A/N: This chapter sucks ass, srsly. I hate writing dialogue and there's heaps of it in here that is kinda essential to the plot but I really hope you guys don't hate this chapter TOO much. It starts out really quite fun, I figured mopey!Cas, while incredibly cute and huggable, was getting a little too depressing so voila, Dean steps in to lighten the mood ^.^

Again, a massive thanks to all my reviewers of chapter 2. I think ima reply to your reviews individually 'cause some of them are real long but I'll give you guys a shout out 'cause you're awesome! Luciel89, khlo, kipangel17, winchestergirl1 and - rapidly becoming my two fav reviewers - TealEyedBeing and TheNowandFutureQueen. You guys are made of pure awesome and I can't thank you enough for your wonderful reviews or explain how much they mean to me :')

Oh and, just to address an issue, no Cas isn't ugly, lolz – he just has his 'unique' wings which people don't seem to like. Poor Cas :'(

Anyhoodles, without further ado, I present to you the ass-sucking Chapter 3!


Chapter Three

The Initial Reference

"Then what do you want with me?"

The angel turns and Dean bites back another gasp; the one he let slip earlier was enough to make Sammy regard him as a girl and never let him live it down, thank you very much.

But those wings.

Dean can't help thinking 'Wow, I'm seeing a tiny piece of heaven here and I'm so freaking stoked' or the feeling of complete and utter awe that spreads through his body as his eyes roam the vast expanse of dark, lustrous feathers.

"What are you?" Dean wants to know, whispers the question soft and curious before catching himself and carrying on. "I mean...an angel? With those freaky black things?"

The wings shrink noticeably before Dean's eyes, curl in on themselves, white tips brushing against the angel's arms and Dean wants to take his last comment back at the flash of obvious hurt on it's face. Even more so when something like deep resignation sets in it's features and he gets the feeling that he isn't the first person to have pointed out the obvious...uniqueness...of this particular angel's wings.

"They are the wings that were bestowed upon me at birth by my father. Just as your eyes are green, my wings are black - the way He created us." It replies, gentle and submissive but Dean detects the note of respect and admiration it has for this so called omniscient Dad. He nods curtly, not at all comfortable with the topic they've strayed to and by a way of changing it asks the angel another question because really, Dean can't go on calling it It forever.

"What's your name? You do have a name, right? Angels have names don't they Sammy?" He turns to his brother who still has his I'm-thinking-really-hard-about-something-so-excuse-me-if-I-look-constipated face on and Dean doesn't expect a reply.

"My name is Castiel, Angel of Solitude and Tears." Again, with the submissiveness.

Dean gapes, "Dude, could you be more depressing?"

Castiel's face turns into an angelic and less-constipated-more-adorable version of Sammy's and he says simply, "I have just informed you that my name is Castiel and yet you refer to me as 'Dude'. I do not understand. Are you ill?"

Dean gapes some more. A whole lot more. Dropped jaw and red face to complete the perfect offended/amused look he has going on right now and Sam swallows his laughter and Castiel just goes on looking confused.

"Castiel?" Sam clears his throat and tries out the name on his tongue for the first time. He thinks he's mis-pronounced it because the angel turns to him, one eyebrow raised ever so slightly. He doesn't correct him though.

"Yes?"

"I'm Sam Winchester, this is my brother Dean." He gestures to his brother and Dean winks jokingly, overconfident grin firmly in place. "We're hunters, which basically means our goal in life is to rid the world of evil supernatural things like demons and ghosts."

"Think, Scooby Doo and the gang without the mask aspect." Dean chirps in helpfully. "Dibs on Fred. Sammy, you can be Shaggy - God knows you have the hair."

Sam shoots him a disbelieving look.

"Riiight. Anyway, we came here because some of the locals have reported seeing you. Well to be more accurate, they've reported seeing your wings and...uh, they're kinda afraid, you see you might just about be the only angel in existence with black wings and it's a little...unsettling, to say the least."

Throughout Sam's explanation Dean watches as the angel Castiel's face grows unfeasibly more white and depressed and his wings deflate even further. They look like they're trying to cram themselves behind the poor guy's back, Dean thinks and has the sudden urge to reach out and touch the seemingly velvet feathers in order to inject a bit more life into them. Castiel is looking at the floor and his eyes are shiny and Dean wants to punch Sam for his last words because that's when the angel looks up and the expression of complete desolation on his face and his wide blue eyes, unshed tears glimmering on his eyelashes has Dean's mind racing with the words kicked and puppy.

