Title: The Downpour at the End

Chapter 3: Behind These Eyes

A/N: This chapter was inspired by Behind These Hazel Eyes - Kelly Clarkson. Yes, it's a bit cheesy, but we all have that one (or 100) cheesy but deep and touching songs that have helped us through tight spots? Am I right? Or is it just me? LOL. Happy readings, my fellow Wayward Angels.

-Chapter 3: Behind These Eyes-

Rain was pounding down onto the rear-view window as Dean stared out, blinking multiple times and squinting to make sure that his eyes were not deceiving him. He kept his mind from running rampant on a journey he knew all too well, a journey of accumulating confusion and disappointment. He was not going to let that happen this time. Things were already too out of control to even think about all the possibilities of what was happening. And to be honest he wasn't sure he was going to like the angel's answers.

Dean extricated himself from the fixed hold he had on Crowley, carefully, not letting down his guard, as the Angel of Thursday looked back at him through the bad weather and glass. His trench coat was soaked, darkening the khaki to a muddy brown. He could see the pink of Castiel's skin as the white, button-up shirt clung to his body, innocently trying to hide behind the backwards tie the angel always wore. His eyes dropped lower as he saw blood dripping from Castiel's stomach, a luminescent flow of essence mixing with the deep red.

Realizing this, Dean's body reacted before his mind had a chance. He disregarded Crowley without thinking about it twice, opened his car door and leaped out of the pitch black Impala. Castiel was hurt. His Grace was leaving his vessel. He almost stormed towards Castiel when he suddenly caught sight of someone else standing close to the angel. Dean hesitated, but saw that the angel's friend was also bleeding, from the shoulder. Logic told him; first help, then confront.

"Hello, Dean." he heard Castiel say in that familiar, dusty voice he had gotten so used to. It sounded deeper and pained, as if the angel was suffering.

Dean resumed his frustrated and resolved pace and passed the angel, brushing against Cas and feeling the colder than usual aura of the angel's figure connecting with his own skin. It stirred emotions in him that he could not quite put his finger on, but he had known from the second he had met Castiel in that barn one night, that it had always been dormant in his mind, waiting to escape. He brushed it off and continued. The ever so active overprotective instinct that was one of Dean's qualities had jumped in and taken control over him.

"Inside!" Dean said, stopping only for a second to make the rise in his temper be heard.

"Dean, I need to…" Castiel replied, taken aback by Dean's attitude.

"Get your pet out of my car and get inside." he shouted, clenching his bruised fist and then he punched the entrance to the Lair.

The sound ricocheted off the metal door and vibrated through his body fueling his anger even more. The reverb felt like a punch to the gut, bringing Dean back to his full self-control. He opened the door with the special key and stepped inside. Dean turned around to look out at the unexpected guests that pitched out of nowhere. Why, Cas? Why did you drag Crowley here? Why now? But he knew questions had to wait.

First, he had to secure Crowley and ensure that the demon had no way of hurting or killing any more than he already had. The fact that Crowley was in a weakened state did not put his mind to ease at all. After that he had to make sure the angel was okay, that Cas wasn't hurt too badly. And then… Then it was time to go into interrogation overdrive and cure a fucking demon to save Sammy. Dean felt some weight in his stomach shift a little as he thought about curing Crowley. Sam would be okay, and using the King of Hell to do that would make things even sweeter.

He could hear footsteps from behind him as he removed his jacket while waiting for Castiel and his companion to bring Crowley into the Lair. Kevin walked up to Dean and he could hear the boy's mouth open to say something and fall shut almost immediately as the sight in front of their eyes seemed to get closer and more clear. Dean felt Kevin's presence shift slowly back again.

"Is… is… that…?" Kevin stuttered in shock. Dean swore he could have heard Kevin's heartbeat growing louder and faster.

"Yeah." Dean replied without moving his eyes from the three men before him.

"Why?" Kevin asked warily.

"To be honest, I don't know." Dean closed his eyes as he rubbed them, a headache settling. "Just stay away from Crowley until I have sorted out this shit. Don't look at him. Don't talk to him. Don't even breathe where he can see you. Got it?"

He couldn't see the boy nod, but he heard him swallow hard. "Dig up all the chains, cuffs and demon trap stuff we got, okay? Bring it to the main hall. Get the paint, salt, holy water, angel blades and every goddamn anti-demon thing in this place. We're not taking chances. This is it, Kev, this might just be the end."

This time he could hear Kevin agree and start off deeper into the Lair to do what he was told. Kevin wasn't gone for more than a few seconds when Castiel and the stranger entered with Crowley walking behind them, bound in chains and cuffs. Dean saw that these bonds were marked with the devil's trap-sigils and other strange markings.

