Disclaimer: I own nothing, Supernatural belongs to Eric Kripke and large television corporations such as the CW. Any and all of the following is completely fictional and fan-made.
Author's Note: Alright, so I'm up with this chapter a lot faster than I expected. And I hope you're happy with it too cause this kept me up until close to one o'clock this morning… eep!
At any rate, just to let you know there is some slight slash love coming up right here in the beginning. Also, there is some violence that takes place towards the end. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!
Without anything further, please enjoy!!
Dean stared blankly at the angel before him, unable to move, or think, or even speak. At last he licked his lips delicately before uttering, "Cas, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for all the–,"
"Let's no waste time with petty apologies," Castiel interrupted Dean bitterly, "Time is short and sure there's a purpose to all this."
Dean raised his eyebrows, slightly taken aback by Castiel's harsh tone. "A purpose to what?" he asked in bewilderment.
Castiel took a cautious step forward, his own brow furrowed in semi-confusion. "You mean this is not a part of your plan?" he mused slowly.
"What plan?!" Dean spat, throwing his arms into the air in utter desperation, "Look Cas, I'mma bout as in the dark here as you are. Now if you know something that I don't, well then let's get crackin'."
Castiel bit his lower lip gently, directing his gaze away from the hunter's – suddenly it seemed all too impossible to stare into Dean's needy eyes. "Dean, I," he faltered, his voice coming out much more intimidated than he would've liked, "What's the point?"
Dean shifted his weight to one side, crossing his arms over his chest. "Of?" he asked simply, not entirely certain of what Castiel meant.
Castiel turned to face Dean once more, eyeing from head to toe as though he were foreign. A stranger who just happened to cross his path on the way to something greater. "You and I," he began, his voice hushed, "Is there anything lingering at the end of the tunnel?"
The hunter could feel his heart rate begin to accelerate at the angel's words – had this moment really come so soon? Dean had indefinitely wanted to sort things out with Castiel, but he didn't expect such depth of feeling to be tested. Love is not his specialty and so how would it be possible for him to say all the right words this time around? He sighed deeply, directing his gaze towards the ground. There he saw Castiel's hands, smooth and sturdy, dangling at his side. Dean couldn't even be certain why, but there just seemed to be a tingling sensation which struck up inside him, longing to embrace his angel once more. And so, almost unconsciously, Dean found himself reaching out to Castiel's trench coat concealed arms, taking the angel's slender hands in his own.
Castiel's cerulean eyes widened at the hunter's action, his lips parting ever slightly in awe. He looked as though he were about to speak once more, but clamped his mouth shut in silence. Dean took this as an opportunity to voice his own thoughts, clearing his throat promptly. "Cas, there's no way I can have all the answers," he said, his voice the slightest bit shaky, "but what good is trying to read a book, if you already know the ending?" His hazel eyes shimmered with something Castiel had never known before, an element that caught him suddenly off guard. He swore he could true compassion in Dean Winchester's eyes – love.
At this, Castiel found himself beginning to tremble in Dean's presence, the lightest feeling of tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. He coughed, choking slightly at the tight lump forming in his throat as he continued star at the hunter who stood before him. "Dean, we keep running in this continuous circle of problems. How are we supposed to overcome if new dilemmas keep arising? I don't–,"
"Stop it," Dean interrupted him sternly, "Stop it Cas. Why does there have to be an excuse, huh? Why do we always have to sacrifice the ones we love? Why can't for once we just be happy?" The hunter now found himself gripping Castiel securely by the shoulders, only inches from the angel's face.
"Dean," Castiel panted, his steamy breath warming Dean's upper lip and making the hair on the back of his neck stand straight up. Wrapping his slender fingers around the back of his lover's neck, Castiel enveloped Dean's lips into his own in a moist and passionate embrace.
Almost instinctively, Dean slid his muscular arms around the angel's waist pulling them together further and closing the remaining distance between them. Their tongues twisted together exchanging saliva as each one's hands roamed over the other's back and other various parts. All the so called repurification Castiel had received in the past twenty-four hours quickly melted away as he felt arousal surge through him once more. Feeling the need to be in control of this little love fest, the angel gripped his hunter before forcefully thrusting him into the metal beam behind. Dean grunted loudly, partially due to pain and partially because, as much as he didn't like to admit it, rough sex was a big turn on for him – especially rough sex with a fricken' angelic holy tax accountant.
