I am not sure what to do with this story.. As you can probably tell by the sparse updates, I've lost quite a bit of interest in it and I've been very busy recently, while also working on another fic that is more up my alley. I'm posting this chapter because it's been finished, but I'm not sure if you should expect anymore from this story, at least for awhile. Despite that, thanks to everyone who has read, reviewed, favorited, followed, etc. :)
Sam Winchester rarely worried about his brother's choices. Sure, Dean was a pig who slept around with basically everyone, abused alcohol on a nightly basis, and sometimes killed too quickly, but Sam didn't worry about these things. Usually he was worried about himself. After all, he was the one with the psychic powers and the demons that wouldn't stop following him around.
Right now, he was worried about Dean. He was wearing his prototypical bitch-face and judging his brother harshly.
"You're going on a date with him?" He cried. "A date? Last night you wanted to kill him!"
"It's not a date. I do not go on dates with men." Dean said. He crossed his arms and looked away, trying to avoid looking embarrassed.
"I don't give a shit about what's between his legs! It's his wings that worry me! Did you question him at all today?"
"Well, I don't think he's involved with the disappearance of Christy Gaines." Dean said.
"Did you find out about his background? Did you bother to use the EMF meter? Did you break into his house? Did you even bother to smell the air for sulfur? Did you do anything?"
Dean's face turned even redder. He hadn't done any of those things. Sam just stared at him expectantly.
"I didn't smell sulfur." He said finally.
Sam let out a strangled cry. "We should just leave then! You're the one who insisted staying to check this guy out and now you're dating him!"
"It's not a date. I'll interrogate him." Dean said defensively.
"Oh yeah, maybe with your tongue. You're meeting him for dinner, Dean!"
Dean just looked even more embarrassed. "He seemed normal. I don't know. He was kind of twitchy, but normal. I don't know, Sam, I just don't think I want to kill him anymore."
"Maybe when he takes you home, you could try to search his house." Sam said sarcastically.
Sam stormed out of the motel room, off to do more research at the library. Dean just thought to himself that Sam's last comment was the best idea he'd heard in days.
(~)
"Agent Young" could not be plied with alcohol.
After 5 drinks that Castiel could tell were very stiff simply by the way they smelled, Dean Winchester kept up the FBI agent persona with ease. Even his thoughts were clear, although they were tempered with lust and confusion.
There was nothing to indicate what the Winchesters were up to, at least in relation to the demons, and there were no suspicious thoughts about Castiel. The hunter simply found him very attractive and was confused about what he should do about it. Castiel was on a mission, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't intrigued by Dean's lust.
After the 6th drink, Castiel realized that Dean Winchester was probably an alcoholic who had the tolerance of a bear. Even he was beginning to feel a little tipsy and part of him was a celestial being. Castiel almost wished that he'd taken Dean's brother out instead.
"My work is very dangerous sometimes." Dean explained, slugging back a Jack and Coke with ease. He reached over and grabbed a French fry off Castiel's plate.
"How so?" Castiel asked, smiling at him, trying to at least ply him with lust. He squinted at him and dug into Dean's brain, even though mind reading was becoming increasingly difficult because of the alcohol.
Last week, I had to destroy a vengeful spirit who was killing babies. That motherfucker just wouldn't go down without a fight. Sam dislocated his shoulder, yet again.
"Some of the creeps I deal with on this job, you wouldn't believe." Dean said. "Sometimes it's hard to sleep at night, although I handle it a lot better than my partner."
"Tell me about your partner." Castiel intoned, trying to focus on the task at hand instead of Dean's mouth.
"Sammy… erm, Agent Sam Smith, he's been through a lot since he started this gig. He's only 24, but he's basically a veteran at this point." Dean said, looking wistful in kind of a miserable way.
Sammy just wants to get out. Wish he could. Wish I'd never brought him back into this.
Castiel frowned. Dean kept coming back to this. It was clear he adored his brother and felt guilty for bringing him back into the hunting life. Castiel hadn't gleaned why Dean had brought him back, but Castiel suspected that the elder Winchester would be very lonely if his brother weren't around. Castiel actually kind of felt bad for him.
