Title: Don't Ever Play with Guns, Ch. 4
Rating: NC-17
Pairing (Characters): Dean/Castiel, Gabriel
Warnings: Strong language, explicit sexual content, violence
Summary: Gabriel and Castiel help Dean write to his brother overseas. Depressed and frustrated, Dean picks a fight with Cas.


A boy genius, a dentist, a pleasure-seeker, and a cherished little brother. The only thing they had in common was that they had no business being at war. There was nothing that could account for the losses and hardships occurring overseas. Yet, their task was to write a letter to Sam that would warm his frightened, broken heart. Gabriel and Castiel had stared at the picture Dean had given them the privilege of seeing long enough to memorize each face and feel like they had known each man at some point. Above the rest, their eyes were drawn to Sam because he was the dearest relative of their agitated friend.

"You sure this is your brother?" Gabriel cut in at last, "He's way too handsome and tall to be your relation."

Castiel thought Gabriel was out of line, but Dean chuckled through his tear-streaked face because that was just the kind of thing Balthazar would have said. Of course, thinking of Balthazar only made Dean think of Balthazar dead. When Dean's face fell, Gabriel reached for him through his bars and pulled him into an embrace. Castiel hesitantly reached his arm out to Dean as well to give him a pat on the back and he let his arm rest over Dean momentarily before drawing it away. Dean didn't struggle and he let Gabriel press him into his body as much as the cold bars between them would allow. Dean was aware of the inherent peculiarity of being held by Gabriel as his cheek pushed into hard metal, but he was too disheartened to complain. Dean needed to be held, although he would never ask to be held.

"Get your room together," Gabriel said quietly through the bars, "When they let you out, we'll come up with the perfect response."

This was the sort of project Gabriel adored. He loved being a part of something that was meant to stir emotions within other people. He was more than happy to be involved in the rallying cry to Dean's dejected little brother. Castiel likewise looked forward to helping Dean because he cared about him and didn't want Dean or anyone connected to Dean to suffer. If Sam was half as incredible as Dean was, Castiel thought he would certainly adore the youngest Winchester as well. Dean pushed his most negative thoughts into the corner of his mind where he hid many other unpleasant, unspeakable things and he set about putting his room in order. He washed his face and wiped it clean until he finally looked almost completely composed.

The guards were satisfied and Dean was lightly chastised before being released. The trio hurried off to the library to set out on their task of comforting Sam. Sam became more than a man and more than Dean's relative. He became a far away idea that none of them would ever see or touch even if he did return safely from the war. The thought that they could influence even one person of the outside world excited Gabriel and Castiel.

"Beautiful Sam. What do we write darling Sam?" Gabriel stroked his chin as he paced around the library, thinking deeply. Having a brother himself, Gabriel knew brotherly love was precious, yet conflicted. Every set of siblings had some manner of rivalry, but when times became tough, good siblings stuck together. This appeared to be especially true for the Winchesters. "Whatever you do, don't mention being in prison," Gabriel said, "Actually, don't mention any of the townsfolk either. You don't know if they might be writing him too. The last thing you want is precious Sam getting conflicting news in different letters."

"I told everyone back home not to write Sammy," Dean said.

Gabriel gave Dean a look that said he believed the Winchester was naïve for thinking he could trust the word of others. "Best not to risk it."

Gabriel's advice was to come up with the sweetest lie possible that could still be believable. The goal was to give Sam some peace of mind, so he couldn't know that the older brother he worshipped had murdered his sister-in-law.

Dear Sammy,

I hope you get this letter. I've written you twice before, but I'm not sure if the mail is reliable these days. Don't worry about us back home. We're all doing great. Everyone says hello and hopes you return safely. I've been busy working hard at the garage and Lisa and Ben –

"I can't do this," Dean grumbled at the paper. His pen was stabbing into the paper, almost piercing directly into the desk. He felt sick looking at the words he had written.

"This is just the first draft, Dean! We'll edit later," Gabriel replied and Castiel peered over Dean's shoulder to look at the words on the paper.

"No. I can't lie to Sammy. I just can't do it."

Gabriel shot Dean another incredulous stare, "Sometimes people need a lie."

