Chapter Eleven: Will You Make It All A Little Less Cold?

Cas didn't have time to return to Dean for weeks. Raphael's supporters were insidious, and those who sided with Cas had to resort of guerrilla warfare, which in Heaven, meant hiding in various heavens, sabotaging Raphael's efforts to locate the nukes, constant skirmishes and running, and halting Raphael's efforts on Earth to locate the key to the Cage. Cas knew Raphael was close to discovering the back door to the Cage as well, and he need to find a way to collapse it, before Raphael figured it out. The power it would take to seal off the ass of Hell was immense, and Cas had already blew his load, so to speak, on the initial rebellion.

When Sam called him about the Arc of the Covenant, Cas was beyond hopeful. That would provide him enough power to collapse the back door and to secure the backing of a few hold out garrisons. Of course, it was a trick, and to add insult to injury, Sam threatened him as if he was withholding his help for fun, and not out of necessity.

That's the classic Winchester approach, isn't it, Cas mused, demand help, and if your needs are not immediately met, threaten violence. Lovely. He told himself he helped because he still felt guilty for bringing Sam back wrong, and because he loved Dean, not because he feared they would discover his involvement with Crowley, and certainly not because he feared Sam Winchester.

The infernal demon girl was involved. There was no part of that that pleased Cas. He was fucking terrified of what the boys might discover if they dug too closely at Crowley's operations, and worse, Cas fucking hated the way his vessel responded to the demon's vessel.

The pornography had intrigued him. It was baffling that the humans would enjoy watching poorly patched together plots, nothing like the movies he watched with Dean. As he watched the pizza man slapping the ass of the babysitter, he felt that same physical response stirring in his pants. Huh. Perhaps that is the appeal, he thought, and scowled at Dean's mockery of his pants-condition.

When he told Dean of his ambivalence about restoring Sam's soul, it wasn't that he didn't mean what he said, he couldn't even begin to imagine the state of the soul at this point, or the consequences of ramming it back into Sam, but he wasn't sure if it was Sam, Dean or himself he wanted to protect from that pain. The pain in his chest as he explained to Dean that he was terrified of what cramming Sam's soul back inside him would do was horrible enough without spilling that it was he, Castiel, who had fucked Sam up in the first place, and how terrified he was that it could get worse than it was already. If it were at all in Cas's power to fix Sam, he would have done so already- as much as his lack of soul made Sam a formidable hunter, Cas believed that the brothers had been stronger before Hell had broken them both, when they still believed in each other. But now, with the soul having spent a year in the cage, Cas knew it would be worse to force it back in Sam than for Sam to be soulless. Better that Dean have a broken Sam than no Sam at all.

Castiel had disliked the deception of "destroying" Crowley's bones but he'd had to lie to them every step of the way, anyways, so what was one more lie? Even as he told himself that he had to do these things, that Dean simply wouldn't understand, he knew deep down inside that he was ashamed, and that more than not understand, Dean would tell him that it was wrong to search for Purgatory. At least he had gotten them out of the demon's service. It was bad enough that he was in league with Crowley; he couldn't stand to see the brothers enslaved by him too.

Castiel came back to Dean the next night, after the warehouse. He had been feeling restless ever since the kiss with the demon girl. She had kissed him, and the taste of her was like pure sin, like whiskey and cigar smoke, spicy and intoxicating. His body's response to her was so strong that he had pinned her to the wall like the movie, and didn't even notice as she took his sword. He wasn't sure why she awakened such urges in his vessel, and it disturbed him that he did not know.

Sam and Dean had increasingly been sleeping in separate rooms, as Sam's new coldness made Dean extremely uncomfortable. Dean was alone, and drunk, which was how Cas wanted him, loose and willing, ready to repress his anger at Sam in fucking Cas senseless. He wanted to lose himself, lose his guilt and shame, in the pleasure of Dean's body. He wanted to do whatever Dean asked of him, to forget the greater deception that he lived these days.

