Dean could see Cas. His true form that it is. Dean thought back to all the times that the angel had waxed poetic about being a cosmic wavelength of energy or taller than the Chrysler Building and how he had always thought "Yeah, yeah, keep on going ego-maniac."
But all of Cas's bluster didn't quite match up to the truth. Dean popped another bite of pecan pie in his mouth as he studied the familiar features of the man sitting across the diner booth from him. There were the same piercing blue eyes and messy brown hair. The angel was looking a little scruffy, but that could be because they had kept him tied up for the past few days.
But underneath the ordinary features of his vessel, Dean could see Cas's true nature. He found he had to focus on one or the other or it gave him a headache. The warm blue glow of the grace seemed to shift right underneath the surface. There seemed to be so much of him that Dean couldn't understand how a human vessel could contain it all, much less for a substantial period of time. Already the grace had lost some of its luster as Cas' angelic strove vainly to keep himself alive.
Was he burning up this grace even faster?
Dean refused to think about that. "Want a bite?" he asked the sulking angel, holding out a forkful of pie.
Castiel looked up from the napkin he had been idly doodling on and met Dean's eyes. Then he turned and gazed pointedly at the rest of the diner. Dean followed his gaze across the restaurant. The other diners...well...they were all very much dead. Dean couldn't help grinning as Castiel turned back to him and glowered.
"Does that mean no?" he asked, cheerfully shoveling the proffered piece into his mouth. "At least I don't have to explain why you're handcuffed. That might have gotten awkward."
Castiel snorted in disgust and shifted to stare out the window, his finger tips brushing over the cold metal of the cuffs on his wrists. Crowley stood in the parking lot, hands stuffed in his coat pockets, the picture of ease and confidence. He was either haranguing or cajoling the two demons who stood opposite of him. Every once in awhile the the pair would look curiously over at the diner windows at Dean.
"He's using you," Cas stated dully, watching as the pair of demons turned back to Crowley. The King of Hell's negotiations seemed to be progressing smoothly.
"Like you never have?" taunted Dean. He was unmoved by Cas's involuntary flinch as he curled into himself, his angelic nature pulling inward slightly as if he was trying to move away from Dean's harsh words. "Like you've never lied to me or let me down or not been there when I needed you?"
Dean was suddenly quite glad that he hadn't left anyone alive in the diner. He could feel the Mark scorching his forearm, could feel the hunger begging him to take the Blade and slice Castiel's throat, to watch the grace fade from the angel's eyes. He licked his lips nervously. But he had already killed and the bloodlust was manageable.
"Dean, I'm sorry," Castiel murmured, a desperate, tragic look on his face.
"Of course, you're sorry," growled the demon. "You are always so sorry." His hands involuntarily moved toward the First Blade. Castiel's eyes followed his movements.
"It's still controlling you, even though you're a demon now. The only difference is that you don't have the compulsion to resist. You are no more in control than when you were still alive," stated Cas, his eyes seeming to glow with the challenge of his words.
"Don't even start preaching at me, Cas!" bellowed Dean, slamming his fist down, causing all the assorted bottles and cutlery on the tabletop to rattle. "You were never anything more than a sorry traitor. If it wasn't heaven you were betraying, it was me..."
He stopped and took a deep breath of unneeded air. If this conversation kept up it would end quickly with copious amounts of blood and violence. Thankfully, the bell above the door tinkled announcing Crowley's return. Crowley wove through the corpses, gracefully stepping over the larger pools of blood, before slipping into the booth next to Castiel. The angel gave him a dark look and edged as far away as he could, pressing against the cool glass of the window.
"They were reasonable chaps," stated the King of Hell, ignoring the angel. "They could easily see the weight of my argument." He glanced down at the blood covered First Blade that sat next to Dean's pie plate.
"You've been surprisingly forgiving, Crowley," commented Castiel, turning back to the window. The other demons were already gone. Most likely to pass on the news of the return of their beneficent ruler. And his brand new knight of hell. Castiel grimaced and turned back to the drawing he had previously been scribbling, adding more details to the bees.
"What is there not to forgive?" asked the King. "We're demons, angel. I didn't really expect them to act any other way. Besides, I do believe they will think twice about betraying me from now on," he said with a smirk.
"Ah, yes, your new favorite," muttered Cas with a peevish glance at Dean.
"Jealous, angel?" taunted Crowley. "No offense, Dean," he commented, turning back to the former hunter. "While you are definitely an asset, soon and very soon, I'm going to give all of hell a reason to follow me wholeheartedly. To our mutual benefit, of course" he said, tilting his head toward the angel.
Cas paused in his scribbling to glance at the older demon. A feeling of dread settled in his stomach. He looked at Dean to try to get a hint of what Crowley may be referring to, but Dean was pointedly looking in the other direction. He stuffed the last bite of pie into his mouth and stood. His hand automatically reached backward for his wallet, but he caught himself and laughed a cruel, mirthless laugh.
"Guess there's no reason to leave a tip, huh?" he said with a nod to the dead diners. He then gestured for Crowley to lead the way. The King stood and elegantly navigated his way back through the corpses. Castiel abandoned his pen and napkin and scooted over to follow. Dean moved to block his way, leaning over and grabbing his wrist. He squeezed hard, causing the angel to wince. He then reached over and flipped the napkin over, revealing the hastily scrawled message.
"Nice try, Cas," he hissed at his friend. "Enochian, huh? I'm sure Sammy would have eventually been able to translate it." Dean balled up the napkin and stuffed it in his pocket. "Come on," he growled, yanking Cas's arm hard, half-dragging the angel from the booth.
Crowley was waiting patiently by the door. He shrugged at the angel as if to say you win some, you lose some. Castiel scowled at the demon, but that only made him grin wider. Crowley took one last look around the restaurant.
"Moose will be impressed with your work, Dean," he purred, glancing around in appreciation.
Dean turned back as well. He felt satisfied. A cruel smile tilted his lips, and he instinctively looked towards Cas, wanting to share the moment of accomplishment. The look of reproach in the angel's eyes stifled his feeling of elation. For a moment he had forgotten their differences. But the reality of what he was now came crashing down around him and it was as if he was staring at his best friend from across an unreachable gulf. Dean snarled at the angel.
"Let's go," he muttered, twisting Cas's wrist out of sheer malice. Then the trio stepped out of the bloodied diner and into the night.
**Authors' Note**
Thank you so much for the faves, comments and follows! I hadn't really expected to get such positive feedback and originally was only going to do this as a one shot (it was a scene I had stuck in my head and finally decided to type it up). So I apologize if its all down hill from here. Still, I'll try to keep it going and hopefully finish it before the new season. Thanks again!
