Edited.
29
The Things That Go Unnoticed
It was Friday and they had a hunt in play. The four of them, Dean and Cas in the front seat of the Impala, Sam and Jody in the back, making their way towards the outskirts of New York, the Big Apple. Or at least the tree, Dean amended. There was no way in hell he was heading into the crazy bowels that was New York City. Too many people. Too much aggression. No thanks.
As they drove, Dean's thoughts drifted to the night before, shooting glances to his right at Cas. Dean had managed to avoid the guy a good deal when he'd gotten back from his meetup with V. His angel, savior extraordinaire that he was, had wanted to heal him immediately, but Dean had hesitated, not sure what that would do to his freshly inked back. After some hemming and hawing, he finally told Cas very clearly to only heal his face, nothing else.
With some apprehension and a great deal of squinting, Cas relented and touched his face, healing the swollen eye and rickety jaw that had been clicking as he'd sang on the way back.
Vishous had surprised him, and that rarely happened for Dean. He wasn't sure how to categorize this new species with fangs, nothing like the row of mini-teeth daggers that the other vamps he'd encountered had. These fangs didn't snap down quite like the other vamps. There was just the two points, and they seemed to gradually grow depending on the man's mood. Fighting seemed to draw them out, making him look menacing as all hell. The goatee, and those tattoos around his one eye added to that effect for sure. And yet, Dean had felt relaxed around him, felt an instant camaraderie with the man. For that, he'd thanked Cas for setting up the sparring session and imagined there'd be more in the future.
He'd gone to bed in boxers and a t-shirt, and made-out with Cas like his life depended on it. He successfully reduced Cas to a helpless mess, reaching down to stroke through the Hanes boxer-briefs of Dean's that Cas had on. Pleasuring Cas as a distraction was damn effective he thought, as his hand had closed around the thick shaft, feeling it pulse and twitch in his palm. When Cas was sated and bleary twenty minutes later, Dean snugged up into his side and went to sleep.
Pulling out of his trance, complete with pictures of Cas laid out on his bed, Dean flicked his eyes to the right, noting how tense Cas seemed now compared to the night before. Rigid limbs Dean could handle, Cas knowing what he'd done, yeah, not quite ready for that one.
Castiel continued to shoot him cursory glances during the ride, a roaming assessment in attempt to figure out what was going on with Dean—the ever constant puzzle of crazy. But knowing the truth he held, Dean smiled back, reaching over to rest a hand on Cas' thigh, drumming out a beat with his fingers, feeling like the world was no longer turned inside-out—or at the very least, he wasn't.
It was a two-day drive to get where they were going, and if it had been only Dean, Sam, and Cas they might have powered through the twenty-some hour trip in a straight shot, but with four of them in the car, it was crowded and hot. Cas had suggested taking them the angel express way but it had been a long time since he and Sam had really been out on the road and he could tell both of them needed it. Needed the hum of tires that went on for hours, the passing scenery slipping by that made them feel like the world was at peace for the span of time it took them to reach whatever fucked situation they were heading towards. It had always been that way; the Impala was their safe-haven, their stretch of downtime taking them from one disaster to the next.
After a good twelve hours moving through flat lands, they pulled into some nondescript motel in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere, Ohio.
Sam and Jody went out with the Impala to pick up food for everyone, and some coffee for Cas.
Dean moved past Cas as they entered the motel room, a hand on his lower back with a kiss to his cheek as he slipped by. He went into the washroom with his bag and closed the door. He took a gander at his reflection. Beard was getting long again, hair even longer. He scratched across his face, thinking. Maybe he would ask Cas to trim him down? He wasn't sure he was ready to look like his old self, not sure why anymore. The pressure in his bladder made itself known, interrupting his thoughts and he quickly flipped the toilet lid and seat, pissed, and then washed his hands. When that was done, he pulled off the open button-down and then gently peeled the t-shirt off as well. He twisted at the waist and fixated on his back.
Like before, his breath faltered. It did something to him; moving things around inside his emotional command centre, feeling inexplicably linked and inked in such a permanent way. He'd never been happier with a decision in his life. But for the time being, it was still just for him. Like the guitar Sam had given him for Christmas, the tattoo was a way forward, a step away from the past that helped him in ways no stretch of time could have.
Reaching into his bag with a sigh, Dean pulled out the tiny metal container of salve he'd already had at home for burns and other job-related injuries. He did his best to rub some over the tattoo but he wasn't the most flexible of guys and reaching his arm over to his back, either from above or around the side, was not that easy.
There was a knock on the door. Quickly sticking the lid back on and shoving the container in his bag, he called out, "Just a minute, Cas."
"You've been weird," Cas spoke through the door.
Dean made a face as he pulled his t-shirt on, and then put his arms through the red and white plaid button-up. "Not sure what to say to that," he said as he pulled the door open.
Cas sniffed, his eyes widened. "It's that smell again!"
"It's nothing."
"Is there something I should know?" Cas stalked over to the bed and plunked down as if getting himself ready for bad news. He looked over at Dean with eyebrows so tightly cinched a deep crease formed in between.
Dean tossed his bag onto the floor beside the bed closest to him and walked over. He crouched down in front of Cas, placing his hands on his knees to draw his attention. "No, Cas. It's fine. Everything is more than okay to be honest. I feel pretty…normal." For the most part. "And the smell… it's just like lotion, ya know. For skin." He rubbed Cas' legs as he talked and felt the guy slowly relax.
"I worry about you," sighed Cas, the corners of his mouth pulling down.
