AN: Attention guys! This chapter contains A LOT of triggering material. This is not a happy fic. In this chapter, you'll find violence, abuse and mentions of torture. Read at your own risk.

Chapter 6.

"See, you scared them off, Cas."

"I'm not aware of any shortcomings on my part, Dean. It was you who lied to Dr. Hartigan. I merely came to set the facts straight."

Rolling his eyes, Dean started pacing up and down in the room to somehow let off a little steam. He hated where this was going. He hated how Castiel always managed to drag his emotions so close to the surface, making them almost spill over the brink. He knew that if he wasn't careful, this really wouldn't end well.

"Well I supposed you didn't want to help anyway since you just left yesterday. You know, just storming off really is the best thing you can do for building a friendship on a foundation of trust."

The sarcasm in Dean's voice was meant to hurt and apparently he was successful, judging by how Castiel's expression changed from mildly annoyed to anguish.

"You know Dean, if you want to hurt me you could just do what you did in Purgatory."

That was a low blow. Dean went instantly pale as a ghost, and with slightly parted lips, he stared at the angel as if he'd just been struck. Castiel, on the other hand, kept his eyes focused on his own feet. His fists were clenched, his whole posture tense and he seemed to regret his own words the very moment they left his lips. There was pain-filled silence between them. Dean could hear himself gulp down the feelings that threatened to spill out of him and then he just broke apart. His hands were shaking, his eyes burned and even though he just wanted to hide, to get away from the memories, he did the exact opposite. Within a split second he crossed the distance between himself and Castiel, and punched him right in the face.

This shouldn't have hurt Cas. There shouldn't have been the sound of the Angel's nose breaking or the scent of blood filling the air. But there was. The blow had knocked Castiel to the ground, not because of Dean's strength, but because the Angel let it happen. Dean should've stopped then, should've helped his friend to his feet and apologize, but he grabbed him by the collar, pulled him up a little and punched him again, this time hitting the jaw.

"What the fuck, man?"

"Thank you, Dean."

He hit him one more time, breaking the thing skin over the Angel's chapped lips. Dean had an awful sense of déjà vu. This was not the first time he had stood over Castiel, looking down at the Angel whose blood was gushing from his broken nose. It was not the first time he had punched him either, and certainly not the first time Cas had thanked him for doing so. It all happened before. In Purgatory. And he really didn't want to be reminded of that.

The Angel was smiling a very unsettling smile. Dean understood his intentions then. His friend wanted to be hurt.

"Don't do this to me! Don't fucking do this to me, Cas."

"You are angry, Dean. You want to hurt me and I let you. The injuries won't have any lasting consequences. I will heal when I chose to."

"That's not what this is about."

"I'm always happy to bleed for you. I deserve to bleed for you, Dean."

Dean let himself fall down on his knees next to Castiel and using the sleeve of his shirt, he gingerly wiped the blood off of his friend's face. He was sorry. He really didn't want any of this, least of all hurt someone he loved, but he just couldn't help it, couldn't even find the right words to express what he didn't want to feel. He was lost. Dean just wanted to stop being himself, being so broken and violent and full of self-loathing. Sam and Cas both deserved someone better than him. They deserved happiness, not blood and suffering. Of course he messed up everything again. He always did. It had started in Hell that he enjoyed hurting others, and after what happened in Purgatory, it only got worse. He felt awful for this, like a wretched creature not deserving to be alive.

He could remember it so clearly. They'd been running from the dead Angels for months, never staying anywhere for longer than absolutely necessary. In the end, however, they tapped right into one of their traps and the next thing after that Dean remembered was waking up on a rack. It hadn't taken him long to realize that these feathery bastards didn't want them dead, they wanted to make them suffer. He could deal with the torture however. There was nothing they could do to him that hadn't been done to him in Hell before. He laughed in their faces. That was, until they made him do the same things to Castiel. They had forced him to hurt the only friend he had in this dark shithole, and it broke him. They had made him cut into Cas' very essence, into his grace, and Dean would never be able to forget the way his friend had looked at him. The Angel's eyes had fixed on his own, and with a forced smile on his broken lips, he had whispered "Thank you, Dean."

Worst of all was that a part of the hunter still enjoyed hurting Cas. Not because of what he'd done to Sammy or because he'd betrayed them, but for the sole reason of relishing in the pain of others.

And Cas, he'd pretended to like being hurt in order to keep Dean sane, knowing that having to torture his friend and liking it would very likely drive him mad…which was exactly what the dead Angels wanted to happen.

"Cas, I want you to use me again. As a vessel, I mean."

The hunter wanted to tell Castiel everything. He wanted to shout out how much he meant to him and how sorry he was for not being enough, for not even being able to express his feelings properly and for causing him pain at every possible occasion. He wanted to hug him, to be close to him and to feel this weird intimacy again he had experienced while they shared his body. He wanted Cas to understand, to know that he didn't want to hurt him but just couldn't help it. Only he couldn't. He was so very fucked up, he actually didn't know any other way than letting the angel use his body as a meatsuit again.

"This is not a good idea, Dean."

"Shut the fuck up and just do it! I know you want it too. Hell, we're so screwed, you and I. We can't talk about shit without going at each other's throats but this way…this way we can make it work. Just…please."