"Well, I can't. God damn it. Of all the things I've done, I'm not gonna stoop to being a liar too, least of all to Sammy," Dean growled. He crumpled up the paper and threw it into the bin where such lies deserved to be. He believed it was disrespectful to the memory of Lisa and to Ben to lie about what had happened to them. Dean couldn't and wouldn't lie.

"Listen, amigo. If you want to cheer up this brother of yours, you have to say something nice. Good luck cheering anyone up with a letter that starts, 'Hey, bro. Killed the wife and orphaned the kid, but everything's a-okay'! That's a recipe for disaster. Don't tell him the truth, for the sake of his sanity."

Dean gripped his pen, sighing hopelessly. He wanted to tell Sam the truth so badly, but he knew he couldn't. Gabriel was right. Things were hard enough for Sam already. Castiel pulled a chair next to Dean.

"Just make it short," Castiel suggested, "Say what you want to say while avoiding saying the details that will disturb him. Just say what's important. 'I love you' and 'don't give up.' Eventually, the war will end. All wars do, don't they?"

Gabriel's eyebrows arched on his face. Castiel may have been technically correct on that point.

Dear Sammy,

I love you. Never give up.

Your brother,

Dean Winchester

Dean gazed down at the paper. There was something about the simplicity that he adored. All he wanted Sam to know were these two things. No matter what happened, Dean would love Sam and he would want Sam to hang on to hope. In this regard, Dean was a bit of a hypocrite because he had almost no hope left for himself. Still, he would gladly give Sam any positive feelings he had left to help carry him through the war if he could. Gabriel ripped the paper from Dean's hand.

"No! This will never do!" Gabriel hissed and tore the paper in half, disgusted by it. "The boy just poured his soul onto paper. You can never respond with so few lines! Sam bled over his letter. He thought he was going to die! You have to acknowledge his suffering."

"I…I'm not good at that," Dean admitted, "Feelings are Sammy's thing."

"You've got plenty of feelings, Dean. You just have to grow the balls to express them," Gabriel scoffed.

Dean's face turned red. Thinking about expressing his feelings made him sweat. He desperately needed help in this arena, which was the chief reason he'd allowed Gabriel and Castiel to read Sam's incredibly personal letter. Castiel gave Dean a sympathetic look when Dean turned to him for help. Writing people wasn't something Castiel ever did. The only friends he had in the world were in the library with him. Castiel encouraged the Winchester, "We'll help you, Dean. Just write what you want Sam to know most."

In a painstaking process that produced several crumpled sheets of failed attempts, Dean wrote the longest, most emotional letter he may have ever written.

Dear Sammy,

You didn't kill mom, so don't dare think that again. You were just a baby and babies are about the only living human beings that are incapable of hurting anything. Mom was excited about you before you were born and she loved you without ever having to see your face. If she could see you now, she'd be proud of you. Just like Dad was proud of you and just like I am. It doesn't have to be said that I think about you all the time. We're family, for fuck's sake.

I'm sorry to hear about Balthazar and Kevin. I mourn Balthazar with you. He was something else. But, the last thing he would have wanted would be for you to give up. He was joking till the end to keep your spirits up. That's what he always did. He wanted you to live on.

Unless you personally handed him over to the Nazis, Kevin was not your fault. There are some things you just can't control. You know as well as I do that there isn't a person with a heart on this earth that could possibly want to leave Kevin to the dogs. I know you and I know you would have done what you could, but nobody is perfect. Kevin trusted you for a reason and so did Mama Tran. Why do you think Mama Tran always wrote that she wanted you to stick by Kevin? She liked you best. She only knew about us from Kevin's letters, but you were the only one she called a 'nice boy.' Kevin must have written some great stuff about you.

No matter who you lose over there, you'll always have me. You're my flesh and blood, Sammy. I think about you all the time and there's nothing you could do that would make me love you less. I'd hop on a plane right now to get over there if I could, but they won't let me. I'll pray for you and I'll even get all of my friends to pray for you too. Get this, I made friends with a man of the Lord – a real religious type! Ain't that something? Even if Winchester prayers are garbage, his have got to be worth something. I made another friend that's a saucy pain in the ass. How's that for a piece of good news from home? Me, making friends. Who'd have thunk it?