Castiel ran his fingers over Dean's neck, feeling his pulse accelerating beneath his touch. Still he continued downward, feeling the hunter's collarbone even concealed by the fabric of his shirt. There suddenly sparked a passion deep within Castiel. He felt a need, a very special and particular need – he needed to be connected with Dean in the purist way possible, by touching the place where both their souls could collide. Using both hands he roughly tore the fabric covering Dean shoulder, tearing down, down, down, until at last he came to the handprint. With a needy groan he connected his hand to the scarred tissue, feeling energy immediately course through his veins. Dean's eyes flashed open almost instantly, his mouth opening wide to a hollowed O shape. There came a combination of the fiercest pleasure – like best orgasm of your life pleasure – along with the most unbearable pain similar to that of Hell. Dean clutched Castiel's forearm desperately drawing him forward until their hips were grinding against one another.
Unexpectedly, there came a rumbling engine at the end of the bridge followed by the screech of Impala doors being slammed shut. Sam stumbled out of the car and began running as fast as he could towards his brother – from this distance, all he could see was what looked like Castiel strangling Dean. Little to the young hunter's knowledge, however, that couldn't be further from the truth. "Dean!" he shouted through heaving breaths.
Castiel and Dean's gaze locked, Castiel not wanting to let go, but Dean willing him to – somehow they both understood through some unknown connection what had to be done. Castiel had to play his role, if only for a while longer. With a disgruntled sigh, Castiel pulled himself off of Dean only to sock him directly in the stomach. Of course despite him not actually wishing to harm Dean, Cas had to make it appear realistic and so he used his angelic force against his lover. Dean gasped out in pain falling to the metal grated ground below. In that instant, Castiel turned to face both Sariel and Sam who were running at him and with a surprisingly graceful flutter of feathers he was gone.
"Damn it," Sam mumbled under his breath, disappointed he hadn't been given the chance to beat the angel with all his mite. Still, there were bigger things under way, so as the fact that his brother was beaten down on the floor of the bridge. "Dean!" he shouted again, crouching down to the elder Winchester's side.
Dean smiled a lopsided grin up at his little brother, before murmuring through a bit of blood, "Hey, Sammy."
Sam sighed wearily, clutching his brother by the fabric of his now torn shirt and heaving him upright. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up," he said in a hushed voice, allowing Dean to lean on him for support.
As they made their way back to the sleek Impala, Dean made no qualms when both Sariel and Sam emptied him into the backseat. Castiel really knocked the wind out of him, and because of such an ecstatic commotion Dean was exhausted. Dean squirmed uncomfortably against the leather seat for a moment, discontent with the wet mess he'd managed to make in his pants. Oh well, he thought to himself. On that note, Dean folded his arms over his chest, allowing his eyelids to drift shut as the engine of the Impala started and they were safely on their way back to a motel most likely.
It wasn't long after they got back to the motel that Sam really laid it into Dean – the guy didn't even have a chance to change his shorts for Pete's sake! Dean just took a seat on the small plastic chair which accompanied the table, nodding and making unenthused grumbles every now and then.
"Are you finished?" Dean asked finally, after about fifteen minute's passing.
Sam sighed wearily, feeling that his rampage had gone swiftly in one ear and out the other. "Yeah," he muttered in response.
"Great," Dean said with a bit of sarcasm ringing in his voice, "Cause I gotta go." With that, he arose smoothly from his chair and he began to make his way across the room.
"Wait, where are you going?" Sam spat almost instantly.
Dean arched an eyebrow at him in surprise. "Um, to the bathroom," he replied as though if were the most casual thing in the world.
The eldest Winchester could immediately see his brother's muscles relax. Shaking his head slightly, Dean pulled out a non-ripped shirt from his bag and secretively a fresh pair of underwear. As soon as the bathroom door was secured behind the hunter, Sariel turned to face Sam.
