have a question…" Cass said quietly.
"You're not one of those people that bring up awkward questions after sex are you?" Dean asked, mocking a groan. He didn't care either way what Cass did, but he loved toying with him all the same.
"No. Its something I've wanted to ask for a long time…"
"What?"
"Can I just, can I touch your soul Dean Winchester?" the angel said softly.
"You can touch anything you want of mine Cass," Dean said with a smile.
"Really?" Cass said, brightening up like a Christmas tree.
"Yes. But, I don't understand. What's the big deal? My soul's probably a piece of shit—"
"Don't you dare say that!" Cass said angrily, pressing Dean against the bed. Dean looked shocked.
"Okay, okay. My soul is, beautiful?" he said hesitantly.
"That's more like it," said the comically upset angel. Dean sat up and breathed a sigh.
"So, how does this work? Do you just—" he began, but Cass interrupted him. The angel placed one hand on the scar of his handprint and the other on Dean's chest. He began to mutter some Enochian chant that sounded like "Oh-a-tan-em-ianaka," and Dean suddenly felt like he had been run over by a train. Light filled the room all around him as Castiel entered his soul, claiming him as his own. Dean felt a million things at once, tasted colors, felt sound vibrations, heard emotions… Everything clicked into place and he was suddenly confronted with his beautiful angel, only Castiel was flexing strong black wings behind him that were several feet long. Dean gasped, shuddering against the bed to take in these new sensations. He swore he heard angel radio talking in the background, and was tuned in to all of the little sounds of nature and humans outside of the motel window.
"Fuck Cass, I feel like I'm on drugs!" Dean said, reaching a hand onto Cass's shoulder for support. He felt overwhelmed, dizzy, happy, sad, anger, lust, want, need, hope, and so much more that he couldn't explain everything in one week.
"It's alright Dean," Cass whispered, supporting his mate and breathing soft assurances into his ear. After several minutes the lights and colors and sounds dissipated, but Dean was left with a surprisingly clear picture of the world.
"Why does everything look so, clean?" he asked almost in disgust, looking around the motel room in surprise.
"Dean, you aren't just mine now, you are part of me, and vice versa. From now on, everything will be different. You will probably hear what you call 'angel radio', and will probably be able to sense my emotions, just as I can sense yours. Also, since we're bonded, you won't ever have to wait for a signal to get through. I'll know always exactly why you're calling, and even when you call for me I can reach you. We can do more than that, if what other fallen angels say is true. We should be able to share dreams, or rather I'll be able to come into yours. You'll be in a whole new existence…"
"That sounds intimidating… Wait, okay I know this is horrible but I have to ask… Anna and I had sex a few years ago, why didn't this happen to us?" Dean asked sheepishly.
"Because Anna was not meant to be yours," Cass said, a little bit possessively.
"Oh. So it seems your God did do something right. He made you for me," Dean said with a smile. Cass smiled mischievously.
"I think I should correct you there. If he made anyone for anybody, he made you for me," Cass said.
"I think we both know who wears the pants here Cass," Dean said with a grin.
"I don't understand that reference. Neither of us is wearing pants," the angel said, cocking his head to the side.
Dean laughed.
"It's a figure of speech. It means that I am more dominant than you," he said, now laughing.
"No," Cass said.
"No?"
"I think that if anyone here is a bitch, it is you," Cass said, pointing to Dean's arm where he had been claimed by the angel.
"Fair point," Dean grumbled, snuggling up to the angel. It was just then that there was a knock on the door and Sam's voice came from the other side of it.
"You guys in here? It's locked and my hands are full," Sam asked. Dean and Cass quickly dressed and the older brother went to get the door.
"Hey bro," Dean beamed, helping Sam with the Styrofoam containers of food.
"You look, well you look and smell like sex," Sam laughed, using one of Dean's classic insults against him.
"Shut up Sammy," Dean said, opening the containers.
"The one with sausage is yours," Sam said, grabbing his omelet. "I hear you like that now," he smirked.
"Thanks Bitch," Dean said, not caring that his brother knew about him and Cass. In fact, Sam had known for years now…
"You're welcome Jerk," Sam laughed, plopping down on his bed. He looked over to the handcuffs that were still chained to the post by one side, and the messed up bed sheets.
"It's seriously about time, but you guys didn't go overboard did you?" he asked with a laugh.
"Shit," Dean mumbled, getting the cuffs and putting them back in his back. Then he turned to his bitch-faced brother.
"You know if you'd been holding in the feelings I have for years and years you'd feel damn horny too!" he said. From his armchair, Cass giggled. Dean turned to him and thought You are gonna pay next time we fuck.
Sorry, Cass thought back, liking this connection with Dean. They always had kept a silent connection, but this was more prominent, more clear.
"What are you guys doing? It's like you just had a whole conversation," Sam said, staring at the two lovers with an open mouth.
"Chew with your mouth closed Sammy," Dean smirked. Sam shut his egg-filled mouth and continued chewing.
"Dean and I do share a more profound bond," Cass jumped in. Dean laughed.
"And it's not that he doesn't like you Sammy. He just isn't into you like that."
"Good," said Sam, laughing and continuing to eat his omelet.
"Well, am I that unattractive?" Cass asked, slightly offended.
"Babe you're sexy as hell," Dean said, out loud so that Sam hear him. The younger brother almost cracked up laughing.
"Why are you so bright and happy, freaking sunshine?" Dean asked.
"I am just really, really glad that you finally stopped being a dick and accepted your feelings," Sam said, grinning.
"Eat your eggs or I'll throttle your ass," Dean said.
"I believe that's something you save for me Dean," Cass said matter-of-factly. Dean palmed his forehead and looked at his lover.
"Really? Sam doesn't need to know that Cass," he said. The angel smiled.
"It was humor. I thought you'd recognize it," he said.
"I see I'm corrupting you a bit then," Dean smirked.
"Maybe. Or maybe I'm just the one wearing the pants here," Cass said.
"Wow, he's learning Dean. Don't teach him anything too naughty or he'll be in trouble," Sam laughed.
"Oh, he'll only be in trouble with me," Dean grinned. Sam rolled his eyes and ate his bacon. At least the two lovers were talking.