Title: I Love The Way You Lie
Author: highermagic
Rating: NC-17
Pairings/Characters: Dean/Castiel
Spoilers: Let's say 7x01
Warnings: angst, mpreg, Eve!Dean, God!Castiel, werewolf!Castiel, character death
Word Count: ~3,800
Summary: Notes:Unbeta'd. All mistakes are my own. Sorry it's been taking so long to pump this one out. Epic stuff's happening now though so. And, sorry, I totally haven't proof-read this. I was too eager to get it out.

"Castiel. Please."

The deity flew to Heaven swiftly, his iron wings aching on his back as he cut through the vast void between Heaven and Earth and stepped into his kingdom. His wings flared up high, the sun glinting off of the shards of metal. He called out, loudly – a summoning for all of his Angels, his forces, to gather to him.

"Cas. Don't leave me alone down here."

Where was everyone? Growling, Castiel flared his wings out again, leaving Heaven's gardens and instead walking up to the grand building of Heaven's Hall. No one there either. A flare of wariness and trepidation made its way through the God's dark mind, his cold, icy eyes, flat and dark, roving over the empty courtyard. The sun beat down, hot and relentless with no cloud in the sky to cover and shield those down below.

"Castiel."

"Show yourselves!" Castiel yelled again, the sun glinting off his heavy, rusting wings. They were so heavy, weighing on his back in the way they hadn't before. He spun around with a low snarl, storming up the steps and towards the large golden doors of Heaven's City Hall. The doors gave with a single push of his hand and he stepped into the tomb-like silence within.

It was full of Angels. His Angels. What were they doing here?

"I summoned you," he snapped, upper lip curling back as his eyes flashed demon-dark. He stalked forward within the ring of them. There were many in there, huddled together like homeless orphans awaiting the passing of a storm. His hand twitched by his side, aching for his blade, but it would not come to him, because Crowley had taken it from him. "Why are you not answering me?"

After a long silence, broken by nothing but the occasional rustle of a guilty feather, Castiel roared; "Speak, you cowards! Answer your God!"

"It has been a long time since you were anything like us, God or Angel."

The deity's shoulders tensed – he knew that voice – and he turned around, seeing that Gabriel was standing in front of him, confined as he was in the ring of Angels as he spearheaded the rebellion. His eyes flashed with malice and his wings arched high in threat. "Traitor," he growled, taking a step forward and, though the Archangel's eyes flashed golden in warning, Gabriel did not move. "You cannot betray me like this. I made you."

"A son is loyal to his father," Gabriel whispered, conceding the point with a nod and watching as Castiel's rust-bronze wings settled. "But you did not make me, Castiel. You are no longer my brother." He took a deep breath, his fingers flexing by his side in a move every Angel knew well. "We once fought for the same thing, but the Angel you were is no longer in this body you wear. I need the Angels' help."

"You don't have the authority," Castiel growled, taking another step forward. Gabriel's eyes flashed again, remembering all too well the last time he had faced off a brother like this – God, why did it still hurt so much? Even knowing that this thing was no longer close to being the true Castiel, Gabriel felt pain, knew his brother's face, knew the arch of his wings and even though they were borrowed and molting and rusted over, he saw Castiel in them.

Gabriel pressed his lips together. "I need their help," he repeated, nodding his head once. "I'm not ordering them, or commanding them – I am not usurping your leadership. I just need them. Just this once. I…" He shook his head. "Dean is in trouble."

"Castiel."

"I can hear him calling me," the deity murmured, closing his eyes for a brief moment. "He's calling so loud. Why? Is the child alright?"

"He isn't calling for you," Gabriel replied, too kindly, with a shake of his head.

Castiel snarled again, his rage returning – the souls swelled, eager and angry at the feel of the moon's pull, soon to become eclipsed, and felt their master's fear as their own. He needed Dean, needed to keep his All-Mother safe. Needed his children to stop rebelling.

"And so history repeats itself," he said, bitterness edging his voice. He threw his hands out to either side in challenge. "My first fails me and my second betrays me." He took a step forward. "Well not this time. I am better than God, better than all of you. You will not have the Angels. I won't give them to you."

"Cas, please."

"The wolves can fight for him. The wolves can win. I will destroy Crowley's demon hoard and they will not touch him."

Gabriel stared at Castiel, so much pity in his eyes that it angered the God – how he wished for his blade so that he could drive his authority home behind it. Clearly it was the only thing creatures like Angels understood – violence and threats.

"When you had your vision," Gabriel whispered, taking a step forward. They were practically nose to nose now, Castiel's heavy wings sagging low to the ground and coming forward in an instinctual search for the connection Angels shared, "who were the wolves fighting?"