And to his great surprise, Cas did it. He didn't even try to talk back, his body just went limb and Dean could barely catch it before the soulless shell hit the ground. This was when he could feel the Angel's power surrounding him again, seeping into him. It was a lot faster this time, almost as if Castiel was rushing to be inside of him (that sounded so wrong in Dean's thoughts). Within seconds, the hunter could feel his friend's mind brushing his own, gently pushing it aside as he lost control over his own body. He could feel majestic wings unfurling on his back again, the tips of his feathers brushing over the walls and the familiar power fueled by his (his?) Angel's grace. It was different than last time, though. Castiel's memories and feelings, all the guilt and regret, came crashing down on him once more, but this time was prepared and he looked instinctively for the safe line, those bright moments in their lives they shared. He found them and he held on to them.

And then there was peace.

Everything else, everything that surrounded them was strangely muted, but this made Castiel's feelings only shine the brighter in comparison. All seemed so easy now. They loved each other, there was no denying that, but they were broken and they needed to work on that if they wanted to make their thing work. Dean could see the extent of how utterly destroyed Cas' soul (or grace?) was. How he still craved punishment in hopes of somehow redeeming himself, and he was aware that his own self-loathing was evident to his friend too. They could understand each other like this, and it felt so good. He saw how Castiel actually did want to be hurt by Dean. It wasn't some weird S/M thing, no, it was all about him hoping to somehow make it up to him this way. Of course, this didn't make him feel any less of a monster for causing his friend this much pain, but knowing how Cas dealt with it somehow made it easier. Dean really wished they could just stay like this. Forever. He would be able to protect Sammy even better with all this Angel mojo inside of him, and there would never be any misunderstandings with Castiel again, never any denied feelings.

Too bad it wasn't possible.

He'd make the best of what they had, though. He'd talk.

"I'm sorry, Cas, so sorry. I never wanted to hurt you…I just can't help it. This is like some weird vicious circle of domestic violence. I hate myself for enjoying it…for enjoying hurting you."

"It's okay, Dean. It's okay that you want to hurt me. I want you to. Pain makes me feel human. Pain feels right. I deserve this. "

"Don't you realize how fucked up this is, Cas? This is madness. This is…"

"Sparta?"

"I love you for this movie reference, but this is no time for joking."

"You said it!"

"What?"

"That you love me."

"And I mean it."

The moment was over. Dean felt a surge of loss wash through him as Castiel's grace left his body again and returned into his own. It was even worse than the pain that followed. He cried out in agony, clutching his face, and he felt hot blood dripping from gashes on his skin all over his fingers. The pain, sudden as it was, knocked out the breath of his lungs and looking down at his body, he found his clothes to be drenched in his own blood.

Castiel was reacting fast then. He carefully placed his index- and middle finger on Dean's forehead, closing the wounds. He didn't take away the pain though.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Dean."

"What for?"

"I should never have agreed to this! I…I can't both heal you properly and zap all of us to New Orleans tomorrow."

"It's okay, Cas. I can deal with a little pain. I guess we're equal now. I broke your nose and you tore holes into my skin. Sounds fair to me."

Dean couldn't have expected what happened next. Ever so gently, Castiel picked him up into his arms, holding him to his chest like some vulnerable, fragile bird, and carried him upstairs into his room. It was not like the hunter didn't try to protest, but all his arguments seemed to just go unnoticed. This Angel of his really was one goddamn stubborn son of a bitch. Besides, Dean had to admit he kind of liked being cared for. Usually it was the other way round.

Cas put him down on the bed and left to fetch pain medication. The wounds didn't need caring for, but the flesh underneath the skin was still hurt and the Angel didn't want his friend to suffer. Dean, in the meantime, took off his blood-stained shirt and carelessly threw it into an empty laundry basket. The room he was in, his room, previously belonged to Phil's daughter Eva, but nothing in here screamed girl. In fact, there was very little he changed upon kind of moving in here. He was totally okay with a huge poster of Rob Zombie hanging on the wall, and he didn't mind the countless pictures of faraway places either. The only thing he had gotten rid of was the scented candles.

Castiel came back carrying a glass of water and two pills, and handing them over to Dean, he sat down on the bed next to him. The Angel's face was still a mess. He obviously didn't want to use any of his waning strength to heal himself, so his nose was still broken and bleeding and his broken lip swollen. Dean hesitantly brushed his thumb over the blossoming purplish bruise on his friend's jaw.

"I'm so sorry…"

"Take your medicine, Dean."

And Dean did. He swallowed the pills down with a gulp of water and hoped they'd start working soon, but immediately after he returned his attention to his Angel.

"Why didn't you wipe the blood away?"

"Because I know you too well."

Damn that feathery fucker for being right! Dean's fingers were on Cas' face again, tracing the outlines of his swollen, broken lower lip and he watched how his fingers were coated in the Angel's blood, how it seeped into the small creases of his skin. It was utterly fascinating and strangely beautiful. He hadn't always been like this. Sure, Hell had changed him in many unfortunate ways, but he had only started liking the taste and heavy, metallic scent of blood after being turned into a vampire. Even though he had been human for quite some time now, he could still remember this primal need to feed, to taste this precious fluid of life. Plus, and he only dared admitting this in the privacy of his own mind, licking the blood off of Castiel's lips would be goddamn hot. There was nothing right now he'd rather do, but he wasn't ready yet. He wasn't ready to go this far.

"Sammy and Phil will ask about your injuries…"

"I will make sure they won't notice them."

"And you'll have enough mojo left for Angel Airways?"

"Of course, Dean. Unlike other people, I'm well aware of my own limits."

"Oh shut your trap, angelface."

"Make me."

Was that a challenge, and invitation or both? Dean wasn't quite sure, but whatever it was, he was in for it.

AN: I'm sorry for the cliffhanger…I guess you guys know where this is going but I kind of wanted it to be in a separate chapter.