Cas popped in behind Dean. He slid his arm around Dean's waist, and used his other hand to roughly fondle the hunter's firm ass.

"Hey." Dean rasped in his low, sexy voice. He was rarely surprised by Cas's appearances these days, almost as if he could feel the angel's coming. "Are you sure it's my ass you want to be grabbing? We could go out to another den of inequity." Castiel couldn't see Dean's face, so he was unsure if this was a serious offer or a joke.

"I don't wish to do that. I only want to do that with you," he mumbled into Dean's back, snuggling his face between Dean's shoulder blades.

"It sure didn't seem that way earlier. You and Meg seemed like you might have a profound bond." Dean turned, and now Cas could see the slight smile on Dean's face.

"The physical response my vessel had to hers had nothing to do with the bond I share with you," Cas's words were serious, but he felt a sense of relief that Dean wasn't upset with him. "Are you jealous?" He let one of his rare smiles crinkle the corners of his mouth.

"Maybe. Maybe you need to be punished," Dean pulled Cas close, kissing him lightly on the mouth, "Maybe I need to remind you whose fuck-toy you are."

"Oh, yes," Cas breathed against Dean's mouth. Dean pulled away, sat on the edge of the bed. Cas moved to follow him.

"Not so fast. Take off your clothes for me. Slowly," Dean poured himself another glass of whiskey and watched as Cas let his coat slide to the floor. Next came the loosening of the tie, and it was followed by shirt and pants and finally the briefs. Dean smiled in anticipation, and stood, "Now, bend over, across the bed. You've been very naughty, haven't you?"

Cas bent over the mattress. Dean circled around behind him, and Cas could feel the hunter's satisfaction as he examined the angel's ass. "Yes," he said quietly.

"I can't hear you. Have you been naughty?"

"Yes, very. Please, punish me," Cas said in a louder voice.

Suddenly, a sharp pain and a cracking noise and Castiel felt Dean's hand smack across his ass.

"You've been sucking face with demon bitches, haven't you?" Another crack across his buttocks. Cas felt himself growing hard.

"Yes, oh, yes."

"Say you're sorry."

"I'm sorry." Another smack. Cas moaned.

"Say you're mine." Crack.

"I'm yours." Crack.

"That's right. Who's your daddy?" At that, Cas looked at Dean in bafflement. "Ha. Shit. Sorry. It's an expression." Dean laughed. "I didn't mean it." Cas raised an eyebrow, and then felt another smack across his buttocks. "Don't get distracted. Get on your knees." Cas obeyed, and Dean unzipped his pants. "Suck."

Cas closed his mouth around Dean's shaft happily. He could always feel Dean's pleasure emanating from his mind when Cas pleased him, almost couldn't tell it from his own after a certain point. If it wasn't for his angelic control, he thought, he could come just from Dean's joy.

After a time of moans and muttered swear words, Dean said, "All right, on the bed again. On your knees," he followed Castiel onto the bed, and knelt behind him, "I will tell you when you can come."

Dean pushed inside slowly, and pumped in and out slowly for what seemed to stretch into hours. As his pace quickened, Castiel cried out, and Dean reached around and stroked the angel's straining erection, at the same time slapping his ass again. A few more times, and they both came, sweaty and panting, drained and thrilled.

"So you get why the babysitter needed to be punished, now?" Dean smiled in the aftermath.

"Oh yes. I understand," Cas smiled back. They lay for a while, savoring a few hours of not having to fight for their lives. Finally, Dean spoke.

"I don't get why you wanna get with a demon chick, but it's the demon part I don't like, not the chick part. You gave me to Lis' without a second thought, I get that now. That thing from my ring. Agape." Dean kissed his neck softly.

"Yes, exactly. It's one of the most amazing things I have learned from you, Dean, that you can give boundlessly of love to others and never run out. I don't… I do not love the demon girl. My vessel is… aroused… by hers." Cas looked away, embarrassed, "I know it's wrong for an angel and demon… I do not understand it myself."