"People...they are afraid of me?" Castiel looks like he might just cry and Dean thinks that if he does he might just cry too but of course, Dean Winchester avoids chick-flick moments like Sammy avoids a haircut and so he tries to make the angel feel better by placing a hand on his shoulder.

Bad move.

Castiel jerks back from his touch, shooting across the room and all but hyperventilates over in the corner. Dean's eyes go wide and his hand is still frozen in the air at Angel Shoulder Height.

"Please...do not...do that again." Castiel wheezes, huge eyes a shade of otherworldly blue. He is very much unused to physical contact; at least physical contact of the non-violent kind and so when Dean laid a hand on his shoulder his instincts had started raging at him and the word danger flashed red before his eyes.

"Sorry man, uh...you okay-"

Dean doesn't get to finish because Castiel's face has gone an impossible shade of pale and his hands are shaking and his feathers are mussed up and he's silencing the brothers with a raised finger.

No one breathes: the angel listens.

Castiel's heart drops to his stomach as he hears the footsteps of his master ascending the stone steps of the tower and his brain goes into to panic mode.

"You have to leave." he hisses, fear and dread and desperation seeping out of his words as they hit the air between him and the Winchesters. Dean and Sam stand looking worried as Castiel's eyes flicker about the room finally setting on Dean's face. "Go," he's ushering them around a large beam that obscures the majority of the left side of the room and cloaks the view of a narrow corridor that leads to Castiel's window. "Follow this corridor round to the end."

Raphael is at the door now, hand poised on the handle, milliseconds away from twisting it and yanking the door open.

The brothers are already skidding towards the corner and out of sight.

"Third pane from the left. Rose. Hide on the balcony," he doesn't know if they hear but he desperately hopes so; if Raphael were to find them Castiel does not know what will happen, only knows he never wants to find out.

The oak door has been opened now.

Castiel reaches down quickly and plucks a rag doused in polish from the pile of cleaning supplies near Emmanuel; he begins smoothing it over the bell's surface, hoping the movement will mask the shaking of his hands.

"Castiel." Raphael drags out his name and Castiel swallows the sudden lump of terror wedged in his throat. The Archangel appears, large and intimidating; ash-white wings, all angles and sharpness, splayed arrogantly behind him. They do not twitch once; Raphael is always sure of himself.

"Master?" Castiel's eyes are huge and half crazed with anticipation, he knows but he cannot control it, only tries his best not to let his gaze flicker over to the windows.

"You have yet to show me the results of your latest assignment, Castiel. I would very much like to assess your work."

Raphael's voice is commanding and loud and disapproving and Castiel cannot help the shudder it provokes across his skin.

"Yes, master," he replies, setting down the rag and moving towards the Archangel. "I have completed the polishing of every bell...save for Emmanuel" he hesitates knowing that Raphael will not like this. As expected the archangel's face twists into a snarl and his robust arm rises and falls, fist hitting Castiel squarely in the jaw before Castiel can comprehend what is happening. He sways, stars shooting rapidly in front of him and he falls to his knees before the archangel and pleads desperately.

"Forgive me Master, I am sorry. I was fatigued, I could not move any more hurriedly. But that is no excuse, oh please, I promise I will do better next time, I will. I will be quick as lighting and when I am finished the bells will gleam brighter than the Grace of God."

Castiel is sobbing openly now, face soaked in tears, frantic hands clutching the archangel's leg and Raphael smirks triumphantly at the sight before him. "There, there little Castiel," he pats the quivering heap before him on the head. "You know I am harsh with you for your own benefit; you must work hard and repent for our Father will never receive you at Heaven's gates if you do not."

Castiel weeps harder at this, he knows these words well, has heard them a thousand if not a million times but they never get any better, any less harsh.

"Yes, Master. I understand. I am truly sorry." His voice is shattered, soft.

Raphael releases Castiel's hair from his palm and instructs the broken angel to stand. He does so and silently continues with his work as the archangel takes his leave with a parting gift of delicious grapes that are flung onto Castiel's bed. The angel expresses his perpetual thanks for the gift by scrubbing the bells surface more vigorously.