The war will end. All wars do. Even if the world isn't the same when it's all said and done, some things will never change. That's you and me. Through thick and through thin, we'll always be brothers. I'm praying for you and your safe return. I love you.

Your big brother,

Dean Winchester

"I like it," Castiel remarked.

"It's not bad," Gabriel added with a nod as he stroked his chin. He couldn't resist a smirk as he read over the line that read 'saucy pain in the ass.' Those words, he decided, should be etched on his gravestone.

Here lies Gabriel Guerrero de la Cruz – saucy pain in the ass.

"You've all gotta pray for Sammy at least once so it's not a lie. God might be a load of bull, but it's important to Sammy. If I tell him we're gonna pray, we've got to," Dean commanded. He hated religion so much and couldn't believe he was going to go through with a prayer just so the contents of his letter would ring true, but Sam had asked for a prayer and Dean would give it to him.

"Prayer circle for Sammy. Everyone gather 'round, hold hands!" Gabriel announced and reached out his hands to Castiel and Dean. Cas eagerly took Gabriel's hand, but Dean swatted him away.

"Not now!" Dean hissed. Holding hands with guys wasn't something he liked. Praying wasn't something he liked. He couldn't combine two things he disliked with ease. Gabriel pried his eye open and eyed Dean.

"Why not? At least this way you'll know we all did it," Gabriel remarked, "It's for Sammy."

Dean pursed his lips together but then resigned to the ritual. He grabbed the hands of the other men reluctantly. "Okay, how do we do this? Do I start? Um… Um, hey, Jesus. Listen up, you son of a bitch – "

Gabriel's eyes flew open. "Whoa, whoa!"

"Dean, no!" Castiel cried.

"What?" Dean glared at the other two.

Gabriel wasn't as knowledgeable about the Bible or as intense in his beliefs as Castiel, but he was a believer, even if it was only by way of inheritance. With a name like Guerrero de la Cruz, Gabriel suspected that he came from a family of crusaders. Faith was important to his family and since family was so important to him, faith also became important to Gabe. He was stunned by Dean's lack of decorum. Gabriel looked up at the heavens. "Dean, my man. You don't talk to the child of the Holy Father like a common thug, even if you are one. Manners, please."

Dean shrugged. "I just want him to get the message. Loud and fucking clear."

"I'll start," Castiel said in frustration and Gabriel expressed approval. They remained locked in their prayer circle as Castiel spoke in a steady tone, "Dear Heavenly Father, please watch over Sam Winchester. Keep him safe from all evil and harm. Give him courage and protect him so that he may carry out his duties. We pray that Sam has food to eat every day and a safe place to rest. May the power of your eternal love guide Sam back home, safely, to all those that love him. We ask this through Christ our Lord. Amen."

"Amen," Gabriel said, hoping with all his heart that Sam would return.

Dean griped Castiel's hand more tightly and ground his teeth together as he pleaded with and threatened God. You bring Sammy back, you fucker. Bring him back safe. In one piece. I'll never ask for anything else again. Just don't take Sammy. He isn't ready to go yet. If you have to take a Winchester, you take me. Let Sam come back home. Dean faltered before replying, "Amen."

A single tear had forced its way down Dean's cheek and he hadn't noticed it until he felt wetness on his hand as he wiped his face. Dean couldn't look at either man for a moment, but he muttered his gratitude, "Thanks."

"You want another hug?" Gabriel asked carefully, already positioning himself for an embrace. Gabriel liked touching people and he liked touching Dean especially because he didn't like to be touched. Dean pushed at his chest, scowling.

"No! I don't need a hug. I'm not a baby!"

"Just a little hug. It's okay, Dean. Shhh…" Gabriel said as he held Dean tight. Dean squirmed and Gabriel placed the tiniest peck on his face.

"Cut it out!"


Dean mailed his letter, but that did nothing to ameliorate the anxiety he felt on Sam's behalf. Prayers and words on paper could only do so much. They couldn't stop bullets or defuse bombs, but they were all Dean had to protect Sam. Dean became so miserable with worry that it showed in everything he did. His moments with Castiel were no longer peaceful. They sat, playing one of their games of chess, when Dean was set off on a particularly bad fit.

"I thought about what you said," Castiel began innocently, "I'm thinking I'll pick up Latin. That's the next language I want to learn."

