Dean cursed and ducked in time for a teapot to fly by his head and smash against the far wall. The demon responsible for the pottery's trajectory frowned, eyes narrowing and filming over into darkness. "I expected more from a Winchester. You're all the big guns are talking about downstairs and some of the weaklings live in fear of you. But look at you," the demon waved one hand in contempt. "You can't even draw a simple Devil's Trap when you have a little distraction."
Another piece of the tea set went flying, saucers breaking like tiny bombs around the Winchester's feet. Dean danced away from the sharp pieces of porcelain that flew at his jean-clad legs.
"This is pathetic."
"Well I'm sorry we haven't exactly gone one-on-one with the strongest demons in Hell before! This territory is a bit new!"
Castiel sneered. "You're the one who killed Azazel, aren't you? This should be easy compared to that. Draw a Devil's Trap and trap me before I make it to the knife block." The dark haired demon waved his hand at the sideboard where several lines of dishes and other kitchen supplies stood ready and waiting for Castiel's use. A wooden block filled with about a dozen knives stood at the end of the first row.
Dean hated him.
"That was different!" Dean shouted. The hunter swore again as Castiel flung a mixing bowl at his stomach. "Watch it, you son of a bitch!"
One of the demon's eyebrows quirked upwards but he gave no other visible reaction. A cast iron pot splintered one of the boards mere inches from Dean's foot.
"How am I supposed to fucking crouch down and draw a whole goddamn trap on the floor around you if you keep throwing things at me!"
This seemed to be the last straw for Castiel, who threw his hands in the air and huffed, "Who said you needed to draw it on the floor? Where in the Hunter's Guide to Hell does it say the trap needs to be on the floor? Just draw one on the wall and when I'm trapped put another one on the floor a few feet away so I can't erase or break it easily! If you want to be fancy draw another one on the adjacent wall and you'll have me trapped just as effectively as a Devil's Trap on the ground or ceiling."
A pile of spoons battered Dean's back and he sprang into action. He had the main circle finished before he had to jump away from a plate with cats painted around the edge, and he had finished most of the inner symbols by the time Castiel sent a salad bowl hammering into his knee.
"I'm still not seeing the reason so many of my peers think you're all that impressive, Dean!"
"Fuck you, Castiel!" Dean called as he finished the last line and something clunked heavily back onto the sideboard. Dean glanced over his shoulder to see that the knife block had fallen onto its side, everything else from its row gone. "You were actually going to throw knives at me?"
"I said I would, so yes, Dean, I was going to throw knives at you. You completed the first trap though, so I didn't. Can't, actually. It's now outside my range." A placemat hit Dean in the face.
"Hey!"
"You haven't finished yet, I'm not completely contained. Draw another, over there," Castiel waved his hand again. Dean went to comply with a scowl and a napkin landed on his head. When he shot a look at Castiel, the demon had his arms crossed over his chest and an expectant look on his face.
"Is that necessary?"
"I have the linens in my circle. I'm an angry demon trying to kill you and I'm not going to stop just because the tools available aren't very effective. Be happy I don't have any of the pots."
There was a small pile of towels and napkins at Dean's back by the time the second circle was completed. The silence of the otherwise abandoned house was broken by slow clapping. "Bravo. That only took a century."
Dean stalked up to the demon. "You try going through that, see how capable you are!"
Castiel rolled his eyes but said nothing else, sarcasm effectively reigned in for now. "I've faced that and worse, but I'm not going to turn this into another idiotic argument. Now let me out," the demon said. When Dean didn't move to do as ordered, Castiel stood up straighter, a curious look coming to his face.
"Dean." More clipped, serious. "Let me out."
The hunter still made no move, watching in silence as the demon's reaction continued. Blue eyes gave way to a cloud of navy, then black, bottomless pits that stared through Dean in a play at intimidation. The floorboards groaned under Castiel's feet.
"Let me out. Now." Castiel slammed one hand forward, the limb rebounding back against an invisible wall. His face twisted into something ugly. "This is not some sort ofgame, Dean."
The floor groaned again before one of the boards splintered, sending shards flying in all directions. Dean shielded himself with his jacket, flinching back when Castiel was pressed to the very edges of his boundaries, snarling.
