A/N: This is NOT SMUT like the previous chapter! I might go back and fill in some happier moments before this happens, but I set out to do three calls and this is the second on the list~ It's angsty, MOC!Dean and I dunno just read it .. if you want ~ 3


The asphalt peeled beneath the Impala's tires as he pulled up to the bunker, the silence when he cut the engine was even more deafening than it had been the last two hours. Sam hesitated, he was going to say something Dean could see it clearly, but didn't want to hear about yet another way he'd so royally fucked up. He shifted quickly, pulling the handle and pushing himself out of the car with as little sound as possible. He grabbed his bag from the back and slung it over his shoulder, and the growl that came after was not willingly released. The mark on his arm already burning, began to scorch when the polyester handle of his duffle rubbed against it.

He practically ran to the door, hopped down to the landing, and took the stairs two at a time. He wanted to be clean again, wanted to feel...not so empty. He finally made it into the shower, he should have known it wouldn't change anything, he still felt wrong, worse than he had in years. He crawled up against the memory foam of his mattress, his phone faintly ringing in the background while he ignored it and did everything he could think of to not see the similarities between himself and the man who had given him the mark.

-Later-.

Dean had effectively dodged phone calls for weeks, he answered texts usually and claimed he was too busy to actually talk. Occasionally he was, and he always felt less guilty about those times, than all the ones he'd immediately thought of something he could do at the precise moment he heard the ringtone that was now mocking him. He just had to make it through, Cas couldn't make this go away but once Abaddon was gone they could work things out, he could set things back to rights again.

He could feel himself change, as he held that blade for the first time, it had some massive side effects. To be honest that old trixter of a bastard Magnus, reminded him of Gabriel in a lot of ways, and Dean…the good in Dean knew that he should feel bad about that, but the feeling of power radiating through his body was raw and magnetic, it was fulfilling to say the least. He felt keener, stronger, faster, and being a hunter those were some of his finest qualities. Being better at the job, was always something he'd need, it kept him up and walking around. He pushed the earbuds in and drifted off to the sound of a neverending drum.

He hadn't even noticed when the texts started filtering out slowly, mainly because he had inadvertently sent a clear message that he didn't like being disturbed to the now again Angel. Dean couldn't fault the guy for taking his grace back, but hell if he could just overlook the fact that dude was juiced up again. It was different when Cas was human, it evened out the playing field a little and made him not feel like a soulsucking parasite that fed off of those around him. Now though, now Castiel had his mojo back and things were different, despite that he wished so badly they weren't.

-Even Later-.

"Damnit Dean."

The only two words in existence as far as he can tell, its certainly all he's heard over the last couple hours. It's relentless, and the way the phrase cuts him down each time, as if it were the last thing he was ever going to hear. The mark on his arm still burning, and he thinks if he's lucky, maybe it will be.
He thought Cas of all people would understand, he was just doing what needed to be done. One weapon could kill the bitch, only one person could wield it, and lucky for them he was the perfect match, Cain sure as hell wasn't man enough to do it. So maybe the terms and conditions weren't perfect, but at least he'd figured out a way.

-Later Still-

They were getting closer, sure Abaddon was harvesting souls, but he was getting stronger every day. The blood like fire in his veins, his father's training was nothing compared to how fast, how dangerous he was now. Dean had always prided himself on being the best hunter around. Because it was all he ever was, and if he couldn't be anything else, he would absolutely be the best. There were times when Sam was just as good, even without the Demon Blood Monster Brew, but not anymore. Sam was getting older and a little slower, but Dean, well he was feeling rejuvenated.

He smiled when he saw the Vamp's hand release to his own strength, he wanted the bastard to watch him smile when he chopped his friggin' head off. He was a little drunk on power as he moved to cut Sam from his restraints, and when he was reminded of Jody he jumped back into action, only to find out Sheriff Mills was pretty badass all on her own. She'd beaten him to the punch and taken out the "Mama" of the nest, and thankfully the girl hadn't been turned yet. He ignored the slight disappointment that came with no more urgency on the monster killing front. It wasn't like he was an adrenaline junkie, he just enjoyed the job and there was nothing wrong with that, despite Sam's judgemental glares.

It caught him off guard that's how it happened, he'd basically given up on the Angel calling him anymore he assumed it was Crowley, and when he answered the specific ringtone hadn't even registered.

"Yeah, whaddya want?"

"Hello Dean."

It still felt good to hear him say those words, even through the haze of power that was vibrating inside his veins, he felt it's significance. It always seemed to calm him down, that small phrase more easily taken in, when the last two words were so damaging. He steeled his resolve to not let his emotions get mixed up in this, it was best for everyone Cas included if he just focused on killing Ababbitch.

"Yeah Cas what's up?"

"I am sorry if I've bothered you, but I was hoping we could talk for a little while, I...I could use a friend Dean."

He wanted so badly to find something, anything else he could do to run away from this conversation but the pleading sounds in the Angel's voice were enough to keep him firmly planted against his beloved mattress with the phone still attached to his ear. He began to notice the mind-numbing burn weaken, the harsh daze faded out bringing a surprising amount of clarity.

