Part Two
"I'll stand watch first." Benny piped up, snatching his blade and tossing it carelessly in the air.
"No, I got it," Dean spoke up quickly, trying to evade the slight awkwardness the little cave held with Cas and him. Benny held up his hand and shook his head. Castiel watched their odd kinship with curiosity. Benny motioned to the cave entrance.
"Dean. You were injured in our last scuffle. You hide it well, I'll give ya that, but you need your strength. And... you and your angel need to catch up." He lifted his chin and studied the tense men. Benny gave Dean a soft smile in acceptance. In acceptance to what, Dean was too oblivious to understand, but Cas caught it in a nervous side glance that tied his stomach into more knots, a dull ache spreading through his chest. "You two ain't my business. I'll leave you alone." Dean huffed irritably, but entered the den and settled down in the far corner, using a lighter to see Cas's worn-out expression only a foot in front of him. From somewhere on the other side of the north woods, a werewolf uttered its final howl as something much larger took it down. It didn't startle Dean. Instead, his eyes grew dark and he cleared his throat to make noise in the stale silence that washed over the duo after the holler ended.
"Dean?" Cas finally spoke up, his voice a gravelly tone, but sore.
"What?" He didn't mean for it to come out sounding harsh, but he was so damn tired and hungry... and aching for a cup of Sam's brunt coffee. Castiel noticed. Wordlessly, Cas pulled off the trench and offered it to Dean, but the hunter turned it down, unbeknownst of the previous night. Cas gingerly slipped it over the hunter's shoulder, the lighter barely holding enough light to see their longing expressions. Dean cleared his throat and focused on the ground, his blood splattered hands rubbing the wound on his calf where a deep slice oozed blood and pus after a near the detrimental fight with a vampire.
"Dean, I could heal that," Cas whispered as he reached out towards Dean's blood-soaked jeans. Dean pulled his leg away sharply, hissing through gritted teeth. Cas narrowed his eyes at such a pertinacious gesture. Cas was never one to understand the complex emotions that seeped off of humans, fueling their maneuvers in life, especially when it came to Dean.
"No, it's fine. I mean, I've had a lot worse." Cas released a heavy sigh and shook his head in disapproval.
"I don't enjoy seeing you in pain, Dean. Please, I just want to do something right." Dean shook his head and played the "confidence card" with a mettle grin and broadening of his shoulders. But through the light of the single flame, Cas gingerly placed his hand over the wound, ignoring the heartbreaking flinch from Dean, and healed it. As he lifted his hand, blood stained into his already dirty hands. Cas stared at it, drying rapidly into his skin. So ironic, he thought, that him healing a wound left him with blood on his hands. Blood that could never be washed off.
"You're freezing. I'm sorry I can't do more. My wings won't fit so well here with you too." Cas hung his head shamefully and felt the rustle of his wings, itching to break free and embrace Dean. His wings were always attracted to Dean. While even the angels didn't fully understand it, wings lead emotions of their own. They felt other people's souls, sensed emotions, and emitted feelings of their own. While Cas mostly had control over their movements, they would often sweep against objects -mostly brushing against Dean- craving him in something so intense that it became involuntary. Again in the packed den, they moved across the wall, yearning to touch Dean's hand and feel the light his soul gave off.
"Your wings? I didn't think they could, you know, be seen." Dean flushed bright red as a new thought came to mind. "Can... can I see them?"
"Most cannot see them. But they are there." Cas paused and pondered for a moment. Perhaps Dean could see them. Their souls did have a bond. After stitching Dean back together in hell and Cas using parts of his own soul to salvage and mend Dean's broken pieces, Dean had some celestial-ness to him. Cas sighed, knowing the den would become very cramped, but he'd do anything for Dean. Just for a few minutes, then he could tuck them away again, their breathtaking beauty hiding from the world again. He wasn't ashamed of them, he just didn't like the attention. Their glorious presence made the other angels scowl in jealousy and Gabriel call him "pretty boy". Cas felt ashamed to have had such prized possessions. An angel more worthy should have wielded them, not Cas.
Reluctantly, he nodded and Dean's whole face lit up. Cas sat up straight, shoulder blades pulled back and eyes lighting to an electric blue as the area was suddenly taken up by the most brilliant thing Dean had ever seen.
