I have been told my jedi mind tricks have no sway over you fine readers... Damn. There's one career option down the tubes. So in lieu of learning that I am incapable of coercing you via The Force, I'll just have to ask politely - please excuse any mistakes!
Thanks so much for the reviews. And extra points to Tanni-chan! Fireworks tonight in your honor! You clever duck...
Complications of Rediscovery.
The Host of Heaven was not designed to handle epiphanies gracefully. Ironically enough. Angels were built with a certain problem-solving instinct into their every fibre, a keep it simple gene, which made them inclined to see the most pragmatic solution and be hesitant to consider others. Once an epiphany was made, they did not wait before taking immediate action. It was in their nature to do.
Upon piecing together the realization of where he knew the Ivy from, Castiel immediately pressed two fingers to Dean's forehead right there in the middle of the street, giving the man that unfortunately familiar feeling of the floor disappearing beneath him and his head full of cotton, before being deposited less than gracefully back at the motel.
As soon as Dean could feel his feet on solid ground he reached out as if he was about to topple over, ending up with a fistful of trenchcoat, and an armful of Angel.
Snapping from one location to another was something Dean would daresay he would never entirely get used to. But he was prepared enough now a days not to need nearly an entire minute and a half leaning against Castiel to pull himself together.
Which is why it was particularly strange that he seemed to do just that.
Feeling he might fall, Dean had reached out, twisting towards the only thing he knew for sure was there - Castiel. And reflexively Castiel had turned toward Dean, to catch him. It resulted in Dean swaying into the Angel's arms, sunk a little lower than his full height, leaving him pressed against Castiel's chest, looking up into his electric blue eyes.
Castiel's face was impassive as he held Dean, but there was so much happening behind those eyes that Dean felt if Cas kept staring like that the angel might accidentally light him on fire.
Before he knew it they'd been standing there, pressed against each other for a full, silent minute.
Dean suddenly became sharply aware of the places where their bodies touched. He could feel the heat of Cas' hands, tight on his biceps. His heart skipped and fluttered in his chest.
Castiel's brow furrowed, he looked down at Dean disapprovingly, "I warned you about the coffee Dean."
And Dean could only swallow thickly, his words leaving him, because Castiel's voice was even lower than it usually was, and oddly quiet.
Castiel moved to stand Dean up straight, and Dean cleared his throat, embarrassed, jumping back from the angel to straighten himself out.
"I'll return in a moment."
A slight breeze had Dean looking up to see that Cas was suddenly gone. But before he could analyze the resulting pang of longing, Cas had returned - with Sam at his side.
"Cas, what the Hell?" Sam asked, steadying himself.
When Sam's eyes met his in question Dean offered, "I think he solved the case..."
Fifteen minutes and a good deal of explanation later, Dean stared at Castiel in disbelief. "Dionysus? ...Like... Greek God Dionysus? Like... grape-eating, rave-throwing Dionysus?"
Both Sam and Cas peered at Dean curiously, heads tilted.
There was a long silent moment in which Dean crackled under their combined stare, before adding defensively, "What? I know things."
Sam pulled an impressed expression. Castiel explained, "The Ivy we have been seeing, it used to grow around his temples, places where people worshipped him. It was a symbol of his power - lively but dangerous. That's why I didn't remember it. It has been quite some time since then."
Sam was on his laptop before you could say nerd, typing in a frenzy and scrolling through the pages. "Ok, it says here that the his cult used wine, madness and ecstacy to free people from their self-restraints, eliminating the cares or worries of his worshippers."
"Well that hits the nail on the head," Dean mused.
"I can't believe it..." Sam shook his head, staring off, "I mean we've seen a few here and there but... all those legends, all those Gods and Goddesses and the myths...they're all real?"
"Certainly not," Castiel immediately corrected. "Humanity has a way of... embellishing. Most of these individuals were not even deities of any sort. Merely creatures possessing a certain degree of supernatural power."
"Like the ability to get people stoned and let them bliss-out forever while you feed off their crazy," Dean added bitterly.
