A/N: Uh, blood, scary stuff, horrible, bad things... if you watch the show... C'mon, do I have to say it?
Trigger warnings... Okay, there's a hell scene in a nightmare, torture and knife... and the entire thing is in italics, easy to skip, and you won't lose anything if you do.
PLOT! Seriously, cut it out! This is supposed to be... Nevermind. At this point, pretty sure I could leave the sex out of a chapter and no one would care.
Thanks for the many lovely reviews, especially love the one saying the reader didn't read it, was just offended by the description. Lmao!
Please take care of your mental health, I love you all, thanks for reading.
More graphic smut with these dudes can be found in Answering Your Prayers, Forgiveness, and Secret in Room 223.
FythyrWisp)
Castiel grunted, heaving Sam's unconscious body from the floor, grateful no trail of blood followed his boots as he dragged him.
The spell seemed to be working, but he'd forgotten what it was like to be truly human. Weakened, panting, dripping with sweat, he could feel his heart pounding as he dragged his brother in law into a large, low metal cabinet, pulling the door shut after them.
Castiel sat uncomfortably with his back jammed into one corner, one leg under Sam's very heavy torso, the other between Sam and the door. He had to hold the door closed to keep it from swinging open.
Sam's head rolled against his shoulder for a brief second, coming back to rest slightly under his collarbone. Castiel pulled his arm out from under Sam's, as he'd needed to drag him, and dug down Sam's back for the pistol he always carried in the back of his waistband.
Dean had taught him to use a firearm safely, but as a human, his senses were dulled considerably.
Sam noticed the door was wide open as he moved through the hallway, or he would have avoided it. He looked in and noticed Castiel was awake, wings still visible, and a fearful agitation on his features. Dean was laying next to him, one very large, protective arm slung over the angel's chest and opposite shoulder, in a deep sleep, unaware Castiel was trying to shift free.
"Hey, Cas," Sam said quietly from the doorway, as not to disturb his brother, "You okay? You want something to eat or anything?"
Castiel struggled slightly and attempted to speak, but no sound came out. He gave Sam an irritated and helpless look.
"Dean!" Sam gave a booming voice from the door, a tone he rarely used, especially due to the fact Dean had often said it was indistinguishable from their father's variation. "Roll over, you're crushing your husband."
Dean shook awake, wiping at the corner of his mouth, pulling himself up to sit, trying to orient himself. "What?... You okay?"
"I just want to walk around." Castiel said in a quiet voice, "I need to move."
Dean rubbed at his face with one hand, reaching for Castiel out of habit with the other, catching only a quick squeeze of his hand. "You sure? I'll get up and come with you."
Castiel shook his head, "No, Dean, go back to sleep."
Dean turned slightly to glance at Sam, who gave Dean a reassuring nod, before dropping back into a pillow.
Castiel pressed a hand to the wall once he got to the hallway. Sam stayed right next to him.
"How long was I bound?" Castiel's was a rough whisper.
"Close to ten hours, I think... So, is that why you're still not at a hundred percent?" Sam asked, walking slowly.
Castiel nodded. "I've never been exposed to that much of the chain for that long before. I don't know how long until I'll be back to normal."
"That was pretty intense." Sam said, "I'm really sorry we had to do that... I'm not even sure how Dean had it, or exactly what was happening, he just said it would slow you down but your wings would need somewhere to go... Sorry about your coat, too."
Castiel stumbled slightly, but Sam caught him by the upper arm and let go again once he regained his balance.
"Don't worry about the coat, Sam. I'm just relieved you weren't hurt when I... threw you into the wall." Castiel looked ashamed, "I'm very glad I didn't succeed in killing you."
"Hey, don't... You were cursed. I've done plenty of horrible things without a curse or being soulless as an excuse. It's the life we live." Sam said, trying to be encouraging. "Your wings look pretty torn up, is that because of the chain? Or being stuck inside the clothes?"
Castiel froze, cringing slightly as Sam took hold of one gently, "Please let go."
"Sorry... uh, should I not do that?" Sam asked, quickly letting go.
Castiel shrugged, "It would be ...rather similar to taking hold of your nipple."
"Woah. Sorry." Sam backed a little further away. "Won't happen again."
It briefly crossed his mind that a few weeks prior he had walked in on Castiel and Dean in the kitchen, and Dean had had one hand in Castiel's hair, the other very full of feathers. It had seemed innocent enough, pants were on, hands were above waists, but now he wasn't as certain.
Castiel continued to walk slowly.
"You want to set up in the den? Watch some TV?" Sam asked.
Castiel shook his head, "I just need to move."
Castiel had given his angel blade to Sam, assuming he'd be of little use without his grace, and would stay behind him. He hadn't expected Sam to be struck in the back of the head by a human warlock affiliate of Azophael's, getting the blade knocked across the room, or that he would wind up knocking the man out with a nearby metal bar.
He shifted to get the gun out in front of Sam's chest, determined to shoot anything that might come close. His hands shook slightly, fear overwhelming him.
Dean lifted his head from the bed when he heard a shuffling in the closet, to see Castiel, his usual white dress shirt in one hand, the back destroyed, and pulling out one of Dean's t-shirts with the other. His wings were no longer visible.
"Hey, baby... you feeling better?" Dean asked, sitting up.
Castiel looked down at the ruined shirt for a moment before holding up Dean's. "I'm still recovering, so I hope you'll behave yourself."
"I'll behave. At least until you give me the go-ahead." Dean said with a smirk. "Wore off enough to put your wings away, huh?"
"Yes, well, after an awkward moment earlier, I'd much rather have them out of the way for now." Castiel said, carefully pulling it over his head.