His eyes flashed back to human blue, and in the transition Dean noticed a flash of fear. It was gone seconds later, eyes steely and fierce. "I am the last person you want as an enemy, Winchester."
Fearing Castiel's reaction if he delayed further, Dean moved to one of the traps and broke the line. In seconds Castiel had ripped out a chunk of drywall and thrown it at the other trap, effectively breaking it.
He stepped quickly away from the area in which he had been contained, glaring at the remains of the traps. "If you do that again you will regret it," he snapped. The rest of the aligned rows shoved forward just enough to topple from the sideboard. They all fell to the floor in a cacophony of jarring noise that made Dean wince. "Everlasting revenge from your brother or not."
Dean remained quiet and looked away from the angry demon. "Sorry."
"You'd better be; I dragged you out of the Pit and I won't hesitate to throw you right back in."
Dean faced Castiel again and they stared each other down. Castiel, it seemed, did not need to blink, not that that bothered Dean. He only looked away when his phone chimed in his pocket.
The first time Castiel had seen the device, he had threatened to smash it with a rock until Dean explained what it was. It was the first thing that made Dean suspect that the demon hadn't been topside in quite a while.
Sam's name flashed across the screen and Dean felt his heart pick up in alarm as he pressed the button to answer. "Sam. Hey."
"Dean, where are you?"
The older Winchester ignored Castiel's hostile yet questioning look as he replied, "Couldn't sleep. Didn't wanna bother you so I went for a drive. I'll be back soon."
"You don't sound like you're in a car," came Sam's groggy response, the insinuation subtle but present.
"Yeah, Sam, I stopped for a bit. Man's gotta think. Bye." He flipped his phone shut and slipped it back in his pocket.
Castiel's expression was accusatory on top of everything else. "You haven't told him yet. Or Bobby, if I'm guessing correctly. You're that ashamed to be working with me?"
"You're a demon."
Castiel didn't change his expression, a look of expectant exasperation that screamed 'So?' loud and clear. Dean shrugged as he tried to explain, bunching up his shoulders defensively.
"They- Do you know what bobby and Sam would say if they found out I was working with a demon?"
"On things a human could teach you just as well as I could! The only difference is that I can give you demonstrations."
"They wouldn't see it that way," Dean tried. Castiel scoffed and crossed the dim room. The lights flickered when he passed, casting erratic shadows across the walls and floor. When he had positioned himself in front of one of the windows, he muttered darkly.
"Of course."
The way he said it – practically spitting the two syllables out, shoulders tense, anger still making the lights falter – gave Dean pause. Did Castiel know something he didn't? But the question was absurd, of course the demon knew things, but not things about Sam, or Bobby, or anyone else. It wasn't possible.
"I gotta go," Dean huffed, heading for the door. Castiel's presence loomed heavy over his shoulder, but Dean refused to turn around, forced himself not to look. "Back off."
The demon moved away, but his voice filled the room: "I won't stay a shameful secret for much longer, Dean. Either you tell them about me or our alliance is done."
"You need me for your plans."
"Plans can be rewritten. Have fun outsmarting the angels alone." There was a rush of air, and when Dean turned, the abandoned home was empty. A strange feeling settled in his gut at Castiel's departure. They had had disagreements before, but neither of them had ever left. It left Dean feeling responsible and oddly guilty.
He flicked off the lights and went, driving off until the building was just a shadow among shadows in his rearview mirror. Twenty minutes later he pulled into the motel and parked in front of the room he and Sam had rented.
Sam was sitting on his bed, reading some biography, when Dean entered the room. He set his book down. "What the Hell, Dean? Where did you have to go at-" Sam glanced at his watch "-two in the morning?"
Dean's frown deepened and he sat down on his own bed, only bothering to tug off his shoes before he laid back on the covers. "Somewhere I could think, Sam, I already told you."
"Dean," Sam began.
"Good night, Sam." Dean rolled away from his brother. "Just forget I even left."
The first week that Dean didn't hear so much as a peep from Castiel, he assumed the other was still angry from the fight and didn't feel like talking just yet. Dean didn't blame him and thought nothing of it.