"Sure buddy, what's goin on?"

"Dean, I'm burning up from the inside.. it feels like falling all over again, a constant state of physical and mental torture. The "mojo" as you'd call it is not working out well, it's not my grace and it's acting as a foreign agent inside my body, and I don't know how to make it stop. It's going to kill me I believe."

"You never told me how you got it in the first place Cas, might wanna start there…"

There were many times throughout his friendship with Castiel that he longed to hear the Angel refer to it as a body rather than a vessel, but this wasn't how he wanted it. Life always seemed to screw him that way, giving him what he wanted and then using it to fuck him over a barrel.

He'd wanted Sammy back on the road with him. Saving people, hunting things. All that had led to was forty years in hell, and the motherfucking apocalypse, not to mention all the shit that's gone on since then. Now his brother won't even look at him without anger or pity pouring out of those fucking puppy eyes, it was enough to drive anyone batshit crazy.

He'd wanted Cas, and suffered almost constantly around the Angel for years before just accepting it. He'd gotten a glimpse at what they could be, and then he'd just gone and powered back up like it was fucking nothing. Throwing their relationship or whatever the hell it was to the side and taking back his power, well now Dean had his own power and he didn't need the bullshit they'd started. Didn't mean he couldn't listen, if for no other reason than it made the mark stop burning long enough to ease his restlessness.

"I, stole it. I was foolish and prayed like a normal human and a very kind and good Angel answered my prayers, and she tried to help me and her repayment was a blade in the chest. Then I was captured and tortured for far beyond what a normal human body could withstand, but once Malachi left me alone with Theo I begged for death, prayed even that it would be quick."

"Wait a minute, I mean I know this is important and I don't mean to go offroad here.. but you're telling me there's an Angel named Theo? Gabriel was the closest one to an actual name up until now..You've got Uriel, Muriel, Balthazar, Malachai, SAMANDRIEL? and Theo? What the hell did your daddy run out of crazy fucked up names for his kids?" Dean scoffed at the idea.

"This coming from the man who thought Zepplin was an ideal name for a child.'

"Hey! that was a secret, we agreed to never talk about it again."

"Actually you agreed and I held my tongue."

Dean wasn't going to sit and think about Cas' tongue any longer than absolutely necessary so he rerouted the conversation back to the original point.

"So you're being tortured and praying for death, yadda yadda, then what happened?"

"Theo believed me to be consorting with Metatron and I insisted I wasn't… until he asked me to put in a good word for him, have him lifted back to heaven. He knew that the way they were waging war on the other Angles, that there would be no survivors and he did not wish to meet death so soon. I manipulated him into letting me out of the manacles and as a reward I sliced into his throat and took his Grace."

"Wow man, I mean I dunno what you want from me here."

Dean's head reeled around the fact that Cas killed someone who was trying to help him, even if it was the one who'd tortured him to begin with. He tried to apply logic to it, convincing himself that if Castiel had killed the man it was only because he needed to cover his ass to get out of wherever it was they'd taken him to. But something inside him was fighting the logic and deep down he hoped it wasn't right.

"I.. I don't know either Dean I just, I just wanted to talk to you.. to tell you what this is doing to me, sometimes when we talk it the agony subsides inside me."

He could certainly empathize with that feeling, hell the mark wasn't so much as tingling by now and he dreaded the moment they hung up. It was in fact the clarity of his mind at the moment that caused his own story-telling-hour.

"If it helps I'm pretty damn sure this mark is doing the same thing to me." he tried to laugh it off but the chuckle lodged in his throat and wouldn't escape.

'Why would it help me to know that you are in pain? I would do anything I could to help you avoid just that, but I suppose it's been done and I'm not sure it can be undone. Do you wish that I speak with Cain, perhaps ask for a way out?"

"What am I a four year old who needs his mommy to go ask the bad man to take back his gift? No I don't want you to go talk to him Cas, it's … fuck it's not.. It would be a suicide mission anyway.. that man would kill you, or more likely have you killed if only to screw with me some more. Just forget it.. I mean the point I was making anyway was that it's .. ya know easier to be the real me with you sometimes.. I just.. when I'm not talking to you or with you it's hard for me to want to be the real me, I crave the power and blood and nothing else matters."

"Do you want me to come back to the bunker?"

Dean could hear the timidness of his question, as if he were unsure of the rejection and scolding that would come. He hated himself for instilling this into Castiel, but he wasn't about to willingly be physically closer to the guy. It was hard enough dealing with all the emotional shit when Cas was away but if he was staring him in the face constantly, well that would be enough to break him.

"Nah man you've got Angel stuff and Sammy and I are headed out anyway.. gonna go kill some monsters… I'll see ya around Cas."

'Yes, please do."

He laid back with his eyes closed and felt the heat start to erupt through his body, it wasn't logical the way Cas could numb it, but it was real all the same. He pushed his bulky headphones over his ears effectively blocking out anything that wasn't Metallica, and was hell bent on believing that despite the ill effects, he was doing what was best for everyone.