"Awkward? What happened?" Dean asked, getting up from the bed.
Castiel shook his head slightly, "It was nothing. Sam didn't know, and... he touched one of my wings."
Dean wrapped his arms around Castiel, pulling him close. "I can kick his ass for you."
"I'd rather forget it happened." Castiel said quietly.
"You didn't make that sound you make when I... yeah?" Dean looked at his face quizzically.
Castiel shook his head, "No."
Dean nodded. "What did you tell him?"
"I said it would be like grabbing someone's nipple." Castiel answered.
Dean reached between Castiel's legs, brushing the tips of his fingers against him, leaning in for a kiss, "'Nipple,' huh?... That's not what you told me. Maybe it's just when you're turned on."
"You said you'd behave." Castiel said, shifting Dean's arm away, but accepting his kiss, "His reaction was sufficient, telling him everything would just make things worse."
Dean nodded, "Yeah, but maybe he deserves to be uncomfortable."
Castiel shook his head, "I don't. Please don't tell him."
Dean kissed him softly, "It's okay, sweetheart."
Sam shifted his arm against the back of the cabinet.
"Sam?" Castiel whispered, gripping the door tightly by a sharp metal inward edge, "If you're coming around, try to stay quiet... You have to stay quiet."
Vaguely, he could hear heavy footsteps echoing in the building. Words were being called, but he couldn't make out what they said, or the voice that formed them.
Rowena's plan had been sound, even if Sam had disagreed with it. The contract on her use of his grace was handled by Crowley himself, airtight, and he had leverage as he'd captured Crowley first, with the stipulation that he would be freed once the grace was returned.
With the help of his grace, the hex had been disabled, opening the room where Dean was being kept, and he'd nearly gotten inside before the warlocks had found them. He wasn't sure if, with Dean's minimal amount of grace, that he'd be able to get out through the warding.
The sound of gunfire and a struggle came through, muffled echoes in the halls.
Castiel shook slightly, chilled with fear he hadn't experienced in years.
"No, no, no, baby, it's okay, let me take care of you." Dean murmured against Castiel's neck as the angel reached to touch him, "Just relax."
Castiel let his head drop, holding onto Dean by the wrists, enjoying the feel of his hands moving across his skin, trailed by his heated mouth. "Dean... oh, your hands..."
"Shhh... I've got you, baby... I'm going make you feel fantastic." Dean whispered, making his way slowly down Castiel's body, bringing forth a moan. "You had a long week."
"Dean..."
"Hmm?" Dean kissed down his stomach, trying to get his pants open gently.
"Dean, I don't know if I really want to tonight." Castiel said quietly.
Dean raised his head, the two sides of Castiel's slacks in his hands. "Let me try?"
Castiel looked down, meeting Dean's eyes, and nodded.
Dean slipped his hand into Castiel's clothes, touching him softly, nipping the skin at his navel, inching closer. "Gonna get you nice and hard and suck you off... Just like the first time... You remember?... But I think I've gotten a lot better since then. "
Dean felt him twitch and gasp at the memory, and seemed encouraged, freeing him from his clothes, and beginning to stroke him.
Castiel closed his eyes, focused hard on the memory, but he could feel his body starting to fail him. "Dean, stop."
Castiel started to pull him upward, but Dean gently eased the waistband of his boxers over his quickly softening erection and removed his pants, pulling the blankets up around him.
Dean lay down next to him, close, but without contact, "Cas... if this is because of the chain, I know I deserve it, but I swear to you, I'm just trying to make you comfortable."
"It's not that, Dean. I know you didn't want that. Even biding my time and planning to kill you, I could see it hurt you to do it."
Dean rolled onto his side, scooting a little closer. "We've got one fucked up marriage for that to be reassuring, but it is."
"Our marriage isn't fucked up, Dean. Just our lives." Castiel answered, not turning to face him, but blindly offering his hand, feeling it clasped immediately, and squeezed in appreciation of the contact.
"Yeah, you're right. All things considered, the life we have, I guess we have it pretty good, huh?" Dean, now content Castiel wasn't upset with him, nudged his chin against Castiel's shoulder. "So, you just tired, then?"
"Dean, is this really something you want me to tell you?"
"Absolutely. I love knowing everything there is to know about your dick."
Castiel rolled his eyes. "I have a... lack of interest tonight, because I'm still uncomfortable from this morning."
"You mean, about Sam?" Dean asked, raising on his elbow slightly, his features grim, avoiding Castiel's eyes. "Well, you know, you can't help it, right? I mean, they're really sensitive, I mean, if some girl in a bar started handling my nuts, I know what would happen. Doesn't mean you have to feel ashamed of it, you know? It's not like you asked him to, he just did it, and he didn't know. And you told him to stop. And he did. Right?"
Castiel wasn't paying attention to Dean's fairly closed body language. "I keep wanting to get in the shower and scrub until the feathers come off. It would be painful, though, and take forever to dry... I suppose I could find some replacement powder."
Dean slowly turned to look at Castiel, a mixture of relief and guilt on his face, as Castiel met his eyes. "Well, shit. Here I was thinking you got excited and felt embarrassed, and you're feeling like you got molested, no wonder you can't... I'm sorry, baby. I'll help you wash your wings if you want. Anything you need."
"You're a comfort to me, Dean." Castiel said, putting his hand to the side of Dean's face, "Right now, though, I just want to sleep."
He heard the door of the room creak open as Sam gave a small moan.
"Shhhh... please... please pass by..." Castiel prayed.