Crowley smiled like a blindfolded man being led to a seductive night between the sheets. "Just precaution, I presume. Your winged boyfriend seems to think it necessary. He is such a pansy."

Dean cringed at Crowley's comment and saw Castiel deliberately pull on the chains in his hands and cause the demon to stumble forward and trip over his own feet. He smashed face first into the floor. Blood splattered over Dean's boots as Crowley's nose broke on impact. Even though everything in him was screaming to not do so, he looked amazed at the angel's balls and managed a small smile. Good. Still not taking any demon's shit, hey Cas?

Dean closed the door behind him. After locking it he turned around to see Crowley on all fours, looking over his shoulder at Dean, "See what I mean? Oh so touchy and delicate sometimes."

Dean wanted to kick Crowley in the teeth for being such a dick – a murderous, slimy dick. But he kept his temper at bay and marched passed the demon, Cas and the new guy.

"Now that we have all the formalities out of the way, is anybody going to offer poor, old Uncle Crowley a glass of whiskey?" Crowley asked from his spot on the floor as he tried to get up, "No ice. You know what, screw the glass, and just bring the bottle, would ya?"

"Cas, if you're not going to keep that dick's mouth shut, you'll both be out on your ass for good." he threatened before he made his way to the main hall.

Kevin had retrieved a mass of wards against demons, all the salt from pantry and more stuff Dean did not immediately recognize amongst the colossal heap. Dean's mind began working out how he was going to do it differently this time as he entered the room and took all the items into account. He wasn't letting Crowley slip through his fingers like Abbadon or all the other demons before her.

At the far end of the huge table, in the centre of the room, stood a chair. It was engraved with multiple devil's traps, the largest one appearing on the seat. The piece of crap art-deco chair, as Dean liked to think of it, was also sporting spellwork and enchantments. It had kept Abbadon captive, even if just for a while, but now he knew better and would not take a chance again. He was too close to shutting the Gates of Hell now.

As he moved closer to the chair he could hear the others entering the room as well. The three men were quiet as mice and this made Dean feel as if he was being respected for the first time in a while. He couldn't believe it, his curiosity peeked and he looked back to see that some kind of strip was covering Crowley's pie-hole, the strip glowing with what Dean thought was angel mojo.

"Get him in the chair." Dean demanded without looking at Cas.

"Dean, I need to explain…" Castiel pleaded for the second time.

"No! You don't need to. What you have to do is get Crowley into that chair or, so help me God, I will come down on you, your angel-buddy and Crowley as hard as I can!" Dean spat through gritted teeth.

Castiel flinched at the mention of his Father's name. Dean could feel it more than see it. It gave him a weird pleasure that the name made Castiel insecure and upset. He knew that Castiel's Father abandoning him and the rest of the Host was the angel's most prodigious loss. He had known this feeling all too well as he too had lost his father over and over again.

Castiel obliged and with the help of the other angel they forced Crowley to the other side of the room and into the seat, wasting no time as to not scratch at the bleeding, aching wound that was Dean.

Dean started immediately, the enchanted and marked items being handed to him by Kevin as if the boy had read his mind. He clasped cuffs to each of Crowley's hands, fastening them to the seat handles. He did the same with Crowley's ankles, as he strapped them in manacles to the legs of the chair. Kevin picked up an angel blade and reluctantly handed it to Dean. He could see Crowley's calm and collected air fade to a more wary and rattled state.

"Not yet." Dean told Kevin and placed the blade in his back pocket. He saw Kevin's tensed figure loosen at his words. Obviously the kid also knew what was at stake here.

Dean continued by wrapping chains around Crowley, making sure that the demons body was flush with the chair, the chains sort of merging it and the demon as one. In the shape of a huge 'X' it crossed the demon's chest, once, twice, three times over. Finally, Dean wrapped the two loose ends around the pair of wooden and human legs.

"Kevin, hand me that hammer and those nails." Dean insisted.

'Nails' were an understatement. These were huge ass, magical stakes he had found in the Lair. It had the devil's trap-markings etched into it, so Dean figured it had to be used. He managed one of the stakes through the last link of one of the chains and without hesitation, pounded away at it with the hammer, after positioning it to make the chains as tight as possible. The sound echoed through the main hall. Dean new Kevin wanted to say something about his actions, but the boy kept quiet – Dean would have done the same if he were in Kevin's shoes. No demon was ever getting away again.