"Your vessel is attracted to Meg? Is Jimmy still kicking in there? Because that would be a little fucked up."

"No, whatever was Jimmy Novak died the first time I died. But this body is still a vessel, without my grace to fill it, it would die in a matter of minutes. It retains some of Jimmy, I suppose, in his cravings and physical responses, but his consciousness is long gone. "

"Well, that's reassuring. Didn't much care for the idea of Jimmy trapped inside your skull, hating the sodomy," Dean laid his head against Castiel's shoulder, and nipped lightly at the pale skin, "Hey, Cas?"

"Yes?"

"You always say you can't come to help us, or to visit me, but you still come. Why is that?"

"Do you have to ask?"

"I asked anyway."

"I meant what I said earlier. I sincerely wish I could spend all of my time here. The war… There is nothing about that which I desire. I never intended to become their Sheriff permanently. I imagined it would involve more of teaching the angels to think for themselves and less killing of my kin. I overestimated the new powers God gave me, also. I thought this would be over by now," Cas sighed deeply.

"Do you come even when it endangers you to do so?"

"It always endangers me to come. But if I physically cannot come, I do not. Otherwise, I will always come to you when I can, Dean. I believe that is the Winchester way, no?"

Dean chuckled a little at that. "I guess. You are an honorary Winchester."

"I am honored by that title." Cas smiled, and pulled Dean closer.

"'Cept that would make us brothers. I'm sure there's some freaky slash girl out there who would just love that idea."

"I think that we could be brothers in arms, instead of brothers in flesh., if that is less 'freaky' to you."

"Yeah. I like that. Brothers in arms," Dean's eyes sobered a little, and Cas knew he was thinking of his soulless flesh and blood brother. "Cas, Sam told me he doesn't want his soul back."

"You might do well to listen to him. I told you my feelings on the subject."

"Yeah. I know. But I can't… I can't keep going with Sam, like this, Cas, I can't. It's too much. He's not Sam, not all of him, anyways."

Cas shifted uncomfortably, feeling the familiar guilt bringing him back to reality. "I am sorry, Dean." The words felt hollow falling from his lips.

"So if Crowley can't restore Sam's soul, who could? Is there anyone you can think of powerful enough to stick it back in without killing him?"

"God. Obviously." Cas wasn't comfortable with this line of reasoning, but his guilt prompted him to be helpful to Dean.

"Besides God, I think we've proved how useless it is to ask for his help."

"Something as old and powerful as God, then… Death, maybe, or perhaps one of the pagans? Most of them, I think, would fail, but there might be one or two. An, or any one of the Anunnaki, for that matter, but I still do not believe it would be worth the risk. Regardless of their ability to shove it back in, I believe it would leave Sam a comatose husk, maybe even trapped in his own head, tortured for the rest of his miserable life." Cas looked down at the hazel-green eyes watching him intently. "Promise me you won't do anything stupid, Dean."

"I promise."

Dean went and did something stupid. Cas was angry. He reprimanded Dean sharply for seeking out Death and forcing Sam's soul back in him, and left in a fit of anger, before he could do something he would truly regret.

Why do I always choose not to read his thoughts when these things happen? Do I want to trust him that badly? He was growing sick of Dean ignoring his counsel, always doing the insane thing. True, the insane thing usually turned out to be the right thing ultimately, but still.

I'm an angel, damnit, does my millennia of experience count for nothing? Is it always I who must trust Dean? he thought angrily.

After some time to calm himself and think about his words, Cas realized he needed to go apologize to Dean for how he had chided him, or risk losing him. No one on Earth or in Heaven could hold a grudge like Dean Winchester. Everything Castiel did was for love of Dean, and everything Dean did was for love of Sam. He could hardly fault the hunter for wishing to save his brother. Also, after his talk with Sam earlier, the angel had a sneaking suspicion that Sam had not been entirely honest with Cas, and he knew Dean would be angry about that as well.