The footsteps were quiet now, and continued inside the room as the door swung mostly shut. The person was inside the room with them.
Castiel considered putting a hand over Sam's mouth, but he couldn't afford to let go of the door or put down the gun.
He'd left no trail, not even disturbed dust, getting into the cabinet, but the quiet footsteps continued closer.
With his arm shaking, Castiel checked for a third time that the safety was off, and sitting basically on the ground, aimed for the top of the cabinet door, finger on the trigger and already tight.
Just as he thought the danger was about to pass, the person moving back away from the door, it suddenly pulled free from his grasp. His arm now free, he wrapped it protectively around the front of Sam's chest...
"Hey!" Sam called through the garage from the doorway.
"Yeah, what's up?" Dean replied, his arm buried to the elbow in the Impala.
Sam started through the room. "Woke up late, and I was going to see how much coffee I should make, but I couldn't find Cas anywhere."
"Yeah, he went to check on his bees." Dean said, loosening a rubber hose from the side of the engine. "We already ate, so it's just you."
Sam nodded, "Is he okay, going out there by himself?"
"He's fine. Trust me." Dean said, chuckling. "Threw me around pretty good this morning."
"T.M.I., dude. Don't need to know." Sam said.
"No, T.M.I. would be telling you that you fucked up what was going to be an epic blow job last night. You touch one of his wings again, he better be hurt, or I'm gonna break your hand."
Sam gave a horrified look. "Sorry, I really didn't know. I really thought it was just like an arm or something."
"That's why you're still standing."
Sam looked anxiously at the door. "Um, maybe I should apologize to him again?"
"Don't. As far as he's concerned, it's over, and not awkward. You're gonna keep it over and not awkward." Dean pulled the o-clamp from the hose, checking the post connection for debris.
"Right. And, definitely no touching anymore wings... and not just because I don't have time to deal with a broken hand."
"I'd heal it afterward. Just saying, it's the principle of the thing."
Sam nodded. "Okay, I need some coffee, then I might run into town and try to erase the idea that I ...messed things up. Sorry you didn't get your... ug."
"Oh, no, I wasn't the one getting it." Dean stated bluntly.
"Aaand we're back to the horrible memory with your ass-feather tattoo. Thanks." Sam said, heading for the door.
"Bitch."
"Jerk."
"Dean!" Castiel said, pulling the gun off his target immediately. His breath was ragged and he was still shaking. His fear was joined with relief, and tears.
Dean looked over the two of them, his brother injured and unconscious in his husband's protective arms, Castiel clutching the gun, a nervous wreck. He checked Sam for a pulse right away, reaching for Cas with the other hand, trying to calm him. "What's happening? You're so... rattled."
"I don't have my grace, Dean. Sam's hurt, and I'm human."
"Human? What happened to your grace?"
"Rowena used it to bring down the hex. We have to get out of here, and you'll have to heal Sam." Castiel rambled, gasping for air.
"Okay," Dean said, pulling Sam off of Castiel, and over his shoulders into a fireman carry. "We're clear if we go out the west side of the building, they're going out the northeast door looking for me."
Dean watched Castiel come down the stairs from the door of the bunker with a sour look.
"Hey... Your bees okay?"
Castiel held up a jar of viscous murky amber. "They're quite happy."
"What's wrong?"
"I received a visitor on my walk back, Haziah. Azophael is still alive, and I've been asked to supply information."
"So Heaven is ready to take the guy down?" Dean asked, "That's good, right?"
The bunker door opened again as Castiel answered in a sorrowful voice, "I want this to be over, Dean. I don't think this is something either of us can win."
Dean hung his head at his husband's weariness as Castiel left the room, only looking up as the bunker door closed again, seeing Sam's overly concerned face.
Sam came down the stairs quickly and quietly. "Please tell me that wasn't what it sounded like."
"What?"
Sam opened his mouth to speak, only to close it again, shrugging and gesturing toward the direction Castiel had gone.
"The dude's tired of dealing with Azophael's bullshit. Gotta agree with him."
"Azophael?"
"Yeah. Why? What'd you think was going on?"
Sam shook his head and handed him a bag from an auto parts store. "It sounded like you guys having problems."
"You'd like that. A little Lifetime drama right in front of you."
"Don't joke about that, Dean. You guys are obviously happy together, and... that's what I want for you. Both of you."
Dean looked in the bag. "God, you are such a girl."
"You're gay-married to a literal angel, but I'm 'a girl?' There's no world that would make sense in."
Dean narrowed his eyes and headed back to the garage.
Hurrying outside, Dean looked around. "Where's the car?"
Castiel didn't slow down, going straight for a mid-90s Jeep. "About that..."
"No..." Dean said, heaving his brother into the back, and jumping into the driver's seat, reaching for the already loose wires, touching the bare ends together until it started, speeding away.
Castiel tightened his seat belt and turned to look over his shoulder at Sam. Dean reached across and took his hand. "He'll be okay... And Azophael's not going to be a problem anymore, one of the warlocks took him out."
Castiel felt Dean reaching below the blankets, but didn't stir, his mouth and nose pressed against the back of Dean's neck.
Dean slid his hand along Castiel's thigh, and pulled his knee over him as he adjusted roughly onto his back with a groan.
Castiel could easily feel Dean's hardness through his boxers, pressing against his inner knee. Dean's hand then stroked at his inner thigh until Castiel took it, laced their fingers and brought it to rest on Dean's chest.
Dean turned his head to Castiel sleepily. "You're thinking too loud. I can feel it."
"I'm sorry if I woke you." Castiel said quietly.
Dean hummed slightly, almost stretching. "You could help me get back to sleep."