"Dionysus may have been considered to be a Greek Deity of ecstacy, but he wasn't without his wickedness. He would kill anyone who attempted to keep his followers from feeling his influence," Castiel informed.
"Did his influence look a lot like what we have here?" Dean asked.
"Close enough."
Dean and Sam looked at each other agreeing, it was enough for them too.
Castiel added, "If I remember correctly, he inspired a great deal of drunken fornication. His debauchery was fascinating if not cause for concern."
"So, you... knew Dionysus? Like... personally?" Sam asked, fascinated.
"I daresay no one really knew him. He was difficult to understand. Fickle and inconstant and a slave to his every desire. He derived great pleasure from sending his worshippers into hysterics. The effects of which often resulted in inducing drunken, erotic consorting among entire towns. It was..." he stared down at the table, choosing his word, "loud," he finished with distaste.
"Sounds like a good time to me," Dean joked.
Sam looked at him with a smile of contempt that said, You're a man-whore.
Castiel seemed to ignore the comment completely.
"Great. So how do we kill the Greek God of the Happy Hour?" Dean moved things along.
"We may not have to," Castiel stated, looking down into the pages of an old book.
Sam and Dean exchanged glances - they hadn't even noticed he'd come and gone, but he must have. That book was neither of theirs and they doubted he'd been carrying it around in his trenchcoat. It wasn't unusual for Cas to disappear at the drop of a hat and return as quickly, but this time he was so fast about it neither of them had even comprehended it.
Impressive, Dean thought.
"There was a spell, I remember my brothers speaking of it back when the Greeks were becoming... out of hand. The spell was a binding of sorts."
"Good, that's great. The less murder the better, right?" Sam added, pleased. Dean shrugged as if to say he didn't entirely agree, and Sam shot him a hard look. "Do we really want to be the assholes who kill Dionysus?" Sam argued at Dean.
"You needn't be worried about killing Dionysus. He is already dead," Castiel stated tersely, and absolutely.
There was a silent confusion.
Dean squinted at the angel, telegraphing said confusion very obviously.
Sam's face was the picture of a man trying to connect the dots, "But you said..." Castiel did not respond so Sam asked frustrated, "What is it then?"
"Not it, who. It is Dionysus, but not directly," Castiel stated flatly.
The Angel looked at the boys, unblinking, as if it should all make sense. He sighed impatiently continuing, "It would not have been unlike him to have..." he shifted uncomfortably, trying to word it, "spread his seed copiously amongst the human race."
Dean pulled a slightly put-off face. "Oh... Sexy."
Thankfully, Dean's sarcasm was finally starting to read with Cas, so the Angel felt no need to question his response to the information.
"You're saying DemiGod," Sam deduced. "A descendant."
Castiel nodded.
"So, why would the DemiGod's power surface now? After years?"
"Could be any number of elements coming together. The trace amount of Dionysus' power within that person's genetics may have left their abilities dormant until some kind of trigger. Such as, an encounter with or sudden practice in ritual magic."
"So they would have always possessed the magic, but probably never accessed it," Sam mused, obviously enraptured.
Dean rolled his eyes, he was losing patience with the twenty questions. He was ready to get on with the hunt. "Is there any way to tell who it is?"
"There would be no external signs," Castiel informed.
Dean offered, "Gunning had pictures of the Grapevine all over the place. And with the Ivy too, I think we can safely say that's definitely ground zero. Hate to say it Sam... but, I think we're lookin' at someone who works there. Could be any one of them."
Sam nodded sadly. He tried not to let his disappointment show, but Dean knew him too well not to see it.
"I mean anyone Sam. Diner Girl doesn't just get a pass cause she's cute," Dean added in that way that was both harsh and gentle. It was clear he didn't want to hurt his little brother, but he had to be sure Sam understood. And Sam knew that. He didn't blame Dean for the tone he knew so well - the demand to put the job first.
To cover the turmoil within, Sam simply rolled his eyes, "I know how to do my job Dean." He turned his back on Dean, busying himself and praying it wasn't her.
Let it be anyone else.
