AN: I decided to upload early, you're welcome :) Thank you so much for hanging on for this wild ride of a story. This next chapter is Intense! 14k and so many feels, I'm just warning you now.
Let's just say that I may have channeled a certain actor's mean-spirited words from a few weekends ago into the sweetest nonsense ever. I'm not sorry, I needed it.
So, there are sexy times in this chapter! And fighting violence is described.
Enjoy the ride!
This chapter was once again amazingly beta'd by a href="OtrSupernatural" rel="nofollow"Static_Saturn/a-thank you for helping make this the best fic ever!
The sky was cloaked in seconds as a massive thunderstorm formed from nothing. Lighting flickered across the gray anvil clouds and the wind picked up substantially. The crash of thunder was so loud Dean and Anna instinctively flinched. He remembered Sam mentioning the area around the tree was known for weird weather-was it Anna's grace, or Uriel himself, causing the storm to appear randomly?
While shoving the bottle of grace back under his collar, Uriel glared disdainfully at Cas. "Knew we should have killed you when we had the chance. It would have been merciful compared to what you've been reduced to, you traitorous stain."
Another deafening crack of ground-shaking thunder followed his declaration like the bang of a judge's gavel. Dean started forward, nostrils flaring, ears ringing. He was going to summon Cas's angel blade and carve the bastard's heart from his chest-
Don't. Cas stopped his advance with a hand on his forearm, fingertips digging in slightly. We're outgunned.
Dean glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. Since when has that stopped us before?
This is not the time to become a metaphorical lemming.
Picked a hell of a time to throw my words back at me, dude.
Cas squinted from him to Uriel. If we're going to live, we have to outsmart him.
"If you're going to challenge me," Uriel called out as his wings flared up, the black lightning sparking from his eyes skittering up his wings and discharging up into the storm. A monsoon's worth of rain poured down in seconds, soaking everyone to the bone and turning the field into a muddy swamp. "Do so like a proper angel, at least."
Dean didn't move except to blink the rain from his eyes. Anna was behind him, shivering slightly, her bra visible through the soaked white blouse. Dean was about to pull off his flannel and let her wear it when Cas disappeared.
Tap tap. Cas straightened up, pushing back his shoulders and puffing up his chest. His angel blade slipped into his hand as he waited for Uriel to make the first move.
What does he mean? Alastair said something like that too.
Angels fight with their wings, Cas explained. I can't.
Of course, he couldn't. His wings were all fucked up; they'd be nothing but giant bullseyes for a douchebag like this Uriel guy. Doesn't matter. We'll beat him on our terms.
The driving rain and now howling wind made the world muffled and hazy. Even wearing a purple suit, Uriel and his wings were blending into the storm too well; In fact-
Cas, where'd he go?
Tightening his fist around the handle, Cas eyes darted back and forth, but the other angel had disappeared.
Uriel plummeted from the sky and smashed into Cas like a celestial wrecking ball. Uriel was on him immediately once Cas came to a skidding halt in the mud. He sharply twisted Cas's hand, forcing him to drop his blade. Cas put his forearms up to try and defend them, still dazed from the initial crash. "Fight me properly, you Fallen traitor!" Uriel snarled over the pounding rain.
Through their eyes, Dean saw that Anna was sneaking up behind Uriel. Her hand was outstretched, and the bottle of grace under his collar was floating up and towards her. She was using the little bit of angelic power she had, trying to steal it from under his nose.
Unfortunately, Uriel noticed her.
Between heartbeats, Uriel disappeared. A heart-wrenching scream echoed through the rain, as well as a sickening snap. Cas whirled around to find Uriel slamming Anna repeatedly against the old oak's trunk. She hung limp, bloody and broken, from his hand. The rain washed the blood from her down past the tree's roots and into the rising floodwater.
Anna! Shit, Cas, help her! Dean demanded helplessly.
Finding the blade a few steps away, shining under the water, Cas threw it with inhuman strength-not even the driving rain or wind slowed it down as it shot towards Uriel's back. Sweeping down, one of his wings knocked the blade aside.
"Wait your turn, traitor," Uriel growled over his shoulder.
That fraction of a second, where he focused on Cas instead of Anna, became the opening she needed. Though she looked like she'd lost ten rounds with Apollo Creed, she found the strength to reach up and grab the bottle of grace. With a defiant scream, Anna smashed the bottle against Uriel's temple, causing him to stumble back. The silvery grace flowed into her open mouth. Shaking violently like she was having a seizure, Anna's skin started to glow. Her scream of pain broke off when she exploded into a cloud of white light.
Anna was gone-the grace they needed the end this whole fucking thing was gone.
NO! Goddammit! If Dean were driving, he would've thrown something with all his might as despair overtook him.
Cas only clenched his jaw and ground his teeth, but he didn't react otherwise, too intent on readying himself for Uriel's next move. With a howl of frustration followed by a crack of thunder, Uriel whipped around and flung his blade, aiming right for Cas's heart.
Dean watched the blade flying towards them like a silver arrow. Thinking on his feet, Cas forced his avatar out of Dean hard enough that he was shoved a half step aside-
"Ah, fuck!" Dean fell back on the muddy ground, groaning through gritted teeth. The blade was lodged in his lower stomach, scarily close to his kidney. Blood spilled from the wound, mixing with the rain; his skin prickled with goosebumps from the burning pain licking up his side. He clamped his left hand over the wound, trying to stem the blood flow.
Cas flickered into existence, crouched next to him, both watching Uriel stomp towards them like an enraged rhino. Dean tried to pull himself back, but he slipped on the mud and wet vegetation. However, Dean did feel the familiar shape of his flask in his back pocket. Can you get his grace?
Cas glanced at him. Yes, but I have to cut it out.
Dean slowly pulled his hand back from the bleeding wound. He'd been holding the blade as still as possible, so it didn't nick anything inside him. I've got my flask-take the knife and do it quick.
Cas's eyes darted between Dean's face and the silver handle sticking out of his abdomen. He gave a curt nod. Sorry, he whispered as he swiftly jerked the angel blade free. The squelchy, sucking sound was almost worse than the pain; blood wasn't flooding out of him. Uriel must not have hit an artery.
When Cas launched himself at Uriel, bloody blade in his hand, he didn't pause or slow down. One of his gray wings came around like an arm throwing a punch-Cas ducked under it and sprang up, slicing open the base of Uriel's throat with inhuman precision. Blood wasn't the only thing poured from the wound-Uriel gargled in pain and panic as grace began to escape. Cas grabbed Uriel and shoved him to knees in front of Dean.
As soon as Cas attacked, Dean had to take several precious seconds to work the flask from his back pocket and uncap it with a shaking hand. He shoved the opening up to Uriel's neck in time, so the grace slipped inside. When the last bit left him, the rain and wind stopped as suddenly as it had started; the sky still churned angrily above them.
Shoving the incapacitated Uriel out of his way, Cas dropped down to his knees. He pushed the ruined, wet t-shirt up gingerly to expose Dean's stomach and the ragged, triangular wound.
"Honestly, this isn't the worst stabbing I've ever gotten in my life," Dean joked quietly, slipping the flask back into his pocket. That didn't stop Cas from narrowing his eyes at him.
Cas gently lay his large hands on Dean's paling abdomen, though he still hissed in pain. Both warmth and a golden light sank into his wound. There was a numbness to the area as Dean watched his muscles and flesh heal. Despite the circumstances, he felt safe in Cas's literal hands.
Dean looked towards the bloodied tree. "What happened to Anna?" He asked somberly.
"I don't know," Cas said honestly, brow furrowed in concentration. "Not sure what happens when an angel who rejected their grace gets it back; I haven't experienced it myself."
It must have been the blood loss because Dean replied, rather sappily, "Glad you're talking to me again. Kinda missed the sass."
"I didn't stop. I just...you and Anna seemed to be getting along," Cas admitted as the light stopped, and he pulled his hands away. Dean's stomach was whole and unblemished. A flashback of him checking out the lack of hellhound wounds after crawling out of his grave crossed his mind.
"News flash, Cas, I like to talk to people."
There was something in the way Cas wouldn't meet his eyes as he sat back on his heels that made something click for Dean. "Wait, were you jealous?"
"I…" Cas trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck. Dean recognized himself and Sam in the gesture. "She's-"
There was movement behind him as Uriel reared up, ready to attack them with a snarl, but he froze, surprise on his face. A silver tip of an angel blade appeared through his neck from behind. Uriel toppled over, dead, as Anna stood behind him. She was healed up, and her clothes were clean and dry. With a roll of her shoulders, Dean saw she had wings now. They were cherry blossom pink, with every feather tipped with burgundy.
"You're alive!" Dean said, shoulders sagging in relief.