Castiel blinked at him, silent for a long moment, and then snarled once more, pulling away. "Any Angel that joins this traitor will be struck down by my own hand," he said, his voice loud and carrying over the gathered throng. "I do not need my blade to destroy you all. Even as I am I am far more powerful than my Angel of Death."

There were murmurs among the gathered Angels, wings shifting nervously, and there was the occasional glint of a blade in the non-light of the City Hall. When Castiel turned back around, Gabriel was gone and, with a snarl, he winged away.

Dean could feel it. The tension in the air was so thick he felt like he was drinking it. His body ached in so many ways and he knew it would soon be time for him to give birth – and God, wasn't that still such a weird thought. He grimaced, one hand flattening over the huge plane of his belly, and closed his eyes.

"You said you would always come when I call," he murmured, voice hoarse. He'd been at this for hours. "Well, I'm callin', Cas. I don't know if I should pray anymore, but I'm doing that too. Just in case."

"Dean?" The older Winchester opened his eyes, swallowing when he saw Sam standing at the doorway. "Any luck?"

He shook his head, and then scooted slightly to one side on his bed to make room for Sam. He didn't get far but his brother took the offer for what it was and entered the room, perching awkwardly on the side of the bed. He swallowed, trying to look anywhere but Dean's belly and failing – it was like a great big elephant in the room, after all.

"I keep thinking maybe it's all in my head," Dean murmured, closing his eyes again and propping himself up better against the headboard. "Maybe I'll wake up and we'll still be at Bobby's, and I'll have just hit my head really bad on a hunt, or somethin'."

"Does it make me a bad person to kind of want that too?" Sam asked, looking down at his hands, his hair falling forward to hide his face. "Listen, Dean -."

"Sam." Dean's voice was a warning – he knew that tone. That was the 'we need to talk' tone and Dean wanted nothing more than to never talk about this ever again.

"Dean," Sam answered, his voice getting petulant, and Dean rolled his eyes, turning his head to stare out of the window. "I just wanted to say that I'm so, so sorry." Dean blinked – he hadn't been expecting that. But he kept his gaze out the window.

"You have nothing to be sorry for, Sammy," he replied after a moment, shrugging one shoulder. "It's my fault, after all. Should'nt've abandoned him, made him feel like he wasn't one of us anymore. That's what did it." He smirked bitterly, snorting a little. "Even when he ate all the souls and went crazy, he still craved what we had had – our 'love', I guess, or whatever."

Sam swallowed. "Yeah, well, it's my job to make you see when you're being out of line and everything," he said, clearing his throat. "I mean, I get why you reacted that way – really, I do, believe me, if anyone knows it's me, but I still should have…" He paused for a moment. "Maybe he wouldn't have gone so far off the deep end."

"And now we're in the middle of another Goddamn Apocalypse." Dean sighed, rubbing his belly absently again. "You'd think God would at least pay attention after the third one, you know?" He winced, feeling a small pain shoot through his stomach and legs – he'd been having them on and off for a while now and they usually went away after he got up, but he'd just been so tired, trying to coax Castiel out, to get that warm Angel-Grace feeling inside of him again that he was convinced was Castiel. He'd even tried to go to sleep to talk to Jacob again but hadn't been able to relax enough for that.

Sam pressed his lips together, mouth twisting when he noticed Dean wincing and deliberately didn't stare at his brother's rounded stomach. "Yeah, well, maybe he just doesn't care anymore. Maybe we're like a fifth grade science project that he left in a closet and forgot about."

Dean smirked. "The Second Coming'll be his college years. I'm expecting a party."

Sam laughed a little, though it felt flat – still, it was kind of normal now, for the Winchesters, to find the bitter humor in what they could and avoid talking about what they needed to at all cost. Dean let his eyelids droop, just listening to the sound of his and Sam's breathing, before another tight pain shot through him and he tensed, hissing a little.

"Dean?" Sam asked, brow furrowed in concern, and he sat up, reaching for Dean automatically. "You alright?"

"Yeah, m'fine, just -." He was cut off when the pain abated, leaving behind the burning sensation he had come to associate with Castiel. He breathed deep, letting out his breath in a long gust, before he looked into Sam's worried eyes. "Just a bit of pain, s'normal." No sooner had he said that than another contraction rolled through him, making him tense again.

"How long have…?" Sam trailed off, his voice low with the awful realization of what was happening. "Shit."

"What -?"