Castiel straightened his knee, reaching under his leg, pulling the waistband of Dean's boxers down, allowing him to pop free, and closed the back of his knee around him. Dean stroked the outside of his thigh softly.
"What were you thinking about, anyway?" Dean asked, rolling his hips in a tiny motion.
Castiel licked the pad of his thumb and slid it back under the blankets, running it over Dean's tip, feeling him twitch. "My next 'deployment.'"
Dean swallowed hard and took hold of Castiel's arm, stopping him. "You don't have to. Tell Heaven to shove it, and say you're retired. Give them a damn good consult, but at the end of the day, come home."
Castiel brought his hand to rest on Dean's stomach, then a look of concern crossed his face. "I heard that. Don't even consider it."
"What?" Dean tried to look innocent.
"You are not going in my place."
"Yeah, I'm pretty sure they wouldn't have me."
Castiel dipped his thumb into Dean's navel. "I'll have you. But not for this."
"You won't let me go with you?"
"After last time?"
"Yeah, I know. If you hadn't accidentally Nephilimed us both, I'd be dead. Sam, too, probably. And you'd be working for the dark side."
"I didn't... Okay, I guess technically I did..."
"Yeah, you did." Dean said, taking Castiel's ribs, rolling him onto his back, and moving between his legs.
"Dean?" Castiel asked, getting only a questioning tone from Dean as his lips were suddenly busy against Castiel's neck. "You left your ring on the dresser."
"mnYeah, but I'm a lot stronger than last time, and if you trash the room, I'll clean it up." Dean said before dropping his head to Castiel's chest.
"And if I break your bones again? Or the bed?... Or possibly bring the entire bunker down within itself?"
"Tell me right now that you don't want me to top you."
Castiel gave him a warning look.
"Right." Dean said, resignedly, running his thumb over Castiel's nipple, leaning in for a tender kiss, gently worshipping his lips with his tongue. "Tell you what..." Dean continued, trailing small kisses along Castiel's jaw, ending with a whisper to his ear. "I can think of something we haven't done yet."
Castiel was unable to hide his intrigue.
"I'm not usually into this, but with you, I'm pretty sure it's going to be different. It's worth a shot."
Dean stripped them both and got up onto his knees, dragging Castiel into a place on the bed he found more convenient. "If you're going to top me, I insist on having your ring."
"Nobody's topping." Dean said, dropping to the mattress on his side. "Not to say you can't this way, just this way, doesn't have to... Just do what I do, and you'll get the hang of it. After you get the idea, do whatever you want to do, okay?"
Dean took hold of Castiel's hard cock and waited, stroking gently until Castiel did the same. He grasped Castiel's hip with his free hand, rolling him onto his side, closer, and encouraging him to move his leg out of the way as he had his own. Castiel watched intently in the dark as Dean gripped his base and brought his mouth down around him.
With a stifled moan, Castiel did the same.
Dean fought to keep himself focused, and pulled Castiel's lower leg under his free arm, tonguing at his tip. With his free hand, he cupped one side of Castiel's ass and gave a hard squeeze.
Castiel took him in deeply, drawing back to wet his fingers in his mouth. Dean moaned around him, knowing well what he was up to.
As Castiel slowly began to penetrate him, Dean whimpered and did his best not to buck. He pulled off to catch his breath, clutching Castiel tight with his hand, gasping for air. "Ohhhh, Cas, that's-"
Dean threw his head back in an open mouthed whimper as Castiel dipped his tongue into his tip, sucking hard and curling his fingers to press inside him. Moaning roughly from Castiel's ministrations, Dean leaned in, dragging his thumb over Castiel's tip, angling him aside, and taking his testicles into his mouth.
Castiel froze for a moment as Dean worked him gently with his tongue, making tiny nasal noises, his thighs shaking with the effort of keeping his hips in place.
Dean felt a stir within his mind, a vague chant almost audible as Castiel grabbed his thigh tightly and tried to continue without shaking so much.
Castiel increased his attentions on Dean's prostate, and Dean pulled back, giving Castiel a long lick up the underside of his erection before taking him into his mouth again, working his soft, wet lips tightly around his head, squeezing his shaft hard in his hand, cupping him gently with his free hand, and thrumming his grace against Castiel's soul, making him lose himself.
Castiel took Dean in all the way, swallowing around him, wrapping his free arm around his lower torso, trying to thrust Dean into his mouth quickly, only ever pulling half way off of him, as he shook hard with his orgasm fast approaching.
Dean pressed in on Castiel's soul, flicking his tongue across his tip each time he came up, speeding up, feeling him on the edge, determined to send him over.
The chanting was louder now, echoing in Dean's mind, like a choir of delicate whispers.
Castiel pulled off of him entirely, with a noticeable glow in his eyes, "Dean! I can't-!"
Dean managed at the last moment to pull Castiel's grace into his own, pinning it tightly. Hearing Castiel's borderline scream of his name, he almost wished he was still inside Castiel's mouth, feeling him shatter from inside, but a half second later, the idea was banished to the realm of nope, as Castiel grasped Dean hard, biting into his thigh to muffle his scream.
Dean was more aware of Castiel's fingers inside of him, moving roughly with abandon, and his hand squeezing him like a vice grip than he was of the light bulb suddenly coming on and exploding inside of the glass globe, or the bed shaking hard enough to shift a foot away from the wall. But he could certainly feel it when Castiel's true wings gave a hard flap.