With a snap of her fingers, the entire scene around them changed. The storm dissipated, and the sunny blue sky was back. The whole field was returned to its earlier, pristine condition. Dean's clothes were clean and completely dry; even the rip in his shirt was fixed.
Her wings folded down behind her as she helped Cas and Dean to their feet. She and Cas both peered down at Uriel's bleeding corpse. "I've wanted to do that for a long time," she admitted. Then her face fell. "I'm so sorry about the grace, Cas. I had no choice."
Dean dusted off his jeans, a cocky smile growing across his face. "Luckily, we're good at thinking on our feet," he said as he pulled out the flask and wiggled it.
"Wait, you managed to get Uriel's grace?" She smiled, impressed. "I'm starting to see why everyone backs the Winchesters."
"Yep, we're awesome," Dean said. "Now, we need to skedaddle."
"Do you want to set the field on fire first? To keep your streak going?" Anna teased.
"Still not a pyro," he protested, hustling back through the forest path that led to the little spot he'd parked the Impala. Sucking in air after his jog, he leaned against the side of the car and texted Sam to check-in. A moment later, a set of coordinates came through. Checking the road atlas in the glove box, Dean figured out the place was smack dab in the middle of the Appalachians of West Virginia.
"I could teleport you, now that I have my powers back," Anna said when he explained where his brother was waiting for them.
"Dean doesn't fly," Cas told her simply, his arms crossed.
"Does instant teleportation count as flying through?" She questioned.
Dean bit his lip. He usually wouldn't even consider anything that made his feet leave terra firma. Dean felt the prickle on the back of his neck as his anxiety about flying tried to claw into him. He swallowed it down. "Look, any other time, I'd say thanks but no thanks. But my ass is about to have a permanent outbreak of hemorrhoids at this point, so let's get the lead out and don't forget my baby."
Cas vanished just as Anna grabbed his hand and touched the roof of the Impala. A second later, he was in the middle of a forest. There was an old hotel in front of him, rundown and overgrown as mountains rose around them. It was a quiet, serene place.
After grabbing his duffle and slinging it over his shoulder, he slowly approached the central doorway to the overgrown, crumbling building. Dean stepped inside and had to blink rapidly at how bright it was inside. The inside of the run-down hotel was cleaned up and stylishly decorated with paintings and other kitschy stuff.
A man at the front desk looked suspiciously like Gabriel in a concierge outfit and a tiny mustache. "Good evening, Sirs and Lady," the man greeted them with a bow.
Dean glanced around, bewildered. "Where the hell are we?"
"You guys are so slow!" The real Gabriel was popping Skittles into his mouth and standing behind them. "We've been waiting for ages!"
"Yeah, well, some of us didn't have wings to take us to the magic oak tree," Dean grumbled.
"Wait a minute," Anna said. Her hands were on her hips, and her skeptical gaze was burning a hole through Gabriel. Behind her, her wings fluttered slightly. "You aren't a Trickster."
Anna turned to Cas, who rolled his eyes. "Gabriel?" She asked hesitantly.
Instead of the shock Dean was expecting, Gabriel just upended the bag and ate the last of his candy in silence. When he was done (and magicked away the trash) and saw everyone watching him, he cracked. "Oh, for Dad's sake-yes, alright? I'm alive and well, ta-da!" He said with little jazz hands. "And look at you, Anna, a fallen angel like dear old Cas? Guess Fallen is the flavor of the month around here."
"Not sure I like being compared to ice cream," Anna told him. "I prefer chocolate cake."
A lop-sided grin grew over Gabriel's face. "Is that why you left Heaven?"
"Well, I wanted to have sex, too."
"An angel after my own heart! Sam will have to be on the lookout for you," Gabriel declared with a wink and a hand over his heart.
A golden hotel key poofed into existence in Dean and Anna's hands with a snap of his free hand. "Courtesy of being friends with the management," he said. "Everyone gets their own fully loaded, soundproof rooms," Gabriel said playfully. "Meet at the bar in two hours for a strategy meeting; don't care whatcha do until then!" He disappeared.
Dean and Cas went into their room, and Dean almost died from shock. Everything was white and spotless. The king-size bed was so inviting-looking. Kicking off his boots and throwing his flannel on a comfy navy recliner made him feel slightly less gross. Dean checked out the room curiously, dropping his duffle by the side of the bed.
Cas sat on the end of the bed, clearly unsure what he was supposed to do.
"It's called relaxing, Cas. Ever heard of it?" Dean teased. He popped his head into the bathroom and almost cried at the sight of the giant shower and the oversized bath big enough to count as a jacuzzi. Everything was promptly forgotten as Dean took the longest hot shower of his life, using the complimentary shampoo and conditioner, which smelled like cinnamon and vanilla. I'm gonna smell like a cinnamon roll. Why am I surprised?
He ended his shower with an impromptu AC/DC concert, singing obnoxiously off-key into his shampoo bottle microphone. Once out of the marvelous shower, Dean's mood soured to annoyance when he realized he'd forgotten to bring a change of clothes. Dammit. Slinging a fluffy towel around his waist, Dean wasn't expecting Cas to be still sitting there on the bed.
Dean licked his lip awkwardly when Cas's eyes took in his bare chest-droplets of water trickling down and soaking into the towel-and then met his eyes. "Forgot my clothes."
Cas, visibly flustered as if he'd done something way worse than ogle him, pointed to the dresser. When Dean opened the top drawer, he found all his clothes from his bag folded and put away. Dean glanced at Cas, eyebrow up. Shit. No one should be allowed to make awkward look that adorable.
"Thanks, man." Dean grabbed his clothes and pulled everything on quickly, noticing that Cas was steadfastly not looking at him. He wasn't sure how to feel about that. Once dressed, Dean turned on the large screen TV and chucked the remote to Cas, who caught it easily.
"Welcome to the 21st century Cas. You've got a lot of catching up to do."
Cas squinted at him. "Where are you going?"
"Just checking on Sammy. Bonus points if I can interrupt anything."
Dean shut his door and walked down to the last two doors. Taking a chance, he pushed his ear against the door to see if he heard his brother.
He could hear Sam intoning something. "Zo Ra De Nah Do-"
There was a sound of bubble gum popping. "Nope. Zora Denado, try again, kiddo. This isn't an exorcism. You don't have to intone it like it's last rites."
"Well, technically, if this works, it would be Lilith's last rites."
Gabriel chuckled. "Touche. Also, you should get the door for your brother before I start jumping on the bed and making awkward sex noises."
Sam burst out laughing while Dean tried not to gag out loud. There was a shuffle, and a few seconds later, Sam opened the door, trying to turn his grin into a frown. "You could've knocked instead of eavesdropping like a creep," Sam chastised him.
"Well, hi to you too, Sam," Dean said as he stepped inside and Sam closed the door. The room was a replica of his own. Across his massive bed were scattered pages from his legal pad. There were balled-up sheets tossed around the floor.
Gabriel had his feet kicked up in the room's recliner, though this one was a plush red. With a piece of green string, he attempted a cat's cradle, chewing gum while concentrating.
"Did you get the grace?" Sam asked.
"Yup. And you met a prophet; what was he like?"
Sam huffed and ran a hand through his hair. He settled on, "Maladjusted."
"Guess that's my word of the day," Dean said. "You wanna elaborate?"
"Not really. But, check this out!" Sam whirled around, and Dean saw a stack of paperback novels on the bedside table. He chucked one to Dean, who almost fumbled it but ended up snorting hard at the cover.
"Gross, keep your Fabio-covered bodice ripper to yourself," Dean complained.
"Read the back, dumbass," Sam said, ignoring Dean's dig at him.
Dean started reading the synopsis, and his jaw fell to the floor. His eyes shot up to Sam, who nodded sagely. "No...there's no way!"
"Yup," Gabriel grunted, scowling at his entangled hands. The string unraveled itself, and he tried again. "Turns out that maladjusted novelist has been writing and publishing your gospels as dimestore misadventures."
"He writes our lives?" Dean asked. "Like...God?"
"No, he's more of a divinely attuned psychic," Sam explained. "And get this: the series was picked up for a syndicated prime time TV show. Now, the show couldn't get all the rights to the characters, so they had to change some things around, but ..."
Dean hated the conspiratorial look Sam and Gabe shared. "What show?"
"Told you already, Deano. Paranatural should have felt like home sweet home," Gabriel snickered.
"Ronny the smart trucker, the Gunn brothers," Dean scrubbed a hand over his mouth, eyes wide and flabbergasted. "...holy shit, how did I not connect the dots before?"
"I mean, our lives are insane but," Sam picked up another book, this time with a terrifying Scarecrow on the front. "This is a whole new level of insanity."
"What a second, did you say 'gospels?'"
"Yep, that's what prophets write."