He gasped and stared at wingspan that enveloped the room. They were at least ten feet long curled up, but fully stretched, they'd be twice as wide. They were darker than the night, but the rich black that didn't feel menacing. Each feather was delicately placed, the underside of the feather deep navy blue fading into a dull blue-grey. The closer Dean trailed his eyes to Cas's shoulder blades, the bluer the underside turned until it was almost as bold as Cas's eyes. Dean moved the flickering flame and, in the light's reflections were tiny white specs that shimmered only in the right angle of light. The wings were draped across the ceiling to provide as much space as possible. Dean smiled, holding up the lighter to see a sky of constellations.
"Cas, they're... they're awesome… they're... absolutely breathtaking." Dean reached out to stroke the feathers, surprised when the wings reacted by stretching the end feathers out to meet his hand halfway. The wing bone slid through his hand and relaxed as Dean rubbed the shorter feathers. Dean gasped at their intricate completion, the feathers feeling like silk, his rough leather jacket, and his wool blanket on his bed at the bunker. "H-how?"
Unknown to Dean, Cas became very flustered by such a sensitive action. The wings acted on their own thoughts, brushing against the cheek and tickling the little stubble that Dean had. Cas tried to shake the feeling, but he felt his face heat up as he stuttered in his reply.
"They're meant to feel like the best things in the world. A different feeling for each person, I suppose. I've never really tested it." Dean was too flabbergasted to reply, pressing the feathers gently under his hand, Cas' right wing tingling in response, causing another blush from Cas. Almost no one touched an angel's wings. They were a sacred thing. Even angels who formed more than kinship with each other rarely touched wings. Cas gulped and opened his mouth to speak, but a shiver crawled up his spine when Dean's hand hit the little spot on the back of his wing that, in dangerous situations, would trigger a defensive position, but here with Dean, it tickled. Suddenly, without Cas' doing, his foot began to tap against the ground, moving in time with Dean's strokes. Dean cocked his head.
"Ha! The angel has a ticklish spot!' Dean started scratching Cas's wing, his foot tapping faster as Dean dug deeper into the spot. Cas started to laugh involuntarily, doubling over.
"Okay stop, stop!" Cas croaked out, trying to regain his stern expression. Dean smirked, ignoring Cas's words and traveling closer to the shoulder blades in search of another ticklish spot. Cas turned his head, trying to pull his wings away, but they stubbornly stayed in Dean's palm. Cas sent Dean a death glare as his foot began to incessantly tap again.
"I will smite you." Dean threw his head back in mirth. It was such an unfamiliar sound to hear down here. It pierced the stale air, surrounding the realm of monsters with a new beacon. It was not something the creatures had heard since arriving in the depths of the infernal pit, save for the sadistic chortles of mouths pooled with blood and vicious cries of glee that alerted their ears and flared their nostrils in a new interest. The sound didn't need to echo through the tree line for the monsters to hear it. The strands and wisps of light that weaved through the forest floor would bring them to the end of their hunts. The den entrance would let the monsters corner the light and crush it between their fingertips.
Cas begrudgingly let his wings rest again, relaxing as Dean moved to the tips of the feathers again, where the vanes were the silkiest. The barbs spiked outward, stretching the best they could in the confined space, spreading out so gaps could be easily seen between each barb. They rustled and shook slightly, a telltale sign that a happy emotion was pulsing through them.
"They think on their own. Sense the purity of souls. They were always fond of you." Dean pulled his hand away sharply, nervously moving away from the wings trying to reach him again.
"Cas?"
"Yes, Dean?"
"I've missed you." The lighter fuel faltered and the tiny flame went out. Just as before, the den erupted into darkness. Dean couldn't see the wings, but he could feel them. He could feel their warmth.
"I know... I'm so sorry, Dean. This is all my fault." Dean's lip twitched in anger at the statement. Yeah, Dean had been angry, furious even, with Cas for a long time. But the longer he went without his best friend, the longer his heart ached to be near him. Dean had missed the warmth of Cas's wings and soul. Here, next to Cas, even in inevitable death, he felt a sense of security wash over him.
"No, no it's not. We all made mistakes. Mistakes we're paying for, but we can't think about that now. By chance and a lot of slaughtering, we found each other, and for now, I'm good with that." It was then in the darkness that Dean found Cas's cold and motionless hand. Dean squeezed it. Something stirred in his stomach. No, his whole body. Like he was drowning and all at once. Dean wasn't an idiot. He knew, but he was smart enough to never acknowledge the feeling in a world so notorious for taking the things he loved. There was no response from the angel, apart from the wings adjusting their tangled position, sweeping across the ground and running down Dean's shoulder. "Why do they like me?"