Dean stood, putting his palm to Cas' cheek in the same motion. He brushed his thumb over the skin, his fingers tucking under the softness of Cas' earlobe. "With you here, there's no need to worry about me."
Castiel blinked slowly once, letting out a dragging exhale before he lifted his arm and—watching Dean for any reaction—pushed his hand up under Dean's shirt, palming across his abs and ribs. The touch of skin on skin while fully clothed was incredible. And it wasn't for anything more than needing to touch something bare. Needing to be that infinitesimally closer in that moment. It grounded them.
Sam and Jody returned fifteen minutes later with food. The four of them ate and napped for a few hours before hitting the road for the rest of their journey, aiming to get there by late afternoon.
/\/\/\
"So go over it again," Dean asked his brother. The motel rooms they'd gotten were tiny and so they were talking shop by the picnic tables set up at the far end of the motel strip. It was around three in the afternoon. The wind was gusty but the sun was out and it warmed the end of winter chill.
"Grave-robbery, people claiming they saw something suspicious but then not remembering what they actually saw. Crime rate is oddly low here though. Except for drugs. Theres lots of arrests on drug charges but nothing ever seems to stick."
Dean shrugged. "Yeah, you've said that. I still don't know what we're dealing with."
Sam and Jody exchanged a look. "I've been keeping something from you. So has Cas, I gather."
Dean chanced a glance to his left, Cas met his eyes but said nothing. "Tell me." But even though Dean was focusing on Cas, it was Sam who answered.
"I heard you met Cas' buddy with fangs right?"
Dean nodded, not caring to explain that technically he'd met the guy in another place, at another time.
"Do you know what he fights? Who their enemy is?"
Dean's brows slanted together and he racked his brain for answers. He knew in his gut that this all had something to do with what he'd been feeling lately; never realizing it was all tied in with his new sparring friend. Was V's group the problem? No, couldn't be. Dean knew evil when he saw it, whether it was human, monster, or even himself. He knew. Vishous was not evil. Not by his standards.
"Tell me everything Sam."
So Sam did. He told Dean all about lessers, the Omega, how their numbers were increasing. Hunters running into these guys left, right, and center it seemed. Dean could tell Sam was leaving out some stuff. It was made all the more obvious by the hesitant, ever-growing frustrated glances shot in Cas' direction. Castiel ignored Sam completely and Dean knew something was seriously wrong.
"Ok, what aren't you guys telling me?" Dean spouted, shooting off some angry looks at both of them.
Sam huffed indignantly and glared at Castiel, who remained stoic and unaffected. "Cas? Care to field that one?" Sam spoke through gritted teeth, plastering on a fake non-smile.
With a long sigh, Castiel faced Dean. "The increase in lessers is due to the fact that Heaven remains shut. The souls are being taken and turned. And as there is no way to reopen it, we are now facing a threat that was never an issue before. The Brotherhood, previously, were able to keep this group in check, both forces balancing out. They'd even begun the long journey of possibly wiping out this evil forever, but now, well…" Cas waved his hand of indication of the present situation.
"No way to reopen Heaven, huh?" Jody turned to Cas, Sam matching her offensive posture.
Dean must have had blinders on for the last while—which, okay, maybe he had—but had there always been this animosity between everyone? When the hell had that happened?
"No. There is not. You misunderstood me in our previous discussion on the matter."
What previous discussion? Sam made a kind of snort, turning away so as not to be facing Castiel. Whoa, Dean thought, Sammy was pissed.
"Cas?" Dean took a deep breath, his gaze passing over Sam's back and Jody's supremely pissed off glare. "What's going on with you guys?"
Geez, you go crazy for a few months and everyone falls apart!
"Well, Dean," Sam turned back around, bitch-face loaded, "your boyfriend knows exactly how to fix Heaven, and he won't tell any of us what that is. So now, we have all these undead whatever things all over the friggin' place and all the while he's just sitting on this potential goldmine to fix the damn situation! People are dying!"
Dean's teeth ached from how hard he was gritting them. "First of all, don't say 'boyfriend' like that, alright?" he sneered. "And second of all, Cas be honest, is there a way to fix Heaven? I'm not asking if it's doable, or if you agree, or whatever, I'm just asking if it's possible." As he spoke, he moved closer, getting into Cas' personal space so that he could read the angel for reactions.
He sure as hell didn't expect to see those blue eyes go watery. It was only a split-second, but it was there. An errant emotion had broken through the surface, a pain or a longing. And then Cas whispered, "Yes, it's…it's possible."
Dean waited for more, for an explanation or elaboration but nothing came. He could feel two sets of eyes focused on them but something about the moment shifted when Cas raised his eyes to meet Dean's. Never had Dean witnessed a stare that said, 'please don't make me say it' more than that.
Dean angled his head to the side. "Give us a minute, would ya?"
Jody and Sam left, making their way to the rooms, trading looks along the way. Dean sat on the top of the picnic table, holding a hand out. "C'mere."
Cas set his shoulders, wiped his expression of anything telling and walked over to Dean—not taking his hand.
He stood in front of Dean, just close enough that his shins barely touched the picnic bench seat. "Dean, I would tell you. You know that." The wind gusted then, ruffling Cas' hair.
The words didn't reassure Dean as they should have. A whole year of lying a long time ago reminded him that sometimes Cas kept secrets for what he thought was the greater good. Maybe it was justified in this case, and maybe it wasn't. His old self would have found some way to get it out of him. The man he was now…that man reached forward to pull Cas towards him, needing to be rid of the distance. Things between them were confusing enough as it was. He didn't want to complicate that.
