AN: Here we go guys! The end of the road. I want to thank you all for keeping up with this story and how much I really appreciate you all. On to the replies!
Guest: I'm so happy you love my stories! Thank you so much!
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doglady.1: Thank you!
eboncat: It has been really fun story to write, I'm so glad you've enjoyed it.
littlenightbirdy: You have no idea how awesome it makes me feel when I get to hear that people really enjoy reading what I write. You're awesome!
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Disclaimer: Still not mine. Boo.
The rumble of the Impala broke Dean's stupor and he became painfully aware of the grip on his arm where Cas was holding on so tightly. The angel's breath was coming out in gasps as the impact of what had just happened seemed to catch up with him.
"Dean? Cas?" He heard Sam's voice and saw the outline of his younger brother in the blinding headlights of the Impala.
"Sam! Help me!" He cried as Cas all but collapsed in his arms.
Dean saw the first blade still laying on the ground where it had been shoved through Abaddon's rib cage just moments ago. But he noticed with relief that he didn't feel the need to retrieve it and he turned his attention to Castiel once again.
"Shit, Dean what happened? Why didn't you come and get me?" Sam snapped accusingly, kneeling next to angel.
"We'll get to that later, just help me get Cas to the Impala."
"Who did this?" Sam all but growled as he pushed some of Cas's hair back from his forehead and his fingers coming back tainted with blood.
Dean closed his eyes as he heaved Castiel up, "I did."
Sam shot him a confused look, but after a moment he carefully wrapped an arm around Cas's waist supporting the injured man as carefully as possible.
"Dean, I don't believe I can stand,' Castiel admitted as he brought to a semi standing position.
Guilt wracked through Dean like a white hot knife as the angel leaned on him heavily, his face trying to hide the obvious.
Dean tightened his hold on Cas's waist, pulling him closer.
"I gotcha Cas," he whispered soothingly, his nose pressing close to his ear, the mess of wild hair sticking out in every which way. Sam had stopped, readjusting his grip while Dean let himself linger for a moment. He had almost lost this.
He almost ended this.
Dean batted Sam's hand away and used every bit of inhuman strength he had left in him and lifted the angel, cradling shoulders and trying as hard as he could not to jostle his injured leg as he pulled him close to him, Castiel's head resting on his shoulder.
"Never thought I'd get an occasion to carry you bridal style, feathers," Dean said, trying to smile as they made their way to the Impala.
Castiel snorted, "If you are referring to the traditional custom of the groom carrying the bride over the threshold, I barely think this counts." He wrapped a bloodied hand around Dean's neck, his thumb brushing the edge of Dean's hairline.
"Lets get him to a hospital," Sam encouraged as the arrived at the Impala, pulling out the keys to the Chevy.
"No," rasped Cas as they leaned him against the Impala, Sam opening the passenger side door. "Just take me bunker. Please."
Dean faltered, torn between the want to at least give Cas some say in where he was going and knowing that his mojo was clearly drained and he looked like hell.
"Cas, you're hurt. I fucking hurt you and you need to get looked at," Reminded Dean, not allowing his gaze to falter from the mess of Cas's face, blood still dripping from the edge of his mouth. Dean's shirt was a mess from the blood that he had brought forth, he had split the skin of the angel, he had held his shoulder still while he hit him. Over and over again.
"Dean," Castiel pleaded, resting his head on the hood of the car. "I will recover, I would just like to go home."
Home. Cas had called the Bunker home.
SPNSPNSPN
Dean had sat silent in the passenger seat when Sam insisted on driving. The look Castiel gave him told him he had better not argue and at this point he was really in no position to be denying Cas anything. Sam stepped away from the car for moment, coming back with a rag wrapped around the first blade. Dean watched his younger brother open the glove compartment and throw it in along side the battered phones and crumpled fast food recipes; he gave Dean a lingering look as he shut the door, latching it securely.
"I don't want it Sam. Don't have to worry about me," Dean muttered, putting a hand over the still, cold Mark.
"Right," Sam muttered, glancing in the rear view mirror at the angel in the back seat. "You alright back there Cas?"
"I am as comfortable as I am going to be," He replied tartly, obviously in pain and ready to get back to the Bunker.
That must have been enough for Sam because he took the Impala out of park and turned away from the dark alley that now housed a ashy imprint on its ground from the last Knight of Hell. Abaddon was gone. Dean hadn't let it sink in yet that the Knight was really finished, he had killed her. He had done what he had set out to do but in the process had almost lost the thing that held the most importance to him.
He couldn't look in the back seat, the guilt he felt outweighed his success of the hunt and the familiar deep chasm opened in his stomach, leaving him feeling hollow and worn.