The hits started when the kid was 6 months old. Now this goddamn demon wants him.
Castiel perked up a little bit when he heard that. Now he was getting somewhere. "He's so young. You know, I get that though. By the time I was 15, I'd been through more than I can bear. Your… partner sounds tough though. What happened to him?"
"Sam is like my brother. His mom died when he was 6 months old, killed by an arsonist and now he has a serial killer after him." Dean said. "I mean, not after him directly, but she has a hard-on for him and we don't know why."
Castiel had hit the jackpot. He captured Dean's eyes, which were actually a little misty. He dug into his brain as much as he could after drinking 4 double bourbons. This was what he'd been waiting for all night.
"Serial killer?" He asked with awe.
"It's nothing I should talk about with you." Dean said abruptly.
Fucking Lilith. Fucking Azazel. Why Sam? I don't understand it. I wish I understood why this was happening to us.
The hunter slugged back the last of his Jack and Coke and slid out of his chair and went back to the bar. Castiel watched him go with some interest, amazed that he was able to drink this much and not keel over. Then he thought about what Dean had just "told" him. Basically, the hunter had just revealed that he was useless. He didn't know what was going on any more than Gabriel did. If anything, the Winchesters were probably 10 times more clueless than the angel.
"Well this was a waste of an evening." Castiel muttered to himself.
Castiel felt a mixture of emotions right now and he did not like it. It was obvious that he had been wrong about almost everything. He had thought that Dean Winchester would answer questions that Gabriel would not, but clearly that was not the case. When he thought about it in hindsight, it had been a stupid idea in the first place. He was also irritated by the fact that his instincts had been off about Dean. He'd assumed it'd be easy to get Dean talking or at least thinking about his current hunts. That hadn't been the case either. Dean was not an open book.
Dean came back and sat down across from him. He looked a little less depressed now that he had a full drink in his hand. He smiled at Castiel and to Castiel's irritation, it was a genuine smile.
"What's your story?" Dean asked. "I've been bitching all night. What's up with you? Do you like this town?"
The smile grew a little more and then Castiel noticed how ruddy the hunter's cheeks were. Maybe the booze was finally starting to hit him. Maybe it was hitting both of them, because Castiel found that he quite liked Dean's smile.
"I don't like it at all." Castiel said. When the words came out, they surprised him. Now he was being honest, which was rare.
"Why not? It seems like a nice town. There are certainly a lot of babes and you're close to the water."
Castiel gulped. "I feel contained." He confessed. "I'm used to… something different. I'm used to the big city. This place is too small."
"Man, I'd kill to settle down here." Dean said, leaning back in his chair. "This place seems like paradise."
"Why don't you then?" He asked.
Dean's eyes changed again and Castiel didn't pry into his head. For some reason, he didn't have any desire to do so while they were having a semi-honest conversation. For two liars, that was something big.
"I have a job to do." He said, shrugging. "I'm used to moving around a lot. I have since I was a kid. I actually don't know if I could settle down somewhere."
"I get that." Castiel said, looking into his drink. "Sometimes it doesn't seem like it'll ever be possible to get used to a normal life."
(~)
Somehow, Dean was drunk. He had no idea how. He hadn't been drunk in years. He didn't even think it was possible any more, but here he was, drunk with their "case" in a tiny pub in Santa Cruz, California. They'd been here for four hours now and Dean was long past the point of wanting to hunt and kill Castiel.
In fact, he really was just enjoying hanging out with him. They'd discussed everything from Dean's nomadic childhood to Castiel's adoration of Bollywood movies. They'd shared a bucket of fries and a pitcher of beer and it was so normal that Dean was almost sure he and Sam had been wrong when they'd spied on him through his window. Besides, Sam was right. It didn't seem like he'd done anything to warrant being killed, even if he wasn't 100% human. It didn't hurt that Dean was developing somewhat of a crush on him either.
"Agent Young." Castiel slurred. "I have to tell you, I never thought I'd be spending my Friday night getting drunk with an FBI agent."
