Cas's head snaps around and he sees Crowley standing in the doorway, coat flapping in the night breeze. His brown eyes are round with disbelief as he looks at the two shirtless men entwined on the bed. He throws out a hand towards them, palm upwards and fingers spread wide.
"What the fuck is this?" he demands incredulously, eyes on Dean. Cas looks back at the demon in his arms, whose face only betrays a flicker of irritation as he raises his head from Cas's shoulder and stares at his partner in crime.
"Crowley," he drawls in greeting, utterly unconcerned, fingers drumming lightly on Cas's back. The older demon narrows his eyes.
"Dean," he mock-replies, even giving the smallest of fake bows. His voice is dripping with annoyance and accusation. He turns his disgusted gaze on Cas.
"Castiel." This time the bow has more of a flourish and the sarcasm is almost a physical presence. Cas nods his head in polite greeting anyway, grabbing his shirt from behind him and pulling it on as he tries to slide off of Dean's lap. Dean holds him there, still looking at Crowley calmly. The King of Hell glares at him.
"So this is where you've been instead of keeping to our dinner plans? In here, fucking the angel? Well, that's just bloody charming."
Dean smirks. "Hey, man, don't be jealous. It's not a good look on you."
"Jealous?" Crowley's voice shoots up an octave. "Me? Jealous of your feathery friend here? Don't flatter yourself, Squirrel."
Cas stares down at his fingers as he buttons his shirt, feeling increasingly like he's ceased to exist in the room. He wishes he had his wings so that he could make that illusion a reality. Dean chuckles low as he reaches behind Cas too, grabbing the angel's suit jacket and casually using it to wipe both of their stomachs clean, before tossing it aside and doing up his jeans. Cas gapes at him in outrage but Dean doesn't even look at him, still focused on the man in the doorway.
"Crowley, come on," he croons, all charm. "If you wanted to join us, you just had to say so."
Cas chokes in shock. "Dean, I do not -"
Dean looks at him and winks, cutting across him. "Shush, baby."
The pet name, for once, does not make Cas melt. He glares furiously and wrenches himself off of Dean's lap, kneeling on the bed and yanking his coat on, stuffing the tie angrily into a pocket. He glances at Crowley to find the older demon giving him an appraising look.
"Well, that does seem fair," he concedes, shrugging and giving Dean a cheeky smirk. "Glad you finally got to cross him off your bucket list, anyway. Now I just need to get hold of your brother."
Dean rolls his eyes as though this is an old joke. "Go ahead and try, dude'll smoke you."
"Nah," replies Crowley. "Not my Moose. It's true love, Dean, you know that."
He winks lazily and then shoves his hands into his pockets, looking back at Cas, who's staring between the two demons with a look on his face that can only be described as 'freaked out'.
"Stick around for a while if you like, old compadre," he says breezily. "See if you've still got some bad boy in you. Although if you haven't, I'm sure Squirrel here will take care of that with pleasure."
He smiles evilly, blows a kiss to Dean and sweeps out of the room, door clicking shut behind him. Dean laughs at Cas's deeply offended expression.
"Oh, man, you should see your face..." he chuckles, glancing behind him to grab his shirt and shrug it on. In the moment he's not looking, he fails to observe pain, determination and then a curiously blank look slide through Cas's eyes, as well as the quick flash of his hand disappearing into his coat pocket.
"Dean," Cas says quietly. The demon does up the middle button of his shirt and looks up, cocking his head to one side. Cas leans closer to him, glancing up at him through his lashes. "This is all... incredibly confusing. I'm still not sure what to think. But I'm willing to concede that maybe I was wrong about your being a demon. I wasn't expecting you to still be so... you. Or to be so, uh... welcoming."
He smiles shyly and Dean grins, leaning forward to kiss him.
"Glad to hear that, angel," he murmurs against Cas's lips. He pulls back, his expression serious as he continues in a low voice. "Me as a human... I was never going to let myself want you. I was always going to deny it. It was part of me. But now I don't care about that shit. I can give you what you need."
He purrs the last part, reaching out to tug Cas's shirt closer and closing his eyes...
Only to pull back and hiss in shock as Cas snaps a pair of devil's trap handcuffs onto his wrists, before leaping off of the bed and wrenching his angel blade out of the bedside table in one fluid movement. He backs away, holding the blade out in a shaking hand, eyes tortured. Dean snarls in rage and scrambles off the bed too, advancing slowly upon him.
"I'm sorry, Dean," the distraught angel murmurs, voice thick and cracked. "But I love you, for more than just your body. It's your soul I'm trying to save. That's more important to me. That's what I need."
Dean swears softly, eyes black as coal, and Cas gives a sad, humourless smile. "I suppose this makes us even, where handcuffs are concerned."