Dean tried to distract from Sam's obvious discomfort, "So... it's a DemiGod that we can't identify. Should be easy. We'll have to keep eyes on the place. Cas and I will wait outside, stake the place out, Sam, you're a regular. You can go in and scout it out from there."
Sam turned and faced Dean with his shoulders slumped in defeat. "Sure, Dean... and how am I supposed to identify this person? What do I just guess?"
"That would be a less than precise way to go about it," Castiel muttered.
"Better ideas?" Dean returned, looking at Cas critically.
"The worship of Apollo did severely irk him," Cas considered, "he often flew into a rage at the mention of him. Perhaps his descendant has a similar dislike ingrained."
Dean shrugged, "It's thin... but it's something."
Sam stared at Dean and Cas with a level of irritation just this side of disbelief, "Thin? Yeah. I'll say." He always hated the idea of going in blind. Just because they tended to wing-it, didn't mean Sam had ever liked it. "What do we do when we find it?"
"Leave that to me," Castiel said tersely.
Sam and Dean shared a look. "Easy enough," Dean shrugged.
Sam entered the diner with a familiar nervousness building in his chest. But today the fidget-inducing nerves weren't just for the waitress, it was also for the job. He was a six and a half foot solid wall of jitters as he wandered over to the counter and sat down, his eyes scanning the restaurant. The descendant of a Greek God was somewhere in this building, turning the people of their town against their better judgement, causing murder and attempted murder and a whole lot of general chaos. And Sam should have been sharp, ready to fight. But instead, all he could think of was her.
He glimpsed her behind the counter and his heart sank - somehow he'd been hoping she just wouldn't be here. His legs carried him heavily over to the counter; he sat on the stool closest to where she stood, back to him, fussing with an old coffee maker. His heart ached when she turned and saw him, immediately smiling and letting out an excited "Hey!" then blushing furiously as if it had come out far too excited.
"Hey," he returned, trying to sound normal. Just get to it Sam, before you screw it up or something. So I've been walking around town... Those are some pretty neat Corinthian columns you got out there, on the Town Hall."
She smiled at him with dubious eyes, "You're easily impressed."
"Nah, nah. I just... I like Ancient Civilizations. Greece especially. Architecture, culture...mythology... You know anything about that?"
"About as much as the next Community College grad," she joked. Turning to him she said, "But that's cool."
He couldn't help the skip in his heart, even as his mind warned him against her charm. She turned away again, getting back to the coffee maker. Sam trained his eyes on her, "Been reading a lot about... Apollo."
He waited for a reaction...
"Oh yeah? What about him?" she asked conversationally.
No smoking gun there...
"Um... well he was very rational. Apparently, way more serious a God than Dionysus," he baited obviously.
She gave a polite, Hm.
Sam's shoulders slumped, and he wasn't sure if it was from relief that she didn't turn around and spit fire at him, or from disappointment that there was still no way to know whether it was her, and the whole Apollo thing just didn't work. This is a stupid plan...
There was an irritated "Order up," from down the other end of the bar, and the waitress gave Sam a quick smile before heading over to retrieve the plates.
Ok, now or never... Sam told himself, standing to survey the restaurant for staff and regulars. His eyes landed on the elder, surlier waitress at the other end of the restaurant.
Sam snuck across the room and up behind the elder waitress as casually and stealthily as a man of his size can in a crowded, well-lit diner. He glanced around, feeling like an idiot, before saying to her back, "Apollo."
She turned and looked him up and down, critically. She crossed her arms in front of her chest and gave him the face that said, Why the Hell are you in my space?. He gave an awkward laugh before adding, "Dionysus sucks...?"
Her eyes grew sharp - but not with rage at the insult to the God so much as with irritation at yet another crazy-person getting in her way.
"Sorry... never mind," Sam apologized awkwardly before walking away.
On his way back to the bar he saw the cook lean out from the back, "Hey," Sam called for his attention.
The man looked at him expectantly.
"Apollo."
"What?"
"Never mind," Sam kept walking, frustrated.
The cook worked the encounter over in his mind a moment before retreating back to the kitchen with a shake of his head.