Castiel whimpered loudly against Dean's thigh as he spilled over, hot seed flooding Dean's mouth. Dean swallowed him down, trying not to make a mess as he kept moving, slowing down, waiting for Castiel to give him a cue to stop, but Castiel only fell into his back, rolling away from him, shaking hard.
Dean let go of him as gently as possible, including his grace.
Panting, Castiel turned his head to pull his fingers free, a small concerned sound in the back of his throat. "There's blood."
Still very wound up, Dean moved his hands along Castiel's body as he sat up. "It's okay, baby, I promise."
Castiel reached his other hand to Dean's face, healing him.
A loud knock rasped at the door. "Guys?... are you okay? Um... the lights just went berserk, and-"
"Go away, Sam!"
Sam gave some vague disgusted mutter as he quickly retreated back down the hall.
Dean looked down at Castiel's still spent body, touching him gently at his neck and ribs. "Cas..."
Castiel frowned. "I hurt you again."
"Was that your true voice? I heard something in my head, whispering-"
"I injured you, Dean. Intimately." Castiel's voice came harsher this time.
Dean shrugged, "Not the first time. Probably won't be the last."
"Dean..." Castiel's voice carried a deep sadness.
"I'm sorry. This is my fault, I wanted to let you lose control. But you didn't raze the bunker, break any bones, or try to rip my dick off. I should have stopped, got you the ring, or at least slowed down enough to let you stay in control." Dean spoke softly, reaching his cheek, "Cas, I love you."
Castiel pulled Dean down over his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around him. After a comfortable silence, Castiel whispered, "I want to try that again with your ring, at a later time."
"Yeah. Anything you want, baby. But that... it's never been that good for me, you were great."
"You didn't climax."
"That's okay. I was holding back. I was really wanting to watch you."
Castiel loosened his arms. "You forced my grace into submission with your own."
Dean raised his head. "Yeah... I wasn't trying to hurt you, just, you know, help you keep things controlled. I'm sorry-"
"I liked it."
Dean kissed him softly.
"I think I'd like for it to happen again."
"...Right now?"
"No."
Dean nodded again.
Castiel rolled them both over, coming to rest between Dean's thighs, pressing his soft stomach to the ache Dean still carried. Slowly, he dragged his body firmly upward, earning a shiver from Dean. He drew his hand below him, taking hold of Dean once again, fondling him gently, rocking against him as his hand started to glow.
Dean was instantly close, and felt as though his entire body was submerged in cold flames. "Cas! MMMN! OH, God, Cas, baby, please!"
Castiel slipped his other hand over Dean's mouth, intensifying his touch as Dean rocked against him, moaning deeply, and finally ending in a strained, muffled, quiet scream as his hands clenched at any part of Castiel they fell on.
Castiel tried to keep his emotions in check, but throughout his very long existence, he had rarely needed to, and found it difficult to cope. The entire run back to the vacant house, his thoughts were running rampant, leaving him alternating between a million points in the emotional spectrum.
He opened the back door quietly, hoping to avoid any unwanted questions from the people living nearby, and held the door as Dean carried Sam in.
Closing the door, he had the feeling the house was too quiet. Something was missing. He followed Dean into the living room, where he set Sam on an old sofa that had been abandoned by the previous tenants. "She's not here, Cas... Why the hell would you trust her?"
Dean put his hands on the sides of Sam's head, reducing the swelling where the butt of the rifle had struck him.
"We didn't have a lot of options, Dean."
"Great. So we've got Ms. Ethical running around with your grace, that was a dumb move, and... Why is Crowley here?" Dean asked, standing up and looking around. "Where are the stairs?"
"Dean, please," Castiel said quickly, in a tearful voice. "I'll explain everything, please just slow down for a moment."
"Cas, you gotta pull it together."
"Are you angry with me?" Castiel asked.
"No, I just have to get your grace back, before Rowena finds something crazy to do with it." Dean said, moving toward a door in the kitchen.
Castiel caught him by the sleeve. "Dean, I'm so sorry."
"For what?"
"Going in there, without my grace, it could have gotten us all killed. I probably slowed Sam down, and..." Castiel wiped at his cheek.
Dean took a step closer, kissing him passionately, making him moan. "You saved him. We'll talk about it later. Right now, though, we get your grace back. You coming?"
"I, um..." Castiel glanced down, "Give me a minute, I'll be right there."
At first Sam was concerned he'd walked in on something private, but he noticed his brother's eyes were glued to the TV, and there was a distinct lack of movement for what he thought might be happening.
The sound was low, and Castiel was asleep. The angel had no shirt on, his wings relaxed, one draped over the back of the couch, the other had slipped to the floor below the coffee table, his head in Dean's lap, his back to the television.
Dean absent mindedly stroked Castiel's hair, watching his show.
"Hey, you want a beer?" Sam asked from the doorway.
"Nah. Can you hand me that blanket, though?"
Sam stepped into the room, picking up the blanket from the top of an old sidebar they'd found elsewhere in the bunker, and appropriated for the makeshift den. He passed it over the coffee table, handing Dean one end, and guessing his purpose, stretched the other end toward Castiel's feet.
"So, just curious," Sam whispered, "Say, hypothetically, wings are, I dunno, like boobs... and he's just walking around with them out, and that's not weird? I mean, am I supposed to look somewhere else?"
Dean shrugged, whispering back. "I have no clue, man. All I know is all angels see wings, but touching them is totally off limits. Except, you know, if they're... you know."
"So is that like, nudist colony, nobody cares if you look but don't stare, or like, strip club, it's rude not to?" Sam asked, puzzled.
"How many times have you gone to strip clubs where you're looking at other guys?" Dean hissed.
Sam shrugged, "I'm just trying to figure out the rules, here."