Dean leaps at him, face feral and cuffed hands swinging like a club. Cas whirls elegantly out of the way and winces as he plunges the blade deep into the demon's shoulder. Dean gives a yell and stumbles to his knees, teeth clenched around a horrendous, agonised choking sound. Cas fumbles in his inner pocket, blinking away the tears in his eyes, and pulls out a small slip of paper, reading it silently and committing it to memory even as he struggles to keep Dean restrained.
He still has one hand gripping the blade and he twists it brutally as Dean makes to fight his way back to his feet. The demon tosses his head, crying out at the pain and crumpling in on himself. Cas stares down at him with a heartbroken expression as he shoves the paper back in his pocket and brings out a small drawstring pouch. Letting go of the blade, he instead grabs a fistful of Dean's short hair and jerks his head upwards.
Looking into Dean's pitch-black eyes, Cas shoves the pouch between his teeth and claps his hand over the top to stop him from spitting it out. Dean is making violent noises in his throat and is thrashing underneath Cas's hands, trying to get up; Cas can barely hold him down. Raising his shaking voice, Cas recites the Swahili verse from his pocket, watching as dark blue smoke wisps out of Dean's mouth and through Cas's fingers. His black eyes go wide and he seizes up for a moment before keeling over, unconscious and silent at the angel's feet.
Cas stands there for a few seconds, chest heaving, cheeks wet. He touches them wearily. He's hardly ever wept in his entire ancient existence, but when he does it's always over Dean Winchester. He feels exhausted but for once, not physically, although he knows that won't last long. He needs to act fast.
Reluctantly leaving Dean sprawled on the floor, Cas ducks his head out of the door to make sure that no one's around. Striding across to his car, he reverses it as quickly as possible right up to the door of number six, leaving only a few feet of space between car and building. Opening the trunk, Cas hurries back into the room and gingerly pulls his blade out of Dean, wiping it absently on his own trousers before stowing it back in its rightful spot. He grabs Dean by the armpits and hauls him to the door.
Checking again that no one's around, Cas makes one last heaving effort and manages to drag and lift Dean into the trunk of the car, making sure that the devil's trap on the inside of the lid is intact. He shuts the room door behind him. Tucking all of the demon's limbs safely inside, he grabs the duct tape from the trunk. Placing a length over Dean's mouth to keep the sleeping spell bag inside him, Cas also wraps Dean's ankles together for good measure. He pauses and lays a gentle hand on Dean's brow for a moment, eyes stinging again.
"You'll be alright," he whispers sadly. Shutting the trunk, he gets into the car and drives steadily out of the parking lot, not daring to look around too much. He waits until he's out of sight of the casino before really hitting the gas, and watches obsessively for anyone tailing him for a good twenty minutes. When he's sure it's safe, he pulls out his cell and calls Sam, keeping the conversation as short as possible. They agree to meet at the bunker; Sam will probably get there first, so he'll get everything ready.
The drive passes in a blur. Cas only stops once, to get gas and to splash his face with cold water. He's fading pretty fast, but he'll get through the drive. He doesn't take his foot off the accelerator for the entire journey. When he arrives at the bunker, he texts Sam and leans against his car, waiting, vision blurred and hands shaking. The younger Winchester appears in front of him without Cas hearing him approach, his face white and tense in the moonlight. He pulls Cas into a tight, one-armed hug and doesn't question the tear rolling down his face as he pulls away, even though he's never seen the angel actually cry before.
"You look like you've been to Hell and back," says Sam without thinking, before making a face and groaning at his own terrible phrasing. But Cas cracks a weary smile.
"Yes," he replies quietly. "That all seems very simple now."
Sam stares at him and then swallows. He looks at the trunk, clearly nervous.
"The spell worked?" he asks unnecessarily. Cas nods. Sam takes a deep breath and walks to the trunk, popping it open and staring down at his unconscious, bound, gagged, bloodstained brother, shoved awkwardly into a cramped position.
"Huh," he says with a small smile. "He's looked worse."
"Sam," Cas croaks, swaying on the spot. "I'm very weak. We have to get him inside so you can begin... I won't be able to stay conscious for much longer."
Sam touches his friend's arm, looking worried, but Cas waves him off. "Let's carry him inside, I don't know if that sleeping spell lasts indefinitely."
It's hard work with Sam only having one good arm, but between them they manage to drag Dean into the bunker and all the way down to the dungeon. Cas slumps against the wall and watches Sam secure his brother carefully in the chair. Checking that Sam has all the information and equipment he needs, Cas ignores his fervent thanks and stumbles out of the room, wandering through the corridors, trailing his hand along the walls.
He comes to stop in front of a familiar door. He's barely set foot in Dean's room, ever, but he's got every detail of it committed to memory. Pushing the door open, he steps inside and flicks the switch. Light falls on the room, illuminating all the little trinkets and prized possessions of one Dean Winchester.
The real Dean, thinks Cas, drifting over to the bed. Sweet Dean. Caring Dean. Righteous Dean. The Dean who looks at me and sees family.