"Promise me there's a good fucking reason you're not telling anyone?" he said with his head hanging down between them. Begging for that trust, begging Cas not to ruin them with a stupid, unwarranted lie. There were so many other things that could make Dean lose his goddamn mind, and he really didn't want Cas to be the reason for that.
Cas' fingers found their way to his head, carding through his hair, pulling a long breath out of him. The angel caressed him in that easy way for a minute before lowering his hands to Dean's jaw and tilting it up high, his head falling back as Cas leaned over him, hands moving to brace on Dean's thighs.
He crept forward for a kiss but stopped just shy of it. "If telling you or Sam or anyone would set in motion the way to fix Heaven, I would in a heartbeat. I know I've done things that have abused your trust in the past, but things are different now. We're different now."
Dean nodded. "Okay." And only then did Cas kiss him. It was soft and light, like a breath. He parted his lips for more, seeking the heat of Cas' mouth in the otherwise chilly afternoon air. Castiel's warm tongue teased between their lips, dipping into him with a slow lick and they both let out a quiet moan of relief.
When they parted, eyes meeting and Cas' hands rubbing along his thighs, Dean said, "Sam won't like it, you know."
Castiel half-smiled, considering the comment. "Neither would you have previously."
Dean laughed a bit sarcastically. "True," he said, taking one of Cas' hands in his. "Guess I'm just big, trusting softie now…with some serious issues."
In the back of his mind, Dean badly hoped letting Cas keep this secret wasn't a dumbass mistake. And this, he reminded himself, was a great example of how love made you blind. But maybe giving into Cas was all about being selfish, because really, Dean was happier not knowing whatever the hell it was that was putting distance between the man he loved, and his only real family. For now, he didn't want to know the secret.
Not yet.
If Cas was keeping this secret, he decided to believe that it was with good reason. Didn't they say trust was the foundation of a good relationship? Look at that, Dean thought, I'm learning or growing…or whatever.
/\/\/\
That night, Castiel sent Vishous a text letting him know that the war with the lessers had caught the attention of hunters and that they were in town lending a hand.
The responding text he received said: "About damn time!"
Castiel did a scan of the area they were in, some outer suburb of New York proper, and couldn't seem to find anything. But that didn't mean that there wasn't anything either.
The four of them, knives hidden but available, found themselves in the area's club district. Music beat around them in the streets, women were dressed in next to nothing, and men were obnoxious. It felt like they were patrolling and Castiel didn't care for the aimless feel of the hunt. He preferred knowing more about how things would end. Knowing how to deal with demons and other monsters was second nature for the most part. This was entirely new.
The temperature had dropped significantly, and while the crisp chill didn't bother him, it still affected the feel of the night. Everything seemed…still. A bit ominous perhaps. With each step, all of them searching for a foe they have never had to deal with before, the tension in the air increased.
Reaching the end of a block, the sound of partying and delighted shrieks behind them, it was almost as if the temperature plummeted here. The wind gusted into the gap between the buildings, where there was a narrow pedestrian pathway that worked its way tightly between waste bins and loose refuse. Sam and Jody, in the lead, turned down the alley. From what Castiel could see, it went straight through the block to the other side where there was a cross street, and what resembled a large park beyond that.
A third of the way in, the smell hit him first; that cloying smell of evil that he'd maybe only caught the scent of a handful of times in his long life.
"Stop," he whispered sharply. They all turned to face him. Every one of their expressions switched into startled observation as their collective gaze zeroed in on a spot somewhere behind him.
He turned back, letting out one of his blades in the same motion, meeting the dead eyes of the four lessers blocking the entrance of the alley. He heard footsteps approaching from behind and knew two more had entered from the back near the park. Six in total.
Dean was the first to break the silence. "Oh, I know wrong when I see it and you freaks are definitely wrong."
The lessers cast their eyes slowly to Dean, serving him up a sneer but said nothing, just sizing the situation up. Castiel could feel a good fight coming and hoped that it wouldn't go sideways.
And, naturally, of all times for Dean's former personality to make a grand appearance, it just so happened to be then. "You know you smell like a baby's ass, right?"
Castiel silently cursed, while Sam barked at Dean in a harsh whisper of his name. The lessers remained quiet, their eyes trained to watch every shift.
And, of course, Dean didn't stop there. "And seriously, you need to Just-For-Men that shit." Dean waved his hand in the general upwards area of their heads, the hair paled out from death.
Maybe this was Dean's way of fortifying himself for the fight. Castiel hoped anyway. At some untold cue, the couple of lessers behind Sam and Jody made a run at them. Dean, in nearly the same moment took off towards all four in front. Castiel wasted no time in chasing Dean's heels.
A gun-shot pierced the cold night from behind them, but with a fast cursory glance backwards, Castiel saw that the shot was wasted. Sam and Jody, thankfully, were fine.
Speeding towards the fray, he managed to lay waste to two of them, a dagger in each hand, the pointy end piercing through a dead chest cavity—one lesser on his right, one on the left. There was a bizarre pop, flash of light, and then they were gone into ether.
Dean was in hand-to-hand with the other two, and it didn't look good. Castiel came up from behind, both knives out when one of the lessers turned suddenly, their arm swinging back and low, shooting him point-blank in the gut. The sharp crack of the gun bounced loud around the tight passage between the buildings.
The rush of pain was bewildering. He was an angel. Bullets don't hurt angels….
Head falling down, Castiel saw blood and a sliver of blue light. That's not good, he thought. Wobbling on his feet, Castiel wondered what the hell that sound was that he was suddenly hearing. Was there an animal here?
