The first indication that they were neck deep in trouble was the shaking of the ground all around them. Castiel had just finished sliding Dean's freshly cleaned pendant over his head when all hell broke loose. The mud and dirt under his borrowed shoes suddenly clung to him, sending spiralling fingers up his legs, and next to him, he could see that Sam was trying to shake off one of the mud-men, too.
Sam was having better luck than he was at the moment, making faster progress as they slogged their way back to the heavy metal door. With his leg screaming at him and his ribs sparking in white-hot shards of pain with every move, Castiel was beginning to wish he'd taken Dean's advice to heart. He was still several feet from the door and being dragged rapidly backwards by the earth itself when Sam reached the bucket of water he'd placed by the bar's entrance in case of emergency. Thankful that at least Sam would make it to safety, Castiel stopped struggling, hoping to provide an easier target and draw the demon soldiers away from Sam to buy him a few extra seconds.
Suddenly, Castiel found himself drenched in cold water. He spun his head around to see Sam holding the now-empty bucket in his hands and yelling at him to hurry. With the water loosening the soldier's grasp on his legs, Castiel was able to break free and make a stumbling dash towards the door.
Sam wrenched the door open and shoved him inside, but he wasn't following, and it was then that Castiel saw the extent to which the hunter was enveloped by the mud. It was well past his waist, and rapidly climbing the length of his tall frame. Worse yet, there were half a dozen more of the soldiers directly behind him.
"Just go, Cas! I've gotta close this door before they get inside!" Sam shouted, making it clear that he intended to be on the opposite side of the door when it closed.
There was no way that was going to happen. Before Sam could shut the door on him, Castiel got a two-handed grip on his arm and yanked with all his strength. Sam tumbled headlong into the bar, scrabbling on the floor and now nearly completely encased in mud. Castiel slammed the door shut just in time to keep a whole battalion of mud men at bay.
Their noisy entrance alerted Dean, and he and a handful of others raced towards them with one of the hoses and several buckets of water. The mud, however, was already forcing itself down Sam's throat, and they were not going to arrive in time to save him. Castiel was his only hope, now, and he could only pray that the creature hadn't reached full strength and that he had enough power within him to kill it.
Mustering all his reserves, Castiel let loose one powerful blast of energy directly into the core of the mud soldier. In an instant, the mud burst into dust and ash, harmlessly flaking off of Sam and falling to the floor all around him. The over-taxing of his Grace had taken its toll, and Castiel could feel the darkness encroaching on his vision, but he managed to hold out long enough to hear Sam coughing, expelling the dirt that had gone down his throat. With the knowledge that he'd done everything in his power to save his friend, Castiel surrendered to unconsciousness and collapsed.
Dean stopped in his tracks, the water in his bucket sloshing over the rim and onto the dusty remains of the mud soldier on the floor. Sammy was hacking and coughing, which meant he was also able to breathe on his own, so Dean wasn't too worried about him. Cas, on the other hand…
He saw the angel's eyes roll up in his head, and he knew that he was going down. Unfortunately, Dean wasn't close enough to catch him in time and Castiel crumpled to the floor, limp as a puppet with its strings cut.
"Dammit, Cas," Dean muttered as he handed his bucket of water to the guy standing next to him. He knelt down next to the angel and checked to make sure he was breathing. Thankfully, he was, but he was also bleeding from his ears, nose and mouth, and that was never a good sign.
Outside, the howling of the mud army began in earnest. It reminded Dean of a documentary he'd once seen on howler monkeys, only these guys were much louder and the noise was accompanied by multiple thuds and bangs as they hammered against the walls to get inside.
"Help me get him into that booth over there," Dean barked at a young man who was just standing there watching. The man snapped to, following Dean's orders like a well-trained cadet under a drill sergeant. Together they carried Castiel over to the nearest booth and stretched him out along one of the vinyl benches. Not really caring about collateral damage, Dean proceeded to rip out the heavy wooden table that was taking up most of the room in the little cubicle. Without being asked, the young man gave him a hand, prying the bolted table out of the booth and then dragging it away to help reinforce the back door. Dean had just taken a seat opposite Castiel when Sam arrived at his side, still coughing up dust.
Dean could feel his brother watching him, judging his mood and deciding whether or not it was safe to start a conversation. He was not in the mood to hear whatever it was Sam had to say, so Dean studiously ignored him and continued to stare at Cas. The bar was silent, save for the pounding and hollering of the army outside – as if the people trapped with them thought the demon soldiers might go away if they were quiet enough. In the relative silence, Dean could hear the angel's ragged breathing as he watched the fluttering pulse in Cas' throat and the rapid movement of his eyes beneath his lids. Cas was dreaming, he realised. He just hoped it was a more pleasant dream than the one he'd been dragged into the previous night.
"He found the pendant," Sam said at last, having grown impatient waiting for Dean to acknowledge his presence.
Dean slid his gaze to the side to take in his baby brother, who was looking back at him with that 'I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to start the Apocalypse' look he'd developed lately.
"Do you really think it was worth nearly getting him killed for it?" Dean asked bluntly.
"He thought it was worth it," Sam replied readily.
Dean grunted. It wasn't the apology he'd been hoping for, but he had to admit Sam had a point. Castiel wouldn't have risked his life for nothing. Leaning forward in his seat, Dean reached over and fished the pendant out from under Cas' lumber jacket, gently laying it down again over Castiel's heart where he could see it. There was nothing different about the pendant – it wasn't hot to the touch or glowing, or anything – it was the same old necklace Dean had been wearing for years. Dean frowned.