Everything aches, so Cas collapses onto the bed, burying his face into the pillow. It only smells of him faintly; after all, he hasn't been here for months. Cas can feel oblivion coming so he lies still and waits for it, unused to the sensation of falling asleep. He thinks of the demonic version of Dean who touched him and kissed him and made him feel things he hadn't realised existed. He knows it's wrong but he'll always wish, a little bit, that he'd been utterly selfish and just stayed with him, enjoying the illusion of having his human love him back.
Cas sighs. It's never been about getting anything back, though. Even after he knew what to call his feelings, he never felt cheated or angry that they were unrequited. Frustrated, sad, wistful, but he never blamed Dean or expected more from him than he was able to give. Cas decides, on the edge of consciousness, that the experience with Dean's demonic self was probably more than he ever could have hoped to have; he should really be thankful for it. His last thought before the blackness swallows him up is that between Meg, April and Dean, he's developing a very concerning love life.
It seems like seconds later that he jerks awake, blinking in the electric light of the room. It must be hours, though, because Cas feels much improved physically; still weak and weary, but functional. He rolls onto his back and thinks that he should have a shower, because he just doesn't have the mojo to waste on cleaning himself. He wonders how many needles Sam's gotten through with Dean yet, but even as he thinks this he hears his name being spoken.
Sitting up slowly, Cas sees Sam leaning in the doorway, eyes unreadable. He looks like he's been standing there for a while, watching Cas sleep. Makes a change, the angel thinks wryly. He smiles uncertainly at Sam, who doesn't smile back but walks slowly into the room, sitting on the bed and staring at the floor. Cas's heart sinks. This is about Dean.
"Cas," Sam says again, his voice hoarse. He looks exhausted and sad. Cas waits, frowning. "Cas, Dean... He's been saying stuff since he woke up. Heaps of stuff, but some of it... Well, a lot of it, really, was about you."
He looks up finally, hazel eyes worried and... pitying? Cas averts his gaze. "Oh."
Sam clears his throat. "Firstly, he's mentioned that your grace situation is pretty desperate. I've been thinking about that lately and I'm thinking that if you really can't get your own grace back... You should cut this grace out and live as a human. Better than dying as an angel, man."
Cas nods slowly. "I suppose that does make sense."
"Good. Don't want you running out on us."
Cas smiles thinly at him and then speaks quickly as Sam opens his mouth again.
"How long has he been awake?"
Sam watches him closely. "Since the beginning. I didn't know if the sleeping spell would affect the reversal treatment, so I took that off him straight away. And that was about eight hours ago."
"Eight hours? That's good. Do you see a change yet?"
Sam shrugs. "I think so, but could be wishful thinking. He's still a dick, but maybe that's nothing to do with being a demon."
Cas doesn't respond. He fiddles with the hem of his coat, face blank. Finally he looks up and says: "You must be tired."
Sam swallows and shifts uncomfortably on the bed. "Cas, he's been saying some things about what happened between you..."
Cas closes his eyes and Sam pauses, then continues. "Needless to say I'm pretty pissed off at him, if there was any part of him that had a hand in hurting you. But mostly I'm really worried about you... Cas, are you OK? This is pretty screwed up situation to be in, for anyone."
Cas opens his eyes again and they're bright and glassy. He gives Sam a trembling smile before dropping his gaze again. "Thank you, Sam. I believe I'll be alright as long as Dean's alright. As for what he did... He didn't really harm me physically, and I... He would have stopped, I think, if I'd really asked. Anyway. It wasn't really him. Not the Dean we know. Dean doesn't... Well, I'm sure he'll be the most upset about it when he's back to normal."
Cas's gut twists with the last words as he imagines how horrified and disgusted and confused Dean will be when he regains his humanity. Will he even be able to look at Cas? Cas blinks down at his hands and he hears Sam sigh.
"Yeah, that's true. Can't really imagine anything screwing Dean up much more than this, actually. But Cas, it's not your fault. If anything, Dean should be taking a good look at why being a demon made him act the way he has. There are things that I think Dean could really learn from this, if he can keep hold of his sanity."
Cas nods, not really sure what Sam is talking about, but too emotionally drained to ask. There's another pause before Sam claps the angel on the shoulder, getting up awkwardly from the bed. "I'll come get you when it's done, if you like, or would you rather stay away for a bit?"
Cas thinks about and then shakes his head slowly. "You have some time with Dean first. If... If he wants to see me, I'll be here. If he doesn't then you come let me know, and I'll get into my car and leave, if that's what's best."
Cas's voice is even and steady but his stomach clenches at the thought of just leaving. Sam snorts, surprising him. "Don't be such a fucking martyr, Cas. He'll see you if I have to drag the damn chair in here with him still on it. I'll see you later, OK?"
Cas breaks into a genuine smile. "Thanks, Sam."
"No problem."
