OH NO SOME WILD PLOT APPEARS
Sorry if this displeases anyone but to make up for it, I am lining up a dubious treat for you next chapter. It's something a lot of you have asked for which is probably going to be terrible but if it is, you'll only have to deal with it for one chapter.
I would like to take this opportunity to apologise for a huge oversight of mine which has been pissing me off since I realised it whilst writing this chapter. I didn't add in Cas's tattoo. His really sexy lower ribcage tattoo that he got just after turning human. I mean, it actually fits this fic way better in terms of plot that he didn't get the tatt but FUCK it's really hot and it would have driven Dean mental and WHYYYY. I am going to add the tattoo in though. I WILL fix this. You have my word.
American readers, I'd be shocked if any of you reading this were considering voting for Trump but I'm going to state the obvious here: please don't, he is literally modern day Hitler crossed with a shitty SNL sketch. It's not OK.
"Oh, for fuck's sake," are the first words out of Dean's mouth, breathless and bothered. He immediately shuts his eyes again, squeezing them tightly. I furrow my brow in consternation.
"What is it? Are you alright?"
My voice is rough and I clear my throat. Dean winces slightly. He's silent for a moment before he replies.
"You have come on your face."
I nod slowly. "Yes."
Dean opens his eyes again, peering at me, pained. "It's just… fuck. How the hell am I supposed to concentrate from now on with that mental image? Jesus…"
I watch him, puzzled, as he raises a shaky hand and runs it through his hair, exhaling heavily, shutting his eyes again. I glance around Dean's bedroom to see if he has any tissues, since apparently having semen on my face is somehow confronting for him. Spotting some, I walk over and hastily wipe off my jaw and neck before returning to Dean. He opens his eyes again as I halt in front of him and he gives a tremulous laugh, still leaning on the door as though unable to support his own weight.
"You didn't have to-" he starts, eyes warm, but then he stops and sighs. "Never mind. Thanks."
I shrug. He rolls his eyes and then slowly straightens up, swallowing nervously as he pulls up his briefs and jeans. "And, uh, thanks for that too. For the, um…"
"Blowjob?" I supply helpfully. Dean winces again.
"Yeah. Yeah, that was- that was really good. Really, um, good."
I nod my head, pleased, lips twitching. "I'm glad, Dean."
"Right," says Dean a little blankly. He's holding his belt without actually doing it up and just staring at me, his expression hard to read. I tilt my head at him.
"Are you-" I begin once more, but I'm cut off as Dean steps forward and kisses me, hands cupping my jaw, mouth soft and tender on mine. I'm too surprised to kiss him back for a moment but I raise my hands to his waist, holding him to me. The kiss stays closed-mouthed and gentle for a long time and I feel myself warming, glowing at the contrast to the attack-like aggression of our earlier exchange. That was all anger and sex, which I enjoyed in an intense sort of way, but this is something totally different. This feels precious.
Thumbs stroking at my cheekbones, Dean slips his tongue almost shyly between my lips. Almost immediately he draws back with a muffled chuckle.
"Ah," he says apologetically. I raise my eyebrows at him. "Forgot about the taste."
I nod, suppressing a smile. "Yes. It's… it's-"
"It's kinda bitter," he grimaces. "You hate bitter stuff. I mean, yours wasn't exactly strawberry milkshake either, just so you know."
I roll my eyes, shaking my head. "I believe you. It must just be how it tastes. It's fine, really."
Dean hums agreement, ducking his head and brushing his lips against my jaw, dropping his hands to squeeze my upper arms. "I'll buy some pineapple juice."
"What?" I mumble, confused by his statement but distracted by his breath on my ear. He ghosts his mouth over my skin and I shiver, hands tightening on his sides.
"Helps with the taste."
"Oh. That- that'd be good."
He pulls back and peers at me, biting his lip. "I mean, I guess I-"
He stops, looking away, flushing. I tilt my head to catch his eye again, intrigued. "What is it?"
