Chapter 10
Before Dean's eyes Castiel's light blue T-shirt turns red in a matter of seconds. The kitchen tiles, which the reaper has dug his fingers into, crack and break. Castiel must be going through an unbearable pain, as he writhes on the floor.
Dean is lost and astonished. He does not know what he is supposed to do. It's not like he meets tortured reapers every day.
The painter tries to be as gentle as possible and touches Castiel's shoulder slightly. He wants to say something comforting, but Castiel's pained sob makes him lose all the thoughts.
Alright, Dean knows that having Castiel lying on the floor will not help anything. He has to move Castiel to a more comfortable position in order to examine his wounds.
"Cas, can you walk?" he asks softly as he looks down at the trembling body.
"I…I am not sure," Castiel whines. His voice is muffled against the kitchen tiles.
"Ok, let's get you on your feet. Come on, big boy." Dean very gingerly places his hands under Castiel's armpits and when the angel does not make pained sounds, the painter slowly lifts and helps him stand straight. "That's it. You're doing great, Cas." Dean places some dislocated tiles back into their places with his foot, but as he does so Castiel sways and falls forward.
"Whoa, Cas!" The painter barely manages to catch the angel, but he has to touch his back to do so. As soon as his hands come into contact with the reaper's back, Castiel lets out a miserable whimper.
"Oh God, I'm sorry….But where should I touch you?" Dean groans desperately, but then an idea comes to his mind. "Lay across my shoulder." The painter slightly bends his knees so Castiel could do so.
Dean is amazed at how light Castiel feels across his shoulder as the painter carries him to the bedroom. The angel's arms hang loose and his face is pressed against Dean's back as they enter the room.
"Right, here we are, Cas. Hold on for a sec." Dean tries his best to lay Castiel on the bed as gently as possible.
And Dean realizes that he makes a mistake by lying Castiel on his bed. How the hell is he going to take the angel's clothes off of him now?
"Fuck!" Dean swears and grinds his teeth. His gaze falls on the nightstand and he quickly opens its drawer. He takes out a pair of scissors.
"Cas, are you with me?"
The angel shifts on the bed and moans. "Maybe it would be better for him if he were unconscious," Dean thinks to himself.
"I'm gonna undress you, I need to see your wounds," he says quietly as he starts to cut the T-shirt.
Dean is not prepared for this. As soon as he parts the edges of the T-shirt, he makes a choking sound. Castiel's back is covered with horrible red gashes. The wounds are leaking blood and dear God….what is this sound? And oh, sweet heavens, Castiel's flesh is sizzling….
"Dean…" Castiel moans and tries to sit up, but the painter puts his hand on his head, holding him gently in the place.
"Cas, don't. Stay right here, I'll be back in a second." Dean jumps up to get some wet washcloths and the first aid kit.
When he returns, Castiel's face is turned towards him. The angel's lips are parted and his breathing is heavy. His eyes follow Dean's every movement.
The painter sits on the bed and tries to give his angel a reassuring smile. "It's gonna be alright, Cas. You'll be fine."
Dean starts to clean Castiel's wounds with a washcloth. The reaper's body radiates so much heat that Dean feels like he's standing in front of an oven. Castiel clutches the bed sheets when a washcloth touches his wounds. His body trembles and Dean can hear muffled sobs that the angel tries to hide, but the pain is too strong to combat.
"It's alright, let it go." Dean understands that Castiel is fighting and failing to control the pain. The painter finishes cleaning Castiel's back and puts some ointment on the wounds.
"Tell me what happened," he asks briefly as he puts more ointment on Castiel's back.
The reaper lets out a shuddering breath as the excruciating memories come back and flood his mind. "The guards dragged me to heaven and threw me in jail. I had to wait for my trial," Castiel begins with a hoarse voice.
"Your trial?" Dean stares at the angel with worried eyes.
"Yes. I broke the rules and I had to be punished. The jury decided to give me fifty lashes with The Tamer." The reaper's voice breaks near the end.
"What's The Tamer?" Dean gulps nervously, already knowing that the thing must be something bloodcurdling.
"It's….it's a special whip… made from the fire of Hell. This is the only thing that can cause the angels pain." Castiel's voice drops into a whisper.
Dean feels like a mountain has fallen upon him and he can't breathe. The painter rubs his face with a shaking hand. "I'm sorry, Cas. God knows, I'm really sorry. I never wanted you to get hurt."
Castiel gives him a small smile. "I know, Dean. My grace should heal the wounds completely by tomorrow night."
"That's nice…nice to hear. This must be hurting you a lot," Dean croaks.
"There was one thing that kept giving me the strength to endure the pain," Castiel says gently as he opens his eyes.
"What…what was it, Cas?" Dean can hear his heartbeat rise to the speed of a rocket.