"Oh yeah?" Dean said as he plotted his next move. "Why Latin? Nobody speaks Latin anymore. Nobody but the Pope."

"Exactly. I want to learn Latin because the scriptures are still – "

"Waste of fucking time," Dean cut him off and gave him such a cruel look that it startled Castiel into silence. Dean wiped his palms on his pants and clutched the material as he seethed. Vitriol propelled itself to Dean's lips, begging to be spilled. "You're so smart. You're the smartest person I've ever met. How can you believe in that bullshit?"

Wounded, Castiel looked down at their game. Faith wasn't something that was easy to explain or comprehend. "It's something I care about. I don't know why I believe, Dean. I just do. It must have always been important to me. The only thing I can remember of my old life is the Bible. Every word of it. It's a sign from God, I know it is."

Castiel was certain he must have been a preacher or a priest before committing his crime and coming to prison because his knowledge of Christianity and the scriptures was unparalleled.

"There is no God, Cas. And if there is, he's a real piece of work…" Dean fumed, which surprised Castiel considering they had prayed for Sam together only just yesterday. Dean raged on, "Fuck him! What is it with you and God? Look around you. Look at the scumbags we live with. Look at us – at the fucking world."

Castiel sat back. He knew there was something hypocritical about a murderer loving God, but he hoped even the worst man could be redeemed. Cas needed to hope that was true because he was afraid he was the worst man. The words of the Bible were more than just words to him. They were powerful and alive. God was so real to Castiel that he thought he could feel his presence at times.

Dean leaned forward to make his case in a dark tone, "As we speak, Hitler is gassing Jews and who knows who else. Tens of thousands. Maybe hundreds of thousands… of people. We won't know how many until this whole thing is over and someone hands us a number. There will be a number for every bombed town and every lost soldier. But they won't just be numbers; they'll be every human being this precious fucking 'God' has let down. And then everyone will think, 'Isn't that horrible?' But, guess what? It'll happen again. It always does."

When Dean spoke from his experience and from his pain, he made Castiel doubt his beliefs. Cas knew better than to argue with the soldier, so he remained silent, hoping they could continue with their game. The war was Dean's forte, not Castiel's. Cas stared down at the board again, but Dean pulled away his king.

Dean held Castiel's king in his hand, marveling at the white piece with its tiny crown. In a way, this game symbolized so much of what Dean hated about the world. Why should the pawns get thrown away for a man just because he wore a funny hat with a cross? There was a fascination with royalty and Big Men that made Dean ill. People would remember Churchill, but not Balthazar. What was Sammy on a page of numbers? Dean, who so often felt worthless, knew that he was nothing to the world. Then there was God, King of Kings, who was cruel enough to allow his children to suffer immensely and die undignified deaths, only to be forgotten – only to repeat the meaningless cycle.

"Look at this, Cas," Dean said, thumbing the game piece between his fingers. "I could shove this into your eye socket. You could die a bloody, senseless death right now. You know what God would do about that? Not a damn thing."

Dean swatted at the board, letting the pieces fly before getting up to leave Castiel alone. Dean hated so many things at that moment that he wasn't sure what to hate most. He hated God for letting people die. He hated the Nazis for shooting him and threatening Sam and his friends. He hated people that were sitting in peace while the rest of the world burned. He even hated Castiel a little bit for blindly believing in things that helped no one. Most of all, perhaps, Dean hated being locked away where he was no use to anyone. He saw almost nothing good in the world anymore.

Dean thought God could have done so much better. If He was such a loving Supreme Being, certainly He would have crafted a world that was less miserable. He was omnipresent and omnipotent, and yet He allowed people to be raped, tortured, killed, orphaned, and oppressed every day.

The best of all possible worlds, Dean inwardly groaned, This is the best you had to offer?

Such a God, if He existed, didn't deserve to be praised. Even a criminal like Castiel was above such a heartless overseer. Dean couldn't stand it. There was something perverse about people worshipping a being that cared so little for humanity. And to think that there was a Hell too? There was no way, Dean reflected, that a place worse than their world could exist. It was disgusting to even imagine.