With clouded eyes, he managed to look over to find Dean yelling and growling, slashing at both lessers; landing blows with knees and fists at every opportunity. Heavy shoes hit the pavement from the other direction and he saw Sam and Jody racing towards him, shooting glances at Dean, who, in all appearances, had lost control. With his arms bunched in straining muscle, the veins popping out angrily, Dean roared as he fought, looking like an animal gone wild.
Sam skidded down to Cas' level. Huh? Cas glanced upwards. "Oh, I'm on the ground, aren't I?"
He felt Sam's hands on his stomach, checking him or doing something, he didn't know. Castiel watched Jody try to help Dean out, who snarled at her and kept fighting. The break in focus causing him to get hit pretty hard in the ribs, but that only seemed to make Dean angrier.
"This is not good," Castiel said flatly, looking at Sam who seemed very much in agreement. "I'm fine. Help your brother." He gestured towards the fight.
"Cas, you're not fine, you're bleeding, and besides," Sam looked over his shoulder at Dean, "I don't think Dean needs any help."
Castiel followed the direction of those hazel eyes and saw that, indeed, Dean did not need help. At least not help handling the fight, he thought wryly. Jody was standing awkwardly to the side, blade ready and waiting for Dean to allow her into the brawl. But he was, somehow, in his simple human strength, able to keep up with both lessers.
One irate, but very random stabbing from Dean managed to hit home and one of the two remaining lessers fizzled out of existence with a flash of light. Dean seemed stunned, like he'd forgotten they could die with such ease. Castiel noticed the flicker of disappointment and it really worried him. He felt pressure on his stomach and glanced down to see Sam pressing his jacket in a bundle against the wound.
A shot rang out a third time, but thankfully it missed. Dean ripped the gun free and tossed it down. Castiel noticed it close by and picked it up, smelling the chamber and realizing why the bullets had hurt him. They were hand-made and definitely special. Engineered to cause damage to a great many creatures. Sadly for him, that included angels. It would seem that lessers had become privy to the fact that angels were now helping out the Brotherhood. They surely couldn't be happy about that.
"Dean…" Castiel tried to get Dean's attention, but his voice was weak. The rage that had erupted from Dean after Cas had gone down was remarkable as it was terrifying. But still, he tried to snap him out of it. "Dean! I'm fine. Just kill it!" The feeble shout barely carried over the noise of bone hitting bone and growling.
The strain of the attempted yell caused pain to flare up in him, the intensity of it disorienting.
"Hey, hey, relax, Dean's fine." Sam placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. Sadly, they both knew Sam was lying.
Dean knocked the lesser's feet out from under him. It fell, Dean followed, both scrambling on the dirty, cold asphalt. A wet gurgle following a grunt from Dean telling them that the lesser's throat had been sliced open. But that wasn't the end of it. For the next horrifying few minutes, Dean spent bent over, blade in hand, cutting up the black-blooded undead creature with the washed-out hair and the sick-sweet smell that intensified the longer Dean kept at it.
There was a rough, deranged sound coming from him, and murmurs that sounded like speech drowned out by delirium. Someone needed to stop Dean. And Castiel didn't have the strength.
As though a certain goatee'd vampire had heard his plea, a presence appeared out of thin air. Castiel pushed Sam a little of the way so he could look up to see Vishous…and, also, a big man in a baseball cap that looked very ill, and oddly, smelled exactly like those creatures. Brian O'Neil then, he surmised.
Dean was still slicing away. "Why won't you die?" he croaked, his slices turning eerily calm and methodical.
Vishous was the one to step up, laying a hand on Dean's shoulder. "Dean?"
When Dean managed to turn his face up, it was terrifyingly devoid of expression. Vishous looked at the man with a soft smile and said, "Hey buddy." The blood-covered, rage-filled Dean on his knees gave V a helpless stare. Squeezing Dean's shoulder, V calmed Dean with his voice, "You're all done, my friend. He's not going to hurt anyone. I promise. We'll take it from here."
Castiel half-crawled, half-dragged himself over to Dean, Sam awkwardly trying to keep the jacket secured against his wound. He put a hand on Dean's back, commanding his attention.
"I'm okay. Their bullets are…effective, but it's nothing I won't…be fully healed from…in a matter of…hours."
Dean stared back like Castiel had told him something obtrusively complicated, tilting his head, shifting his gaze between Cas, V, his brother, and Jody. When Dean's wandering eyes made their way back around to Cas, he said, "I'd kill anything for you, you know that right? Anything." Dean swallowed, his eyes hard and filled with pain.
All of them were silent as Cas stared back, seeing the brief break in Dean's composure. Castiel knew what he was really saying, knew what he'd left out of that statement. It wasn't about the lesser anymore, and maybe it never was to begin with. This had been all about Dean killing the part of himself that he hated.
"I know." Castiel's eyelids fluttered down, the effort to keep them up turning out to be more difficult than expected. Concentrating, he tried to heal himself but realized quickly, something would need to be done about that bullet first. "Vishous, I could use some assistance."
"'Course. Butch, wanna take care of our mangled friend there?" Vishous said, nodding towards Dean's handiwork.
"With pleasure," Butch replied, going down to his knees and bending over the body. Sam pulled Dean out of the man's way, plopping his brother loosely beside Castiel like he were a bag of sand. Dean didn't seem to really notice.
Everyone but V watched in fascination as Butch sucked the evil out of the lesser. And when it was done? There was no pop, no flash of light, but more a cloud of ash or brown smoke…it was hard to tell. Castiel had never seen anything like it before.