"Fuck it, ask him yourself, just do it when he has a shirt on... And don't make it awkward."
The heat was unbearable.
It was slow going, but he knew he would find him. He'd done it before. And he would have him back. He would always have him. His human. His charge, his friend, his lover, his other half, the one who had loved a soul into him. The one he shared with, thoughts, battles, triumphs, a bed, and a deep abiding love.
He was here somewhere. Somewhere in Hell. He had taken him out of here before, and he would do it again. A hundred times. A million. Anything for Dean. Anything.
He tortured souls. He enjoyed it. His conscious mind had even fought Castiel, wanting to stay at the rack, wanting to continue to tear, flay, and slice at the souls he had been allowed to tie down. Alistair had driven him to it.
Castiel found him where he had first seen the righteous man, broken beyond recognition. Shirtless, sweating, his skin marred with a thousand lines. Thirty years, Alistair had tortured him, and it showed.
"Dean Winchester! Don't be afraid. I've come to take you out of here." Castiel repeated the words he'd said as Dean turned around, his shoulders weary, but a look of sickening satisfaction in his face.
He could feel his grace beginning to falter. Much longer, and he would perish.
"I'm not going anywhere with you. Stick around, though. We can have some fun when I'm done with this one..." Dean said. Then, more clearly, "Hand me that blade..."
Dean began to circle the victim on the rack, who seemed to be attempting to speak. "All I know is angels see things. But killing them is off limits... Except you." Dean looked up, pointing a knife at Castiel.
"What does that mean? Dean, I'm trying to save you!"
The bloodied figure on the rack moaned, mumbled, and fought in instinct as Dean brought the blade closer.
"How many times," Dean hissed, leaning over him, "have you disappointed me?"
There was something familiar, very familiar, about this victim, but Castiel couldn't place it.
"I'm just trying to figure out the rules, here." He gasped through the blood in his mouth.
It was Sam. Dean was refusing to leave Hell again, and this time he had Sam on the rack.
"Fuck it. Kill him yourself, just do it so it takes long... And don't make it awkward." Dean said, picking up a knife, thrusting it handle-first toward Castiel.
Castiel was dying, he had to get Dean out of there, and he wouldn't be able to save Sam at all. "Dean, please. Come with me. Don't do this!"
Dean shook hid head, planted his knife firmly into his brother, and dragged it sideways, listening to his gurgling scream as Castiel reached for him.
"Stop!" Castiel pressed up onto his knees, "Stop this! Dean!"
Dean caught Castiel as he nearly fell off the couch. Castiel didn't come out of his dream quickly enough, however, and tried to pin Dean's arms. "Let him off the rack! Don't hurt him!"
"Shhh! Cas! I'm not on the rack! We're home." Castiel began to calm as Dean touched his face. "We're home in the bunker. But if you don't quiet down, you're going to wake up Sam."
"Sam's not on the rack?"
"Sam was on the rack? I thought I was on the rack? I mean, nobody's on the rack ...you're having a nightmare." Dean watched for Castiel's eyes to clear before pulling him close. Dean shifted to lay down on the couch, under Castiel.
"Dean, I smell blood." the angel said against his chest.
Dean ran his thumb across a nostril. "Yeah, just a drop. Happens when you catch the back of someone's hand with your face."
Castiel felt Dean start stroking his hair again. "You want to talk about it?"
"Talk about what?" Castiel asked quietly, shifting to adjust his weight, curling a wing around Dean.
"Your nightmare."
Castiel pressed his face against Dean's soft tshirt and took a shaky breath.
"Cas... you know me."
"You wouldn't."
"I would... You know because you've watched me do it. You've seen the worst parts of me, right from the start. I don't want to be like that, you got me out, and now I don't have to be." Dean pressed his lips to Castiel's hairline. "If you saw Sam on the rack, I know where I was, and what I was doing."
Castiel pushed his arms under Dean's back, holding him tightly, as if he might slip away.
Dean hurried down the stairs to the basement. The devil's trap on the floor was large, an old, comfortable looking armchair was at its center, and Crowley sat, playing a game on his phone.
"Dean... Good to see you. How are the wife and moose?" Crowley said, not looking up.
"One's hurt, and the other one needs his grace back. So how do we go about making that happen?"
"Don't get so surly, it's in my best interest to make it happen, but I can't discuss the details without your beloved bedfellow in the room. Part of the contract, you understand. The only part I can mention, really."
Dean nodded. "He'll be down in a minute... What could she use it for, anyway?"
"Who knows? Never had any use for grace, myself."
Dean turned to the stairs as the door opened again, and Castiel came down.
"Right. She can't keep it past midnight, or she'll be facing fairly horrific consequences. She can't make use of it to harm anyone, or do anything that could be harmful, and she can't give it to anyone but Castiel." Crowley looked between the two of them. "I don't trust her, so believe me, I attempted to close every loophole."
"And what do you get out of this, exactly?" Dean asked, throwing a glance at Castiel.
"I can't do a favor for an old acquaintance?" Crowley acknowledged Dean's skeptical look with a nod. "I get to rest easy knowing that hideous beast isn't running amok with the power of a holy host of heaven. And I get let out, if I'm a good boy."
"Wow. That's almost charitable, Crowley."
"Remember it when my birthday rolls 'round."
Dean and Castiel both turned to the stairs hearing Sam get up from the couch.
Sam had tried to convince him not to go alone. Castiel wasn't there to stop him. Dean had split.
His ring in his pocket, Dean sped toward the location he'd gotten from Sachiel and Haziah.
