Author's note: enjoy.
Warnings: mentions of a sexual relationship between two men, swearing and angst for everyone.
—00—Chapter Six—00—
Wishful Thinking
The Winchester reunion was about a ten on a scale of one to awkward.
But then Dean hadn't expected anything else. He wasn't too good with words, John wasn't so good with emotions and Sammy had long since passed the helpful-childish-mediator-phase and was instead a hesitant, fumbling giant of insecurity and old, smouldering resentment.
They were lucky Bobby was there.
The older hunter, herded them all back to the motel and was cracking open beer cans before the first word was even spoken. Dean felt warm affection for the man blossom up through his chest and grinned up at him as he took the beer, coiling his hand slowly around the warm aluminium.
"Thanks Bobby,"
Bobby smiled crookedly back and for a moment rested his hand, all calluses and dry skin against the fluttering pulse of Dean's wrist. "It's alright, boy."
"Dad?" Sam started softly, folding himself down next to Dean and staring at their father, "How are you... here?"
John eyes flickered up from over the rim of his beer and he slurped at the metal thoughtfully, "I don't know. I died and then I was in hell," he paused and his face shadowed over with a thousand familiar memories of torture and blood and hellfire and Dean shuddered in shared pain. "And then I was back; alive and whole and stark naked in the middle of a field."
Bobby chuckled a bit at that but Dean was too busy focusing on the band on of burnt, puffy flesh that was red raw and circling his father's wrist like a manacle.
"Dad" He said slowly and found himself striding forward and snagging at the older man's wrist. John resisted automatically, pulling away with the begins of a snarl curling at his mouth. Dean only just cut off his protests: "How did you get this?"
John's stare was black and unyielding but it didn't matter because Dean didn't need for his father's answer to realise what the mark meant.
Sam made a noise of sudden, disbelieving comprehension and peered down at them as Dean slowly turned over their dad's arm, so the soft underside of his forearm and palm were facing up towards them. From this angle the mark didn't look like a ring of raw burns at all, it looked like the bruises left by grasping fingers.
"An Angel," Sam whispered breathlessly and turned away, his face puckered and desperate. "Dean I don't understand, why would the angels bring back Dad?"
Dean stared down at the greedy grasp that had been burnt into his father's skin and felt his own mark from Castiel thrum with heat in response and hesitated, before shaking his head, "I have no idea. But when did anything they do make sense?"
Bobby was oddly silent and when Dean finally released his father and turned around, Bobby's face was clouded and pained with the unfurling suspicion.
--00—
"Alistair."
Dean made a noise of startled, remembered fear and turned around to see his Dad's carefully controlled expression trained on him; Dean had been waiting for Castiel and was so focused on the sounds of wings he hadn't heard his father coming up behind him. He shrugged and slumped further into the bench and tried not to look into those familiar dark eyes, intent on disappearing back into his worn-in denial.
"What? I don't remember..."
"Don't, Dean. Not to me." John ordered quietly, steel lining his voice and bent down until their faces were on the same level, "Not to me. To everyone else, but don't lie to me."
Dean went quiet, his muscles spasming in remembered fear and unable to give words to any of his emotion, he turned away embarrassed.
"How long?" John asked quietly, "How long did he have you."
"Dad. Please...I Can't." Dean's voice was a croak and he shuddered as John's heavy hand came to rest against his shoulder, his dad's firm protective fingers pressing against the back on his neck as if to steady his sudden brittle, breakable body.
"It's over."
A noise of angry disbelief escaped through his teeth and Dean shook the man off him. At any other time Dean would have been desperate for the comfort John was finally offering, but now it seemed too little, too late and it wouldn't make any difference either way. Dean was broken up inside and he knew it and didn't see any point in dwelling on it or talking about it.
Anger warmed his belly and he started to move away from the awkward conversation.
"Dean." John's voice was firm and metallic and this time Dean didn't shrug him off as his dad grabbed at his shoulder, positioning him until he had to stare into the man's unwavering, hard edged features. "Whatever happened down there, whatever they did to you; it's over. It's over."
At his words something in Dean snapped. He could hear some fragile, wafer thin damn cracking and tumbling and all those memories and emotions about hell that he'd stored up, exploded in awful fiery waves and crescents of remembrance.
Dean shuddered and fell boneless against his father's barrel chest, folding himself like wet cardboard into the protective embrace of his dad, trying to seek some form of comfort and protection against the sudden internal attack. "Dad."