The man that V referred to as Butch rolled to the side when it was done and immediately let out the contents of his stomach, heaving violently. Sam, Dean, and Jody all winced from the wretched awful sound of it—
"—Hey, earth to Angel, this is going to hurt like a bitch," V spoke into his face. Castiel met his eyes and nodded gravely, leaning back to give the male room. His back hit the brick wall and he rested there.
"Wait, what are you doing to him?" Dean spun around to face them, sitting back on his heels. Cas wanted to tell him not to worry but just laid there instead. This bullet had really done a number on him.
Vishous pulled Castiel's shirt out of the way, handing Sam back his jacket at the same time, speaking as he moved, "Dean, the bullets they use have been recently upgraded. Let's say they've got some extra punch to them. One of those badboys is embedded in Castiel's abdomen and in order for him to heal, it's gotta come out. Now, I'll need your help, as I don't want to make this any more painful than necessary. I know you've seen your share of blood so I'm not worried. And you should know: I'm a hell of a nurse." Vishous turned back to wink, before adding, "Also my Shellan is a hot ass doctor so I've got some pretty sick skills when it comes to the doctor-patient stuff. That being said, we're not doing surgery here, and he's an Angel, so we just need to dig that bullet out, true?"
Vishous smiled at him and moved into place. A pained groan came from somewhere on Cas' far left. V didn't even turn around. "Cop, I'll get to ya. Hold on Brother."
"What's wrong with him?" asked Sam.
With a weighted pause, Vishous turned at his waist, pivoting on the balls of his feet from his crouch; first looking at Butch crumpled and in obvious discomfort on the ground, a hand over his stomach, and then to Sam who was squatted down to be at eye level with the rest of them. "You're the in-house tech and research guru, yeah?" Sam nodded. "I imagine after Castiel and I started talking, you had questions, did some research? You read up on anything about a prophecy?" Sam slowly nodded again. Vishous grinned and gestured to his friend. "Meet Butch."
Turning back to Castiel and Dean, Vishous pulled Dean closer. "Now, I need you to put your hands here, keep pressure while I try to find this thing."
Making a sickly sound in his throat, Dean powered on and did as told. Castiel watched, half-intrigued, half-losing consciousness. The whole scene in the alley turned strangely fuzzy, like they were all sitting in a cloud. Something about that thought Castiel found amusing, and he laughed. Dean's gaze flashed to him, a deep frown set into his face.
Seeing V push his sleeves up, Dean said, "Please don't tell me you're actually gonna dig around in there for that bullet…with-with your hands?"
Vishous shot an annoyed look to the side but didn't cater to the question with a response.
"Ready?" V asked.
"No." Dean and Cas both muttered.
"Alright then, let's dig." V smiled, the tips of his fangs barely visible. Castiel had to remember to call that man a sadist when this was over.
With Dean's hands keeping pressure around the wound to stem the flow of blood, Vishous stuck in two fingers into the bullet-hole and Castiel blinked as a black cloud danced throughout his field of vision. The pain was weird; sickening pressure combined with an occasional piercing, stabbing sensation which dominated his world for about five seconds until suddenly, he felt relief. Followed by a dull ache.
"Damn, this bullet is special," V reflected in near awe, holding it in the air, taking stock of its makeup. With the bullet gone, Castiel tried to heal himself but the damage had drained his power and he simply felt too tired to do anything more than lay there.
"Cas, get on with it," Dean insisted, trying to hide the fear in his voice.
Sam was there too. "What's wrong with him? Why isn't he healing?"
"He's been shot with a bullet that's got about five different components to it. A small portion of which contains whatever the hell makes up those wicked angel blades they have. He's whipped. Give him time." Vishous pocketed the special ammo and made his way over to his friend. "Wanna make your way towards the light, cop?" The question was followed by a groan and a thickly spat: 'Fuck off'. They heard V laugh and then the two were quiet.
"Cas?" There was Dean's voice again. Hmmm…. So deep, and sexy.
"Your voice is arousing," Castiel muttered, his eyes fluttering as the pain washed over him in muted throbs, his energy sinking fast as his body tried to heal.
Dean's eyes were abruptly right in his face, maybe two inches away. The stare was fierce. "Hey, probably not the time to hit on me, but thanks. Listen, I know you're tired, but you gotta try to heal yourself, k? I don't wanna be needy or anything, but, well—fuck it—I am. Can't handle seeing you like this. So get that angel mojo workin', alright?"
Castiel tried to nod but ended up letting his head fall forward and cracking Dean on the nose with his forehead. Then he was out like a light.
/\/\/\
By the time Cas came to, they were still in the alley. Sans cloud and a fog of pain, though. Butch was no longer looking ill, and everyone was standing except himself and Dean, whose nose had a red mark across the bridge from Castiel's forehead. Remembering the bullet, his hand went for his stomach and felt through the gaping shirt to find smooth skin. Sweat was cool on his forehead and in his hair and other places. The healing and injury had exhausted him, but the majority of the damage was now taken care of.
"Hey, everything good?" Dean had a hand on his thigh and one on his face. The man's palm was warm and…wet?
Castiel looked sideways and realized Dean was covered in the black blood of the enemy. He frowned, remembering the way Dean had looked, crazed, and fighting with more or less straight-up adrenaline rather than skill or strength.
"Yes," he answered slowly. "Are you?"
Dean blinked, looked down at himself and seemed to finally clue in that was covered in black syrupy goo. Focusing hard, he turned his hands over and saw the bloodied knuckles and scrapes. With a poor attempt to wipe his shaking hands on his jeans, he said, "I'm fine. I'm good. Yeah." His hands not the only thing about him that trembled.