"Did you see his scar?" he inquired, his brow creased in concern.
Sam nodded silently, stroking his upper lip in thought for a moment. "What do you think Cas was trying to do, anyway?" he pondered after a long pause.
"I cannot be sure, but something isn't right," Sariel replied, taking a step closer towards the table.
Sam looked at him with a quizzical expression upon his face. He asked, "What do you mean?"
Sariel sighed wearily. "I mean, the circumstances don't entirely add up if you look at the big picture Samuel," he explained, "You banished Castiel with that sigil, and it wasn't until approximately eighteen minutes and fifty-three seconds later that we arrived to your brother's location. A lot more should have happened to him during that time span other than a sucker punch to the stomach."
"Are you saying you wanted Dean to get the crap beaten out of him?" Sam snorted, taking some offense to the angel's words.
"Oh course not," Sariel assured him, placing his hands in a defensive stance, "I just think there's a hidden part of the confrontation your brother doesn't necessarily want us to see."
Sam took a step closer to the angel, no fascinated by just what he had to say. He continued, "And what would he have to hide from us exactly?"
Sariel opened his mouth as though he were just about to speak when Dean emerged from the bathroom with his ragged shirt bundled up in a ball. He glanced from hunter to angel vigorously as the two continued to stare back at him with mixed emotions. "Awkward," Dean murmured quietly, working his way over to his began to return his clothing articles.
"What are you hiding?" Sam spat, marching over to his brother's location. Sariel rubbed his head in frustration – this certainly wasn't the way in which he had planned on handling the situation he suspected.
Dean's first thought was the soiled underwear, but then he realized there was no possible way Sam knew about that. No, this was indeed something much bigger. "What are you talking about?" he retorted.
"Oh come on, don't play dumb with me Dean!" Sam hollered in frustration, "What did Cas do to you?"
Chucking his bag onto the floor Dean stepped closer to the table, not really wanting to look his brother in the eye right now. "You saw what he did, slammed me right in the gut that's what. I'm fine by the way," Dean muttered, slipping past the obvious intent of this conversation.
"That's not what I mean and you know it," Sam urged, standing only a few feet behind his brother, "Something happened before we got there, didn't it? Something like what happened at Bobby's."
Almost instantly, Dean felt his face burn with color at the remnants of that heated night he and Cas had shared. As if on cue, Sariel stepped in speaking in a hushed but firm tone. "I told you Samuel, anything Dean or Castiel tell you should be of their own doing. It is not your place to interfere with their affairs," he said.
Dean swung around to face the angel, wondering just how much the bastard knew. "Wait, who the hell are you?" Dean demanded.
"My name is Sariel, and–,"
"And he's the guy who helped to save Cas's ass, Dean," Sam interrupted abruptly, "He's kind enough to help, so it might be nice to show him just a little respect."
Dean threw his arms up in frustration, now turning back around to face Sam – he just couldn't win with these two. "What do you want me to say, Sam? Huh?" he inquired, taking a few steps closer.
"I want the truth Dean. That's all I've been wanting," Sam retorted in a nagging tone.
Dean looked his brother over from head to toe – despite the fact that Sam was a good four inches tall than him, at least, Dean still felt like he overruled him to a certain extent. "The truth?" he asked, his voice barely grazing a whisper.
"That'd be nice," Sam responded, placing his hands firmly on his hips.
Dean chuckled somewhat licking his lips delicately. "There's no way you could handle the truth, Sam!" Dean hollered back in his brother's face.
Sam looked slightly taken aback by Dean's words, now more curious than ever at what was actually going on between his brother and Castiel. "Dean, where are you going?" he asked desperately, watching as Dean made for the door.
"To visit Claire, okay?" he replied simply, "I wanna make sure she's doing okay." With that he disappeared out the door of the motel, it slamming firmly shut behind him.
Dean made his way down the cluttered hallways of the hospital searching for Claire's room. He really hadn't spoken with her since her and Jimmy's rescue and so honestly he felt a little guilty about it all. He tapped lightly on her door before stepping cautiously inside. At first glance it appeared as though Claire was asleep, but her eyelids blinked vigorously a couple of times before she directed her stare upon him at last.