"I know, I know" John whispered gently and stroked at his hair with probably the most tenderness he had ever shown to either of his children. "It's over."
Dean closed his eyes against the on slaughter of tears that suddenly rose like a tidal wave beneath his eyeballs and shivered despite the heat of the night. The words he wanted to speak were choking him, closing off his airways and he hated himself for taking comfort in his father's embrace even as the brittle, blood soaked parts of him screamed angrily at the man, demanding to know why he hadn't been there to help him, to save him.
He shuddered into John's embrace, taking comfort from his dad even as he realised this didn't make everything okay again. Dean hated himself more for how utterly unfair his emotions were.
--00--
That first night they all slept in Dean and Sam's motel room; Sam and Dean forced to share a bed like they used to as kids and Bobby and John whispering angrily in the corner of the room.
Sam's eyes looked black in the dim light and he stared past Dean silently, his face unreadable and unfamiliar and Dean might have made more of it but his earlier emotions had exhausted him, his limbs were unmovable and his head clogged up and painful. Instead he was content to lie sleepily next to his brother, comforted by the steady push and pull sounds that Sam's breathing made.
"I need to get some air" Sam whispered and slipped away through the front door, his hands shaking like a drug addict on the door handle.
Dean wished he knew what to do; with his brother and with Castiel. He felt guilty for not wishing the angel to leave like Bobby and his father so obviously did, but he needed Castiel, needed whatever odd, divine power the angel could lend him. He had experienced hell and had no desire to feel it again.
His nightmares loomed at the thought and he shuddered and sat up determined to defy sleep a little longer but instead found himself listening in on the angry whispers from the other end of the room.
"I can't believe that kid, what was he thinking?" his father's voice was angry and guilt stricken and Bobby's wasn't much better.
"I'm not sure he had much of a choice; at least that was impression I got off that bleedin' angel. I think it's like a demon possession. The victim is watching but unable to talk."
Dean winced at that and wondered how the others couldn't see Harry lingering behind Castiel's wall of calm, untouchable serenity. Harry was more than just watching, he was like ink seeping into the blank pages of Castiel's spirit. He made the angel more human, more hesitant and uncertain in his actions, made him question himself in a decidedly human way and Harry was there constantly whispering behind the scenes, his humanity tainting the angel's conviction.
Dean didn't know if all Angelic possessions were like that, but he doubted it. Castiel and Harry were special, sometimes it seemed as if they shared a body, it might not have been comfortable for either of them but it was no demon possession; besides angels needed agreement from their vessels in order to use their bodies.
It was unfair and painful but it wasn't evil. Castiel, with his new born sparked emotions was just as much a victim to the angelic possession as Harry was and from what little the angel had said Dean gathered Harry was more like Castiel's confident than his victim.
It was just a shame it caused such obvious pain to Bobby and his father.
Unwilling to hear anymore of his father's gruff spoken hatred, Dean slipped slowly out of the motel. Years of training made his footsteps almost silent and he was out the motel and outside before anyone noticed him.
Dean sighed and slumped against the motel wall, relaxing into the stifling heat of the night and the steady, buzzing that came off the sickly yellow lights that lined each roof edge. From his position he could see the dark spread of an unlit tarmac car park; softened enough by star light so that the cars looked as if someone had sprinkled glitter along their rooftops.
He wasn't even that surprised to see the Impala was gone and Sammy nowhere to be seen.
--0—
Dean's life slipped into a routine almost too easily.
It just wasn't exactly the routine he expected.
His father took over the role of leader and in a way Dean was glad of it. He had been raised to obey every order his father gave and he was good at it, John said jump and he didn't even asked how high, just jumped until he got it right. It had worked for them when he was a child; walking a dangerous balancing act between protecting his little brother and keeping his own hind safe. It had even worked after Sam had left, because Dean hadn't known any better and he was still young for all his brash, fool-hardy cockiness.
But he wasn't young anymore.
He was old, he had spent so long in hell that it had scrapped away ever last slither of youth and innocence he had ever had and now, when he obeyed his father it wasn't out of unquestioning loyalty or youthful hero worship it was out of weariness. With his Dad around there was no need for Dean to take charge, to be the one who made the decisions and he was grateful to fade into the background and just not think.
At least at first. Apparently without the distraction of looking out for Sammy and taking on the role of leader all Dean had left were his thoughts and they were full of hellfire and pain.