Sam helped Dean up out of his crouch and V did the same for Cas, the blood draining from his head as he stood, but thankfully he suffered only minor listing, before regaining his bearings.
Dean was reaching for him immediately, taking his hand and trying to pull him closer, but Castiel felt V's hard stare on him and he pulled away from Dean reluctantly. Behind them, Jody, Sam, and Butch were discussing something quietly. The pitch and fall of Sam's voice telling Castiel that he was intrigued and fascinated, asking question after question of the man of prophecy who Castiel noted had a peculiar accent characterized by the lack of enunciating the 'r' sound.
"We need to talk." V said, glancing at Dean for a moment to gauge the temperature between them before dragging Castiel down the alley with quick checks of the surroundings.
/\/\/\
As he watched Castiel laboriously following Vishous down the alley, Dean wondered for a moment if V was planning to tell Cas about the tat. The second his brain made the decision to follow after them, V looked up from twenty feet away and met his eyes. It was like the club all over again, that initial tick of familiarity. Giving Dean a single blink, somehow Dean knew to stay where he was, that Vishous wasn't about to give him up. He didn't know how he knew, he just did.
The fight had given him some pretty bad shakes and the cool blood sticking to him in the chilled night air didn't help in the least. Especially not as the relentless gusts of wind seemed to tunnel between the buildings and rip right through him. The scary thing about the fight was that he couldn't remember any of it. Nothing after the sight of Cas getting shot and slowly sinking to the ground, that flash of grace cracking through the bullet wound had sent Dean into a rage. Everything after that was black…
He'd done good in the fight though, he knew that. For two reasons: One, because his hands felt enormous and were throbbing with dull pain, and second, because despite the black sludge everywhere, there was no white crust around his crotch so…yay.
Each passing minute, Dean was feeling more and more strung out. In twenty minutes, they'd made it back to the motel, dirty and tired, but alive. Castiel's skin was ashen and sweaty. Dean couldn't stop his eyes from darting to the side in the back of the car, repeatedly checking to make sure the angelic grace wasn't flaring inside the angel towards death or anything. 'Cause every damn time he closed his eyes it was all he could fucking see.
After several long minutes, with them piled into one of the rooms, the heat cranked high on the thermostat and humming into the room, Dean broke the silence.
"So what now?"
Sam and Jody shared a look, and then Sam said, "Well, Butch, the Sox-cap guy, he is supposedly the one that can kill the thing that creates these undead guys."
"The Omega whackjob you told me about earlier?"
"Yeah, him. Obviously you saw the difference between us stabbing them in the heart and Butch, like, inhaling them or whatever."
"Kinda hard to miss," Dean agreed.
Jody looked up from her lean against the TV stand. "He told Sam and me that when they are stabbed, the mojo that keeps them alive, some part of the Omega gets flashed back to him, like a revolving door of evil. But what Butch does it totally different; he's taking it into himself. It's why he looked like he'd eaten rotten chicken."
"Yeah, and then he was fine after Vishous went over to him. What happened there?" Dean asked, now looking to Cas for an answer, who so far seemed preoccupied and distant.
"Sorry, what?" Cas blinked, turning to face them.
"What were you and V talking about?" Dean changed course, deeming the new topic more important.
"Nothing, they are struggling. It's getting much worse."
Dean and Sam shared a look they'd shared many times before, the 'shit's-about-to-hit-the-fan' look. "Cas, how does V fix the Sox fan?"
Castiel squinted, his head tipping to the right, "He's a fan of socks? That's odd. I mean they're warm and—"
"—Cas!" Dean interrupted, secretly enamoured by Cas' obliviousness. "Not the clothing. It's a baseball team. Anyways…what does V do?"
"Oh, he is a descendant of a deity and has a peculiar ability to banish certain amounts of evil. Similar to the way I can kill a demon but the metaphysics of death or, more accurately, inexistence in this case are drastically different."
When Cas finished talking everyone was staring at him. Dean said, "No idea what the fuck you just said at the end there, but basically you're saying Vishous gets rid of the evil that Butch sucks up?"
"Essentially, yes."
"Just when you think you've seen it all…" Dean muttered mostly to himself, 'cause let's face it, he'd seen his fuckload of messed up shit. But two men (correction: vampires) acting like an industrial processor of evil was certainly new.
For the most part, Dean had managed to keep it together but with each passing minute, the urge to shove Sam and Jody out the door was eating away at him. Every other breath, a flash of Cas dying in front of him crashed into his mind and it wouldn't stop. He knew it was only a matter of time before the images warped and turned ugly. All the crazy upstairs was rattling loose and he closed his eyes to try and stop it, but all that did was bring on things he'd rather not see.
There was only one thing he needed to feel okay. And that was Cas. The comforting heat of his body, feeling it alive and safe beside him. The deep blue eyes that could calm him and unravel him as necessary. He needed it all tonight, and he needed it now.
Cas' deep voice broke into his thoughts. "Let's get some rest," he said, watching Dean with a keen eye. Sam seemed to understand, getting the urge to leave in precisely that moment and walked to the door, his broad hand on Jody's back, rubbing it gently. As he held the door open, Sam looked back at his brother.
"After what happened, you still gonna let Cas keep this secret?" asked Sam with a bitter edge.
Dean's jaw clenched as he glared at his brother. "Yes. I am actually. Now get the goddamn hell out of our room."