Dean glanced at the stack of at least two dozen books then rubbed his eyes. Everything, from amazement to embarrassment and a sense of violation of their privacy, ran through him. "I think my brain just exploded."
"You think a little TV show is a violation of your privacy?" Gabriel asked. "Wait until you discover what slash is."
Dean furrowed his brow. "Slash? What does Guns N Roses have to do with anything?"
Sam shook his head vehemently. "Gabe, no!" He turned to Dean. "Trust me, do NOT Google anything about this series. You'll be scarred for life."
"You don't tell me what to do," Dean muttered, memorizing the title and the author's name-Carver Edlund, must have been an alias-to look up later.
Dean whirled on Gabriel. "This isn't you two messing with me, right?"
"Gabriel didn't talk to Chuck. I did. And he pretty much almost had a coronary when one of his 'characters' showed up on his doorstep. I don't think that guy could have acted to save his life."
"You didn't go with him?" Dean asked.
Gabriel snorted. "Hells, no! Prophets are guarded by Raphael. There's no way I'm going near him. I'd be dead before I knew what hit me."
"Sounds like your brother's a real piece of work."
"You don't know the half of it," Gabriel lamented. "I'm related to Lucifer. Dick brothers are, unfortunately, the norm upstairs."
Not sure what to do with that new tidbit of information, Dean picked up the pages of chicken scratch on the bed. "What's this?"
"It's practice," Sam said.
Gabriel tilted his head slightly and directed his gaze towards Sam. With a proud little smile, he said, "He's going to be the one performing the spell."
Dean paused, "Wait, why? You're the one who knows this spell-you suggested it."
"Yeah, I suggested it-you think I have been around for years and not picked up a few things along the way? I'm enough of an angel to admit that it's not my forte. I can snap anything I want into existence; why be proficient in spellwork?"
Displeased when he'd gotten too tangled up to continue, Gabriel huffed and flicked his hands, making the string vanish.
"Sambrina, the teenage witch, though," Sam scowled at him, but the archangel just smirked back. "He has a natural gift for it, which we can use to our advantage."
Despite his lips pursing in annoyance, Sam's face brightened until he smiled. He caught Dean's eyes and flinched slightly, and that got a rise out of him.
"Hey, I already told you, dude. We're freaks together. Long as you aren't hurting anything small and fluffy, this ain't a dealbreaker." Come on, Sammy, I had your back when you drank demon blood. This shouldn't be a question.
"I know," Sam said apologetically. "Old habits die hard, I guess."
"So, Sam's doing the spell; what'll you be doing?"
Gabriel stood up, suddenly uncharacteristically somber, and shoved his hands into his jacket pockets. "Ye~ah, about that. This is actually where we're going to part ways."
"What are you talking about?" Sam and Dean asked in tandem.
"No hard feelings, guys, but I've stuck my neck out for you chumps to cover me for the next few eons." Gabriel raised his hand as if to snap, but Sam strode forward and grabbed his wrist.
"Wait, now wait a second," Sam objected, eyebrows drawn together. "What are-why would you-why?"
"Hey, I'm just sticking to our original agreement," Gabriel argued, easily breaking Sam's hold on him. "I got you what you needed; Cassie and I are even stevens. Therefore, I'm out."
"You're seriously going to ditch us, now, at the three-yard line?" Dean criticized.
The golden eyes of the archangel narrowed dangerously at Dean. "Don't presume to know me."
Sam's face paled, and Dean knew he'd been struck by those words, even if they hadn't been aimed at him. Still, Sam tried one last time. "Gabriel, we need you there." Sam paused and swallowed. "I need you there. Please."
Gabriel had the gall to look a little uncomfortable, but he shook his head. "You've got the spell, two angels, and the other half of your dynamic duo." Gabriel softened slightly. "I have faith in you, Sam. Good luck, guys," he said, and with a rustle of feathers, he was gone. The wind from his wings kicked up the pages of the magic circle Sam had been practicing drawing.
Dean and Sam stared at each other for a long moment. "This feel like an omen to you?" Dean asked honestly, and Sam flopped onto his bed, head in his hands.
"If it didn't before, it does now," Sam groaned. "Dean, seriously, how am I supposed to do this on my own?" Sam's voice wavered.
"You're not on your own," Dean said, putting his growing anger towards rallying Sam and squeezing his shoulder. "We have Cas and Anna's coming around. We don't need that Asshat of the Lord, Sam. If he thinks you've got it in you, then you do by spades, but we don't need him."
Dean stood, gathering the papers and the stack of Supernatural novels (out of morbid curiosity), and opened the hotel room door. "Grab your shit. You're not brooding over here alone."
"I'm not brooding," Sam argued, muffled, into his hands.
"Well, those are your brooding shoulders, so," Dean raised his eyebrows. "Come on."
Muttering under his breath, Sam grabbed this stuff and relocated across the hall. Dean walked over to Anna's, inviting her over for their emergency meeting. She appeared in Dean's room two minutes later with several pizzas and a 6-pack of beer she'd flown out and stolen.
Over dinner, Cas and Anna shared an uneasy glance as Dean and Sam explained Gabriel's sudden flight. Anna offered to look for him, but Cas stopped her, disappointment making his following words ring hollow.
"He's hidden from Heaven for thousands of years-you won't find him if he doesn't wish to be found."
Sam tucked away the hurt and threw himself into their planning; Chuck had shown him his vision, which was in the form of a rough draft of a book chapter. He explained that Lilith was going to be at a daycare in Arkansas the next day at noon. "Her version of an all-you-can-eat buffet," Sam disgustedly told Dean, who had to actively remind himself that killing her was the absolute last thing they could do to her.
That didn't mean a little pain was off the table, however.
For hours, they perfected their plan and everyone's roles in it. Cas and Dean ended up making up most of the battle plan to prep the building. Sam was left to prepare for the spell, and he wrote out a paper list of locations and people from which Anna would pick up supplies.
"Ringley is going to love us," Sam said sarcastically, looking up the old blacksmith's info from John's journal.
Dean chuckled. "Wonder if he still does that actor thing he was doing?"
"Interpreter," Sam corrected while writing his information on the list. "Blacksmith at a historical site."
"Course you would remember that, nerd."
"Shut up, Dean," Sam said, but there was no bite to it.
In fact, despite the confidence and bravado, Dean could feel a lingering tension in the air. Though no one said it, everyone knew this was a bonafide suicide mission. Lilith was the most powerful demon ever created, and everyone was going to be gunning for Dean and Cas. Throughout the planning, it was suggested several times he stay behind-Dean refused. His brother was not going on a suicide mission without him, no way in or out of Hell.
Finishing his list and handing it to Anna to start in the morning, Sam yawned loudly and stretched his arms over his head. "Need to hit the hay for the morning," he said casually. Dean stood up when he did, and they shared a hug-the kind only reserved for when they weren't sure they were going to come back. "Night, Bitch."
"Night, Jerk."
Dean patted his shoulder, and they walked to their rooms. Dean didn't say anything, and Sam didn't either-they didn't need to jinx anything with flowery, possible goodbyes. He swallowed his nerves and headed into his and Cas's room.
Cas silently watched him as he tried to calm himself. Suicide missions were much easier to deal with when he had a bottle of liquid courage in his hand the night before.
"Think we're going to live through this, Cas? Do we honestly have a chance here?"
Raising an eyebrow, Cas said truthfully, "There's always a chance, though that chance is astronomically low now that Gabriel is gone."
Dean turned and looked Cas over, astonished at the strength of the butterflies in his stomach. Despite how many times their wings had been stepped on or ripped off, they still tried to take flight for Cas. Last night on Earth, he thought to himself. Why not rip the band-aid off now? At least he could die with a clear conscience. "Hey, Cas-"
Cas took a deep breath and cut him off. "I think Anna would be good for you."
Dean jerked back as if the words had physically slapped him. "I-what the fuck?"
Cas nodded his head. "I think you and Anna would be good for each other."
Temper flaring at this blatant dismissal, Dean snapped, "Why are you trying to shove me towards Anna? When did you suddenly become a matchmaker?"
"Dean," Cas's voice was thin, strained, but his gaze didn't waver. "She can give you everything I can't."
"What are you talking about?"
"She's perfect for you, Dean," Cas said in exasperation. "Anna likes the same things, and she knows what you're talking about when you make references. She's your preferred gender, the socially acceptable choice for you. She's real-you can be seen with her. She's intelligent and cunning enough to keep up with you, and she gets along with your family. She's even a fallen angel."
Cas had started slowly, but as he continued his monologue, he began to babble as if the words were overflowing from a full dam. Dean wasn't sure who Cas was trying to convince more, Dean or himself.
"In every sense, Dean, she's perfect for you."
Dean didn't know how to react to this coming out of nowhere, so he just said with a false calm, "You still aren't telling me why you're hung up on this."