A loud giggle escaped his lips when he said "FBI agent."
"Well, Castiel. I never thought I'd say this, but I'm not actually an FBI agent." Dean slurred back.
Castiel's face froze. He squinted at Dean.
Oh shit.
"I don't know why I just said that." His voice sounded thick and stupid.
This was why he didn't get drunk. Dean honestly had no idea why he'd just said that. Granted it was the truth, but why the hell would he admit it? Especially to someone who he'd just met and might not even be human? He was suddenly just saying everything that came into his head. He was hazy with whiskey and horniness. That had to be why.
To Dean's utter shock, Castiel burst out laughing. Dean just stared at him, watching as he threw back his head back, laughing with utter abandon. Castiel's reaction was so bewildering that Dean started to laugh too. Within a minute, they were both laughing so hard that there were tears. Dean couldn't remember the last time he'd laughed like that.
Castiel wiped his eyes. "Oh God, Agent Young. It's… oh God, never mind. Just forget it."
"Ummm… you know I was just joking right?" Dean said lamely. "Sometimes I like to pretend. It sounds way cooler than it actually is."
Castiel laughed again.. "Of course." He said, still giggling. "Don't worry Agent Young, I believe you. God, all humans are the same." He uttered the last part of his sentence almost under his breath.
A cold chill ran down Dean's spine when Castiel said "humans" like they were a disgusting pest to be wiped off the earth. "Uh, so maybe we should get out of here." He said. "It's getting kind of late."
Castiel reached over and took his hand. "Would you like to come over?" He asked, staring at him dead in the eyes with that creepy, yet totally entrancing stare.
Dean gulped. Somewhere, his wires had gotten crossed. Somewhere in the last day, he'd gone from wanting Castiel dead to simply wanting him. After Castiel's utterance about "all humans being the same" he was somewhere in the middle. The way he'd said it had been so cold. Dean knew going home with him would be a terrible idea. His instincts were screaming at him to run far away.
"Dude, um, I don't think that's a good idea." He choked.
"Is it because I'm 'a dude'?" Castiel said, saying it like he'd never heard anyone say dude before.
"No. Ummm…" He sputtered. "I'm totally cool with that. In fact, I mean, sometimes, I do like dudes. I just… I don't think it'd be smart. My brother-"
Since when did he sputter?
"Sam?" Castiel said, smiling sweetly. "Your brother, Sam?"
"Yeah, he won't be happy." Dean finished. "We have to get on the road tomorrow."
Dean couldn't even keep his lies straight anymore.
Suddenly, Castiel's back went stiff and his face froze up into a mask. He grimaced and rubbed the side of his head.
"Shit." He hissed. "Dean, I have to go. You're right. This isn't a good idea."
Castiel got up and sped out of the bar without looking back. Dean jumped up and tried to follow him out, but he was very drunk and Castiel moved with almost inhuman speed. By the time he got outside, Castiel was gone.
(~)
Castiel knew it was stupid, flying away in the middle of the street, but didn't think Dean had witnessed it. Honestly, right now he didn't even care. The screeching in his head was suddenly so intense that he knew something was wrong. He was in trouble. Something was screeching at him Enochian, a language he recognized, but could never hope to understand. What he was hearing was an angel's true voice, as being spoken through the wavelengths that connected all angels together.
This had to be Gabriel taking action.
"Gabriel, please stop. Please. I'm sorry." He begged, clutching his ears, trying to drown out the noise.
Castiel fell to his knees in the kitchen of his small house, doubling over in pain. He felt something wet. He looked down at his palms and they were coated with blood. His ears were bleeding. He was reminded vaguely of his childhood, when he'd first become aware of his own grace, and his ears had never stopped ringing. He groaned, moved his fingers to the side of his head, clutching his temples, which felt like they were about to explode.
"Please." He cried. "Come on, I understand! Just stop!"
Gabriel appeared in front of him, looking panicked. He placed his hand on the side of Castiel's face and suddenly, the ringing stopped as quickly as it had begun.
Castiel released his hands from his hand. "Jesus." He muttered. He looked down at the floor, which was splattered with his blood.