The Impala was unbearably stuffy.
Both Dean and Cas were working themselves into a veritable frenzy trying not to think about each other. When the windows started to fog, Dean's heart started thumping.
Great. Now it's like we're in friggin' Titanic...
He rolled down his window and shifted uncomfortably in his seat, sitting turned toward the Angel to stare past him out the passenger-side window, eyes trained on the diner's front entrance. That was, until he was distracted by Cas raising a curious fingertip to the window's now nearly opaque glass, wiping a slow streak into the fog.
Dean's instinct was to tell him not to get fingerprints all over the glass. He started to give a Hey, but when Cas lifted his pale, slender fingers to the glass again, drawing small symbols experimentally, Dean was entirely distracted. Cas seemed to get a small amount of joy from the simple thing, if the ghost of a smile on his lips was any indication.
And seeing Cas smile, made Dean smile.
"Me and Sam used to do that all the time, on those windows," he motioned to the back seat. "Made my dad crazy. We used to see if we could leave each other messages without him noticing," Dean smiled vaguely at the memory, and Castiel was enraptured.
Suddenly Dean was leaning over Castiel, and before his brain could ask him what the Hell he was doing, he was breathing against the glass to fog it up.
Castiel was frozen where he sat, as Dean leaned over his lap, closing his eyes briefly as his breath hit the window.
Castiel swallowed hard at the sight, barely keeping it together, the itch to touch him is so overwhelming - and now he was so close, so tempting.
Dean brought his hand up, his finger writing D.W. into the new fog, a little lightning-bolt squiggle between the first and last initial. He smiled at Cas, expectantly, sitting back on his seat. He thought maybe he should be embarrassed, should feel stupid and sentimental, but looking at Cas' wide blue eyes, he just couldn't manage it.
This feels good... It feels right to be here with him.
Castiel reached up, tracing Dean's letters, noticing that oddly his fingers were trembling. He pressed his finger to the glass beside Dean's mark and wrote C.
There was a heavy moment of them both thinking about Castiel's lack of last name. The singular letter looked so incomplete. Dean leaned forward again and outlined the letter with two little wings on either side.
"There. That's you."
Cas' smile was enough to break Dean's heart, and give him that familiar bubbling magma seeping into his chest.
There was a long stretch of strangely comfortable silence between them as they both watched the front of the restaurant.
Dean was the one to break it, baffled by his own sudden urge to speak, "So Heaven hasn't reeled you back yet, huh?"
"There is significant chaos in the wake of 'the Apocalypse that wasn't'. It only masks itself as peace. I doubt if my brothers are putting too much energy forth into finding me."
Dean gave a mirthless laugh at the state of Heaven.
Castiel suddenly shifted awkwardly. "You find my family struggles to be mortifying. If only you had witnessed family gatherings on Olympus... Heaven is fairly well adjusted by comparison."
Castiel gave a slight smile and Dean was mesmerized.
"Was that... was that a joke?" Dean couldn't help the surprised laugh that escaped him at the realization.
Castiel's smile widened a little, crinkling the corners of his eyes, "I suppose it was, yes."
Dean laughed. He gave a good nod, "Not bad, Cas."
Dean could have stared at that rare smile all day, but just past Cas, out the window, Dean saw something...
The gruff-looking older waitress left the diner, looking over her shoulder suspiciously as she headed quickly down the street.
She was obviously nervous. Dean grabbed his cellphone, "Sam, the waitress is on the move."
"What? No she'd not. I'm looking at her right now."
"Yeah I bet you are," Dean jibed with frustration. "Not Diner Girl, the other one. Diner...Matron."
"I just questioned her," Sam said.
"Did she react to Apollo?"
"No, but it's pretty curious that she'd just take off right after I spoke to her."
"Yeah, she looks pretty shady too. Alright, me and Cas'll stay on her. You keep an eye on ground zero."
"Got it."
Dean hung up and tapped Cas' shoulder to tell him to get out of the car. They started following the waitress as subtly as they could.