"Why is it that whenever I need answers lately, you're always unconscious?" Dean asked. He waited a few seconds, as if Cas was going to wake up and answer him, and when he didn't, Dean looked over at Sam and shrugged. "Worth a shot. You know, last night, all I said was 'you better not make me come in there after you', and Cas pulled…"
"…me into… Hey!" Dean blinked a few times, wondering where Sammy had gone, before it occurred to him that he was the one who'd left. Technically he was still in the Red Barn, and he could still hear the pounding and howling of the army outside, but now there was no one else there but him and Cas, who was lying on the bench across from him, watching him serenely.
"No offense, Cas, but you've really gotta spice up your dreams a little," said Dean, offering his hand to help the angel sit up.
"I'll keep that in mind for next time," Castiel replied dryly. "Is Sam alright?"
"Yeah, he's fine," Dean replied gruffly, giving the angel a stern glare. "What was so damned important about that pendant that you had to go and pull a stunt like that, anyways?"
Castiel looked at Dean – the kind of look that normally delved way past eye contact and deep into soul searching. But after a moment, the angel shook his head and looked away. Whatever he was trying to see, he hadn't seen it. "I didn't want to say anything in case I was wrong."
Dean raised his eyebrows at that, but Castiel didn't get the hint and remained silent. "Can you tell me now?" Dean prompted.
"If you promise not to 'freak out'," Cas answered, his blue eyes peering at him askance.
Dean smirked at Cas' attempt at using a colloquialism, but quickly schooled his expression to let him know that he was taking him seriously. "Promise."
"I believe I may have been too literal in my interpretation of the mythology surrounding your pendant," Castiel said, and for some reason, the angel was reluctant to look him in the eye, now. "Roughly translated, it says that the pendant will 'shine as the sun in the presence of God's eternal blessing'. I took that to mean that it would reveal God's presence if He deemed the seeker worthy."
"And now you don't?"
"No."
"So what, then?" Dean asked, trying to nudge Cas towards revealing his so-called revelation.
Castiel hesitated, shifting awkwardly on the bench. With a soft sigh, he began; "When God created his children he imbued each of us with a unique soul. His first children – the angels – were given souls which were powerful and pure, but were inflexible. Human souls, on the other hand, were capable of free will, but were less…radiant. Many of my brethren believed that was because humans were inherently flawed and weak, but there are those of us who speculated that human souls are only weak in isolation.
"It is rare, but there are what we call bound souls – I think you refer to them as soul mates: two human souls which, when joined, become nearly as strong and as brilliant as those of angels." Castiel paused there, glancing in Dean's direction as if waiting for a response.
Dean didn't know where the angel was going with this, but he swore that if Cas didn't get to the point pronto, he was going to kick some holy ass. "That's all very nice and everything, but what has that got to do with my pendant and this demon mud army?"
Castiel rubbed his palms against his denim-clad thighs like he was a nervous teenager on a first date. "The pendant doesn't reveal the location of God; it is, itself, a vessel containing a fraction of God's Grace. And if the pendant is present during the ceremonial joining of two souls bound by God's will, it will release my father's Grace as a blessing upon them."
Dean sat there blinking back at him, figuring there was a point in there, but he'd somehow missed it. "Still don't see how that helps us," he stated.
Castiel stood and walked a few paces away, keeping his back towards Dean. It was his customary stance for breaking bad news to him, and it made Dean antsy. "God's Grace – even an infinitesimal fragment of it – would be more than enough to restore me to full strength. At full strength, I would easily be able to dispatch the demon army outside."
"Yeah, but first we'd have to track down our very own Romeo and Juliet and get them hitched, right?" All Dean got in response from the angel was a quick nod. "What, and you thought we'd be lucky enough to have these love birds holed up with us here in the Red Barn?" Dean scoffed.
Dean's smile slid from his face when Castiel turned to look at him with such intensity that there could be little doubt what he was thinking.
"Oh, you've got to be kidding me," Dean rasped, unconsciously shifting as far over on the bench as he could get in an unconscious effort to put a little more distance between them.
Castiel's eyes fell, and the hurt expression on his face hit Dean like a sucker punch to the gut. "It was only a theory," Castiel admitted softly.
Dean's head was whirling with the sudden realisation that Cas thought they might be…he couldn't even bring himself to think it. "Why, Cas? Why would you think…have I done something…'cause if I did, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to lead you on or anything. Not that I'm not flattered," he added, still feeling oddly guilty. "It's just, you know, I usually prefer my eternal soul mates to be a little less…male." He coughed over the words, feeling the heated blush spreading across his face.
Cas cocked his head at him and gave him a slight frown. "Gender is arbitrary, Dean. I thought you understood that."
"Maybe for you angels, it is. But from where I'm standing, gender is a pretty damned important." Dean was up on his feet now, too, although he couldn't say when, exactly, that had happened.
Castiel's shoulders slumped even more than they already were. "I apologise. I thought I'd sensed something between us, but I still have difficulty understanding emotions – I fear I may have misjudged our relationship."
Dean rubbed a hand over his eyes, trying to regroup. This was not a conversation he'd ever imagined he'd be having, and it was turning into a train wreck. He just didn't want Cas to become a casualty. "Cas..." he started, but when he opened his eyes, he was back in the Red Barn: the real Red Barn, with an unconscious angel in front of him and a mildly panicking brother beside him.
"Damn it!" he muttered and shook off the concerned hand Sammy had lain on his shoulder. Things had just gone from bad to worse, and he had no clue how to fix any of it.