"Castiel, what happened?" Gabriel asked, his eyes wide.
"I get it, I shouldn't have… gone out with Dean. I'm sorry." He murmured, trying to blink back the tears that had formed when he'd heard the screaming in his ears.
"I don't care about that! What did you hear?"
"That wasn't you?" He asked feebly. If what he was hearing wasn't Gabriel, then he didn't even want to imagine what was happening.
Gabriel just shook his head. He looked shocked.
"You didn't hear it?" Castiel murmured.
"No." Gabriel said simply.
"It was… an angel." Castiel said. "It was Enochian. I didn't understand it."
Gabriel fell bonelessly to the floor of Castiel's house. He sat there, wearing the same look of shock that had been on his face when he'd appeared in the kitchen. Castiel just stared at him, afraid to say anything. Finally, Gabriel looked up at him. His eyes were glassy.
"They're back. The angels are back on earth." He said.
Gabriel sat on Castiel's kitchen floor for a long time. He went into a trance of his own, eyes unblinking, face unreadable. Castiel couldn't possibly comprehend what the angels' return to earth meant to Gabriel.
This is why he let Gabriel sit on his floor for three hours. Castiel sat next to him, letting his wings flare out, knowing he was more angel than human when he let them appear. He hoped in some way this would comfort Gabriel. Maybe it made things worse, he didn't know. Gabriel didn't say one word to him.
Around 4 in the morning, Gabriel finally stirred.
"I can't feel them." Gabriel said, so softly that Castiel didn't even hear him.
Castiel only felt the connection that had always been here. He hadn't been able to tell before, but Gabriel was thrumming with pain and sorrow. For some reason, this had cut him deep.
"Gabriel? " Castiel asked softly.
"Tell no one." He commanded, not looking at Castiel.
Then he was gone.
Gabriel had been alone, cut off from Heaven and all forms of grace until Castiel had come stumbling into his life a mere 12 years ago. Castiel didn't know what it would be like to live without grace. When he'd met Gabriel, he immediately understood the meaning of grace. His entire life, something had been missing. His grace connected to Gabriel's and that hole was immediately filled. Unlike Gabriel, Castiel was also connected to Heaven in the smallest of ways. This connection is what gave him his most powerful abilities. Castiel realized now at age 26 that even before he could understand it, he'd always felt the faintest traces of angels.
Castiel wouldn't want to live one day without these connections. Now the angels were back and it seemed that Gabriel was still without shared grace.
Once Gabriel had disappeared completely, Castiel realized that, yet again, he was in trouble because of what he was. Castiel was admittedly self-absorbed, considered himself the crème de la crème of creatures on earth, able to kick almost anything's ass, but now there were angels. For Castiel, it wasn't a spiritual issue like it was for his father. It was purely situational.
Angels abhorred Nephilim and considered them disgusting abominations. In the early days, the Archangel Michael had come to Earth and smote all products of human and angel conception. Throughout history, more angels had fallen, giving into their desires for love, sex, and free will. Nephilim were rare, despite the angels falling, but their fates remained unknown. It was likely they'd been killed before they reached adulthood. Gabriel had only met two Nephilim during his long life, young adults who hadn't lasted as long as Castiel had. Both were eventually killed by Michael.
In other words, Castiel was fucked.
(~)
When Dean arrived back to the motel, he was in a very bad mood. He felt like a complete idiot for blurting out that he wasn't an FBI agent and also for admitting that Sam was his brother. He was also sexually frustrated and was wishing a little too hard that he had gone home with Castiel. The thing that annoyed him the most is that Castiel had just taken off into the night and Dean had no idea why.
It was obvious what had happened, Castiel had spun a web and Dean had somehow fallen right into it.
"You look terrible." Sam observed as Dean trudged into the room.
"Thanks, Sam. I really needed to hear that." Dean snapped.
"What, did he turn you down or did he fly away on you?" Sam said sarcastically.
"Ding, ding, ding. Bit of both." Dean said, throwing himself onto the bed.
