Cas takes a deep breath and says, "I think we'll have enough intimacy now."
"Ya think?" Dean laughs, his breath hot on Cas's neck.
"This is serious, Dean," Cas warns.
"Right. Sorry."
Dean slides off Cas and sits up. Cas soon follows. The angel leans forward, looking into Dean's eyes, asking for approval. Dean nods and Cas grips the sides of his face again. He presses their foreheads together and Dean can feel that heat.
It's stronger this time, spreading through his mind, his body, like a fire inside him. It's not an unpleasant feeling, just strange. Cas shifts on the bed and then Dean can feel the angel's lips against his again in a chaste, pleasant kiss.
As soon as Cas's lips touch Dean's there's a searing pain in his head, followed by a blinding, white light behind his eyelids. He sags against Cas and Cas guides him down onto the bed, hovering above him, still keeping their lips together.
There's another flash of light and Dean's body arches up from the duvet. His head feels like it's going to explode and there's a sensation in his gut, like the initial warmth is pooling there. Cas makes a strange sound and Dean realizes he's speaking in another language. Latin? Enochian? Dean's not sure, but the words soothe him, relieving the pain in his head.
His body goes numb and then he loses all feeling. It's like being a ghost, just nothingness, empty air surrounding him, but there's something else, a presence there with him in the emptiness. He could reach out and touch it, so he does, stretching his mind out. He collides with it and he knows instantly what it is. It's Castiel.
The angel is nothing as well, but it's not nothing, it's just not physical. It's ethereal, and Dean wonders if this is what heaven would feel like. There's a sudden heat that penetrates the nothingness and then Dean is back in his body, gasping against Cas's lips, every muscle of his body is clenched, his eyes squeezed shut.
He's gasping for air as though he was drowning. His eyes fly open and he can't see, it's just white. In a moment of horror, he thinks he's been blinded, that something went wrong and he saw Cas in his true form. But then the world comes back in a hazy blur, and he can see Cas watching him.
"Cas!" Dean gasps out, his throat dry.
Cas scoops Dean into a hug, holding him close and letting Dean bury his head in the crook of his neck. He rubs soothing circles on Dean's back as Dean focuses on breathing, trying not to focus on the pain. It's like when you run into the corner of a table, that dull throbbing that makes you want to scream. Dean wants to scream, he want to yell until he can't anymore. Because he's burning up, but he's freezing at the same time.
His entire body feels like a paradox, everything is wrong. But then he senses it, a nudge, a poke, something jabbing at him, but not at his body. It's just a feeling and he turns to it, not physically though. He reaches out with his mind, with his entire being. He finds the source of the nudge and it's Cas again. It's the angel, his soul Dean assumes. That would mean Dean's using his soul to reach out to Cas. It's such a weird idea, one of those things that sort of slips away if you think about it for too long, and yet, he can feel it, that warmth, a sort of completion as he finds Cas and latches onto him.
He can feel Cas's hands on his back, Cas's physical hands that is, and he can also feel the nonphysical part of Cas. Both sensations at once is almost too much for Dean, and his vision starts to go black. He tries to focus on one thing, on his hands, gripping Cas's sweaty shoulders, or that feeling that he can't wrap his mind around. The physical is easier for him to grasp, so he hones in on that. He focuses on the feel of Cas's body, how their heaving chests press together, how tightly Cas is holding Dean to him, the smell of Cas, the feel of the angel's hands in his hair as he pulls Dean's head up so that he can speak to him.
"Dean."
Cas's voice is distant, so soft that Dean can barely hear him. Cas's lips mouth Dean's name again, but no sound is coming out. Dean feels something tugging at him, that spiritual bit, that heat and light. It's pulling him away from Cas, from Cas's hands on his shoulders, from Cas shaking him and yelling words that don't reach Dean's ears.
Dean's vision goes fuzzy and then it's white again. Pain like a spike builds in his head and then his guts feel like they're being wrenched out. He cries out in pain and he feels wetness in his mouth. He coughs once, twice, red liquid dribbling down his chin as his lungs burn. He's drowning in his own blood. He can't see Cas, but he can feel the angel's hands cradle his head, dragging it forward.
Cas presses their lips together again, making Dean's blood dribble into his mouth. He doesn't care because he needs to get through to Dean. The bond was successful, too successful. Cas's grace is overpowering Dean, and Dean isn't helping due to the fact that he keeps trying to reach out to Cas and touch said grace.
Dean's lips slip against Cas's mouth as Dean goes slack in his arms. Cas kisses him harder, trying to establish the physical part of the bond. He plunges his tongue into Dean's mouth, sliding around the blood, teeth and gums. Dean remains unresponsive and Cas begins to panic.
He pulls back and looks at Dean. The Winchester's head lolls on his shoulders as Cas releases it. He's losing him, he can feel it, the bond beginning to fade as Dean does. Cas's mind goes into overdrive, trying to find a way to bring Dean back, to make him stop probing Cas's grace.
"Dean, please. Please let go," Cas gasps against Dean's neck.
Dean shudders and his breathing goes shallow. He won't let go, he won't stop trying to find Cas's grace. It's going to kill him, Cas can feel it. He's got mere seconds before Dean penetrates Cas's grace fully. In a desperate final attempt Cas concentrates on Dean, on his soul, which is again laid bare before him. Specifically he focuses on the difference between them, on that bit of humanity that Dean has and Cas doesn't. He puts everything he has into taking his grace from Dean, into separating that bit from their bond, into taking some of Dean's humanity to cover his grace.
He can feel Dean slipping away and he offers up a silent prayer, asking anyone, anything, to just let Dean live. He doesn't even want the bond anymore, not if it means this, not if it means losing Dean, because he can't, won't lose Dean Winchester.
Cas tries one more time, putting all he has into it, into keeping Dean with him, into breaking the bond, into whatever he has to do to keep Dean safe from his grace. Dean lets out a shaky breath and Cas nearly screams as he realizes that it is going to be Dean's last, but then it happens.
There's an intense pain in Cas's shoulder blades, almost as if someone is driving a stake through them. He cries out and lurches forward, slamming into Dean, who isn't breathing. He grabs onto the sheets and writhes in pain. A scream erupts from his lips as his entire body feels as if it's being ripped apart. There's a rippling sensation going up his spine. The skin on his back feels like it's being torn off piece by piece. And then it all stops and he's lying on top of Dean.
Dean lets out a hacking cough and his eyes spring open, bloodshot, but still full of life. He lets out a raspy, "Cas." Cas sighs in relief before his head drops onto Dean's chest and he loses consciousness.
Dean grabs Cas's head in his hands. "Cas? Hey!"
The angel doesn't respond, but he's still breathing, that's a good sign. Dean notices that Cas's lips are bloody and it all comes back to him. The pain, the light, the feeling of drowning. Dying, he was dying. But somehow Cas stopped it though. How?
It's then that Dean notices them, sprouting from Cas's shoulder blades. Two large, dark, feathery wings.