Cas had felt an overwhelming sense of relief when he saw Sam re-ensouled and awake, though. He looked good, better than Cas could have ever hoped he would. He felt his guilt lessen, and wanted to reach out and touch the younger Winchester with brotherly affection… That had been awkward.

Dean's going to be upset with me still, he thought, I need a way to show him I regret my words. He pondered for another minute, and then seized upon the perfect idea.

Dean was working his way through a bottle of Wild Turkey at Bobby's, and barely moved when the angel popped in. As the scent of pie hit his nostrils though, his shoulders straightened a bit, and he glanced over at Cas. Castiel held a still slightly steaming pie in one hand and a tube of whipped cream in the other hand.

"You brought me pie?" Dean's eyebrows rose as he tried to not smile, because dammit, he was still upset with Cas. Even though he understood why Cas had said and done what he had, Dean was not pleased. The fact that Dean's plan to protect Sam had instantly backfired did a lot to lessen his anger with Cas, though, not to mention the extremely unpleasant distraction of the new, exciting mother-of-all issue.

"Yes. I am sorry about how I spoke to you before. I know what you did was because you love Sam. I should not have been so harsh." The angel looked so repentant; Dean couldn't help but soften a little. This wasn't over, though.

"And you spilled the beans to Sam. There's a wall in his stupid, giant head, Cas, keeping all the things you told him out, for a reason."

Cas's face registered surprise, and then annoyance. "Then I am sorry for that as well. I didn't know. I thought after he might not have been entirely honest with me, but the wall… I pray that it holds."

Dean sighed. "Thanks. I know you meant well. You're so old and so young at the same time, Cas. It's hard to reconcile sometimes." Then he allowed himself a small smile. "You did bring me pie, though. That's a good way to my heart."

Cas smiled back. "It's apple. I believe you like apple pie?"

"Oh, baby, I love all pie. But yeah. Apple is good." Dean set down his liquor. "I'm gonna go get some plates. And forks. And possibly milk."

When he returned, Cas was still standing and holding the pie. Dean laughed a bit to himself. After all of this, he still doesn't think to do the little things us humans do.

"Sit," he gestured to the two arm chairs in the spare room that Dean liked to occupy when they crashed at Bobby's. He took the pie from Cas, and cut them both a slice. He doused his liberally with the cream, and Castiel's less so. Then, he handed the angel his plate. "Try it. You'll be instantly converted to the Holy Church of Pie."

'I do not believe there is such a church," Cas smiled a little, and then took a bite. His eyes closed in pleasure, and Dean laughed as the angel rapturously savored his first bite of pie. "That is… that is marvelous," he finally said.

Dean dug into his own slice, and both plates were cleaned in a matter of minutes. Then, Dean looked at the angel mischievously. "You know. There's another way I enjoy pie. I could show you."

Castiel regarded Dean with anticipation. Dean supposed Cas was starting to know exactly that that particular glint in Dean's eye meant.

"Yes, please, Dean. Show me how else you enjoy pie." Cas stood, removing his coat and tie.

"Haha, you're all Pavlov's dog now, Cas."

Cas ignored the reference, and removed his pants. Dean smiled devilishly.

"Awesome. Now, on the bed, pie-wench."

Cas obliged. Dean gently smeared a small amount of filling on Cas's lower lip. Then, he took the pouty lip into his own and sucked it clean. Cas groaned slightly into his mouth, and Dean felt the angel's hands wrap around his back. He let the kiss linger for a few seconds longer, sliding his tongue into Cas's mouth, tasting the pie and whipped cream, then pulled back. He scooped up more pie filling and dribbled it along Cas's neck. The angel squirmed a little.

"Hold still, it's just pie." Dean lowered his mouth to the pie smeared skin, and slowly licked it up. Cas moaned as Dean's tongue brushed against the sensitive skin.