"...They are attracted to your soul." Another long silence and Cas squeezed back in empty an in reassurance he couldn't promise. A fiery shriek echoed from the forest somewhere away from the den, but no word from Benny meant they were safe... for now. Cas parted his lips, ready to speak again out of shear confidence and a very impatient urge from his wings in their reckless desire. "They also mimic the angels thoughts." Another long silence of no movement. Dean barely breathed, but his hand never left Cas's.
Dean Winchester, the man referred as the "unkillable human" down here. The one the monsters whispered about, rumors spreading like wildfire, among nests and even more so, the celestial beacon, wavelengths of pure power coursing through the cyclic woods making the creatures stir uneasily. The man- the hunter, had made a reputation for himself on earth, heaven, hell, and now purgatory. Demons and angels, monster alike, they all formed this mold of what he was and how his actions would both save and risk the entire existence of humans. In the eternal darkness of the den, the bitter cold wind that whistled inside, died out by the new warmth that cozied between the two broken men, finding a piece of who they were, somewhere, not from earth, but from something much more complex.
Dean lurched forward and pressed his dry, rough lips to Cas's, a deep blush radiating off their cheeks. Cas moved with him, their fingers trailing up to their faces, Dean's calloused fingers grasping the messy black mop of hair and Cas's thumb running over the sturdy jawline that released all its tension. When they parted from the long time coming kiss that erupted from temptation, a soft glow illuminated the den. Dean looked up, something of a childish smile growing at the sight of the tiny white dapples of the wings glowing dimly like a sea of stars that hugged them tight.
"An angels wings only produce that particular aura when they have found what they were searching for. All wings have different patterns however." Cas smiled and leaned his forehead until it touched Dean's the chilled breaths tickling their noses. Dean smirked, one hand still tangled in Cas's wild hair and the other pulling the wing closer to him.
"And what were they searching for?" His expression was sly and almost devilish, his flirtatious tone something Cas could pick out immediately, even if most times he heard it was when Dean was flirting with waitresses and bartenders. But that was in the world above. Not here. Not where everything, for just a moment, was pure. Cas grasped the lapels of Dean's blood soaked jacket with dirt and grime embedded in the fibers. His steady exhale was cut off by another kiss, leaving them fidgeting for more and the wings brightening around them.
"You. Just you." Dean smiled against Cas's lips, feeling the warm embrace of the wings wrap around the pair, sheltering them from the blistering cold and hiding them in a world without a heaven or hell. Without an earth or purgatory, and monsters and hatred. It was just simply them.
"Can we test that theory?" Dean asked, a breathy laugh escaping through his nostrils. Cas hummed softly, but he could feel the hunter's body slow down progressively as physical and mental exhaustion began to take its toll. Cas leaned down, pulling Dean along with him until their bodies were side by side against the rock, the wings cocooning them acting as a blanket, pillow, and privacy for the two, who still were unsure of how to process the last hour let alone the last several months. The speckles dimmed off into just tiny twinkles of light that made it so Dean could see the reflection of Cas's eyes, gazing at him with the same fondness as when he was pulled from hell.
It had been a long ass time since Dean felt warmth, and it had been forever since he felt something like this. And for the first time in months, he closed his eyes, his mind succinctly at ease now that he had found his angel. His mind wandered for a while, away to the clouds of his dreams and nightmares, but the nightmares didn't give him the same cold sweat or panicked breath. They instead slipped by into another distant memory that he'd forget come morning. Cas, while not needing to sleep, was overwhelmingly grateful for his first nights in purgatory that he was not alone. He listened in on Dean's dream, one that left a footprint of a smile curved on his lips, and smiled at not a dream, but a memory. The dream was a simple thing; it was Dean just running his hands through the silky feathers in pure contentment.
Purgatory is a place for the last, broken, corrupted. A place for the evilest of monsters, abominations so horrid even God feared to look upon their faces. A place for the sinister to pay for their crimes. Despair, pain, and desperation reigned here. But, in a weird way, Dean had never felt more at home. The hunter blood in him pumping through his body had heightened his senses, sharpening his mind. In a place designed to break every creature that entered, Dean felt himself grow stronger, his soft steel being wrought into iron. Here, of all places, Dean felt purified, reborn. Pure. Not a word Dean thought to describe purgatory, but when he would come back to earth, the reality of things, that purity would slip away, it too escaping his tight grasp as he tried to pull it though with him. Maybe it was meant to be let go. Gone. Somewhere.
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-Daisy