"Hey you," she said, her voice tired and groggy.
"Hey," Dean said awkwardly, taking a seat in the bedside chair, "How you feeling?"
"Eh, I can't really say I've been worse," she chuckled somewhat, shifting slightly upwards, "The doctors say I can go home though despite the cast."
Nodding down towards her thigh Dean directed his view there, catching a glimpse of the stiff white material which covered her flesh. Cas did that, he reminded himself solemnly. Shaking that thought quickly from his mind, he looked up to face Claire once more. She was contently staring at him, a slight smile spread across her lips. "That's good," he muttered in a low voice.
"Yeah – of course, due to your and Sam's expertise, none of this is getting billed to my real health insurance. Or lack thereof," she joked halfheartedly.
Dean shrugged, "That's the beauty of fake IDs."
Both smiled in unison, staying silent for a moment longer. Unexpectedly each one began to speak simultaneously, Dean stopping abruptly to allow Claire continuance. "But how am I supposed to go home?" she asked, her tone grave, "How am I just supposed to go back to that now that I know what lies beyond."
"I honestly can't answer that," Dean frowned, "Sorry."
Tucking a delicate strand of blonde hair behind her ear, Claire examined her hands which lay in her lap. "I don't know, almost makes me wanna be a hunter myself. Tag along with you guys," she smiled.
"No," Dean said firmly, "I can't allow that. Become a hunter if you want, no one's gonna stop you, but I won't let you stay with me and Sammy. Too dangerous."
"That's a risk I'm willing to take," Claire urged, taking a hold of Dean's sturdy hand.
Dean felt awkward holding her small hand in his own. The delicate and feminine skin almost felt foreign in comparison to Castiel's much larger hand. Still, he placed his other hand atop her own, as if in a blessing manner. "Well I'm not. I'm tired of burying friends and family. You may be willing to sacrifice yourself for the cause Claire, but I won't have your blood on my hands," he spoke to her plainly.
Claire nodded silently, allowing a silent moment for Dean's words to really seep in. "Guess this means we're done, doesn't it?" she asked at last, turning to face him dead on, "I mean, if we really were anything to begin with."
Dean's heart fell at her words – this was the conversation he'd been dreading, but he knew it had to be done. Not only for closure for poor Claire, but also as a first step in his and Cas's relationship. If he was going to admit he had feelings for Castiel to anybody, well it might as well be Claire. "Claire, what we had," he cleared his throat, "I meant nothing. I'm sorry, I don't mean to hurt you by saying this, but if I could take it all back I would. It was just pointless."
Claire licked her lips, trying desperately to blink back tears. Sure, Dean may not feel anything towards her, but she certainly felt for him. "Just tell me one thing," she choked somewhat, "What did I do? Or didn't do?"
"Oh Claire, it wasn't you," Dean responded, running a hand through his hair.
She pushed, "There's someone else, isn't there? Just tell me who, I only want the truth."
Dean kept his focus glued towards the tile floor. He could feel color flushing to his cheeks ever slightly as he prepared a response in his head. Instead, he abandoned all other thought, murmuring one crystal word. "Cas," he muttered simply.
Claire's head jolted up in surprise. "You mean Castiel? Like the angel?" she stuttered.
"Exactly the angel," Dean replied, feeling a smirk pull at his mouth unconsciously at just the simple thought of the creature Castiel indeed was. Seeing Claire's bewildered expression, Dean cleared his throat in preparation to continue. It was now or never. "Cas and I – we had sex."
Claire's eyes widened further than before, her mouth gaping open in awe. "Oh," was all she could manage to say, never actually thinking that Dean swung that way – angel or no angel.
"Yeah," Dean chuckled somewhat at her emotionless response, "Now that held a purpose. See, I love him Claire. Back in November, when all this crap started, I think I first realized it but I just didn't want to admit it. I mean, I didn't wanna think that I was falling. Falling for an angel especially, but I guess there's no stopping the inevitable. When in Rome, right?"