"Wait." Sam said. "He didn't actually…"
"He ran out and disappeared into the night. After he asked me to come home with him and I said no." Dean moaned. "So in a way, it was both."
"He didn't actually fly though?" Sam asked slowly.
Dean sat up and gave his brother a disgusted look. "No Sam, he didn't fly. He ran out and by the time I caught up with him, he was long gone."
Sam nodded. "Good. Now we can leave this town. We've wasted too much time here anyway."
"I agree." Dean muttered.
Dean was packing up his suitcase, wishing he were still drunk, when he got a text message from Castiel.
"Are you fucking serious?" He muttered. He opened the phone and read the text.
Dean, I lied to you. I'm sorry.
I need yr help. It's life or death.
I know you know about demons. Please call me.
-Cas
"Well I'll be damned." He said loudly. "Sam, I was right."
"What?" Sam said.
"We definitely might have to kill this guy." Dean said.
A few hours later, Dean and Sam showed up at Castiel's house a mere two days after they'd witnessed him unsheathe his wings in the shadows. Dean had no idea why Castiel had contacted him, but he was prepared to kill the other man, even though he had no desire to do so. His "date" with Castiel the previous evening had softened him on Castiel even more. Dean, once again, didn't say it out loud, but it also seemed wrong to kill something so pretty. It'd be like killing a unicorn.
"Why the hell would he text us and ask us for help? How did he even know who we are?" Sam muttered as Dean pulled the Impala in front of a quaint tan house in a very suburban neighborhood.
It still didn't seem like this was where some kind of horrible beast would live.
"Dude, I don't know. It doesn't necessarily mean he is something supernatural. You and I don't exactly keep a low profile. " Dean said, squinting at the house.
"I tend to agree. Also, would a supernatural creature ask for our help?" Sam asked. "The whole thing is strange. Your 'date' with him and now him asking us for help."
"Maybe it's a trap." Dean said. His voice quavered a little bit. He did not want this to be a trap. He didn't want to kill Castiel.
"If it is, it's a pretty shoddy trap." Sam said. "I mean, come on. As far as plans to kill us go, this is a pretty bad one."
Dean just nodded. Sam was right. If this was Castiel setting them up to be attacked, it was strange way to do it. They got out of the car, carrying a bag of knives and other tricks, guns holstered at their waists. Better safe than sorry.
Castiel opened the door before they even arrived and stepped out onto his front porch. He was still wearing the clothes from the night before and he looked awful. His eyes were blotchy and his face was ashen.
"Thank you for coming." He said hoarsely. "I apologize. I didn't know what else to do. It isn't every day you need information about demons and you two happen to be experts."
"How did you know who we are?" Sam demanded in a low voice.
"Everyone in this world knows who you are." Castiel said. "The reason I lied is because I had no idea why the Winchesters would be checking me out. I don't care though. I need some information and then I will send you on your way."
Dean opened his mouth to say something and then he noticed the red flecks on Castiel's stubbly cheek.
"Is that blood?" He asked.
Castiel nodded, face growing even warier. "I had to ward my house. Don't worry. It's my own."
"Why?" Sam asked. "Also, if the house is warded, maybe we should go inside."
Dean shot a glance at Sam. That was Sam-code for "it'll be easier to kill you inside because we won't be in public."
Castiel just shook his head. "No, this is fine."
"We need to make sure you're not a demon. No offense, but this is pretty strange. Better to do it inside." Dean said.
Castiel just groaned, but let them pass without a word. Dean walked into the house, shocked at how normal, how plain it seemed. This was what he thought until he saw the walls, at least. The stark beige walls were covered in symbols that looked like they had been painted with blood. The dark red symbols didn't resemble like devil's traps or any demon warding that he had seen before. Dean felt his heart drop into his stomach. Blood covering the walls was never a good sign. Maybe it was a trap.
"It's hoodoo." Castiel said, sounding annoyed that he had to explain himself. "My family, let's just say that demon hunting goes back a few generations. These symbols are old school."
"Why do they require blood?" Sam asked slowly.
"The banishing symbols require blood. The warding, which keeps me hidden, do not. I don't have time to explain. Please, help me. I need to know what's happening, what I should be planning to do."