"Alpha?" Aaron and Leah appeared in the doorway, the wolves hurrying in and kneeling on Dean's bed. "We can feel him, Alpha," they whispered in unison, one of Leah's hands reaching forward to land on Dean's belly. Dean felt the baby leap and roll inside of him. "He's coming."

Dean knew it would be today. Had expected it. But there was a difference between knowing it and feeling it, and terror hit him hard. "Oh, God," he groaned, his other hand smoothing over his stomach, his eyes wide as he grit his teeth through another contraction. "Shit! Ow!"

"It's okay, Dean," Sam murmured, standing up and helping Dean to his feet, with Leah and Aaron flanking him. "We'll take you downstairs and it's all set up. You'll be fine, just -."

The howling started, then, sudden and swift, rising up all around the house. A shudder went through Dean and, despite his pain, he managed to roll his eyes and shake his head. "Of course."

"It's okay, Dean," Sam said again, supporting his brother as they headed towards the stairs. Dean closed his eyes, his latest contraction leaving him sore and exhausted – they were really picking up frequency and intensity now, and already he felt boneless.

"Everything is going to be okay."

Crowley's eyes snapped up, flashing to black, as he cocked his head to one side. He smiled.

Castiel's blade glinted in his hand, burning his palm slightly. "Good," he murmured, his smirk widening as he stepped outside of his abode. "Grab him. Our window isn't large, darling, so make me proud."

After a moment, he cocked his head the other way. "You let me worry about our friendly neighborhood God." Another pause. "Because I said so, that's why. If it weren't for me you would already be ripped into shreds, or have you forgotten?"

There was another pause, longer this time, and the wind picked up, a sullen sigh carrying itself to Crowley. The demon smiled.

"Good girl."

Castiel's eyes snapped down to Earth and he snarled. "Finally," he murmured, winging his way down to Earth again and standing outside of the werewolves' house. There were many wolves surrounding it, pacing nervously and Castiel could hear Dean's pained cries from inside.

Dean was calling his name. He had to go to Dean.

He took a step forward, and stopped. He couldn't move.

Castiel looked down and found himself standing in a large circle, sigils surrounding it glowing with hellfire. The sigil was not make of chalk, or paint, but the souls of demons, painted in red blood and creating a seal around him. He snarled in anger, not knowing what kind of magic could trap him like this, but only knowing that he definitely was trapped. His wings were being eaten away by the sigil.

There was a resounding 'sching' in the air, and the God lifted his angry, flat eyes to find two demons walking towards him. His blade glinted in the light of the disappearing moon and Castiel snarled more loudly, his lip curling back over serrated, backward-facing teeth.

"Crowley," he growled, his voice carrying octaves, his fading wings arching high in fear and anger. His eyes flashed to the other demon. "Meg."

The female smirked, cocking her head to one side, long raven hair falling over her shoulders. "Hey, big boy," she drawled, taking a step forward. "You don't look so good. Dean give you an STI?"

Castiel snarled again. "You will let me go to him," he said, addressing Crowley now.

The demon chuckled, twirling the Angel blade in his hand. He really was quite fond of it, the way it faintly hummed with power – obviously the Angel to whom it belonged was still very much alive and kicking. A fact that Crowley found most interesting. "Don't you worry," he said, eyes flashing back to up Castiel. "You'll see him soon enough." He waved his hand. "Darling, why don't you go retrieve our little mother-to-be now, before he pops. It's time."

Meg nodded and disappeared with a smirk, and Castiel snarled loudly in warning and frustration, flaring his fading wings out – what was happening? Why were his wings fading like this? He hadn't had time to restore his Grace from another Angel, and now it was leaving him. Damn it.

"You will regret this day," he promised, even as the sigil of demon souls contracted around him, binding his wings and arms to his body and preparing to carry him away.

Crowley laughed. "I very much doubt that."

"Ianua Magna Purgatorii, Clausa Est Ob Nos, Lumine Eius Ab Oculis Nostris Retento…"

Dean groaned, pain shooting through his body as he was roused to wakefulness, a low, sharp ache in his gut forcing him to roll to his side and clutch at his stomach with a hiss. God, his whole body hurt and – he felt at his belly – he was still very much pregnant. The floor was cold; felt like cement, or cheap linoleum, but it wasn't warming up to his body heat. Cold penetrated his sweat-soaked shirt and wrapped tight to his bare legs, and he shivered.

"…Sed Nunc Stamus Ad Limen Huius Ianuae Magnae Et Demisse, Fideliter, Perhonorifice, Paramus Aperire Eam…"

That voice. He recognized that voice. He coughed, clutching at his throat as he did so – his hands were slick. Why were his…?