Cas held his gaze. "I made a promise to you, Dean. And I intend to keep it, one way or another."
"Promise?" Dean wracked his brain, trying to figure out what the hell Cas was talking about. And then it hit him like a shot to the heart.
"You…when you said you'd leave once we figured out how to stop Lilith? Once the dust settled?" Dean asked dully, and Cas nodded once.
"Why, Cas? Can't you see things have changed?"
"Have they?" Cas shot back. "I've already hurt you, Dean. I've made your life so much more difficult. I can't continue to be an unnecessary burden on you once this mission is done."
"Yeah, you've made my life a living Hell, Cas," Dean spat. "You made me go sober. You saved Sam's life by helping with the detox. You've saved our asses multiple times, and you're my best friend. You're right-all you've done is be the villain here."
Cas was scowling at the carpet. "You and Anna have a connection. If we survive tomorrow, I just want you to have someone, Dean. Someone at your side, like your brother. You don't do well on your own."
"But I-!" Dean ran both his hands through his hair and snarled at Cas. "You know what? Fine! You want me and Anna to hook up so fucking badly, wish granted. At least I know where we stand, so thanks for clearing that up."
Cas glanced up at him, and Dean hated how Cas deflated at his words. Which made no goddamn sense since he was the one who suggested this whole fucking idea! Anyone else would be fighting back tears. Cas just stood there stoically, watching silently as Dean pulled on his boots and fled the room, slamming the door after him.
Five steps later, he stopped in front of door #3 and knocked hard a couple of times. The hotel room door opened, and Anna peaked out, the light inside casting a warm glow around her head of red hair. It looked almost like a halo.
"Hey, Dean," she said curiously. "What's up?"
Dean took a breath and swallowed hard, hoping to ease the knots in his stomach. "Hey Anna, can I, uh, come in?
"Uh, sure?" Anna had kicked her shoes off. Her green jacket draped over a chair. She muted the TV that had been on, some reality show playing on it.
Dean stood awkwardly in the hotel room, watching Anna as she sat on the bed. It took him a second to realize her wings were gone. "Where's your wings?"
"Pocket dimension," she said nonchalantly. "We only use them when flying or fighting. Otherwise, they're just cumbersome." She gave him a knowing look. "But, that's not what you're here for, so what's up?"
Maybe Cas was right. He needed to move on, needed to give up the ghost when Cas wasn't going to stay. He can't keep getting his heart ripped out because he was the only one dumb enough to catch feelings. Looking her over, Dean could admit that Anna was cute. And she was undoubtedly cunning. As far as options went, Anna wasn't a bad one.
"So," Dean asked, fighting to keep his voice light. "Last night on Earth; got any plans?"
Anna sighed loudly and crossed her arms. "Dean-"
Losing all sense of pride, Dean blurted out, "Cas thinks we should get together."
They stared awkwardly at each other for a moment.
"...I guess I'll take that as a vote of confidence?" She asked, trying and failing to lighten the tension in the air between them.
He flopped next to Anna on the bed and put his head in his hands. "He's um, put a lot of thought into this," Dean's words were muffled since his hands were still covering his face. Pulling his hands back slightly, Dean asked, "Can you still feel emotions now that you've got your mojo back?"
Anna hummed for a moment as she thought over her response. "Angels, by nature, are frigid and numb, only created to obey orders from a Father we've never met," she said. "Except for the Archangels, no angels have met God-we have to take it on faith He exists and are killed if we don't."
"That sucks," Dean said empathetically.
"It does. Anyway," Anna said, getting back on topic. "Despite using humans as vessels, most angels stay removed enough that the fire of human experience does not affect them. But sometimes, an angel gets close enough to thaw out."
"Like Cas did when he started trying to help people?"
"Yes, and like me, even Gabriel. However, I've had two decades living as a human, and Gabriel was pretending to be a demi-god for who knows how long. Cas, while among you, wasn't one of you. But now, sharing your vessel and your consciousness, I think he's starting to get it."
"He sure doesn't act like it," Dean huffed with a slow, disbelieving shake of his head. He stood up to leave. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-"
"You're a man of action, right?" Anna said quickly, standing up and stepping in front of him. "Actions speak louder than words?"
"Yeah?" Dean said hesitantly. "What are you getting at?"
She placed her hand on his right shoulder, which grew a little cold under her fingers. "May I?"
Curious, Dean nodded. Anna gently rolled up his t-shirt sleeve so the handprint was exposed in all its glory. She pulled away, carefully not touching the actual scar. "Do you know what that is?"
"Yeah," He lifted his right hand and trailed his fingers over the raised flesh. Despite looking painful and swollen, the brand didn't hurt at all. "It's from when Cas airlifted my ass out of the frying pan."
"Yeah, but that's only part of it," she said. "It's a bond, Dean. Cas claimed you when he rebuilt you and saved your soul from damnation."
"A bond?"
"Angels don't claim a living soul lightly. It's only happened a few times, and those were cosmic events ordained by Heaven."
"You're saying Cas called dibs on me in Hell?" Dean scoffed.
"Essentially. Pulling you out of Hell under the orders of Heaven is one thing, but Cas went above and beyond, rescuing and rebuilding you on his own."
Mixed emotions churned in his stomach at the thought of Cas claiming him like property.
"Listen, Cas isn't trying to be hurtful-this whole setting us up thing seems like a sweet but misguided attempt to watch out for you. I think I get where Cas is coming from, but you both need to realize I'm not some chess piece to be won or lost." Her reprimand was gentle but no less stern.
"Yeah, no, I get it, Anna, I do. You're a cool lady. I'm just...so damn confused and thought I'd ask for some advice." Dean scratched his head. "I hope you aren't offended by this whole stupid situation."
"I'll just call it flattering and move along." She quipped and leaned forward and gave him a peck on the check.
Her demeanor changed as she tilted her head to the side as if listening for something far away. A grin grew across her face, and she came back to herself, blinking hard.
"You okay?" Dean asked when she pulled on her boots and jacket.
"Pamela wants to go out for drinks," Anna said, untucking her hair from her jacket. "I figure, 'why the hell not?'"
"How do you know that-you don't have a phone," Dean said, confused.
"I'm an angel, Dean. She prayed." When he still didn't get it, she continued. "Once everyone got settled here, I flew and told her what happened to me."
"So, what, prayer's like a CB Radio for angels?"
Anna chuckled. "I suppose in a way. If you pray with enough intent to a specific angel, you can reach them. Which means I can be contacted without having to worry about losing cell service or paying for minutes."
As they left her room, Anna told him adamantly, "There's more to that brand than just a resurrection. You two need to figure this out, Dean. Tonight. Last night on earth and all. Don't want to go in tomorrow with regrets."
"Yeah, thanks, Anna. Have a good time." With that, Anna disappeared, leaving him alone in the opulent hallway.
Dean decided against returning to his room and headed outside via the central doorway, the Gabriel copy from earlier gone. Going out into the night, the place still looked like an empty, overgrown, abandoned hotel. The only light washing over him was from the bright, reflective moon overhead. The forest was dark, and Dean knew better than to go into a dark forest alone at night, so he only went to sit on the hood of his Impala.
It was quiet and peaceful here, even with the chirps of insects and bullfrogs echoing around him. The night air was not as muggy since they were at a higher elevation even though they were now in the dog days of summer. He ran the knuckle of his finger against his dry lip as he tried to puzzle out what he should do.
What Dean should do is drop this whole mess and move along. He still had lingering doubts over what Anna had told him about Cas and the supposed meaning behind the brand. Any other night he would drink his worries away. Now, however, the uncertainty was gnawing at him more than his fear of rejection. What if this was his last chance to set things straight? Swallowing his fears, Dean called out quietly, "Cas?"
For a full minute, nothing happened. I need you to come out here now, Cas. Stop hiding.
Cas blinked in existence next to him, sitting to his left on the hood. "Where's Anna?" he immediately asked, glancing around, eyebrows raised when he saw the dark forest.
"At a bar with Pamela. We just talked."
Cas wore a strange expression, a mix of exasperation and jealousy and, maybe Dean was projecting here, but a little hope too? Before Dean could get a good read on him, Cas turned away and clasped his hands between his knees.
Sliding off the hood, Dean stepped in front of Cas and showed him the handprint. Despite it being nighttime in the forest on a mountaintop, the moon and the stars gave them enough light to see by. "Cas, what is this?"
"It's from when I pulled you out of Hell." A simple answer, but Cas wouldn't meet his gaze. Dean decided to pull out the big guns.
"Anna said this is a bond." Cas's eyes cut up to his in shock, so Dean pressed him. "This means something more to you, doesn't it? More than you're letting on. What does this mean, Cas?"