The reaper opens his eyes and bottomless blue ocean meets the green galaxy. "It was you, Dean. You and the time I was able to spend with you."
Dean knows that this is the beginning of the end. There is no other name for it. The reaper has just confessed that he has definite feelings for the painter. And he'll be damned if Dean does not have feelings for the reaper as well.
Chick flick moments are quickly forgotten as Dean remembers something and frowns. "Cas, when they whipped you, did they strip you completely or…."
"Completely," Castiel cuts in.
"Oh, shit…" Dean stares down at the black jeans the angel is wearing. Castiel's buttocks and the backs of his legs could be covered with the same terrible wounds.
"I need to take these pants off of you." Dean sounds apologetic.
When the pants are taken off of the reaper and thrown aside, Dean is once again met with the familiar sight of the burning cuts and he has to go on for round two of trying to clean it.
Two hours have passed like two minutes since Dean has started to treat Castiel's wounds. The angel does not sob anymore, only whimpers from time to time. The painter looks at his naked body and thinks of Adonis sleeping on white silky sheets.
"Christ, he is beautiful," Dean thinks to himself, ruthlessly killing the urge to reach his hand out and stroke Castiel from his nap, down to his tailbone. Dean has always considered himself being a ladies' man. Sure, when he was young there were one or two hook-ups with guys while he was drunk, but he doesn't count those. But looking at Castiel, his mind has different thoughts.
"Right, you can sleep here, Cas. Umm, I mean rest. I know you don't sleep." Dean laughs awkwardly and starts to get up from the bed, when Castiel's hand grabs his wrist. It's a strong hold but not painful.
"Please don't go, Dean," the reaper says quietly and his eyes plead the painter to stay.
"Alright, alright. Calm down, I'm not gonna go. Mommy's gonna stay right here." Dean can't help a small chuckle escaping his mouth. But it dies quickly when the angel speaks the following words:
"When they were whipping me, I prayed to my father for forgiveness, I begged him to stop the punishment, but he did not hear my pleas. No one cared that I could have died during the punishment. Everyone in the chamber hated me and wanted my death. I thought I was all alone but then…then your face started to surface in my mind. And the last twenty blows were more or less bearable, while I could see your face. Do not leave me, Dean. Please…"
Dean is rendered speechless. He has listened to many confessions before, mostly from women when they were cheating on their husbands with him, or some drunken confessions from his friends, but this is the most intimate one he has ever heard.
Finally, when the painter comes to his senses, he takes his shoes off and climbs into the bed, leaning against the headboard. Castiel lies on his belly, completely motionless, but his eyes shimmer with a mysterious light and Dean feels like drowning in their depths. How can such a powerful creature be so innocent and naïve, the painter wonders.
"Cas, can I ask you something?" The painter smiles at the angel.
"Of course, Dean. Anything you want to know." Castiel's fingers slightly touch Dean's hand and it sends electric shocks through the painter's body.
"I know this might sound stupid, but how old are you?" Dean blurts out and grins sheepishly.
The reaper falls silent for a short while, as if concentrating hard on remembering the answer. "I do not know my exact age. I was created many centuries ago, but I am still considered very young." Castiel's voice sounds less troubled by the pain and Dean is very, very glad about this.
The painter looks through the window. The stars and the moon shine brightly in the night sky. The reaper's soft breathing touches his hand again as the lean fingers slowly play with sheets.
"Tell me about angels, Cas. The Reapers and the Guardians. How did God create you? Can you tell me?"
Castiel gives him a small nod and begins to tell the story. As the words spill from his mouth, Dean can clearly see every detail. His mind draws pictures of the creation of angels, darkness and light, sweetness and bitterness, sorrow and happiness, tears and joy mixed up together.
As Castiel finishes telling the story, Dean is left breathless. The impressions are too intense and bright. The painter feels he has witnessed it all with his own eyes. When he imagines Castiel's creation, a wide smile spreads on his lips as he stares at the ceiling. The images of his reaper's birth, his first cries and words, wash over him like a crushing wave. Dean's eyes blaze from adrenaline and he pants.
Castiel lifts his head and glances at his charge. He does not need to ask what Dean sees. The reaper can feel and see them through Dean's eyes.
"You saw my birth," Castiel murmurs and shifts closer to the painter. He puts his head on Dean's lap and hums.
Dean's hand caresses the angel's dark hair. God, it's so soft, softer than any hair he's felt before. The painter's fingers slide into Castiel's dark locks, softly massaging his scalp. "Yes, Cas. I saw it," Dean whispers and turns the night lamp off.
The reaper just snuggles closer and wraps his arm around Dean's legs.
And Dean Winchester knows that he is falling too…
To be continued…