His sleeping pattern which hadn't been great since he'd come back from hell rapidly deteriorated and Dean spent most of the nights in their motel rooms staring at ceilings and avoiding sleep until his body refused consciousness and he was forced into fiery nightmares that left him sweat soaked, shaking and entirely un-rested.
If Sam noticed he didn't say anything, but there again ever since their dad had returned Sam had been bouncing between old resentment for John's iron dictatorship and creeping around for his new secret meetings with Ruby. Dean didn't like that Sam thought he was too stupid to not notice what his little brother was doing but the sudden sharp memories of hell kept him weak with exhaustion and he didn't have the energy to confront his brother.
Dean sighed and rolled over onto his side; Sam's bed was untouched and empty as it had been every other night since they'd found their dad and through the paper thin walls of the motel he could hear the familiar muffled sounds of his father's snoring; it should have been enough to lull him to sleep.
"Dean."
"Jesus!" Dean snapped and found himself tangled and caught in the ropes of his sheets in his hurry to turn and face the owner of the voice. Castiel was perched immobile on the edge of the bed, his eyes staring blank and unseeing before him and his face illuminated by some light of unknown origin. It made his skin look like ivory and glitter, and it made the new worry lines and the deep bruises around his eyes all the more prominent.
"You look like shit." Dean commented softly and propped himself upright against the headboard.
"It has been a stressful week." Castiel responded vaguely and then tilted his head and focused with sharp gem eyes on Dean. "You have not been sleeping."
Dean shrugged uncomfortably, "Motel beds; it's like sleeping on rocks and broken glass."
Castiel watched him silently, his eyes entirely too knowing. "I can make your sleep dreamless." He said finally and turned away from Dean as if uncaring of his reaction and Dean probably would have believed him a week ago, but now he knew too look for the slight narrow flicker of Harry's eyes and the way sharp green watched him from beneath the soft, feather curl of drooping eyelashes that betrayed the angel's emotion.
"Maybe you should sleep too."
Castiel almost smiled at that, the grin was crooked and hesitantly bitter and Harry flashed in the sharp lines of pain that flew across the angel's face suddenly. "There is no dreamless sleep available to us." He answered bleakly, "Lie down,"
Dean watched him, even as he slid down to obey the angel's command. Harry was staring into space again, his head tilted and his eyes trained on something Dean couldn't see. The man sighed and stood upright, leaning over Dean's horizontal body, the dark curls of his hair sliding and tumbling down around his face in a mockery of halo as Dean stared up at him.
"Cas," He started hesitantly, "My dad, he had an angel mark on his wrist, like mine. Did you bring him back from hell?"
Harry's eyes were bright shattered fragments of emeralds and glass; lit up and sparkling with heavenly light and Dean was pretty sure it would be his favourite colour forever. Two burning fingers pressed against his forehead gently, hot enough that Dean almost flinched away from the tender touch, "I will take away the nightmares."
"Cas..."
Dean felt his mind thrum and quiver at the angel's words and his eyelids drooped threateningly. Harry's thin, delicate boned face wavered in his vision; the electric green of his eyes shining brighter than ever.
"Yes Dean. I dragged John from hell."
The sudden questions that the answer sparked were clogged by his tongue, thick with unnatural, forced sleep and by the time Dean was awake enough to ask them, Castiel was gone.
--00—
It was lucky that Castiel had taken away Dean's nightmares he needed his energy in the following weeks. His father who had been seething but silent as his watched Castiel was about ready to burst and Dean spent most of his time calming the man down, except some of his arguments held a grain of truth in them and Dean was hesitant to dismiss them entirely.
"That angel is killing him"
Dean tried not to stare at the pain that flickered behind his father's face, he didn't want to acknowledge it and John didn't want to share it but he couldn't ignore the strain in the man's voice and flinched at the sound of such emotion caused by a boy who he didn't know.
"He's an angel"
John eyes flashed dangerously and he seemed to expand in anger, his weary features tightening until the familiar wrinkles around his mouth disappeared into the fold of his lips. "Harry's body can't take the possession must longer. Housing an angel is like housing a runaway comet; they burn too bright for us. It's only Harry's..." he stopped abruptly and there was a flicker of regret and disgust that flashed across his features almost too quickly before he continued. "Even Harry can't contain him much longer without permanent damage"
Dean let his eyes slid away from his father's flooding emotion and to the small figure that was stood by the window.