For a long moment, Castiel didn't move. Dean had left him in such a state of despair that he wasn't sure what to feel or what to do. When he truly considered it, Castiel realized that God had never brought him as much joy and comfort as Dean's presence did. Castiel's love for God was sterile and rote, unlike his love for Dean that was emotional and tumultuous. All Castiel wanted was for Dean to know peace and happiness, but it was seeming increasingly impossible. He was aware that his thoughts of Dean were becoming obsessive. Castiel was too eager to do anything for the Winchester and he was beginning to believe those feelings were wrong.

Cas thought it was blasphemous to love a fellow human being more than he loved God. God was perfect and all-powerful. He was the creator of all things, including Dean, and He should be the focus of Castiel's most prevailing love. Yet, only Dean ignited passion within Cas and a desire to live for something. Dean was provocative and extraordinary, without trying. If God was all knowing, then Castiel's feelings for Dean must have been destined. There had to be some reason why Castiel was drawn to Dean and cared so much about him that there were days where little else could occupy his mind. Why can't I stop thinking about Dean? Castiel rested his face on his closed fists. What do I do?

"I told you he'd get tired of losing," Gabriel interjected Castiel's thoughts and began to pick up the pieces of the game. Castiel wasn't in the mood to talk.


Dean was more surly than usual for the rest of the day. He avoided everyone and went to bed angry. His thoughts, more often then not, tended to return to Castiel. By the time he woke up the next morning, he was finally calm and repentant for all the things he had said to his best friend. As usual, he ate breakfast quietly. He was thankful none of the other men favored conversation in the early hours. After, Dean caught up with Castiel in the hall of the second story-corridor on the way to the library.

"Cas," Dean huffed, holding on to the other man's sleeve. Castiel turned to look at him with his characteristically solemn gaze, but was more crestfallen than usual. Feelings, Dean. Balls to express them. With considerable effort, Dean apologized as well as he could, "I didn't mean those things I said."

"Yes you did," Castiel answered and brushed Dean's hand away. It was true, Dean's beliefs hadn't changed overnight, but that wasn't what mattered.

"I didn't mean to upset you. I'm sorry if I did," Dean frowned, making painful efforts to set things right. Even thinking of hurting Castiel's feelings was horrible because Cas was so important to Dean.

"Thank you, Dean, but it's fine. I'll see you at the library," Castiel responded. He walked off without Dean, leaving the soldier perplexed and worried.

"Shit, shit. He's mad at me," Dean hissed and paced around the hall. Dean had never seen Castiel get mad, but he knew what it was like when Castiel was especially gloomy and disappointed. Dean regretted immensely having said something that could provoke sorrow in his friend. He started to walk to the library, trying to think of ways to cheer Cas up, but he came up with nothing. A shot of pain travelled through his arm and he let out a cry of surprise.

Ruby had appeared suddenly to pull on Dean's cast roughly. He was holding the Winchester's wounded limb tightly, thinking of how to break the hand again with the hopes of causing permanent damage. Wounded Dean was Ruby's favorite Dean because he was easier to torment. Ruby grinned his dashing, nefarious grin. "Dean, baby. I missed you. You've been hiding in the library, huh?"

Growling, Dean was ready to punch Ruby in the face, but someone else beat him to it. Ruby noticed the incredible mistake he'd made before Dean knew what was happening. Dean only caught a flash of Ruby's horror before Castiel's fist pounded into his face. Dean watched in awe as a stream of blood trailed into the air. Suddenly, he was watching Castiel crack into Ruby's body with a kind of ferocity that chilled Dean. In that moment, Castiel's face was not his own, but that of a fearless killer.

Holy shit.

Ruby tried to crawl away in vain and gargled his own blood as Castiel's hand clamped down on his throat. He was bleeding profusely from his face as Castiel squeezed his windpipe and threatened him. "Alastair isn't around to protect you anymore. Touch Dean again and you die," Castiel warned, "Look at Dean again and I'll put out your eyes."

Castiel's final statement, in particular, struck absolute terror in Ruby. The bloodied man nodded as his panic steadily rose. Castiel was dangerously close to breaking his windpipe and Ruby was starting to go blue in the face. When Castiel let Ruby go, the man made a pitiful sound and trembled as he tried to draw air back into his lungs. As soon as he did, Castiel gave him a swift kick to the stomach, which made Dean flinch as he watched.