"If you know all this crap… and believe me, I've never even seen these symbols before, why do you need us?" Dean asked incredulously. His eyes skated over the walls, trying to commit the symbols to memory. Something didn't seem right. They didn't look like demon warding. Usually blood was used to access demons, not to repel them.
"Something apocalyptically terrible is going to happen. If it isn't already in motion, that is. You two are involved. You have been involved since the beginning. As of last night, my family is involved too, yet they won't tell me anything. I need to protect myself." Castiel said, gesturing at the morose symbols.
Sam bent over and picked up the bag. "Okay. So your family is involved. We get that. Before we help you, there are a few tests just to make sure you aren't one of these creeps we hunt."
Castiel nodded. "I understand."
Sam handed Dean the silver knife with the iron handle, which they had purchased specifically for tasks such as this. Without warning, Sam threw holy water in Castiel's face. Castiel just spit the water out, looking even more annoyed. His eyes didn't turn black and he didn't recoil in pain. He wasn't a demon.
Dean stepped over and handed him the knife. "We just need to see a little blood, some proof that you won't start smoking and transform into us."
"Iron handle? Appropriate. I'm slightly insulted that you think I'm a shapeshifter though." Castiel commented, his face wrinkling with distaste.
Castiel reached over and took the knife. He rolled up his sleeve and swiftly sliced the knife into his forearm. He didn't even cringe. The skin didn't smoke, he didn't recoil, and the iron didn't have any effect on him. He didn't even seem bothered by slicing open his own arm. Castiel appeared to be human, albeit a human with a high pain tolerance.
"Satisfied?" He asked, handing the knife back to Dean, rolling his shirt sleeve down.
"Why don't you have an anti-possession tattoo?" Sam asked. "Why the blood spells?"
"Who says I don't? I don't want to show it to you. It's in a slightly intimate place." Castiel snapped again. He appeared to be getting more irritated every second.
Despite everything, Dean felt his face grow hot.
"First, to get a little, you have to give a little. How is your family involved?" Sam asked. He was really grilling this guy. This was Sam, who'd told Dean just two days ago that they didn't kill things just because they were supernatural.
"My father has disappeared. He won't respond to my… calls for him. I don't know what country he is in or if he's okay. He started behaving strangely the second the Devil's Gate was opened. Last night, other family members, people I haven't seen in years, started coming up out of the woodwork. They are involved. My family, well, not all of them are good people."
"So now you're involved." Dean said, nodding. "Missing dad, we get that, don't we, Sammy?"
Sam nodded, but he didn't respond. Instead, his eyes grew darker at the insinuation.
"What the demons planned to do once they escaped from Hell. Why Lilith is involved and how she even got out. We were confident she was confined the deepest layers of Hell, content to torture and kill for eternity down there. They have a plan and you two are intertwined in it. Now my family is too." Castiel said.
"We aren't involved. What would they want with us?" Sam asked.
Dean glanced at his brother. Sam wanted so desperately to believe that their involvement had ended the second he'd opened the Devil's Gate. For weeks, Sam had insisted that Lilith simply wanted him dead. Dean agreed with him on this, but only on the surface. He knew in the deepest, darkest corner of his mind that Hell had plans for his brother. They prayed that this wasn't the case, but there was a reason Azazel had chosen Sam. The brothers knew their involvement wasn't over, but it was something they didn't discuss. It's a strange day when you hope your enemies aspire to kill you, but Sam and Dean's world had never been normal.
Castiel's face grew dark and he stared at them with such intensity that Dean felt like he was suddenly covered in spiders. "Don't insult me by lying to me. I know you are the one who released the demons. You and Azazel started this and now I am involved because of you. You will tell me what I need to know."
"No, we won't." Sam said, returning the dark stare.
Castiel didn't say anything but Dean saw him swallow nervously. Sam had never been intimidating, not until Azazel had cast a spell on him and forced him to open the Devil's Gate. Something in Sam had changed that night. He could feel it in the way his brother was looking at Castiel. Dean felt his blood run cold when he saw the way the two of them were looking at each other. He had no doubt that Castiel could take Sam in a fight, despite being much smaller than his brother. There was something in his eyes and in the way he had so easily cut open his forearm with the silver knife that made him sure that Castiel could handle himself.