Harry's green eyes were pale, almost colourless and shinning brighter than usual with Castiel's radiance. But the rest of him was wearing; his skin was translucent in the dawn light, so thin that Dean could trace the delicate patterns of veins across his thin wrists and see the beat of his heart weakly fluttering in the hollow of his collar bones. His face, so fine and delicately built was gaunt, the bones butter-knife sharp and straining against his flesh and his eyes, so cosmically bright were circled with rings of purple and pressed deep into his skull. He looked ill but then again Dean realised, he had been looking ill for a while now.
Castiel turned at his intense appraisal and for a moment Dean thought he saw Harry staring back at him; the familiar face was twisted into pain and irritation and the backdrop lit eyes were desperate and hollow and so entirely human.
John's breath caught beside him and Dean glanced between them, sick suspicion rolled through his stomach, unfurling until he thought he was going to be physically sick.
He turned away from the angel and back to his father even as the sound of fluttering wings echoed around them and stared at the now familiar burn that raw and swollen in a possessive bracelet around the man's wrist.
"That's why you to help the kid? Only because the angel is hurting him?" he asked again and the question felt heavy and oil like as it slithered past his tongue.
John was still staring at the space Castiel had been moments ago and spun around to snarl at Dean, "Of course it is! Why else would I want to help him?" he huffed and stomped away, his shoulders rolled forward in a barrier of muscle and leather.
Dean watched him go, his heart heavy against his ribcage and realised Bobby was right, there were things that he just didn't want to know about his father.
--00--
John's silence lasted a grand total of three weeks and two days. It was about two weeks longer that Dean expected but the actual confrontation between John and Castiel caught him off guard and he found himself stuck in between the newly appeared angel and his Dad when John finally snapped.
"Have you nothing better to do but creep around after him." John hissed and swung around to stare down at Harry's unmoving form, his hands itching to grab the boy. Dean winced as Castiel's gaze slid over John as if he was glass, utterly dismissive, before coming to rest on Dean.
"Dean, we have..."
"You don't get to just ignore me!" Snarled John and grabbed at Harry, wrapping his hand so tightly around Harry's skinny arm that Dean thought he might actually break the boy's limb. Castiel slowly looked down at John's fingers and reached out to the burn he had left on John's wrist. As soon as his fingers touched the burn he had inflicted, Dean's father released the angel and stumbled away with great gasps of barely suppressed pain, cradling his wrist against his chest.
"John Winchester; you are not important or significant and have no power over me or my vessel."
Castiel's face was so bright with power it was almost blinding. Dean had never actually seen the angel angry before, not truly. Before, Harry had always been sparking and straining at Castiel's bonds but this was all angel and Dean found himself lowering his eyes in the face of it. He couldn't help but wonder, feeling sick with all too familiar suspicion what it was that his dad had done to piss of the angel so thoroughly.
John stared down at Harry blackly, his mouth tight and drawn and his eyes broken. "Come Dean," his dad snarled and turned away back to the motel room, shaking with anger.
"Dean." Castiel's voice was still gruff with emotion but the burning angelic light had retreated and he was back inside Harry's impossible frail form as Dean looked down at him. Harry's eyes were burning with human emotion and they flickered nervously between Dean and the retreating figure of his father as he spoke. "I need to speak to you."
Dean hesitated, torn between his father and Cas (or Harry, he was getting confused by this point) and apparently his hesitation lasted a moment too much because John gave a huff of irritation, swore and slammed his way back into the motel, locking Dean outside.
"Dad!" Dean called and started to turn to the locked door, his legs stopped and he spun back around to face the angel. "Cas, what is it?"
Castiel had already left.
--00—
Dean's suspicions on his father and Harry continued to plague him and in the end he went to Sam, certain the brains side of the brothers Winchester would be able to give him some conclusive fact.
"Hey Sammy."
"It's Sam." His brother corrected automatically, not even looking from polishing Ruby's demon killing knife.
"Sam." Dean repeated, rolling his eyes and hunkered down next to his brother, "Haven't seen you in a while."
Sam tensed, his shoulder muscles bunched and locked up into iron cords and his fingers went white with pressure as he gripped the knife. "Yeah well, you've been pretty busy too."
Dean felt his eyebrows rise at that and ran a tongue over the chapped corners of his lips questioningly "Hmm? Come again. I've been sitting pretty ever since dad got back."
Sam huffed and threw the equipment from his hands angrily, watching as they skidded across the length of the table and bounced off the floor. "You told dad about hell."
Dean's knees went loose and he found himself sliding to the floor unwillingly in the face of Sam's words.