"Oh yeah. Now that's how you eat pie." Dean took another fingerful of filling and trailed it across Cas's chest. He added a dollop of whipped cream for good measure, and proceeded to lick it off Castiel's nipples.

Cas gasped, and when Dean was finished cleaning his torso, he said, "I think I understand." Cas took his own bit of pie filling, and wiped it along Dean's stomach. He kissed it away, licking his lips when he was done.

"That is delicious." He took more, and trailed along Dean's hipbone. This time, he sucked it away, leaving a tiny lovebite in its place. It was Dean's turn to moan, and Cas smiled. He fondled Dean's balls gently, and looking up at Dean with that angelic innocence, took Dean's cock into his mouth. Dean rocked into him.

"You're so fucking good at that," he gasped, and allowed the angel to suck and lick him to the brink of climax.

Heh, or pie-max, he giggled inside his head, and then Cas's mouth closed around his balls, sucking with the exact right amount of pressure, and he couldn't stand the exquisite torture another second. He pulled Cas's head up, laid a few more heated kisses on the swollen lips, tasting pie, pre-come and angel saliva.

"I need you. I need to be in you, now," he said, flipping Cas to rest underneath him.

Best. Pie. Ever. Dean thought.

Castiel didn't have much time to see Dean or help the brothers, but he always knew what they were up to. He knew the wall was unstable. He knew they had worked a few almost normal cases, he knew that Dean had seen Lisa, and that it hadn't been at all pleasant. He visited Dean in his dreams after that, and they talked about silly, foolish distractions and made love. He could sense that Dean missed Ben and Lisa intensely, and that he was terrified for Sam. All Dean chose to tell him, though, was that he was pissed that the Impala had gotten possessed, and that all the brothers did was make messy situations worse and bring disaster down around them.

Cas cared about Dean, loved him, there was no doubt in his mind that this was true, but he knew also that this was a weakness Raphael would exploit given the chance. It bothered Castiel increasingly that that he was distracted by thoughts of Dean, began to eat away at his thoughts that the level of care he bestowed on the Winchesters could prove to be his undoing.

It was partly out of this increasingly desperate need to prove to himself that Dean didn't control his every action and partly out of faith that Sam and Dean could take care of themselves that he went along with Balthazar's plan to send the boys to another universe. Of course he never intended to leave them there, but he didn't have time to explain his every decision and motivation to Dean, who always assumed that the mighty Dean Winchester was in charge of everything and always knew best. It was angering him increasingly that Dean and Sam refused to see how bad things were getting. It never occurred to him that because of his deception, he never shared with them the full extent of his battle; it only angered him that they could not simply trust in him.

Cas still felt slightly guilty for using Sam and Dean to achieve his own goals, but he told himself it wasn't that different than how they used him in their war against his brothers. He told himself that they would understand why he took the measures he had when the war was over. He reminded himself that they didn't know what it was like to kill countless members of your own family, to become almost numb to fratricide.

Regardless, at the end of each conversation with Crowley, at the end of each victorious battle, he still felt that sick sense of shame eating away at his Grace. He kept trying to convince himself that he was righteous, that he was right to do as he was doing, that acquiring the weapons was necessary.

Oh, the weapons! They changed the whole game for Castiel. Of course the Arc of the Covenant and Gabriel's Horn, but also seven ram's horn trumpets with the power to level a city, Sampson's Jaws, which had the ability to kill a thousand men at a time, the Dagger of Ehud, and a number of other rarities, each formidable in their own right. Some, like the Arc, proved to be contained with some sort of angelic redundancy system that the angels couldn't break. Cas and Balthazar determined that God must have put safe guards in place before his departure, to prevent the most powerful from being used in exactly this sort of situation.