Dean is definitely turning scarlet. He squeezes my arms again, nervously this time. "I guess I can't really know for sure. What yours is like. I mean, I hardly…"
He trails off, glancing up into my eyes and then down again, worrying at his lower lip. I've never seen him this shy before and it's quite fascinating. "I don't know what you're-"
"It's just," he cuts across me louder, pushing me back towards the bed, "I haven't really had the chance to- to find out-"
"Dean," I almost laugh, thoroughly bemused now. The backs of my knees hit the end of the bed and I grab firmly onto Dean's elbows, stopping him from toppling me over. "What are you talking about? Find out what?"
Dean huffs frustratedly, green eyes dark and wanting but expression curled into a defensive scowl. "Shit, Cas, I'm tryin' to return the favour, OK?"
It takes me a moment but then I gulp with understanding, eyes popping wide. I can't deny that I want it, especially looking at Dean with his teeth still catching at his lip almost coyly and his eyes heating up as he gains confidence, dropping a hand to cup at where I'm still half-hard.
"No, no," I breathe in a rush, grabbing at his wrist. He blinks at me and the fact that he actually looks disappointed is almost enough to change my mind. The thought that Dean Winchester wants to put his mouth on me…
"No," I say a little louder, a little clearer. "Dean, we need to talk."
Immediately, he lets go of me, frowning. "Great. You do know that's like, my least favourite sentence, right?"
I ignore him. "I didn't mean to imply that my issues with Metatron are more important than Sam's safety. You know that I could never think that."
He shuts his mouth, eyebrows raising. After a moment, he nods. I nod too and then take a deep breath, holding his gaze and speaking very clearly. "I'm sorry."
Dean's mouth tilts up at the corner slightly. "That looked difficult. You sure you didn't strain something?"
"Dean."
"I'm joking," he laughs, glancing down as he finally starts to do up his belt properly. "And, uh…"
I eye him impatiently as he pauses, tugging the worn leather through the buckle. Finally he looks up and speaks.
"I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have dismissed how you're feeling about Metatron. And yeah, I want to teach the son of a bitch a lesson too, he screwed you over. But Cas, Sam's life might be on the line, he's gotta come first in this."
"Sam always has to come first," I agree solemnly. To my surprise, Dean steps back, looking frustrated.
"Look, it's not like I don't care about you, but fuck, he's my brother-"
"No, Dean, I understand that," I say hastily, realising that he misinterpreted my statement as a complaint. "I wouldn't want you to put anything before Sam. Well, your own wellbeing would be nice, but I'll keep my expectations realistic there for now."
Dean blinks at me. "Oh. Yeah, well… yeah. And that's OK? Because me putting Sammy first… it hasn't always been OK with girls I've dated. And now that we're… whatever we are, I dunno if you're expecting things to change."
I shrug. "It's always been OK with me and it still is; it's part of who you are. And things have changed. We're spending more time together, we have a sexual relationship and we're being far more communicative with each other. All fantastic changes, I think."
Dean nods, grinning. "True. OK, well, all good then. Right?"
"I hope so," I smile, pleased that our conflict has been resolved. It was disturbing to get so angry at Dean so quickly. Angelic emotion was always far more reasoned and slow to build. It's no wonder that humans are so volatile and unpredictable.
"So what do we do?" Dean asks after a moment of smiling vaguely at each other. I blink, scrambling mentally to guess what he's referring to. Dean clarifies for me a moment later, to my relief. "About Metatron."
"Ah." I'm not sure what to say. Now that my initial, furious reaction has died down, I just feel bitter and weak. What can we possibly do to thwart two angels? I immediately berate myself for the pessimism, remembering that Sam and Dean have thwarted many angels, myself included. I am not useless because I am human. To think so is an insult to the extremely capable humans that I call my family. Dean is watching me expectantly, so I clear my throat and try to sound determined. "Is Sam well enough to survive Ezekiel leaving him?"
Dean shakes his head sadly. "I don't think so. I mean, it's hard to tell. He might be."
I weigh it up for a moment in my mind before slumping. "It's not worth the risk, then. We can't exorcise Ezekiel."
"Much as I'd like to, probably not a great idea."
"Alright… but we can't leave him with Ezekiel if Ezekiel has hostile intentions."