"You told me you didn't remember hell. But you did and the first chance you got, you told Dad." Sam stood up and stared down at Dean, hurt and anger wrestling for dominance across his face. "You trusted Dad more than me. Everything we've been through and you still don't trust me."
Dean shook his head, still unable to get words to fight his brother. "Look, it wasn't like that."
Sam bit his lip and swallowed angrily before throwing his arms up in exasperation, "Whatever, I'm...I'm going out."
Dean watched as Sam slammed his way through the front door, hunching his shoulder and stomping just like Dad had and sighed. He hadn't even managed to ask Sam what he thought about Harry and their father, instead he'd just found another problem to deal with.
--00—
The second confrontation between his father and Castiel/Harry came quicker than Dean had expected.
Since his father's arrival, Harry had all but disappeared, sinking into the far reaches of the shared bond between the angel and man and Dean had barely glimpsed at him through Castiel's familiar patient apathy and his new, blinding anger. Apparently John affected Harry as much as Harry affected John, Dean realised, feeling sick and rolled over into the folds of his duvet restlessly just as the room was filled with the echoes of wings.
Castiel perched hesitantly on the edge of Dean's bed and Dean didn't mind as much as he thought he should have as he turned his head to glance over at the angel. "Dude, you know it's the middle of the night."
Castiel gave a decidedly human shrug of nonchalance and slumped forward a little. If Castiel had had wings, Dean betted they would be drooping. Harry's skin looked as dry and thin as paper in the sickly light of the motel, his eyes were pressed deep into his face and his lips were bleached of all colour. Dean sighed and flickered on the light beside his bed, staring at Harry silently.
"Castiel is everything okay?"
Harry looked up and Dean couldn't quite understand the flicker of emotion that ran across the man's features, for a moment it had looked like embarrassment. Castiel moved so he was better seated on the bed, his legs limp and dangling off the edge of the bed but his torso titled towards Dean. "Dean, I need to tell..."
"Get the fuck away from him!" John's deep growl snapped apart their conversation and both Dean and Castiel turned to look around into the barrel of a gun. John's eyes moved between Dean and Harry, his gaze tracing the position of their bodies and his mouth tightening with an emotion that was almost as ugly as anger.
Harry's brow furrowed, "Rock salt doesn't harm angels."
"You've stole his body." John hissed ignoring the warning
"I am not a demon." Castiel stated, his eyes flashing, "Angels need permission to possess a vessel"
Harry didn't look all that unflustered as he faced his father; the signs were small, the nervous flutter of his heartbeat in the hollow at the base of this throat and the frantic movement of his eyes. Dean watched him slightly confused by the blatant expression of emotion from the angel and saw Harry shimmering nervously beneath the surface of Castiel's angelic facade. Pressing against Castiel's control; Harry wasn't sleeping anymore.
His father didn't see it, but he had always been blind to other people's emotions, especially in the face of his own anger. He loomed forward, using his size to corner the angel against the bed he was perched on. Dean slipped off the other end of the mattress wearily, standing beside the confrontation in only his boxer shorts and the blanketed remains of almost sleep.
"Dad I think...."
"Shut up, Dean," John commanded and turned his attention back to Castiel, his teeth were fanged as he smiled dangerous at the being before him. "You're all the same to me; scum that have to use people that are weak and desperate. Harry would never have you allowed in if he'd had a choice."
Castiel's eyebrows knotted into an almost angry line over his forehead and his voice was deep and etched with annoyance. "You should not make light of Harry or his decision. John Winchester."
"Decision? What decision. What did you offer him, what did you bribe him with? How did you trick him, you bastard." John looked like he wanted to hit the being before him, but his eyes were hazy with confusion and he kept tracing the delicate lines of Harry's face and the thin bones in his arms with irritation and grief.
Dean's mouth was full of tar as he watched his father greedily soaking up Harry appearance,"Dad, stop."
"Harry was not tricked into anything," Castiel snapped and there was so much of Harry in his response Dean wasn't sure how his father could not notice. The angel was fading from Harry's form and the real owner of the body bubbled to surface, enraged by just a few words.
"Dad, please..."
John ignored him, his gaze still locked on Castiel and snorted, "Oh yeah? Well why the hell would he do it? Why would he throw himself away so stupidly...?"