Cas silently hung his head low and shrunken in on himself. Dean took a breath, realizing he would have to say something now, or he'd lose his nerve and never say anything at all. If this goes to Hell, at least I tried.
"Cas, do you understand why you trying to hook me up with Anna hurt as much as it did?"
The angel wisely just shook his head.
"Because I don't want Anna," Dean said simply. "She's cool as a friend, an ally. Maybe in another universe, I could see a foxhole thing. But here? She's not what I want because I want you, Cas."
Those blue eyes stared into his, and his breath hitched, but then Cas's ruined it by saying, "Yes, you did say you preferred a partner to solo mastur-"
Sliding forward, Dean shoved Cas onto his back on the hood and slapped his hand over Cas's mouth. Cas was under him and staring up in wide-eyed confusion, so he ran with the advantage before Cas remembered they could talk telepathically.
"Shut up, Cas. Just shut up and listen," Dean hissed. "I WANT YOU. In every way, I can, and in a few ways I can't, currently."
There was a tiny, imperceptible shake of Cas's head, still denying what Dean was currently pulling teeth trying to tell him. He licked his lips and concentrated.
Cas, I want you. God, I've never wanted someone like this before. If I had to choose how to spend a day with you, I'd happily take you back to a museum or wherever you'd want to go. Because this isn't just about getting laid-I like you, and I like being with you. Hell, more than like, even.
It was the confession of a lifetime for Dean. Cassie was the only person he'd copped to loving, and comparing that feeling to what Cas stirred up in him, made him realize how tame that relationship had been.
If Cassie had been a backyard bonfire, good for cozying up next to, then Cas was a wildfire. He was overwhelming and life-changing in the best ways possible; burning away the tangled underbrush and revitalizing the soil so new life could take root.
Dean pulled his hand back, and there was silence for a moment between them. Cas tilted his head to the side, honestly puzzled. He asked in a shaky, raspy little voice, "Why?"
For a second, Dean panicked. How the hell do you explain love? In the back of his mind was a giant clock.
Tick Tock, Dean, no time to waste.
With a shy little smile, Dean stood up, not realizing he'd shoved himself between Cas's legs in the moment. Cas sat back up, his eyes never leaving Dean's. Rubbing through his hair, he looked at Cas's red tie-speaking to it was much easier than to those intense eyes made dark in the moonlight.
"Why the hell not? You care for Sam like he's your own blood. You can go from being hot and sarcastic one second to sweet and innocent the next. You keep me on my toes; I never know what to expect. You're a badass fallen angel who's still trying to keep this marble spinning despite the shit you've been through. You're amazing, Cas, in every way."
Dean leaned down and put his finger over Cas's lips. "Broken wings, shredded grace, and shitty self-esteem issues aside. And even then, I still want you. Still need you, Cas."
Gathering his courage, Dean leaned down and managed to look Cas in the eyes. "Stay with me, Cas. Please. Stop trying to lob yourself off of every damn cliff because it hurts so fucking much when you do." He had to take a calming breath and screw his eyes tightly shut. "I know I'm a wreck; I don't deserve this. I have nothing to offer, but-"
Cas grabbed Dean's hand and pushed it aside. "You're not a wreck, Dean; you're imperfect. You're the best man I know-you're flawed but still keep trying, no matter how hard it gets. You're still beautiful, inside and out, because of your imperfections."
Dean blushed hotly at being called 'beautiful' for the first time in his life. "So, you're saying you like me because I'm a stubborn son of a bitch."
"Dean," Cas said, his exasperation softened by fondness.
"Sorry- that I'm a pretty stubborn son of a bitch."
Cas glared at him. Hard. "If you're going to be a smartass, at least quote me properly."
Dean ducked his head. "Sorry."
Cas reached out and traced the edges of the burn with his fingertip. His shoulder grew slightly warm.
"When I rebuilt your mortal form, I braided my grace into your very DNA," Cas explained softly, eyes never leaving the brand. "Every cell, every muscle, every bone-my essence is infused through you. I even patched up some of the deeper wounds that had been inflicted upon your soul. It was the only way to bring you back as the man fate ordained you to be. So, my grace and your soul are connected in a way that has never existed before."
Cas shook his head as if overcome and trying to gather his wits. Dean, our bond is so impossibly profound.
Dean crossed his arms and retreated with a scowl. If that's true, why keep pushing me at Anna?
Cas dropped his hand, and Dean missed it instantly. Human emotion is as confusing as it is all-encompassing. I honestly didn't understand what I felt. I just knew that your happiness became my priority. I thought that was how I could repay you: earning my penance by making you happy. Either through physical intimacy or recognizing how you and Anna could be good for each other.
Dean groaned in frustration. Cas, the only thing you owe me is the honest chance to make this work if we survive past tomorrow. Dean paused, then added nervously, If that's what you want, I mean.
I do. I'm so sorry, Dean. I never meant to hurt you. Cas's eyes grew misty, and he hung his head. Seems like no matter what choices I make, I always choose wrong.
"Shh, I gotcha Cas. We're gonna be okay," Dean soothed. He was not going to survive seeing Cas cry, so he pulled him into a hug. Cas clung right back, burying his face in Dean's neck. "Of course I forgive you, dumbass. You're my Cas."
He pulled back and kissed Cas's temple. "Listen, I'm shitty with words," Dean said sheepishly. "Can I show you what you mean to me?"
Cas nodded, throwing him a lifeline. "Yes, Dean."
Reluctantly leaving Cas for a moment, Dean dug around in the trunk of the car for a couple of blankets. He laid one on the hood, then rolled up the other longwise to make a pillow of sorts, which he lay across the base of the windshield. Cas, who was standing next to him as he made the hood a makeshift bed, asked seriously, "I thought you said this wasn't about sex."
Dean's mouth opened slightly, and he internally panicked. "Shit, I mean, it's not, I, uh-"
Cas ducked his head and huffed, his equivalent of a full-body laugh.
"You're a little shit," Dean complained, but that didn't stop him from pulling Cas into a light kiss. Sweet and salty with a bit of pain from the stubble-it was Cas in a kiss, and he loved it.
Cas enthusiastically threw his arms around Dean's neck and kissed him hard. Licking his way into Dean's mouth, their tongues met and slid together just as Dean hoisted Cas up with his hands under his thick thighs. It only took a couple of steps to deposit Cas on the edge of the hood, yet he was already getting lost in the feel of Cas against him, his taste, the little noises they made while kissing.
Dean slotted himself in the V of Cas's spread legs. Their hands never stopped roaming over and under clothes while they traded hickeys and beard burn. Cas mercilessly played with his nipples through his t-shirt and sucked hard in his earlobe. Dean gripped those thighs around him hard, trying to keep himself calm, but his angel was not playing fair.
"Come on, Cas, you still have your million layers on," Dean complained.
Pulling back and releasing Dean for a moment, Cas snapped his fingers; they were now both bare-chested, the shirts folded up behind them. Like extra pillows on the windshield.
"Impatient, huh?" Dean teased, but his answer came in the form of Cas grabbing him by the nape and pulling him back in. For a while, things just simmered as they kissed and felt each other up. Soon though, Cas set up camp at one spot on his stomach, kissing it before splaying his hand almost protectively over the area. Dean felt like an idiot when he finally realized what Cas was doing-it was where the knife wound had been.
"I'm fine," Dean soothed, able to tell where Cas's mind had been going—trying to blame himself for Dean getting hurt. He put his hand over Cas's. "You patched me up."
Still, Cas focused on the spot, so Dean decided a distraction was in order.
He cupped the back of Cas's head and tilted him to the side, where he could lick a long stripe from Cas's collarbone up to the little spot under his ear. Along the way, he'd stop and suck on any extra sensitive areas that made Cas tremble and whimper.
"You better not be blocking anything, Cas," Dean told him seriously. "I'm gonna take you apart and put you back together, and I want you to feel every second."
"Not me. Us," Cas corrected gently, causing Dean to fall just a little harder for his angel, especially when Cas turned the tables and all too easily distracted him by trying to bless every freckle he could find with a kiss.
Dean didn't have any plans, and while there were undoubtedly some concepts he'd love to explore with Cas and their feedback loop, it wasn't what they needed tonight. When he finally managed to get his dick out into the cool night air, they both hissed in relief after being trapped, hard and leaking, in his jeans. Smiling triumphantly, Dean pulled out the bottle of lube from his pocket, which he grabbed earlier, and held it out to Cas.
Curiously, Cas read the label. "Personal lubricant?"
Dean winked at him. "Do you trust me?"
"Always," Cas said without hesitation. "Though depending on the situation, I sometimes regret it afterward."