Fuck he needed a drink.
SPNSPNSPN
It was close to sunrise when they pulled into the garage of the Bunker. They had stopped at one point but it had all been a blur for Dean, who had sat stoically in the passenger seat, staring out the window into the inky black of night.
The comforting rumble of the Impala stilled as Sam killed the engine. Dean almost jumped when Sam slapped at his knee, getting his attention.
"I'm gonna need help with Cas," he reminded him, getting out to open the back door for the injured man still sitting quiet in the back.
Dean nodded, knowing full well that he was not ready to face Cas. But this wasn't about him.
"I got him," He muttered, shouldering past Sam and leaning into the back of the car and gently assisting the angel in limping out with as much tenderness as he could muster.
He could feel Sam's eyes on him. Always worrying.
"Get the infirmary ready," Dean snapped, once again looping an arm under Cas and heaving him up so that none of him touched the floor. Castiel once again leaned into Dean, his legs swung over arms and dangling but as stable as they could manage at that point.
The younger Winchester nodded and took off down the hall, leaving Cas and Dean alone for the first time since Dean went dark side.
His supernatural strength was dwindling and he huffing down the hall in the effort to carry the injured man, who was definitely packing muscle than he looked like he was.
"Dean," Cas whispered, his head still laying on Dean's shoulder, he was sure there would be a rust colored stain as soon as he set him down. "I am sure I could manage to walk to the infirmary now."
"Not now Cas," Dean brushed off, his voice cracking as he managed to say the angel's name. He could have fucking killed him.
They entered the infirmary at last, Sam had all the sterile items out and a bottle of water which he held out to Cas as Dean set him down on the table, his arms weak from the weight.
"Can uh, you give Cas and me a second?" Dean finally broke the silence, folding his arms as he looked at Sam.
Sam opened his mouth but stole a glance at Cas, who nodded. He glanced between the two of them before walking out and shutting the door behind him.
Cas sat still, sipping on the water while looking patiently at Dean. He looked small and frail sitting on the table, his probably broken leg (which at least he didn't have a hand in, but he sure as hell hadn't helped) propped up on the bed and his bloody trench coat pooled around him.
"Take off your jacket will ya, thing needs to be washed."
Dean finally took the first tentative steps towards the prone man, never looking at him but instead washing his hands in the deep, stainless steel sink that the Bunker provided. He tried not to think about his busted knuckles where he had caught Cas's cheekbone, or how blood caked under his nails was from the man he had just a few hours before woken up next to.
Drying his hands, he took up a wash rag and poured some antiseptic on it and walked up to Castiel cautiously.
Cas's eyes were deep and open, taking in the hunter with pity as Dean finally reached up and touched the rag to his face, drawing the blood away from his split lip and his cheek. Neither men said a word; the blood came off pink on the towel and he grabbed another, his stomach churning at the sight of it.
He picked up the wet rag and pressed it against the swollen lip gently. And again.
"Dean."
Dean shook his head, his jaw trembling as he fought for control but his eyes were already swimming.
"Dean please."
"Don't you dare Cas," he choked out, brushing the hair back away from his forehead and wiping the dirt and grime away. "Don't you fucking say it."
He felt a soft touch on his wrist, the one holding the rag.
"Dean, its alright," Cas whispered gently, his voice rough and steady even as Dean fought to control his own.
"No, its not fucking alright Cas. Don't you understand that?" Dean cried, throwing the rag against the wall.
"It wasn't you."
"It was me," Dean laughed, nodding his head as ran a shaky hand through his hair. "It was the deepest, darkest fucking part of me. I turned Cas. I began a fucking demon, I saw my eyes!"
"So did I!" Cas argued, pushing himself closer to Dean, or as close as his position on the table would allow. "I saw you break through the grip on your own mind and regain control. I believe I have some experience in that department."
Dean stopped, finally allowing himself to look at Cas. His face was clean of blood, there was bruising and his lip was split but he didn't look angry. He wasn't dead. Cas was right there.
"I am not angry with you Dean,' Cas stated, unwilling to let the gaze between them break. "You defeated Abaddon and in turn took back your soul. Please do not wallow for that."
Dean bit him bottom lip before brushing a finger against Castiel's cheek, "I hurt you Cas,' he said brokenly.
"You saved me and the world by stopping Abaddon when you did," Cas took his hand pulled him closer. "I forgive you."
Dean shook his head, his clenching his eyes shut against the pending onslaught of tears. "I don't deserve forgiveness Cas."