The second week without contact, Dean was annoyed because seriously? That fight was hardly worth the freakin' cold shoulder. The cold shoulder, honestly, Dean was almost embarrassed the guy was resorting to such pitiful methods.
By the time week three rolled around – two days before Halloween – Dean was starting to wonder if Castiel had been serious and this was more than just the demon acting pissy. The guy had never left Dean with absolutely no contact for two weeks since the start of their shaky alliance.
Finding out that Sam was working with Ruby – cultivating demon powers for Christ's sake – was like a punch to the gut. He'd fought with Castiel about the same issue, about fraternizing with a demon behind his brother's back, and alienated him for what? To find out his brother had been doing the exact same thing? Castiel's words, that bitter 'Of course,' came flooding back to him.
Castiel had known and…and…and what? Hadn't tried to ruin Dean's relationship with his brother? Hadn't forced Dean to foster animosity between the two men?
He'd wanted honesty, and Dean'd thrown it right back in his face.
The demon powers were another kick to Dean's pride and trust. It felt wrong not to trust his brother implicitly anymore, broken and horrible. Sam was his everything – was the reason he kept breathing and surviving every morning rather than curl up in a ball and wish to die – and he had raised him more than John ever had, but Dean just couldn't look at him the same. He couldn't get the image of Sam pulling a demon from its host out of his mind.
Betrayal was the only word that came to mind.
He was forced to think of other things and push Castiel's disappearance and Sam's dealings with demon powers to the back of his mind when Inias popped into his life again, flashing into the motel room with a buddy – 'Uriel, from my garrison' – and tasked him with stopped the breaking of some sort of seal.
For weeks, Dean was unable to dedicate any serious focus to Castiel's absence. Whenever Dean had time after a case – time he would have used to search for or try to contact the strong-willed demon – Inias would pop in; always bearing new information or a request, something that inevitably ate up all his free time, or at least kept him from doing anything related to Castiel in any way. The angel followed him around like a lost puppy whenever Dean was doing work for him.
Things changed one night when Sam and Dean were in a bar. It should have been a normal evening – enjoying a few beers, hustling some pool – before Ruby showed up and soured Dean's mood. Even bearing news of some sort, Dean couldn't find it in himself to like her, couldn't get the image of her egging Sam on out of his mind.
He was not any happier when her lead started looking fruitful, even less so when he argued with Sam about that very topic less than a day later. It was with mild reluctance that he allowed Sam to drag him to the home of one Anna Milton: Crazy Girl Hunted By Demons Who Broke Out Of A Mental Institution when a search of her mental institution revealed that there may have been some reason to be interested in the young woman.
No one answered at the Milton home when Sam and Dean rang the bell and knocked, so it was only natural that they let themselves in; the door was unlocked after all. "Hello? Mr. and Mrs. Milton?" Dean called, stepping further into the house behind his brother.
"We're from the sheriff's department-" Sam broke off, drawing Ruby's knife and shifting into a fighting stance. Dean only just glimpsed the figure that had caused Sam's reaction and bolted to stop his brother.
"Sam-"
"Do you honestly think that thumb tack scares me, boy?" Castiel's low rumble was oddly comforting to hear, after so many weeks of nothing, and it spurred Dean on to stop Sam faster. As he reached for Sam's arm the demon caught sight of him and flicked a finger.
Dean went flying, jarring to a stop inches short of the wall when Castiel closed his fist. It felt like he had been thrown into the wall, what with the way the breath was knocked out of him. Sam moved in the corner of his eye, and if he could have Dean would've shouted for him to watch out as Sam, too, was tossed through the air like a football. He also stopped inches from plaster or drywall or whatever this house was made of, Castiel barely showing the strain of holding the two of them aloft.
There was a flash in Castiel's eyes for all of a few seconds – one that Dean had learned meant 'Shut up and be quiet' – then it was gone as he squeezed his eyes shut and let out a shaky breath, fist curling tighter, his knuckles turning white. A feeling like being drenched in cool water rolled over Dean's skin, wrapping him up and encasing every inch of him. From Sam's squirm, Dean could tell that he wasn't the only one experiencing it.
Castiel's eyes reopened and he stuffed his fist in his pocket seconds before the doors burst open once more and three new figures glided in.