A sharp contraction hit him hard and he cried out. The chanting momentarily stopped and Dean wrenched his eyes open, breathing hard, sweat starting anew on his skin as he tried to get a grip of his surroundings. He tried to push himself upwards onto his hands and knees, only to be grabbed by his hair and hauled back so he landed on his knees, his aching, slick thighs jarred with the motion.

"Carefully, now, darling," came the voice again – the British accent, the stupid…Crowley. Dean opened his eyes again, breathing hard, and locked gazes with the black-eyed demon, who was smirking back at him. He strained against the hand fisted tight in his hair, rolled his eyes back to see Meg staring down at him with an equally triumphant smile. He gritted his teeth, stifling his cry when the contraction abated, leaving him panting hard and shaking, exhausted and in agony.

"Crowley," he bit out, glaring at the demon. It was then that movement caught his eye, and he turned his head slightly, jerking when Meg pulled him back, to see Castiel standing in a tight circle of demons. The God looked angry, fierce, his lip curled back in a snarl, fingers flexing helplessly and uselessly by his sides. Fury burned deep in his eyes. "What are you…?"

"The souls are going to be mine," the demon said, turning to look at the sigil he had carved on the wall again for a long moment, before taking a step back. "As they should have been. And you," he looked to Dean, "are going to help me do that?"

"Oh yeah?" Dean laughed. "Why would I?"

Crowley smiled a smile with too much teeth. "Because my army is fighting yours right now, Dean. Your darling little brother and poor excuse for a father figure are trapped, slowly being slaughtered, by thousands of Hell's best. Having an Archangel won't help them, Dean – I have a hundred thousand to your one. And when I'm done with them, I will kill each and every werewolf that helped and housed you. Then, I will kill that…thing, over there." He waved vaguely in Castiel's direction, the Angel blade flashing in his hand, and Dean's eyes widened, recognizing it.

"And then," the King of Hell continued, pleasure flashing in his eyes, "I'm going to gut you. Assuming you hurry up and the half-breed is still inside you. If not, I can just kill it while you watch."

For a moment, Dean could only stare at Crowley, his eyes widening in horror at each death – each pint of blood that would be on his hands. His body felt like it was burning up and he was helpless – he knew he couldn't do a damned thing. Couldn't let that many people die. And he knew, without a doubt, that Crowley would not hesitate to carry through on his threat.

"All you have to do is say 'Yes', Dean."

Yes.

Yes.

Say 'Yes'.

Dean swallowed, unable to speak again, but Crowley nodded to himself, recognizing the Winchester's surrender, and turned his attention back to the wall. It was beginning to burn around the edges. The demon spread his arms out wide and continued the chant.

Dean's mind was racing. His heart felt like it was beating so fast and his entire body ached in a way it hadn't for a very long time. His belly burned – God, why did it hurt so much. He wrapped his arms around himself and cried out, bending forward double as another contraction threatened to rip him in two – it was the strongest one yet.

Say 'Yes'.

The urge was undeniable – was it the souls, begging to be given to a stronger body, a more powerful creature with more ambition than simply to let them be born? Dean swallowed, closing his eyes, unable to believe that it had come down to this – again. God, he had thought…he had thought he was better, this time. Had a better handle on it.

How wrong he was.

Were Sam, Gabriel and Bobby still alive? How had Meg gotten to them? He'd assumed it was Meg – remembered flashes of her sulfurous touch between bouts of pain and Sam's warm hands on his head, petting through his sweat-soaked hair, telling him he would be okay.

He could hear wolves howling.

Crowley had reached the last phrase; "Ianua Magna, Aperta Tandem!"

Dean screamed, feeling like his very soul was being ripped out when the door opened, the wall crumbling in front of Crowley as the demon opened the door to Purgatory again. Purgatory's fiery maw opened wide in front of them, different than that of Hell – drier with less impurity of death and fear. Beside him, above his head, he could hear Meg crying out as well, the demon letting go of him and cowering away.

"Dean!" That was Crowley, the demon was walking towards him. "Come on, Winchester, make me proud!"

Dean screamed again, unable to speak as another blast furnace of heat swept over him, inside and out. Say 'Yes', Dean. Something was telling him to – he needed to obey, felt like he would die if he couldn't. God, if only the heat would stop.

"Dean!"

Dean!

At once, the heat went away. The sound of his screaming went away – everything just…disappeared. Briefly. Dean closed his eyes, hands reaching blindly along the ground, white going off behind his eyes, and he felt feathers against his palm.

Say 'Yes', Dean.

"Cas…"

I'm here, Dean, I'm here. I've come for you.

"Yes."