Sam waited impatiently in his booth, tapping his fingers on the tabletop. He was praying Dean called back to tell him that the other waitress was their culprit. He was so wrapped up in his thoughts, he didn't even hear his waitress walk up.
"How's it goin' history buff?" she joked, sliding into the booth.
"Oh, you know... alright."
"You know, you said you like Ancient Greece... My grandmother was Greek," she said proudly.
Sam's eyes shot to hers. "You don't say..." he tried to keep his voice even.
"Yep. Always thought I should have embraced the culture more. She was pretty gung-ho about it." She reached over and grabbed Sam's drink, slipping the straw between her lips as if this was a totally normal thing to do with a man whose name you didn't even know. Sam was surprised at how this unusual girl seemed so comfortable with everyone she met, and he was starting to like how comfortable she was with him. The way she held the straw between her lips absentmindedly as she looked at him through dark eyelashes didn't hurt either...
In fact it totally distracted him from the task at hand, and the information he'd just been given.
She was just so pretty - wavy light brown hair, light brown eyes, a dusting of freckles on her face and arms and a perpetual glint in her eyes. A sparkle, really, that hinted at happiness, ease of pleasure, and maybe a little mischief. There was something about her that made it easy for him to picture them together - in more ways than one.
Sam blushed when he realized he was staring, and he let his eyes drift down from hers, landing on the opulent black ring. It made him smile to see the thing, cheap, black and gold, with the cameo -
Sam's smile vanished.
He squinted at the ring, taking in its picture as closely as he could. The cameo was of a man with a full beard and a head of curly hair, adorned in a wreath of ivy and grapes. It was the same image he'd seen in Castiel's book only hours before.
He'd known when he first saw the ring days ago that it was familiar. Now he knew why.
It was a cameo of Dionysus.
Sam's heart sank, his blood pounded in his ears. He looked up to see the waitress looking at him expectantly.
"Sorry, what?"
"I asked how long you might be staying in town..." she looked down at the table, her cheeks pinking.
"Oh. Uh..."
It's her! She's the one who's poisoning people!
But I think she really likes us...
What! Are you friggin' kidding!
I don't think she's capable of hurting anyone...
Crap, she's staring - Say something! Don't give yourself away as a Hunter!
"Not sure yet," he recovered less than smoothly. "I was hoping to stick around a little longer..." And didn't it just sting that it was true.
He'd been hoping to stick around... for her. Now what was he supposed to do?
The waitress smiled shyly and took another sip before she slid the glass back over to Sam. "I've got an order up. I'll be back when you need a refill."
She smiled and walked away, picking up a few plates and rolling her eyes at the short-order cook who muttered something about 'taking a break'.
Sam took a deep breath and figured what to do next. He pulled out his phone, scrolling to Dean's name and pausing over the send button.
He knew what he had to do.
He pressed send and waited for Dean to pick up.
"Hey, Sam. You got something?"
"It's her," Sam admitted quietly, no preamble.
Dean was walking down the street with Castiel by his side. When he heard Sam's tone he stopped and gave Cas a knowing look. Cas simply nodded in understanding. They'd already discussed this possibility.
"You sure?" Dean asked warily.
"Yeah."
There was a moment of quiet.
"I'm sorry Sam."
"Yeah."
Another moment of quiet.
"Look, we're not gonna kill her as long as we don't have to. If Cas says he can bind her Godliness or whatever, then that's what we'll do. At least she'll live."
"Yeah, I know," Sam confirmed, trying to sound more confident in the plan than he was. Not having to waste her was a comfort, but a small one. This either meant that she knew all along what she was doing and was lying about it, stringing everyone along, himself included, or, she had no idea and they were about to kidnap and terrify her.
Great.
"Ok Sam, keep an eye on her. Cas and I are gonna go back to the motel, get set, and then I'll call you when it's go time. Got it?"
"Yeah, alright." Sam's answer was weak and annoyed.
"Sam," Dean warned roughly, "you got it?"
"Yes, Dean. I got it!" He slammed his phone shut angrily.