The blonde woman before him stayed silent for a moment longer, staring at him with washed out and tired eyes. "I guess you're right. If this is the end of the world, I guess I'd better get back out there and make the most of it, eh?" she said through a lopsided grin, though Dean it was just her disguise of dismay and disappointment.
"Yeah," he said simply, not feeling ashamed for what he just admitted surprisingly. Dean actually felt very proud of himself – it was the first time admitting his relationship with Cas to someone other than the angel himself. Good practice for Sammy, he mused to himself.
"Whatever road you decide to take though, Dean," Claire said, interrupting his personal thoughts, "I hope you find happiness." With that, Claire leaned forward to place a delicate kiss upon the crown of Dean's forehead.
Dean just took a moment to stare at the woman he had come to know so much over the course of these long months – she looked so different to him now than she had when he first met her as a lost and frantic foal. She appeared to be more elegant now, graceful perhaps? Like her experience as an angelic vessel had given her some unknown element of integrity which altered her in his eyes. Whatever the reason, Dean decided it had certainly been a privilege to have known – and well slept with – her. Though he wasn't about to make any of these deep heartfelt thoughts known, seeing as he didn't want a chick flick moment on his hands. Instead, he simply said, "Likewise," prior to arising from his chair. Stopping once more in the doorway to glance back at her and smiled, "Take care of yourself, Claire."
As Claire watched the last remnants of Dean's denim jacket leave her doorway, she at last allowed a crystal tear to fall from her eye and roll down her cheek. Not even daring to speak the words aloud, she thought to herself, I'm sorry Dean. I'm so sorry.
Dean meanwhile was striding down the now rather empty corridor, looking for a vending machine to prey upon. The hours of the day were growing long now and so his stomach had been making quite a fuss. Turning the corner swiftly, Dean stumbled upon the appliance glowing a vibrant magenta. The hunter smiled to himself, digging his pocket to pull out a few spare quarters. Slipping them into the slot, Dean selected the choice of a bag of nacho chips, speedily retrieving them from the dispense slot. The loud twist of plastic echoed in the dull hallway, followed by Dean's loud crunching shortly thereafter.
Suddenly, Dean heard a loud ruckus coming from the shadowed area which concealed a door. Dean cautiously sidestepped over to the area, seeing the large metal door was open just a sliver. Reading the red bulletin plastered on the upper portion of it, Dean understood that this indeed lead to the third story roof but continued anyway.
He soon discovered that his curiosity was a fatal mistake – in front of him stood not only dickhead Zachariah, but Raphael as well. A line of four other suited angels on other side of them were there as well, all staring him down anxiously. "Crap," Dean muttered to himself, hearing the lock to the door click once more as he was no locked out. Just peachy.
From behind him, two angels locked their vice grip around his arms, causing him to drop his fresh bag of chips. Forcefully, they began pushing him forward towards the two superior angels. "Hello there, Dean," Zachariah beamed in his typically chipper voice.
"Oh, well if it isn't Beavis and Butthead. How's Cornholio?" Dean mouthed off, figuring the situation couldn't get any worse.
Strike two. Without warning, and without hesitation, Zachariah plunged his fist into the pit of Dean's stomach with monster truck force. Dean gasped as the air was knocked from his lungs once more, just as it had been due to Cas earlier. "Stand him up!" Zachariah commanded bringing two more punches to either side of Dean's face. Warm blood began to pour from the hunter's nostril, soon touching his upper lip. "Now Dean, you're going to cooperate. Otherwise there's gonna be serious consequences."
Dean's upper lip quivered, watching as Raphael now took a step closer to him. Constricting Dean's jaw within his grasp, the archangel came only inches from Dean's face. "Tell us, where is Castiel?"
So I may have through you off a little in the beginning by not opening a can of whoop ass on poor Deano xD I never really intended for Cas to get violent Dean, but I had to hold the suspense somehow.
I really hoped you liked this, I'll update soon but it probably won't be for a few more days. I want to work on updating both Eccentric Odium and Recidivus Atrox. Also, I got something else brewing in my caldron so stay tuned ^_^
Thanks for reading, reviews are wonderful 33