Even then, Castiel wasn't done intimidating Ruby. As the sobbing man labored to breathe, Castiel ripped off his denim jacket and used it to wipe the blood from his hands. When his hands were clean, he threw the bloodied jacket over the ledge onto the first floor where men were passing by.

Holy shit, Dean's mind screamed again as he watched Castiel. Then, Cas turned to look at Dean with a sharp, frosty gaze that Dean was ashamed to admit was incredibly arousing. Watching Castiel violently thrash another person shouldn't have made Dean fidgety with desire, but it did. Castiel addressed his stunned friend. "Come on. Let's go."

Dean followed Castiel to the library, at a loss for words. Things were beginning to make sense. The library had never been mostly vacant because of the way it was organized. Men avoided the library because they were afraid of Castiel. Only after Dean had started working there did more men begin to visit. The burst of cold, merciless violence Castiel had exhibited also explained Zachariah's shock at Dean's desire to work in this library. Now, Dean realized, Gabriel had never been paying for Castiel's protection as he once thought; Castiel had been protecting him by virtue of being his friend. The face of calm Castiel wore around Dean and Gabriel was not one that was universally enjoyed. The sweetness in him was an anomaly.

Dean inhaled a breath when he realized Castiel was the only other person still alive at the prison that men avoided like they avoided Death. Holy shit.

When they reached the library, Castiel placed his fingers gently on the elbow of Dean's wounded arm. He touched him with a gentleness that was in direct opposition to the brutality with which he had beaten Ruby. "Are you alright?" Castiel asked and softness returned to his handsome countenance, "Dean?"

Dean was not okay. He could not be all right after coming to so many revelations in such a short period of time.

Dean had been sexually attracted to one other man in his life. That man had been an army doctor with thick, dark hair and a suave disposition. He had given Dean a bottle of Aspirin and introduced himself, but Dean had been so flustered by the man that he hadn't remembered a word of what he had said. After that day, that doctor became known only as Dr. Sexy in Dean's mind. When his fellow soldiers found out about his crush, Dean became the butt of many jokes.

Castiel blew Dr. Sexy out of the water.

Dean couldn't produce sounds at all. When Castiel tilted his head to the side with a concerned frown, Dean blinked and looked around the library, feeling his entire body swell with heat. He grabbed Castiel's arm and lured him behind the shelves where few people wandered. Castiel was completely baffled until the moment that Dean shoved him into the wall and pressed their lips together.

That one kiss ushered in many following kisses of equal ardor. Dean feverishly kissed Castiel and pushed their bodies together. He tore at Castiel's jacket and moaned when the other man deepened their kiss. Castiel's tongue entreated Dean's mouth lovingly, but he gripped Dean with an aggressive possessiveness. Everything was happening so fast, but Dean had no desire to stop it. When he felt Castiel's hardening member against his body, he purposefully rubbed into it to encourage Cas' lust. Castiel squeezed Dean's ass and forced their bodies closer together as he seared his mouth along his jaw and throat.

Castiel couldn't remember a time when he had wanted to fuck a person more. He hoisted Dean up in his powerful arms and settled him down on top of a desk where he thrust his clothed erection between his legs. Dean whimpered and wrapped his arms around Castiel, needing his touch. Neither man had the spare breath for words, so when Castiel undid Dean's pants to stroke his shaft, Dean only gasped desperately.

Their lips melded together as Castiel brought their dicks together. They shared soft, pleased utterances and sighs when Cas took charge in simultaneously caressing their aching lengths. Dean clawed into Castiel's shoulder with his good hand and arched his body into Castiel's amorous strokes. Dean felt so good he almost forgot they were in the prison library and that any man could walk in and see them together if he happened to need a book in their section.

Dean could not stifle his lusty cry as he neared his climax and the sound of his yearning only further excited Castiel. Oh my God. Dean trembled and buried his mouth into Castiel's shoulder. They came together in a wave of elation. Castiel leaned into Dean to rest with him calmly. Relaxed, their lips met again for lazy, satisfied kisses.

The bell they kept at the front of the library rang. Dean stiffened, but Castiel wrapped his arms around his waist. After a moment of silence, the bell rang again. Cas met Dean's eyes and said, "Let it ring."