Sam sighed heavily, shoving his phone into his pocket. This is just my friggin' luck. He rubbed his hand through his hair before reaching forward for his glass and bringing the straw to his lips.
"Well he's in a cheery mood," Dean muttered stowing his phone back in his pocket. He and Castiel were now passing through the park. They were noticeably without the Impala as they tracked the waitress, as it had become nearly impossible to maneuver a car around the increasingly chaotic town. People were no longer bothering to follow the rules of the road and Dean had come to the decision, and not lightly, that it was taking your life into your hands to be anywhere near the street in this town.
He and Cas had kept warily to the sidewalk and even up into the grass. Especially after a red pick-up truck came flying by at forty miles an hour, veering up onto the sidewalk as the driver's girlfriend flashed the townspeople out her open passenger window.
Castiel pulled Dean away from the truck's path at the last moment. And yet, despite nearly being killed in a vehicular manslaughter, Dean couldn't help but laugh and smile like a kid at Christmas as the truck turned the corner up ahead, the half-naked girl blowing him a kiss.
Castiel had simply looked at him disapprovingly.
Now they were going through the park in the center of town, knowing that despite it being a bit longer of a route back to the motel, it was a hell of a lot safer than the main drag.
It did have its share of crazies though.
On the park bench nearest to the sidewalk there were three women, easily in their forties, laughing hysterically at their inside jokes and passing around a curious little blunt.
Dean was a little shocked, but gave a laugh. Soccer-moms gone wild, he thought wistfully.
They whistled as he and Cas passed by them, and when Dean turned to look they giggled, red-faced, and huddled together hiding their faces. One woman whistled again, barely able through the laughter, and her friends swatted at her frantically, laughing hysterically. There were a couple of Shush's and Stop, they're looking's and Dean couldn't help but grin.
As he turned to walk away he winked at them and they all but screeched.
Cas practically pulled him away by the arm.
"Hey!" Dean protested.
"Dean, we don't have time for you to indulge," he said gravely.
"I wasn't! I was just appreciating being appreciated," he said with a wicked grin.
Castiel rolled his eyes and they continued.
Until a pair of bodies slammed into each other directly in front of them, interrupting their path very suddenly.
After a moment of confusion, it was obvious that the bodies were that of a young couple, who had obviously run to each other in a fervor, and were now attached at the face. They were making out furiously, right in front of Dean and Castiel, who could do nothing but watch as the couple all but lost control of themselves, sliding to the ground.
When they started tearing clothes off, Dean knew it was time to go. "Alright then..." he gave a nod and started walking.
But Cas didn't follow. He stayed put, staring down at the couple with that tilted-head interest, studying them.
Dean only got a few feet before turning around to see the Angel standing directly above the oblivious couple, staring, studying. Dean fought the urge to let Cas watch, and to watch him watch, and instead rushed over, grabbing Castiel by the arm and pulling him away. "Come on Peeping Tom."
Cas barely spared Dean a confused glance. Even as he was dragged away, his eyes were glued to the couple groping and rolling in the grass. As they got further away his stare was almost regretful, disappointed. He'd been curious to see where that went. Even as they crossed the park, Casteil kept turning back to observe how the couple had progressed.
Dean pretended not to notice. His instinct was to make a jibe, to joke about Castiel's obvious interest in sex. But every time his brain supplied a dirty or teasing quip, it got lodged in his throat before it could see daylight.
Because Dean liked that Cas was interested.
Dean cleared his throat, trying to shove those thoughts from his mind.
God forbid you should let something slip about how much you want the Angel... how much you want to throw him down on the grass in the middle of this public park for everyone to see and make sure that coat gets covered in grass stains -
Stay on task, Dean! With all the free love in the air, it was better to keep his thoughts strictly business. Safer.
"So, a Demigod... you sure we're gonna be able to wrangle her? It's gonna be a tough fight I bet. Being even part God has to put some serious fuel in the tank. You sure you can handle that?"
It was meant to be conversational. In truth, the statement was entirely off-handed, as Dean's brain was still trying to break through disturbingly detailed fantasy-images of Castiel's back arched off the grass, trench coat fanned out around him...