Dean snorted. "Well, this isn't one of 'em." Smearing some of the lube on his right hand, he stroked his dick slowly from root to tip a couple of times to evenly coat it, then added a little more. The warm, extra smooth glide had Cas's thighs tightening around him as he leaned back on his arms, his blue eyes fluttering shut. "Oh," Cas sighed in surprised pleasure, letting his head hang back slightly and showing off his neck and bobbing Adam's apple.
"Feel good, Cas?" Dean asked as he slowly ran his hand up and down their dick, enjoying both the feel and the show Cas was unwittingly giving him.
"This feels wonderful," Cas admitted, hips rocking gently. "Dean."
He was never going to get tired of hearing that raspy voice saying his name like a prayer. "Gonna pray to me, Cas?" Dean meant it as a tease, phrased it as such, but Cas stilled his hand. Cas's face softened as he gazed at Dean in something close to awe. Tenderly, he trailed his fingertips over Dean's lips and mouth and palmed his cheek. Dean melted into the touch.
"You've done more for me than my Father ever has," Cas confessed roughly, those beautiful eyes peering right into his heart. "So yes, Dean. I'll pray at the altar of Winchester for the rest of my existence."
Not sure how to follow that declaration, Dean knew his entire face and chest were flushed, pride and lust and a little embarrassment as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Geez, Cas, you make it sound like we're married."
Cas entwined the fingers of his left hand into Dean's, not minding that his palm was wet from lube and pre-come. His right hand reached up, hesitated for a second, then settled over his handprint. Immediately a pulse of power shot through Dean, and he gasped. It felt like a broken electrical connection had been fixed as Cas gazed at him possessively. He would've sworn the angel's eyes were glowing slightly in the pale moonlight. "While we were already connected, I believe the bond grew stronger because our feelings did."
Allowing himself a moment to absorb the idea, feeling that power running through them like a current, Dean knew it felt right. Down to his bones, to his soul, having Cas as his, and himself as Cas's, seemed right and natural.
What was the point in fighting something that felt right, for once in his life?
So, he didn't. He pulled Cas into a messy kiss as he used his free hand to start stroking their dick, building up a teasing rhythm to get them going.
Words of praise and little endearments flooded their mental channel-for a second, Dean worried he'd broken the poor guy when gibberish started coming through. It took a moment for him to figure out that Cas was mentally mumbling in Enochian while his head was buried in Dean's shoulder, panting hard. Their dick pulsed with pride at the thought that he'd made his angel forget English.
To be fair to Cas, though, Dean could barely keep up with it all. Between the telepathic words, the pleasure coming from their dick, that current from Cas's hand never leaving the handprint-his brain was two seconds from shorting out.
Stubble scraped his cheek as Cas rumbled in a voice dropped so low in arousal it sounded more like the shifting of tectonic plates than a voice at all. He was whispering desperately in Dean's ear-though he had no earthly idea what Cas was saying, the tone made it obvious that Cas was saying some pretty dirty shit to him.
We survive tomorrow; I'm finding out what he's saying.
Listening to the slick sound of his hand flying over them and the literal noises they were making in conjunction with their thoughts meant their orgasm was building fast. Dean panted hard, his legs shaking with the effort to stay upright, trying to last as long as possible.
Reaching between them, Cas wrapped his large hand over Dean's, increasing the pressure and friction. They worked together to reach the peak of their pleasure.
Shit, Cas, 'm not gonna last.
Then don't. Cas whispered into Dean's ear hotly, "Make me yours, Dean."
Dean watched, captivated, as this lusty, strung-out Cas pulled his hand off their dick (but not the brand, he held on firmly) and laid back on the hood of his Impala. Head thrown back, thighs clenched around Dean's hips while rocking against him, eyes closed and panting. "Dean, please," Cas moaned brokenly, large tanned hand crumpling the blanket under him as something of an anchor. His lust-blown eyes stared at Dean with this sinful innocence only he could pull off.
Come on. What are you waiting for?
Cas's husky voice begging him, his eyes burning with want and need and something even bigger than that, was what finally pushed them over the edge. Dean leaned forward and did as commanded, marking that lightly tanned skin of his stomach with stripes of white as they groaned mentally. Some primal urge in both of them was quenched by the sight.
Dean, exhausted, sweaty, and spent, collapsed onto Cas. He could feel the mess between their bodies, and while usually, he'd never be into that, Cas rumbled in approval.
Of course, he'd be into this; the fucker branded my ass and my literal soul.
Still, it wasn't a complaint on his end. Cas wrapped his thick arms around Dean and held on tight, but he kissed his forehead softly. It was only once Dean's heart wasn't pounding out of his chest that Cas peeled his hand from his brand. He wasn't surprised to see the brand was glowing faintly, though this time it was bluish-white.
Dean pulled back, face wrinkling in preparation for the mess, but they were cleaned up between one blink and the next. His skin and hair felt like he'd gotten out of the shower-even his mouth felt minty fresh. Dean tucked his softened dick back into his boxers and crawled onto the hood next to Cas, the suspension creaking under him as he did.
After shuffling around for a moment, Cas was lying on his back, his hand pillowing his head. Dean's head was on his chest. The smell of sex, ozone, and that damn cinnamon vanilla shampoo from earlier mixed with the fresh mountain air. Cas smiled softly when Dean caught his eyes. This is mine.
This kinky, grumpy, secretly a softie, badass was his. He could literally feel it down in his soul-the realization of a lifetime. So, of course, Dean had to have it on the eve of a suicide mission. Ain't that the Winchester way.
Dean threw his arm over Cas's broad chest, exhausted but sated. "Next time, I think we should break out the freaky grace hands," Dean suggested with a wink, needling Cas to help distract himself.
"I'm not sure how I feel about you referring to my true form as 'freaky.'" Cas grumbled.
"Hey, you just used air quotes properly! Good job, grasshopper."
"Why would doing something correctly make me an insect?" Cas asked, completely baffled.
Dean chuckled. "Man, you have so much to learn."
Cas looked up at the stars that were peeking through the clear night sky. Idly, he started scratching through Dean's short hair. Speaking of learning, would you want to hear about how those stars were created?
Hell yeah, Cas.
The night passed them by as they traded stories, though they didn't speak a single word aloud. Cas spoke about Creation and his various trips to Earth. Apparently, yes, he had watched the Dinosaurs evolve in real-time, and his favorites had been the little Troodons. If Father hadn't decreed humanity would come from the mammals, I would have bet on the Troodons. They were the most intelligent dinosaurs to exist and had the potential of a great civilization, given a few million years and some divine intervention.
Dean didn't have anything as epic as dinosaur watching or flying in space, just for the hell of it. It didn't seem to matter to Cas, though. The grace curled into him was content to listen as he told the story of having to take Sam to the hospital on the handlebars of a bike he'd stolen after they had tried to fly off a roof as little kids. I don't blame you for being afraid of flying after that, Cas said in understanding. Gabriel taught me how to fly-the other angels thought my black wings were terrible omens and thus avoided me.
Have I mentioned that your wings are fantastic, and your family are nothing but cosmic assholes?
It might have come up before. Cas shuffled away from Dean, and for a moment, he worried he'd offended Cas somehow. He laid flat on his stomach, eyes closed in concentration. From Cas's back emerged his wings, but instead of the burned and broken ones Dean was used to, these were perfect. One splayed out across him like an ethereal blanket, and Dean glanced at Cas for permission to touch.
Cas was blushing hard, which caught Dean off guard. He wanted me to mark him with my jizz earlier, and this is what he gets shy over?
I wanted to show you what they used to look like, Cas explained. The best approximation of what your human mind can interpret, anyway. In case we-
They're beautiful either way, Cas, cause they're yours, Dean cut in sincerely, reaching out to touch the whole, healthy feathers as long as he was tall. The colors were so vivid they seemed alive as his feathers moved, like a piece of the sky had fallen across his body. He snuggled under the wing, the mountain air getting colder and making his skin get goosebumps.
Dean let his fingers glide through the too real feeling feathers, gently petting them. Next to him, Cas wore a blissed-out expression as his hands pillowed his head. They lay in companionable silence for a while; Dean memorized how Cas looked relaxed and content, hair still a sexy mess but otherwise appearing wholly innocent.
I've always been an outsider, Cas admitted quietly, eyes blinking open. I never fit in with the angels and never fit in among humans. I question things too much for either side's liking and don't understand societal expectations.
Yeah, I've noticed. But that's what makes you you. I love your questions and even your sarcasm when you get frustrated. Dean leaned up and kissed Cas gently, spiking up his messy black hair. We make it past tomorrow; I wanna be the home you never had.
A drifter offering sanctuary to a wayward angel, Cas mused, that rare gummy smile shining in the moonlight. Thank you, Dean. I hope I get the chance to be the home you never got to have, considering how you and Sam grew up.