"It doesn't matter if you think you deserve it or not,' Castiel said gently, putting a hand on the Hunter's cheek and drawing his face up to his. "That is not how forgiveness works." Dean felt Cas pull him towards him and he didn't stop it, he didn't stop as their lips brushed and Cas soothingly ran his hand behind his neck. Dean didn't press the kiss any further; he remembered the split lip and with a jolt he remembered the Mark on his arm.
He was still damned, he would end up killing everyone in the end if Hell had their way.
"I still have the Mark," Dean looked away, down at his clothed arm where he knew the brand still lay deep in his skin.
"I might be able to help with that," Came a decidedly Scottish voice as the door opened to the room.
"What the hell-Who let you in here?" Dean barked, rushing to stand in front of Cas, his hand on the other man's chest protectively.
"I did," Sam replied, trailing the demon. "Just hear him out for a second."
Dean scowled at the former cross roads demon, "You have two seconds before I kill you where you stand asshole."
Crowley smiled, hands deep in his pocket. "Yes well I'd love to see you try Squirrel. And as much as I love trading jabs with you, I'm here on a simple mission of gratitude. I, and in turn Hell, owes you."
The hunter rolled his eyes, still not breaking his part of barrier between Castiel and Crowley.
"Oh well that just makes me feel tons better," He snarked.
"It should," Snapped Crowley, "From what I understand you still have that nifty little modification on your arm, am I correct?"
Dean could feel Cas looking at him as he nodded slowly.
"Where you going with this Crowley?"
The King of Hell shrugged nonchalantly, "Being that I am restored to my former glory and my spineless, mewling henchmen have come crawling back to me, you can assume I have all, if not more of my usual powers that someone in my position is guaranteed."
"And that helps me how?"
Crowley smirked, "I can unbind you. Revoke the contract that was set in motion at the the beginning of time as it were. I have that authority you see."
Dean gave a tired sigh, "And why would you do that? Out of the goodness of your black heart?"
"No, of course not. But I am a business man at heart and I don't like owing people, it always gets messy in the end," Crowley admitted with a shrug. "You iced Abaddon, I take the Mark. No muss, no fuss."
"No contracts?"
"None, only a touch and its done," Crowley held up his hand, wriggling his fingers. "Scouts honor and all."
The hunter felt the squeeze of Cas's hand on his own. His eyes never left Crowley's as he rolled up the sleeve, the Mark still angry and raised against his tanned skin.
"Do it."
"Always with the manners," Muttered Crowley, bringing his right hand from his pocket to lay upon the Righteous Man's skin.
Dean gritted his teeth as the Mark immediately came to life, tingling under his skin. There was a flash, the smell of burning flesh and then, nothing. Looking down he carefully ran his hand over the smooth, unmarred skin of his forearm. The Mark was gone.
"Your welcome, normally comes next," The King of Hell pressed, wiping his hands with a handkerchief he fished from his jacket. "Or not. We're finished either way. See you around boys."
And just as soon as he had came, he was gone.
"Is it gone?" Castiel asked as Dean turned around in silent joy. He just nodded, allowing Cas to touch the skin he found there, his finger tips tickling the unblemished forearm.
"Its over."
SPNSPNSPN
They spent the next few weeks held up in the Bunker. Sam relished the time, holed up for the most part in the library. He had catalogued and stored the First Blade, an act he was monumentally proud of as it was their first real contribution to the Bunker's files and stock pile of rare artifacts. Of course without the Mark the blade was just a hunk of bone, but Sam locked the box and marked it with the corresponding case number in their archives regardless.
Castiel healed, slowly as his grace was not his no matter how much he tried to ignore the fact. He hobbled around for a few days on crutches in the aftermath of Abaddon's attack, but Dean had taken it upon himself to educate the angel in his immobile state to all of his favorite science fiction classics. Cas argued that he was using his weakened state to his advantage, to which Dean just shrugged and popped in the another DVD.
Sam almost walked in on one of their movie screenings, but paused by the door when he saw the two. Cas's leg was propped up on several pillows, the thick bandage wrapped around his bare leg was merely a formality he had argued, as the bone was already mending. But Dean wouldn't let him leave without at least a brace. His back was to Dean who had his arm wrapped around the smaller man, his head laid next to his. His brother was finally happy. They were happy.
And things were normal; or at least as normal as it could be for the last remaining Men of Letters and an angel cast out from heaven.
But still. Normal.
AN: It over! I hope you all enjoyed it as much as I did writing it. I hope you all liked the way I wrapped it up and how I decided to get rid of the Mark. Be on the look out for my next fic which I will be posting soon! YOU ALL ARE AWESOME.