The list of possible addresses were written down, and Dean had promised to call when he was sure which one was accurate. Sachiel had seemed certain it was going to be in Dodge City, Kansas, but the places in Sayre, Oklahoma, Lubbock, Texas, and Amarillo had been written down as well.
Castiel wanted it over. This time was going to be the last time Heaven called Castiel over Azophael, because this time, Azophael would die. Dean was determined to make sure it ended this time.
In his mind, images flashed, comforting Castiel, wrapped in the chain, tending to the burn on his face, kissing him gently and reassuring him he didn't blame him for what had happened.
Dean set his jaw, and pushed the Impala to go as fast as the engine would allow, knowing Castiel would likely be there ahead of him.
Dean came around the corner ahead of Castiel. "Sam? You okay?"
"Uh, yeah." Sam grimaced, holding his head.
The front door swung open, and in walked Rowena. Her long dress was a dark purple, and brought out her fair complexion. She held a to-go cup of something hot and a small bag.
Dean glared at her, murder in his eyes.
"There is the loveliest little bakery just up the road." Rowena prattled happily, "The espresso isn't bad, but proper scones? That's not to be missed."
"Hand it over." Dean growled.
"Not on yer life, my bonnie crabbit." Rowena answered, moving the bag behind her, pointing at him with the first finger of the hand that held the cup. "It's raspberry. Touch it, and I'll bake you into a tart."
"Not the pastry, Cas' grace. Give it back to him." Dean said.
"Och, fine." Rowena shoved her cup at Dean, making him hold it for her, and reached into the top of her dress, digging deeply into her bosom, "All right, I know it's in here."
"Really?" Dean asked.
"Can you think of a safer place than next to my heart, deary?" Rowena asked with a hint of sarcasm, withdrawing the glowing vial.
Desperate, repeating the address in his mind, over and over, focused on Castiel, Dean found the road noise hypnotic.
Dean was about to turn on the stereo as he usually did to snap himself out of it, but decided to check his phone first.
No calls, no messages since Sam had asked him to check in next time he stopped. He set it down on the seat next to his leg.
He spotted a sign for the turn off for Ransom, and repeated the address again, unaware his lips were moving.
Suddenly, he was falling, much like the physical sensation of falling as sleep overtakes the mind.
And then, there was a floor beneath him.
"What the fuck...?"
Dean took it from her before she had a chance to proffer it, shoving her cup back into her hand, turning to pass it delicately to Castiel. "Careful, Cas, might be cold."
"Very funny, lad, but with a lovely face like that, you'd be welcome to check for yourself." Rowena said, heading for the stairs.
Dean shook his head and let her pass.
"How do we know it's all there?" Sam asked quietly.
"It's all there." Dean answered. "Doesn't seem to be tampered with, either."
"Right... you're... yeah." Sam said, leaning on the wall. "So I guess right now, you're more angel than Cas is... huh."
"I have to be the one to release Crowley. Will you go with me?" Castiel asked Dean.
"Yeah, but you wanna grace up before we do this?" Dean asked.
"Not yet." Castiel said.
Dean shrugged, and motioned toward the kitchen, accepting whatever reasons Castiel might have. Castiel pressed the vial into Dean's palm, receiving a questioning look from Dean.
"For right now, you're stronger than I am, and I know I can trust you to guard it as you would me." Castiel hurried down the stairs before Dean could speak.
Castiel pulled a knife and scraped a break in the line on the floor before moving to the wall, stepping up onto a chair and then onto a dresser. Dean looked up to see an even larger, and more intricate trap on the ceiling. "How did I miss that?"
"It's surprisingly easy." Crowley commented, waiting patiently as Castiel scratched through the line on the ceiling. "And also quite thorough."
Rowena smiled from her chair nearby, chewing quietly, her conversation worth Crowley having come to a screeching half when Dean and Castiel came down the stairs. Dean had to admit the scone did look pretty good. "And what about you? What did you get out of this?"
Rowena held up a finger and swallowed. "That is a private matter."
"Private? Between you and my husband?" Dean scoffed.
"Between her and Sam." Castiel said, stepping down.
"Sam?... Shit. What did he give her?"
Castiel shrugged. "He didn't say."
"Okay, fine... Anything else we need to worry about?"
"No. That completes our deal... Nice doing business with you, Castiel. Come see me if you ever want to spend that superfluous soul." Crowley said, standing up before vanishing.
Dean took another suspicious look at Rowena and nearly asked for the name of the bakery, and followed Castiel upstairs.
"Okay. Where's my car?" Dean asked.
Dean rolled onto his back only to find three of the dickiest angels to ever be dicks, ever, staring down at him.
"Hey, I know you. You're the little weak ass bitch that couldn't get it up to kill me." Dean said to Maiel. "Mabel, right?"
The two in large male vessels dragged him to his feet. "You are a disgrace. A soul and grace in the same being. Heaven may have decided to allow it, after what you did for our father, but it is, nonetheless, disgusting."
"You know, after you fucked up your little execution move, I looked like I was wearing eyeliner for about three days." Dean shrugged, "Itched a little. Maybe next time you can give me the lipstick to go with."
Maiel punched him in the face, her diminutive stature lessening the blow even further.
"Ohhh, nice. My husband's gonna love this color on me. Thanks to my very own Avon lady." Dean chuckled, infuriating her further. "Ding-dong, oh look, somebody gets their wings, huh?"
"How did you get here?" Maiel asked sharply.
"Your mom dropped me off."
"Get him out of my sight."