Feeling free to let his earlier fear drive his actions, he went for Cas just as the door clicked shut. He threw his arms around Castiel's neck, pushing his hands up into his hair and kissed him hard, moaning at the sheer relief of feeling the angel's hard body against him.
A flow of energy rippled over his skin and he realized Cas had cleaned him up; all the icky sludge gone from his skin and clothes, even under his nails. Cas looked worse for wear because of it, the colour draining from the angel's face with the minor show of power. It only reminded Dean of how much of a close call it had been. What if the bullet had pierced his heart?
Shaken as he was, Dean moved with determination, reaching to pull Cas' jacket off as Castiel palmed the back of his head to bring him down for more of the heated kissing…
He stood strong and dominant, the demons on their knees surrounding him. Abaddon felt resplendent in her new meat. She was letting them all take turns sucking her off. Which meant Dean too, of course. He was there, huddled in his own subconscious feeling every mouth on him, every exploratory finger, every bite of sharp teeth. And Her moaning inside his head, the sound coming out in his voice.
The blood drained from his face but Dean kept going. No way was he letting that shit back in, he needed Cas. After tonight his need was everything. All around him. He flinched every time a new memory poured like acid into his brain, but he kept tugging Cas' clothes off, rhyming off promise after promise that he would kill anything that threatened his angel.
"Even me…even me," he said.
Dean didn't care or even really notice that Cas wasn't going for his clothes, he'd moved on and started doing that himself. Cas was shadowing the movements of his hands as he ripped himself free of layers, his pants got stuck and he kept pushing them down until they were nothing but shackles around his ankles. He lunged at Cas' mouth, breathing the scent of his face and breath. Cas kissed him back but it was hesitant and skeptical. Dean kissed harder, wanting to feel the bite of a hard touch; it was more real than anything else.
"I can't lose you…after everything…I'm not strong enough for that," he said in low words against Cas' skin, kissing and cherishing every inch of his body from his forehead, to his eyelids, to the curve of his neck, ears, chest, nipples, ribs… He went down and down until he was on his knees…
"Dean, honey, we all know you love cock, and this one is all yours." She crooned as she forced them to the floor and let one of her favourites fuck his mouth raw. She laughed inside his head, laughed with joy, pumping his blood full of pleasure even as he coughed and gagged. His sensations split between her influence and his experience in whatever capacity she allowed it. Always in control. "Of course baby, you're mine now."
Dean swallowed Cas down in one go. Yes, Dean, suck it good before he's gone. Forcing himself down into Cas' groin, eating up the thick, heady scent, he held himself there, trading oxygen for Cas' cock until he neared passing out. With a wet sounding gasp, he pulled off. Saliva beginning to drip down his chin, Dean mouthed at the head, sucking the tip hard and then flicking the sensitive spot on the underside. Cas' erection didn't seem to be staying hard and Dean imagined he must be doing an awful job.
It's not enough Dean! You need to give him more. Gotta let the angel fuck you open like you did to him, like we did. You know you want that, you know you need him to claim you. Baby, spread yourself open before you ruin it, just like you ruined everything, just like you ruined us.
There was sharp throb coming from his scalp, and he didn't comprehend that Cas was trying to pull him off. To Dean, the rough grip was encouragement. That bite of pain, mixed with Cas' half-hard cock in his mouth made Dean shake and his dick hopped with excitement.
Yessss… Let him rattle you, baby. Do it now before he's gone. You need him.
Dean's breath hitched, he shook his head trying to split the two paths his brain was going. He kept seeing Cas dying, and now worse, and She was right, he needed this. The world was white-washing away and they were at the center of it. And soon there would be nothing.
Somewhere, he could hear a voice, a murmur in his ears but everything else in his head was so loud that anything else just got pushed out. Dean managed to get himself on two feet, his throat sore, pulling Cas to the bed, grabbing at his neck and his arms. "C'mon, Cas…I need you…I need you."
Those plush lovely lips were moving but Dean wasn't hearing a word of it. "Fuck me Cas, I'm yours. Make me all yours before you die. You're gonna die, Cas. We're all gonna die." Dean's heart stopped and then in a split-second it was back and more distressed than ever. Cause it would probably be him that would do the killing.
Of course it will be you.
Dean pulled and pulled. "Please," he sobbed, trying to get Cas down on the bed and inside of him. All of him ached for it, he needed to feel it, needed to feel all of Cas, every thick inch, wanted to swallow the warm release, and know that a part of his angel would be absorbed into him. Cas was only flaccid because Dean's mouth wasn't enough. Who was he kidding?! Of course it wasn't. Because Cas needed more, needed to be deep inside Dean, just like Dean wanted too.
Words mangled with sobs, Dean pleaded, "Pl-please Cas, take mmm-me 'part. Spread my legs, t-t-t-take me, go deep into me, all the-the-the way. Its-its the righ-ight thing."
Strong arms swung around Dean's torso, trapping his arms and squeezing tight. A vice-grip that left him hardly able to breathe. "Cas! What are you doing? We need this," he cried.
I need this, he thought. I need you.
Dean bit Cas' skin in frustration from being trapped but the angel didn't respond, continuing to hold Dean in the barricade of his arms. Dean sniffed, and murmured into Cas' ear, begging.
A sharp sound pierced the room and the light exploded overhead throwing everything into darkness. Dean was begging harder, desperate to have Cas with him before the angel was killed by Dean's own hands in some awful, inevitable future. He was responsible for tonight, he knew it. Dean was the reason everything was going sideways. It was his fault that the lessers were everywhere. And Cas…was…. Cas was—
Dean watched in horror as Cas' hand went to his stomach, blood seeping between his fingers. There was a look of shock on his face, his mouth hanging open, eyes wide. A flicker of blue light was visible beneath Cas' bloodied hand and Dean felt his whole world collapse. And then all he saw was black.