"You will tell me. Now." Castiel demanded. His polite, slightly world-wary demeanor from just minutes ago faded instantly.
Dean couldn't help but notice how the air changed when Castiel started glowering at Sam.
"Dean, we should go." Sam said.
A vase sitting on side table a few feet away suddenly exploded. Sam's eyes widened and he leapt out of the way to avoid the glass. Castiel looked horrified and his face turned red, as if it had been his fault the vase had exploded.
"Whoa." Dean said, grateful that something had broken up their stare-off. "Weird!"
"Are you psychic?" Sam asked, staring at the glass on the floor.
Castiel's eyes widened even more and for a moment he didn't say anything.
"I'm nothing like you." Castiel spat. "Demons don't want me like they want you."
Sam opened his mouth to say something, when Castiel's expression changed again. His eyes shot skyward, just like they had the night before. He immediately zipped out of the living room, once again with inhuman speed, running into another room and slamming the door behind him.
Dean just watched the door slam. He felt Sam tense up next to him. This morning was just getting stranger by the moment.
"We need to kill him." Sam said as soon as the door slammed.
Sam said this phrase was such ferocity and finality that it sent involuntary chills down Dean's spine.
"You need to cool down, little brother." Dean said quietly. "You don't know him and suddenly you're rearing to kill him?"
"Says you! Dean, he's not human. It's so fucking obvious that he's lying to us and he's NOT human!"
"Because you think he's psychic? Because he has demons after him?" Dean murmured. He reached over and lightly removed the gun from Sam's grip. "Give me a second. I think… well, I think we might need him. I think he could help."
"No, Dean! We have to kill him!" Sam hissed. "Just trust me, something about him feels wrong!"
"Give me five seconds." Dean said. Castiel had opened up to him the night before. Most of the words out of his mouth had been a lie, but he could tell that the other man had been somewhat honest at different points throughout the night.
Dean didn't want to kill Castiel. He hadn't wanted to kill him from the second the other man had looked up at him through his eyelashes during their initial meeting. Finding out Castiel was the son of the hunter and that he had demons after him, made Dean feel even less like killing him.
Dean approached the door. He stood outside. Castiel was arguing with someone. He caught snippets of the conversation and Castiel sounded desperate.
You can't do this!
You can't leave me here and not tell me what's going on!
I called them because I didn't know what else to do. No, no, I didn't tell them anything about that! I'm not stupid. I'm terrified.
Yes, the house is warded, but where are you?
I've never met one. You know they would kill me in five seconds.
What happened? Why are they back?
I don't know what that means. Rituals? I have no idea what that means! No, please. Please. Don't leave me. I need your grace. Please don't leave me here alone. You can't leave me here alone after everything. I need it. Please. No!
Castiel let out a horrified scream that made Dean quit eavesdropping. He kicked open the door, which wasn't even locked. Castiel spun around, looking horrified. Dean had broken down the door with the intention of rescuing Castiel, but then he saw his eyes.
Castiel's eyes were white. Not in a hazy way like the white-eyed demons he'd read about, but pure white, glowing with the brilliance of twin stars. His pupils and eyelashes were completely invisible, hidden under the blaze of light Dean had never seen anything like it and he had been hunting for most of his life. For a moment, he just stared, completely drawn into the glowing orbs on Castiel's narrow, decidedly human looking face. It took a minute of staring, but Dean realized that Castiel definitely wasn't human. He opened his mouth to yell for Sam, knowing Sam had a gun, as well as a strong desire to murder the strange entity standing before him.
Just as Dean was coming to terms with what he was seeing, Castiel's eyes changed, faded back to their luminous, yet totally human, blue color. Just looking into this set of eyes made Dean's heart ache, because they were currently filled with a sense of loss that was all too familiar to Dean.
"He left." Castiel said numbly. "He cut it off."
All Dean could do was continue to stare.