"It's in a ditch just north of Ransom, on the way home." Sam answered. "Found it on my way to Dodge City. Not too bad, ran out of gas, but other than a couple scratches it's fine. Grabbed your keys and some supplies and locked it up. If we pick up a gas can it should get home okay."
"Thank goodness for small miracles, huh?" Dean muttered. "What did you give Rowena to get her help?"
Sam looked up. "Nothing, yet. Don't worry about it. I know what I'm doing."
"What does she want?" Dean asked, pointedly.
Sam refused to meet his eye. "You wouldn't believe me."
"Dude! Oh, that's gross, she's like, 500."
"No, god, no! Not sex. I was real clear on that." Sam said. "Look, I really don't want to talk about it, okay?"
"Fine, fine. But no whoring yourself out, got it? You've screwed enough inhuman stuff as it is." Dean said.
"Inhuman? You know Cas is in the room, right?" Sam said. "And you're not even really human anymore, either, are you?"
"Sam, I'm serious. There's a million ways-"
"Something like that could go sideways, I know. Been there, done that, remember? Just, look, head home, get your car, I'll be back in a couple of days, and I'll check in, okay?" Sam said. "I'll be fine. I promise."
After half an hour of frantic searching, calling other hunters, and a failed spell with a map, Sam dropped into a seat of the stolen Jeep with the list of addresses.
"Okay, so his keys were still in the car when we found it, phone too. He's not in the building. Maybe they zapped him someplace. Maybe we hit each address on the list?"
Castiel, standing by the open door, suddenly seemed far less agitated. "Are any of the addresses directly north of a place called San Antone?"
"What?" Sam looked confused.
"Up from San Antone... I can hear it." Castiel said dazedly.
"None of these places are directly north of San Antonio." Sam said, passing him the list.
"I understand, now. He's in Amarillo." Castiel said.
"You can hear him?... And he's quoting a George Strait song?" Sam asked, "I don't know which one is more surprising."
"I can't hear him, he's focused on a particularly strong memory. That song was playing."
"Do I want to know?" Sam asked.
"Dean taught me to slow dance. It was our wedding night." Castiel carefully left out what was happening on the hood of the car before the song had even ended.
Dean was quiet the entire way back to the Impala. Castiel had slept, mostly, except for a nearly panicked moment when he had to have Dean pull over.
After quick use of a couple of gas cans, Dean had Castiel follow him into town in the Jeep, ditching it behind an abandoned gas station.
Castiel got into the Impala, as Dean finished a quick text to Sam.
Dean looked up. Even in the darkness he could see the nearly silver line at the base of Castiel's throat.
He knew someone had to have held an angel blade to Castiel's throat and willfully pierced his skin with it to remove the grace. It would have taken only a moment to change course and murder him outright.
"Who cut you?" Dean asked, before bringing his eyes up to meet Castiel's.
"Sam. I didn't like the idea of anyone else bringing a blade that close to me."
Dean nodded. "You still haven't taken your grace back. You're starting to scare me."
"It's a painful process to remove it, and now that I have it out, I'm fully human."
"You're vulnerable."
"I know. But I can feel everything so intensely. Dean, I'll take my grace back, but I don't want to waste this."
Dean tilted his head slightly, before immediately correcting himself. "Holy crap, this is about as backwards as it gets... I'm zapping places, and you're... human. And confusing me."
Castiel looked down at his ring. "If you... if you put your ring on, we can both be human for a while."
"Is that what you want?" Dean asked.
"It's part of it." Castiel said quietly. "I know I can't stay like this. You, and Sam, you need me at my best. I understand that. And I believe I'm feeling guilt, just for leaving myself human this long, but Dean, everything I feel... I've loved you for a very long time, but somehow, this is different. It's... sharper, and heavier. I'm not ready to let go just yet."
"Okay. I'm not about to have us both graceless outside the bunker. We get back, I'll give you anything you want, and then..."
Castiel nodded.
"Okay... What was the other part?" Dean asked, not sure he understood.
"If you left your ring off... it's close enough that ... well, you could be my angel for a while."
Dean got the car on the road, waiting until Castiel had thought the subject was dropped, then began to touch him gently with his grace.
Castiel gave a confused look. "Are you doing that?"
Dean gave him a quick, flirtatious look, then got his eyes back on the road.
After a few more miles, he was causing slow, warm strokes through Castiel's whole body, making him moan and shiver. "Dean... if you're not going to pull over, you should stop. It's getting painful."
Dean smirked. "So take care of it."
"What?" Castiel asked, alarmed.
"Handle it. There's napkins in the glove box."
Castiel adjusted himself and pulled his left thigh up onto the seat. "I'd be fine, if you let it go awOHH DEAN! HMMN!... would you stop?"
"It's dark, there's no other cars on the road, nobody's gonna see... Except me, and that would be fun..." Dean said. "I know you're not a big fan of touching yourself, just watching when I do it, but, did you, when you were human before?"
"Only from necessity."
"Necessity? Oh, jeez, Cas... live a little." Dean looked quickly at Castiel's face. He wasn't as disturbed by the idea as Dean worried he would be. "I promise, this is absolutely a human thing. Unless I do it, then I guess it's a 'whatever' thing."
"Dean, I..."
"Don't be embarrassed, sweetheart." Dean said softly, "Tell you what, just get the napkins, and I'll help you out."
"You're driving."
Dean barely looked at him, but Castiel felt it. His whole body was on fire, his hardness throbbing, desperate for touch. "Yeah, I better keep my hands on the wheel."
Castiel rolled his eyes and unfastened his pants, taking the napkins from the glove box.
(A/N2: If you guys want to know what Rowena wanted from Sam, it'll be coming out soon.)