The blue light surrounded him now, hurting his eyes, wide shadows ominously crowding the room. Flashes of familiar sights flickered in and out of his subconscious but it couldn't override the need, couldn't break the cycle that he'd tumbled into.
"Cas?" he begged weakly, trying to rub his crotch against whatever it was touching. The please he mouthed afterwards barely had sound.
Finding Cas' eyes, Dean saw the unnaturally bright blue surrounded by pale skin. The room had sunken back into darkness, shadows falling from the walls. Without warning, something soft and warm enveloped him, and for a moment he thought maybe it was Cas' grace or wings. Maybe Cas was loving and holding him in a different way. But when he looked down, he saw it was only a thick fleece blanket covering him up.
No, goddammit!
"No, no, no… Don't you want me too? Please, we don't-we don't"—Dean started to hyperventilate—"ha-ave a lot of time. I-I can feel it. The end is coming," he declared, looking sharp into Cas' widened blue eyes, fixed on Dean in a way that said something was really, really wrong.
"I know, I know, I know… You're worried," Dean rambled then, "But it's fine. See?" Trying to smile, he felt his nose running. Sniffing a few times, Dean licked his lips, worried how many days they had left in this broken world. "I am so ready. Cas I need us, like," he sniffed again and tried to bring his hands together to link his fingers in a visual display of what he wanted, of what he meant, but they were still trapped so he shrugged pathetically. "I need us togeth-together… I need that. Give me…that. Be-f-f-f-ore the end, k?" Dean's voice kept breaking, stuttering as his lip trembled, his lungs hitching and he hated that it made his argument seem any less valid.
Cas frowned, regarding him with deep concentration, a hand rubbing his back in quick passes. "Yes, Dean." Castiel answered placidly, stroking him. Dean felt a crashing wave of relief with those words. All the fire and ice in him would be mellowed. Finally. With Cas inside him, it would all be right.
"Good, c'mon, c'mon…" Dean tried to step backwards but nearly tripped, his pants still pooled at his feet. Thankfully, Cas was still holding him tight and secure. Nice and safe…
The soothing hand on his back went up to his head and squeezed gently the back of his neck.
"I'm very sorry Dean."
Dean blinked, feeling wetness on his lashes, his stomach seemed to drop. "Sorry for what?"
From the periphery, he saw the hand coming up to his forehead, he parted his lips to yell at Cas no, but it was too late.
/\/\/\
Dean went limp in his arms and Castiel let the floodgates open, tears streaming silently down his face. His chest ached horribly as he let the pain take him over, his body in tremors as he gripped Dean tight to himself. He couldn't have imagined Dean could snap from being relatively fine to not even remotely aware of himself or what he'd been doing. Cas had been drained as it was and trying to fend Dean off—a man of roughly two-hundred pounds fired up on adrenaline, combined with the commanding intensity of his emotions—was nearly impossible. He'd built up stores of energy and let it flare out along with the shadows of his wings to try and shock Dean back into some concept of normal, but even that hadn't worked. And so he had to knock Dean out the same as he'd done in the past. It felt like cheating, and he hated it.
Reorganizing his face into normalcy, smoothing out his own features, sniffing, and wiping his damp cheeks, Castiel lifted Dean and lowered him gently to the bed, making sure the thick blanket stayed securely wrapped around him. Dean must have stretched his lips too wide, or maybe banged one on Castiel's teeth while they'd kissed, and as a result there was a thin split in his top lip. A bright red line, not actively bleeding, but there. Cas touched the spot to have it gone. A breath hitched in his throat but he pushed the emotion down, trying to forget the last fifteen minutes. For a moment, Castiel had thought, or rather hoped, that things were fine, but the more Dean pulled at him, all but tearing their clothes off despite Castiel's ignored objections, muttering mindless pleas, not hearing a word he said, Castiel realized how quickly things had gone wrong.
He walked in a daze to the bag he had, pulled out pajama bottoms and a plain t-shirt, throwing both on. He climbed into bed and wrapped himself around Dean. It still didn't feel like it was enough though, and he wished he weren't so tired, or he would pull his wings fully into this plane of reality and wrap a large wing over Dean. Instead, he buried his face in Dean's hair and squeezed the blanket-covered body tighter against himself. A single sob managed to escape, and it hurt. Everything hurt.
That night he slept.
Castiel slept because he was exhausted, he slept because he'd been shot, but mostly, he slept because he couldn't bear the thought of the future for another fucking minute.
/\/\/\
Back in the alley, in a pothole on the far left side of the pathway, sunken right up against the building, a phone lay in the groove. Black and nearly invisible in the shadows, it had been tossed off by one of the undead during the fight. Though it had been mere feet from where Castiel and Vishous had spoken, neither had noticed it. And worse, neither knew the device had been on, recording every word. The knowledge about to be gained by the other side was detrimental.
Strolling down the path, pale skin looking aglow in the moonlight, the white-haired lesser smiled the way only evil can. The corners of his thin mouth pinched into the corners, one side a little higher than the other. Yes, H thought, today was the day he would be noticed. Today was the day his idea had panned out. All the other lessers thought they were so fucking special. This time, it would be H who would get their Master's attention and praise. Whistling low, he bent to the ground and snatched up the phone. Clicking off the recording, he stuck the thing into his jeans' pocket.
"Oh, Master, have I got a surprise for you."