Dean tucked his head into Cas's chest and had to breathe for a moment. He wasn't going to cry, dammit. He'd managed it so far, and he wasn't going to start now. Dean grabbed Cas's hand and kept them locked together until soon-all too damn soon-the edge of the night sky began to shift colors as the sun rose. They were out of time, and now they had a job to do.
Cas's wings tucked themselves back into his back, and Dean felt the chill of the dawn. Sliding down off the hood, Dean stretched and cracked his back, his jeans hanging slightly off his hips because he hadn't bothered to redo the button. Holding out his hand, he pulled Cas to his feet, then into a powerful hug. You're the best thing that's happened to me, Cas. No matter what happens today, I want you to know that.
He tried to keep his voice light, not warning to spoil things with his regrets. The biggest is that this might be all he got of Cas-just a tease before he died horribly. Cas rubbed his shoulders and neck soothingly.
My sentiments exactly, Dean. If I had to Fall to meet you, it was worth it.
Dean pulled back, eyes wide at such a statement. He licked his lips. Hell and everything that happened there…-That was worth it, too, Cas.
Pulling a stunned Cas into a sweet yet sloppy kiss, he dragged it out as long as possible-committed everything to memory before he pulled back.
"Come on, sweetheart. Let's kick fate's ass."
A nondescript black Cadillac pulled up in front of the Little Angels Daycare in Arkansas at noon on the dot-it still blew Dean's mind that the world was going to be determined in the middle of goddamn daycare. Fucking demons, he cringed.
He, Sam, Anna, and Cas were positioned and ready, as much as they ever could be prepared for a demonic siege. They were hiding behind the overturned teacher's desk, but strategic mirrors showed the car parking in front of the entrance.
Next to him, Sam was vibrating with nerves. He was tapping his thigh in time to the syllables of the incarnation he muttered under his breath repeatedly.
Seeing Sam trying his damnedest to shoulder this responsibly unfairly shoved onto him made Dean curse Gabriel and his flighty ass once again. "You've got this," he whispered to Sam-his brother didn't seem to hear him.
Checking the mirror, he watched Lilith hop out of the car in the guise of a dark-haired girl in a black dress, hair in pigtails, and holding the hand of a demonic nanny. They made their way up the path to the front doors; Lilith was bouncing with excitement. Dean was horrified to see Lilith's essence was like white ice burrowing deep into the little girl's body she had hijacked.
Sam and Dean traded nods of good luck, and Dean turned to Cas. Remember, you guard him with your life, Cas.
I understand, Cas said somberly. Cas was going to be Sam's literal guardian angel for this battle since the demons wouldn't be able to see him. They were going to need every advantage they could get.
"Just remember, I have to say this incantation in one go," Sam hissed. "If I stop, I gotta start again, and we know Lilith isn't going to wait around."
"That's why Dean and I will be keeping any demons occupied elsewhere," Anna picked up.
Lilith was about to hit the door, so surprising himself with his boldness, Dean forward and kissed Cas, ignoring any potential reactions from Sam and Anna. Cas's eyes widened in surprise, but Dean didn't care. Stay alive, Cas. You can't fulfill that "being my shield" promise if you're dead.
Cas nodded solemnly. You too, Dean. I'll need a home to come home to. Good luck.
The front door of the daycare creaked open ominously.
The daycare was essentially one large open room with different sections. The little kid furniture had been moved out of the way, and the room was prepped for war.
The mirror showed Lilith and her handler walking inside and pausing on the front rug, confused at the lack of little kids.
Anna popped up from behind the desk and jerked her head slightly. The door slammed shut and bolted behind the demons.
Dean stepped out from behind the desk on the opposite side. He cocked his sawed-off shotgun and shot the fifty-pound sandbag full of rock salt that was hanging over their heads. The iron buckshot tore through the bag's canvas, and it exploded, burying the demons in an avalanche of salt.
Lilith and her keeper let out blood-curdling shrieks of pain and tried to run but couldn't move. The round throw rug they were standing on had a Devil's Trap painted on the backside of it. The demon nanny collapsed into a limp pile inside the trap, her flesh crispy like a third-degree burn victim. Lilith had fallen to the floor, tiny body curled in on itself. Her flesh was burning under the salt, bubbling, and smoking like acid had been dumped on her.
She silently glowered at them as Dean and Anna flipped the desk back over, and Sam set up his ritual space. Lilith's mouth opened and shut, but her jaw muscles became visible as the salt burned her cheek away. Dean couldn't look, swamped with guilt that there was a little girl in there somewhere who never deserved such a fate.
The ingredients were prepared in a mixing bowl, and the paper with the incantation was in front of him. Dean laid the flask with Uriel's grace on the table. Without a word, Sam closed his eyes and concentrated. Dean could feel magic in the air start swirling around his brother.
Before Sam could utter the first syllable, a balding man with a weasely face in a black business suit appeared in the middle of the room. Dean saw the white wings settled behind him as he looked them over.
"Such consummate professionals," the angel praised, scanning around the room. He clasped his hands behind his back and had the sleazy look of Upper Management all over him. "Of course, I expected nothing less from the Winchester brothers, but the effort put into this final battle is praiseworthy."
"Zachariah, what are you doing here?" Anna demanded, stepping forward slightly, tone dangerous.
To his credit, he slid back slightly. "Anna! We all wondered where you got off too. Ah, Uriel hasn't returned, so I'm assuming you crossed paths?"
Cas stepped between the brothers and the newcomer. Zachariah shook his head. "Just had to stick your nose where it didn't belong one last time, hm, Castiel? Sorry, but I can't let you do this."
"You're protecting her?" Cas asked.
"Not protecting," Zachariah clarified, looking over his shoulder to sneer at the stunned demon. "Used as bait." He focused on Sam. "We knew about your extracurricular activities, including visiting the prophet, Chuck. He knew better than to tell on us."
When Sam's face grew stormy, Zachariah put his hands up. "It wasn't his fault, to be fair. We might have told him in no uncertain terms that getting on Heaven's bad side would have resulted in an extremely short, pain-filled existence."
He stepped out in the middle of the room and looked around. "Hm, holy water in the sprinkler system. Devil's traps rugs. Salt around the walls. Shotguns with salt and iron rounds. You guys came prepared. Too bad it's a firesale today-everything must go." He smirked at them, held up his hand, and snapped.
"No!" Dean yelled, stomach-dropping to the floor as he watched their various traps and weapons disappear. The shotgun he'd been holding vanished.
Zachariah was checking his nails when half a dozen angels, three men and three women in business suits, appeared around him.
His arms hung limply at his sides, though his eyes kept darting over the angels. Shit! Dean said, voice shaking. We didn't plan on angels!
Cas rose to his full height and stared unblinking at them. The plan is still the same-capture Lilith.
Though the angels stoically studied their little quartet, Dean could see their white wings fluttering in short, jerky movements. Almost as if they were nervous of Cas and Anna.
"You should walk away, Zach," Dean said with practiced nonchalance, drawing all eyes on him. "You think your tin soldiers stand a chance against the Leader for the Garrison and your side's best strategist?" More wing fluttering; the best he could hope was that someone got butterfingers or froze up in the fight.
Cas and Anna both summoned their angel blades, both wearing gazes of steel.
There was a thick smell of sulfur in the room, and things went from bad to worse as a dozen demons materialized in the daycare around Lilith's devil trap. While she was still down from the salt, Dean assumed that wouldn't last long. The demons' faces writhed, and they snarled inhumanly at the angels. The angels flared up their wings in intimidation at the demons.
Both sides turned their attention to the Dean and the others.
"Last chance," Zachariah called out. "Give us Dean Winchester, and I'll let you live, Anna; even our constant pain in ass Castiel will receive a free pass. Dean just has to go back downstairs. It's no skin off your nose."
A pregnant silence filled the room as all eyes fell on Anna. She tapped her chin for a moment as if considering his words. She lifted her hand and gave the entire room of angels and demons her middle finger.
"Come and get us, Zachariah," she said sweetly.
Chaos erupted in the daycare.
Anna went for a wide-eyed Zachariah, who blinked out of existence before she could reach him, so she changed her target mid-swing and stabbed a nearby female angel. A bright light exploded from her, causing all the demons to flinch backward and close their eyes. Some tried to escape to the other side of the room and started randomly freezing in places.
Dean couldn't help the grin that spread across his face. The douchebag had noticed the obvious trap-painted rugs, but not the devil's traps painted on the concrete under the actual carpeting itself. Those pauses were just long enough for Dean to cut and hack his way through the trapped demons with Ruby's knife.
Behind him, Dean felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as Sam began chanting the spell, using the chaos around him as a cover. Three angels tried to jump Sam, but he flung his hand out and sent them stumbling backward. Angels, it seemed, were tougher to knock down than the demons he was used to flinging around.