Dean grimaces, rubbing tiredly at his forehead. "Yep."
I think about it for a moment, quickly coming to a conclusion but having no idea how to make it a reality. Still, I give voice to my thoughts. "What if we could convince another angel to step in immediately and keep Sam safe?"
Dean frowns at me. "Well, yeah, that'd be ideal. But we don't know any other angels."
I nod miserably, turning and pacing away. When I speak I'm almost embarrassed by the sad yearning in my own voice. "I wish I had my grace."
Dean doesn't answer. Of course he doesn't. He probably wishes I had my grace as much as I do. If I hadn't stupidly allowed myself to be manipulated by Metatron, I wouldn't be human right now and I would be healing Sam instead of a traitorous stranger who's holding secret meetings with our enemy. Everything would be fine. Passing a hand over my face and pushing it back through my hair, I inhale slowly and then put on a falsely cheerful voice, still not turning around.
"Right, well, that will just have to be my job then. Find an angel willing to help us in exchange for a promise that, once Sam is recovered, we will be taking down Metatron. I'm sure most angels would jump at such an opportunity after what he's done to us. Them, I mean."
"Cas, that's a good plan, but how the hell are you planning to find an angel? And how are you supposed to know that they're trustworthy? This Ezekiel turned out to be shady as fuck."
I frown as I turn around. "I know. That still troubles me deeply. My memories of Ezekiel do not match with the way he is now at all. Something has altered him profoundly."
"Yeah, war'll do that," Dean shrugs. His arms are folded, his posture defensive, prickly. I wonder if he's still annoyed at me, but when he next speaks his eyes are full of worry rather than irritation. "You didn't answer me. How are you gonna find an angel?"
The plan is unfolding in my mind even as I open my mouth to reply, haphazard but plausible. "I'll use the technology that Sam and Charlie have been working on. They have already mapped out a rough list of locations across the country where groups of angels appear to have gathered. I will approach one of these areas and just… pray. Angels will come to me, out of concern or curiosity or a lingering sense of duty. I will simply have to attempt to judge who might be trustworthy and willing to help us."
Dean is looking understandably sceptical. "That's pretty damn vague, Cas. And dangerous. You might not be so popular with the angels right now."
I keep my face expressionless with some difficulty, although the blunt statement stings. He's entirely correct. "Possibly. Probably. But angels are generally not impulsive; they will stop to listen to what I have to say before they harm me. And they might not even recognise me now that I'm human."
"Right… OK, it sounds worth a try. How are we going to keep this from Zeke, though?"
I take a deep breath. "We're not. I'm doing this on my own."
Dean's response is immediate and predictable. He even throws in a derisive snort, shaking his head in disbelief. "Like hell you are."
"Dean-"
"No way!"
I pause, narrowing my eyes at him. He uncrosses his arms and points at me, his own eyes flashing angrily. "You are not just swanning off to reveal yourself to a bunch of probably hostile angels who can smite you with a single thought. Nope. Whatever we do to fix this, we do together."
I swallow, touched by this declaration. It doesn't change the facts, though. "Dean, this is the best plan we have to get Sam out of danger. In fact, it's the only plan. You know that I am not helpless. And you can't come because Sam can't come, because Ezekiel can't come. And we both know that you're not going to leave Sam and Kevin here alone with him."
Dean opens his mouth, glares at me for several seconds, and then shuts it again with a deflated sigh. "Fuck. Fuck, this is risky."
"Most things we do are risky," I shrug, a genuine smile breaking across my face. "So, it's decided then. You will stay here and try not to give Ezekiel an opportunity to sneak away and meet with Metatron again. We will have an exorcism plan prepared for my return, hopefully with a new angel ally. I will go and recruit this new angel ally and let you know when I am coming back."
Dean shuts his eyes and nods reluctantly, looking pained, mouthing a curse. Then he opens them again, frowning. "How the hell are we gonna explain you going off on a trip by yourself?"
I've thought of this. I draw myself up firmly, looking Dean directly in the eye, my voice confident when I speak:
"Dean, we have to break up."