"It wasn't stupid!" Harry snarled and both Dean and John stopped breathing as they stared into the emotion filled face of the man. Harry's eyes were glossy with tears and he stumbled upwards gracelessly; all remains of the angel gone as he pushed John's angry form with curled up hands that didn't even really work against the bulk of his father.
Castiel was gone; the man before them was all human, all Harry.
John snagged at his thin shoulders and shook him desperately "Harry? Harry? Why did you do something so stupid?"
Harry face was strained white and he hit at John with desperate, clawed fingers, tugging at the man's shirt until he got tangled up in its chequered material. "It wasn't stupid. It wasn't stupid you ignorant old bastard. I did it for you."
Finally Harry managed to escape the confines of his father's hold and he shuddered against the cold, feeling the needs of his body and wrapped his too thin arms around his torso, protecting himself from John's hurt, angry eyes.
"I did it to save you from the pit. Even after everything that happened, I still..." Harry choked on his own words but John's shattered, pained expression showed that he had still heard all the things that Harry couldn't make himself say.
Dean stared at John, feeling cold as Harry and Castiel disappeared in a flurry of feathers. "Oh Dad, no."
His father had never looked so broken and Dean didn't want to comfort him.
--00—
"Is it true?"
Castiel looked over at Dean, his eyes still oddly red rimmed with the remains of Harry's grief. He paused and his lips pressed together, exhaling slowly, before tensing at Dean's quirked eyebrow. "I apologise, Harry's emotions are... strong tonight. Yes, it is true."
Dean frowned, "But why? I don't understand. I thought you saved my dad?"
Castiel's expression had evened out to pale serenity once again and he stared patiently as Dean tumbled through half realised understanding. "I offered Harry a deal; I would bring back your father from hell if he would be my vessel."
Dean flinched away from the angel's emotionless confession of blackmail and repeated hollowly "But why would he?"
"Harry loved your father very much, Dean."
"They were fucking." Dean corrected sharply and Harry's eyes almost lit up in renewed anger.
"Physically intimacy was a large area of their relationship" Castiel responded too calmly, his soft voice like balm against the disgusted, horrified parts of Dean that rebelled against the idea of his father being with anyone, especially Harry.
Dean felt his rage stutter and choke through him as he was focused on Harry's youthful, ageless face and his skinny teenage body. "Harry's too young... He's ... He can't be legal"
"My presence keeps his body in a state of stasis and his kind age slowly. Harry is nearly twenty nine, only a year younger than you." Castiel titled his head to Dean and frowned slightly, "This knowledge hurts you?"
Dean hissed in anger, and shot to his feet, "Of course it hurts! It's wrong, it's all wrong." His dad had been fucking someone young enough to be his son, younger than his oldest child. Dean felt bile coat his throat suddenly. "It's sick."
Castiel stared up at him, blank face with incomprehension, "You mean a man lying with a man; because actually God does not..."
"No, not that!" Dean snapped; the angel's lack of understanding making his own tangled emotions burn brighter and hotter. "It's just... I don't understand anything. There's this kid that so close to my dad, to Bobby? And no one mentioned him to me? My dad had a whole other life away from us, from me. How long has it been going on, how long have they known each other?"
Dean didn't think he questions really got to the heart of his own disdain and pain but it was a start and Castiel nodded thoughtfully, his slow motions calmly the storm in Dean's chest. "Harry met your father and Bobby when he was fourteen. I believe they started a physically relationship when Harry was twenty one. John Winchester has had a lot of influence on Harry."
Dean stared blankly into Castiel's heaven lit eyes and saw the edges of old grief lapping at the pupils. Castiel's voice was uneven as he spoke. "He hurts Harry more than he realises with his callous remarks, there are still old wounds that have not healed and he does little to let them. It is hard to retain control in his presence."
Dean stared at Castiel and saw the last remains of Harry slip away into the ether of Castiel's soul, leaving only the blinding brilliance of the angel. "Hey Cas," he started slowly, "You don't like my dad do you?"
Castiel blinked up at Dean and for a moment he thought he was going to get another vague, cryptic angelic reply but then Castiel sighed and stared up sourly past Dean's head.
"No Dean, I do not and this worries me greatly."
I hope this met all your expectations, this was hard to write as it's easy to get over melodramatic. Dean finally knows about John and Harry; this is something that the poor boy will have to deal with for the rest of the fic. Harry and Castiel's separation is coming up very shortly so I hope you're looking forward to that.
next chapter: I know What You Did Last Summer- Anna enters and creates trouble. Castiel and Harry finally push the angels too far.
review please