Sam had to stop his chanting as they summoned their blades and came for him again. One angel, a woman with a hair bun, tossed her head, and Sam flew in the fall beside him, grunting in pain. As they advanced, Cas appeared in front of Sam, allowing Sam to scramble back up to the desk and start the spell over.
Meanwhile, Cas and the three angels had their showdown.
Dean thought he was a decent fighter. Witnessing Cas in a rough and tumble melee against his own kind made it obvious: Cas was on a whole other level. He'd get in close and use one angel's arms to block another's attack-use another as a shield while swinging yet another as a battering ram. He would drop his blade, move around a body, then grab it mid-air and stab another. The speed and precision of the attacks meant that Cas moved like water around rocks in a creekbed.
No motion was wasted, and Cas didn't telegraph his movements. Hell, he seemed to change his fighting style mid-swing several times if his opponent caught onto him. It struck Dean right then that he had always assumed Cas fought like an angel.
Cas fought like Cas, and no demon, angel, or monster of the week could catch him when he was in his element. Angels might be built for flying, but Cas was created for combat.
Dean's heart pounded hard at the badassery on display as the downed angels exploded, burning wing impressions into the floor, blinding demons who got too close, which let Dean strike them down without mercy. He was distracted by a high-pitched scream. Whirling around, Sam was chanting once again, but Lilith was back on her little feet, and she burst into flames.
Sam stumbling and halting his words in shock revealed that was not supposed to happen.
The demons alive limped towards Lilith's side. The few angels left were warily circling Anna across the room.
Dean finally got to see what Cas had meant by the angels fighting with their wings. While their human bodies circled Anna, blades ready to stab her, their ethereal wings were actively attacking her already. From what Dean could figure, the backside of the wings was used as a shield. The first and longest flight feathers were hardened into something like a scythe.
The wings darted in and out like boxers, blows glancing off feathers before the spiked wingtips ducked under the opponent's wings to inflict vicious stab wounds. It was gnarly to watch as the angels' white wings became bloody and broken in the battle. Dean idly wondered if that's why Anna's were pink-were they just permanently stained with angel blood?
The fire that had engulfed Lilith's child's body finally died down. Dean's stomach dropped-she was back in one piece standing on a pile of ashes. She'd burned the trap out from under her. Shit!
Sprinting across the room, over bodies of their assailants as Cas and Anna kept mowing them down, Dean grabbed a five-gallon bucket tucked under a desk from the entrance.
A male demon held out his hand to help her step over her previous nanny and out of the circle of ash.
Dean ripped open the bucket's lid and flung the bucket's contents towards the demons using a boost from Cas's grace.
During his 'training,' Sam revealed he was better at little bursts of grace for more precise motions. Dean, on the other hand, was the brick house-busting brute between them.
So he didn't do anything fancy with the hundreds of iron nails-turned-caltrops that flew out of the bucket-he just used the grace under his skin to shoot them towards the demons like a hail of barbed bullets. Bones broke, eyes were punctured, skin was flayed, and organs ruptured-the demons wailed in pain. As the caltrops fell to the ground, they were left trapped in a minefield of scattered iron spikes.
"Sammy!" Dean snarled, and his brother nodded, starting the spell over just as a pair of demons dragged Dean away from Sam's side. Dean saw Cas invisibly tackle Lilith to the ground behind her demonic escorts and the iron caltrops. His large hand clapped over her mouth to keep her from smoking out.
Anna strategically led two angels to the corner where the demons were and stabbed them in quick succession-the explosion of the angels' graces vaporized a few demons too close.
The demons that ganged up on him got him to the ground, kicking and punching. Dean had to use every dirty fighting trick in the book (including a nut shot) before he could get back to his feet. He was fighting a guy in glasses and one in a jean jacket. Moving fast, Glasses grabbed Dean from behind and trapped his arms, which allowed Jacket to come for his abdomen with a steak knife. Hauling his legs up, Dean kicked Jacket like a pissed-off kangaroo. The demon crashed into a bookshelf while the demon holding him was forced into the brick wall behind him. Whipping his head back, Dean heard something break, probably his nose, and he broke free of them.
Reaching into a cabinet that was supposed to hold little kids' coats, he pulled out a barbed wire-wrapped wooden baseball bat. The demons snarled at him, and Dean hefted the bat up, grinning madly. "Batter up!"
The bat made quick work of the pair, though only when they were stabbed with Ruby's knife did they die. Dean was covered in blood. The stench of burnt flesh, sulfur, ozone, and death was overpowering.
There was a tugging in his bones, and Dean looked to see Zachariah had reentered the fray, grabbing Cas's avatar and flinging him off of Lilith. Anna shot forward and tackled Z away from Cas, their wings fighting above them. The pink ones were on the offensive as they stabbed through Zach's bloody white wings as he tried to shove her away. He pulled out his blade and was going to stab her right in the gut.
Surrounded by dead demons and angels, Dean could see Lilith was about to escape despite the iron spikes around her. Her eyes were rolling to whites only; she was going to smoke out, and this whole thing was going to be for nothing-
Sam undid his belt buckle and ripped his belt out of the belt loops while he continued to chant the arcane language. Lilith paused, confused about what Sam was up to-it was enough of an opening for him to boost himself across the desk, over the bodies, and wrap the belt around her neck. Without losing his place in his mantra, Sam held onto the little girl like she was a bucking bronco. Lilith squirmed and flailed, but her powers weren't working. She coughed and sputtered as Sam held onto her. Looking at the underside of the belt, Lilith saw tiny devil's traps engraved into the leather.
"NO!" she screamed, eyes wide in panic. Sam had his eyes closed, concentrating on holding the demon for the last handful of seconds he needed to finish the spell. Come on, Sammy! He recognized what Sam was saying as close to the end of the spell.
Sam jerked to the side, the volume of his words going up in pain, pausing for just a second before he continued through ground teeth.
A demon, which Dean thought dead had only been stunned, had picked up a fallen angel's blade and ran him through-Dean could see the blood coming from Sam's side staining his t-shirt as he held onto Lilith and kept the spell going.
"SAMMY!"
Dean started flinging the last few enemies out of his way with his boots, his powers. He wasn't even paying attention to how they got out of his way. The energy in the room was sweltering, and Dean knew they were so close-he could hear the pain and fatigue in Sam's words, trying not to let Lilith go as he bled out.
Cas appeared and grabbed the demon, smiting it and the last few who had gone for Sam while he was weakened.
Hands, accompanied by the thick scent of hellfire and sulfur, grabbed Dean around the neck and hauled him backward. Dean kicked and fought as hard as possible, panicking when he realized this demon wasn't attacking him, it was taking him.
"Sa-!"
An elbow around his throat cut his voice off. Sam's words were slowing down, and Anna was jumped by both Zach and his last angel. The spell in the air was thick enough to breathe in.
Dean struggled hard once more, and he was shoved unceremoniously against a wall. A hand clapped over his mouth, and all Dean saw was a familiar smokey visage wearing a man in a dapper blue suit. "I'd say this isn't personal, but you ruined my favorite meat suit, so that would be a lie," Nexus hissed. Dean could barely hear him over the sudden burst of crackling energy in the room. "Time to go. But first, gotta deal with that joyrider."
Over Nextus' shoulder, he saw a portal of hell soot and brimstone swirling on the floor a few paces away. It was Hell. Dean was about to be dragged back to literal Hell under everyone's noses.
With a few harsh words in a foreign tongue, Nextus shoved his hand into Dean's stomach. Cas vanished from Sam's side, and both of them screamed in pain through the mental channel. The pain was indescribable, but the sense of violation was worse.
Nextus was chanting, but Dean couldn't hear anything, couldn't move, couldn't breathe to scream or beg for the pain to stop. He thought he knew everything about pain because of Alastair.
Turned out that experiencing Cas being ripped out of his very cells was a pain even Alastair couldn't compete with. Tears streamed from his eyes.
Cas held on, curling around Dean's bones, trying to fight whatever the demon was doing. Dean could feel his bones creaking under the duel efforts, his muscles tearing, his heart breaking.
He was being literally ripped apart.
DEAN!
Cas, hold on, dammit, please!
He's going to take you back, Dean. Cas said this with a strange calmness. I can't-I won't let that happen.
Dean couldn't breathe. God, no, Cas, don't you fucking dare!
Gritting his teeth hard enough he felt one crack, Dean grabbed the wrist of the hand inside him, but he couldn't do anything more.
I'm sorry, Dean-I love you.
There was a tearing sound, like the very fabric of time and space itself had been ripped open from within him.
Cas's grace shot out of his mouth and hit Nextus in the chest like a cannonball, shoving them both through the hell portal. It slipped closed with barely a whisper.
The pain within him was replaced with a silent, cold, empty void that bore into his very soul.
Darkness overcame him
and
swallowed
him
whole