Nevertheless, Cas stopped dead in his tracks at the question.
When Dean took a few steps, feeling Castiel was no longer by his side he turned back, noticing immediately how Castiel was glaring at him with electric-blue eyes.
The stare was unsettlingly fueled.
"What...?" Dean asked warily.
Castiel shook his head, obviously angry. He stormed onward, passing Dean in a huff.
"What?" Dean asked, getting annoyed.
Castiel stopped again suddenly, Dean faltering behind him, as he whirled around on the man. "Do you not remember that I battled through the hordes of Hell to get to you?"
Dean was struck silent by the suddenness of the comment. Of course he remembered.
"Do you imagine that was akin to strolling down an Earthly street?" Castiel motioned with irritation to the road. "Have I not laid evil to waste before your very eyes?" Castiel demanded, loudly.
Dean knew by the Angel's tone that he was in deep. He offered, placatingly, "Cas, I'm not sure what -"
His voice came out dark and gravel, "Allow me to make it clear for you." Castiel's posture stiffened and his head tilted downward until he was glaring at Dean from below dark lashes.
Dean's heart squeezed at the deja vu feeling brought on by the sight... the breath caught in his chest as he realized why it was so familiar - this was the way Castiel looked the first day they met. It was the same stance the Angel took when he displayed the shadow of his wings, when he displayed his strength.
Dean swallowed hard - what did Castiel intend to display this time?
A large, obviously very old oak tree several yards behind Castiel spontaneously burst into flames, the sky above it growing dark and stormy. Lightning struck the ground at the base of the tree twice in a row, leaving the grass scorched and black. The knotted trunk and branches seemed to splinter and break away too easily, and the ground shook with Heavenly wrath.
Then, in an instant, it was all gone - the sky was bright, the tree was whole, and there was no indication anyone had felt it but Dean.
He stared at Cas slack-jawed, with wide, awe-filled eyes.
Castiel stared back. He seemed taller, more intimidating, than only moments before. "Destruction is bred into me," he warned, his voice deep and utterly Angelic. Dean could do nothing but stand there, immobilized and listen. "As well as creation, or you would not be here." The handprint on Dean's shoulder tingled warmly, and he touched it through his jacket. Cas stepped in close, "And you think I am outmatched by one pagan demigod?"
Dean was crippled in that gaze. He swallowed hard, "Apparently not...?" his voice cracked nervously as Cas stood close, his burning eyes so persistent.
He is fucking sexy.
What! Dude, it is so not the time -
You could just lean in and kiss him. He wouldn't even hurt you... I don't think... It would be the least weird thing to happen in this town.
This is not the time, Dean!
The panic in his own mind made him stumble back from the Angel a little. Dean cleared his throat awkwardly, looking down at his shoes, "I uh... didn't mean..."
Cas' eyes gave no indication of backing down even as Dean started the stuttered, lame attempt at an apology.
"Dude," he looked up into Cas' expectant face, "you really have issues with your masculinity." He laughed weakly to show it was a joke, but Cas' face remained impassive.
In that moment, Cas was in total control. And Dean knew it. They both did.
Dean stood silently, chastened, until Castiel decided he had forgiven him.
It was several, very long, very tense moments.
Then Cas seemed to shrug back into his more familiar, unassuming stance, and Dean could feel himself relax a little. Some part of his brain mourning the loss of such intensity. But he ignored that as best he could.
The majority of the walk home was silent. The man and Angel walked shoulder to shoulder all of the way to the motel, Dean's hand brushing against Castiel's a number of times, sending a spark shooting from his fingertips straight up to his heart.
He would have said he was sorry, but he wasn't. And Cas didn't pull away, so neither did Dean.
Once back at the motel they gathered the things needed to perform their spell. Dean was ill at ease when he called Sam, repeatedly, and he did not pick up. He hoped his brother hadn't let his blind-spot for Diner Girl get him into trouble...
I am not a student of Greek Mythology by any means, so a lot of this information is stolen straight from that wonderful educational tool, the internet.