Dean awoke to find himself laying face down in fluffy white. His brain told him it was soft and filled with what felt like feathers. His helpful brain of help suggested to Dean that he was in bed. Not some crappy motel bed, or what laughingly passed for one at Bobby's but an actual bed that had a pretty good chance of not having bedbugs or other people's bodily fluids embedded in it.
As a parting gift, it also told Dean that someone was sitting on his back and being very uncomfortable about it as a knee dug into the base of his spine. Surprisingly enough, it did not hurt but that was probably because that someone was digging their fingers in through his skull to stir around the contents within.
It felt wet.
Dean took over after his brain shuddered from the muted sensations, like a wet willy taken to the extreme and left to wiggle there. He was proud of his thinking organ. It had been so helpful and informative under such dire duress but now it was time for him to take back the wheel.
"What are you doing?", Dean rasped out. He was kind of surprised to find that he could still talk.
"Working.", he heard Castiel answer from some place far, far away it seemed.
"Stop. It doesn't feel good.", Dean put some words together somehow. "Please.". He tacked on some politeness on the end for good measure. It never hurt and Hell, it might even work. It was supposed to be a magic word after all.
"You shouldn't be feeling any pain. I turned off that part of your nervous system.", Castiel answered absently, like it was something he did everyday for shits and giggles.
Letting that new bit of information roll around in his abused head to sink in, Dean didn't know whether to feel grateful or not. This so violated the concept of personal space on so many different levels. Dean wasn't sure where 'fingers swishing my brain' landed but it had to be pretty high up there. "I need that. A nervous system.", was what Dean came up with for an answer.
"I am remaking you. It is not a painless process and your screaming can be quite distracting at times.", Castiel offered in way of explanation.
"I'm sorry? We tend to make unhappy noises when someone is dismembering us. It's a human thing.", Dean tried to roll his eyes to help express this sentiment but found that he couldn't open his eyes again to do so. Well….fuck.
"Why are you doing that? I know I kind of suck but I happen to like me, well most of the time. I don't need to be new and improved. Original flavor is fine.", Dean started to babble. A hand withdrew from the back of his skull to stroke his cheek. It would have been a comforting gesture if it hadn't left a trail of blood and what felt like bits of his brain matter behind in its wake against Dean's skin. He would have vomited but Dean found out his nausea and gag reflex weren't currently hooked up.
"Shhhh. It is delicate work. I like you as you are as well despite all your glaring flaws, so I must do this adjustment very carefully to keep what is essentially you intact.", Castiel advised, "Or at least most of it.".
"I-I don't want this…", Dean stammered. Though he couldn't feel much of anything, he could still hear Castiel's fingers moving around in his skull. It sounds moist and all sorts of wrong. It reminded Dean of Hell, of being on the rack. He could almost smell brimstone and Alastair's fetid breath over his raw defiled skin and exposed nerve endings.
Dean screamed in mind, body, and soul, the trinity one.
"Dean."
With one word, Castiel single handedly stopped Dean's descent into familiar madness and near comforting despair. "You think of that filth at a time like this?", Castiel did not sound particularly pleased to Dean whose only view was back of his eyelids and the feel of the mattress he was being pressed into. Just his luck that he would piss off the guy who was making his brain a science project. Dean couldn't think of anything to say to appease Castiel or plead his case, so the hunter stayed quiet in self defense and belated self preservation, silently messaging his fear, his misery, and his acceptance of both as his lot in life to Castiel, his fate as it were. It must of worked because Dean could feel Castiel soften, his tangible ire dissipating like fragile mist.
"Oh Dean, you misunderstand me. I do not seek your pain or your suffering or obtain any joy from this. Do not think that I do.", Castiel said gently, his tone so sweet and soft Dean wanted to cry in relief from it. He wanted to believe Castiel, wished that he could. "I am remaking you so that you can become my true companion. I will have you in your rightful place at my side as my Righteous Man. You will be my sinning saint of and for humanity to serve them as the Gray Hunter, the one who walks in shadows to fight for the Light. Your design is flawed though at the moment and unprepared for the gravity of your station. I am endeavoring to fix that."
"Please…..don't. Don't do this. Please…..", All Dean had left at his disposal was begging. He hated how weak he sounded, how desperate.
"But I've only just begun.". Dean could feel the wet works begin again in his head. He realized that Castiel must have reached a stopping point when the hunter found himself gently flipped over onto his back, still unable to move. He could see Castiel now, the new god's hands covered in blood up to his wrists, coated with bits and pieces of what looked like brain matter and other soft pieces the hunter was sure he needed. Dean begged him again, this time with his eyes alone until he realized that Castiel's reason for changing his position was to reach for his source of vision.
"If you love me at all like you claim you do, put me under.", Dean voiced this plea, this prayer, just in the nick of time, Castiel's fingers barely brushing past his eyelashes to come to a halt. Dean focused on the touch that filled his vision so he could avoid noticing the last of his sanity shredding itself to bits.
"Of course. One's own birth should not be observed or remembered. Sleep, my beloved.", was the last thing that Dean heard before blessed oblivion snuffed out what was left of his consciousness.
Thanks for reading. More to come. I'll only spend your comments on booze.