The most surprising and powerful discovery was one even the angels had not known existed, and it was not under God's lockdown. They had understood, as the humans believed, that the Armor of God and the Sword of the Spirit were metaphorical representations of faith. Quite by accident, as Castiel was inventorying his new Armory, he happened upon a small box, one that looked quite human and out of place with the nukes of Heaven. Inside, he found a solid gold amulet, almost identical to the bronze one he had borrowed from Dean. However, when he place this amulet around his neck, he was engulfed in blinding white hot light, and when it faded, he found himself quite literally clothed in the Armor of God, complete with the Shield of Faith and the Sword of the Spirit. He marveled at this extremely powerful advantage this gave him over the forces of Raphael. He was unsure as to exactly what they would do in battle, so he removed the amulet and placed it in his trench coat pocket. He would examine their effects more closely later, test them in battle when time allowed.

"Cassy, I have a plan." Balthazar found him after a war council, "But I wanted to tell you in private, because it's not technically 'kosher'." He wiggled his fingers in air quotes.

"Tell me," Cas said.

"Well, you need power to close off the back door into Hell, and we haven't figured out how to use the weapons to fuel the war machine, but there's another place we could get the human souls we need. As a bonus, we could do the whole world and your boyfriend some huge favors at the same time."

"How so?"

"There was an ocean liner, called the Titantic, and it sunk, and then an atrocious, appalling, abomination of a film was made about it. I want that film to never, ever happen."

"Changing the past is a line that hasn't been crossed yet." Cas didn't say no, but he wasn't sure if he was willing to go that far just yet, amd certainly not simply on Balthazar's say so.

"I checked out some details, because I knew you'd be all 'oh no, crossing lines, wahh, changing history'. All sorts of little things would change, but not the big things." Balthazar looked entirely too pleased with himself, as if he had a trump card he wasn't playing.

"What sorts of little things?"

"Oh, nothing important. The cars people drive, the houses they build, the color they dye their poodles, things like that… And, of course, those two women that died last year in Carthage, because of your darlings? They live."

Cas felt his breath hitch for a moment. "Ellen and Jo?"

"Oh, yes. There's this whole thing with the cars. They drove a little compact number instead, got a flat tire, and arrived in Carthage after the boys were already trapped by hellhounds. Sam and Dean blew up the hardware shop without any non-canine casualties. Bobby and Ellen married shortly thereafter. It was very romantic. Jo moves to sunny California, meets a nice young hunter. It's all very storybook, except for, you know, all the major, world ending drama." Balthazar waved his arms about to illustrate his point, "And Celine Dion will be an unknown lounge singer. A lounge singer."

"I don't know who that is," he shook his head sharply as Balthazar opened his mouth to explain, "Nor do I care. How many souls?"

"Fifty thousand."

"Do it."

Cas was there, invisible, in the kitchen, as Ellen unpacked her groceries and lovingly chided Bobby.

"Go wash up, I'll fix you something," she said, the depth of her caring evident in her voice.

"Anyone ever tell you you're a pain in the ass?" Bobby grumbled.

"That's why you married me," she smiled, and Cas felt warmth leak from his eyes. The pure, beautiful simplicity of their affection is the reason, he thought, to protect that is why we fight.

He wanted that for himself, for Dean. It was easy to imagine them in a similar conversation, sarcastic jibes covering deep affection, domesticity running rampant.

It took Sam and Dean almost no time to break it all down. People started dying, and it was instantly traced back to Balthazar, then Atropos, and then of course, back to Cas who had to save them again, and it all fell part, the entire plan and the world it created.

He regretted angering Atropos, but she too, just didn't understand. He tried desperately to make her understand, to think of another way, but he couldn't lose Dean. That was not an opition.

He was tired of losing allies, and Atropos was no exception. They had been on good terms, before the Apocalypse, but she, like so many others, refused to see that free will was better for everything than destiny.

Castiel would make them see, if they wouldn't on their own. After all, didn't he have the Armor of God? Wasn't he the one chosen by God himself?