Dean did the same with the other end of the chain. Crowley was now cuffed, manacled and chained to the chair-trap. The chains were now solidly jammed to the floor of the main room and Crowley was left motionless. To Dean's surprise Crowley still hadn't returned to his relaxed state from before. He was still eyeing the blade as Dean moved around him. Dean felt a tiny jolt of contentment shoot through his body. Yes, you fucktard, we got you now!

But Dean was still not finished. He motioned for Kevin to stand further away from him as he collected the can of spray paint from the map-table. It was neon orange as always. Dean felt guilty for vandalizing and showing so much disrespect towards the Men of Letters' Lair. But he couldn't allow his guilt to stop him from doing this, from securing Crowley, keeping everyone safe from the chaos and disaster the demon causes and finally getting his brother back to a normal man, or as normal as the Winchesters could ever be.

With the slow precision of a person like Dean who had seen, painted and drawn the devil's trap hundreds of times before, he emptied the can, spraying the symbols and shapes circling Crowley. It had become second nature to him. He knew every line, every curve and detail of it. He carefully made sure that it was his finest and strongest trap yet. He shot back up into a standing position as he evaluated the devil's trap, approved, and only then realized that he was dripping with sweat. He had not expected the task at hand to have such an effect on him. But he could feel it now – he was exhausted, physically and mentally. There just ain't no rest for the wicked, is there?

He cleared his mind as it was screaming for rest. He walked to the table, still not hearing a peep from the angels or Kevin, and not looking up to see their expressions. He took the largest bag of salt, brought the one end to his mouth and ripped the corner with his teeth. The taste made his mouth dry up even more than it had already. He walked towards Crowley, looked him straight in the eye, and started pouring out the salt in a circle around the painted devil's trap. The bag was heavy and Dean's palms were slick with perspiration. He rushed his actions and returned to the table, placing the salt on it.

Dean's fists dropped to the surface of the table as well. His head fell to his chest, eyes closed. I need to do more. That can't be everything? He opened his eyes again and felt the angel blade Kevin had handed him earlier pressing against his back. Dean smiled at the idea that popped up in his head. He took the blade out of his pocket, examined it and for the first time he appreciated its beauty, its color and craftsmanship. He had only ever been in awe of the power it possessed.

He could feel the others' eyes burn into him as he walked over to Crowley again and turned around when he was behind the demon. He pulled the collar of Crowley's suit and shirt down, his other hand holding the blade as it slowly lifted towards the demon's neck. The tension in the room was so clear that if Dean had tried he could've probably severed it with the blade as well.

"Dean…" Kevin said softly, "…don't… we can use him… we can use Crowley for the Third Trial."

Dean ignored him as the blade slowly grazed the skin at the back of Crowley's neck. With every small slash and flick of Dean's wrist little bursts of dirty, yellow light emitted from Crowley's skin, sending waves of energy up the blade to Dean's fingers. Crowley was moaning, releasing agonized screaming, muffled by the angel-gag. Did they really think he was stupid enough to kill the bastard demon? It made Dean feel satisfied. He finished with what he was doing and stepped away from the demon, careful as to not fuck up all the protection.

He collected all the leftover items from the table, threw it into the huge bag Kevin had used to bring it all here and placed it against the furthest wall. He made no eye contact with anybody. In the corner of his eye he saw Kevin move to have a closer look at what Dean had done to Crowley's neck.

"You marked him with a physical devil's trap?" Kevin asked shocked and amazed.

Dean sighed, "Kev, you got any better ideas? It's the same as the bullet in Abbadon; he just can't take it out or from his body. And... I told you to stay away!"

Kevin looked up at Dean again and smiled. Dean hadn't seen the kid smile in weeks, fuck, even months. "Dean, that's genius." Kevin exclaimed.

Dean ignored the praise and turned towards the angels. They were still standing at the other end of the table, observing Dean's every move. Dean could see that even though they were angels, they looked like crap. Castiel's skin was paler than normal. His eyes were bloodshot and he was trembling. The Grace that was flowing from his abdomen was still vanishing into thin air after mixing with his blood as it trickled down his clothes. Dean felt a pang of urgency and concern flood his emotions.

"You!" he pointed at the stranger and asked, "Who are you?"

"I am Ion, a brother to Castiel and an angel of the Lord. I am pleased to meet you, Dean Winchester." the angel, called Ion, said, reaching an open hand towards Dean.

Dean disregarded the gesture and shifted his gaze to Castiel, "I don't know if should even trust you, but I'm going to be the better man here and give you the benefit," he said purposefully with a hurtful tone, "Can we trust him?"

"Dean, your actions are…"

"I asked you a question; yes or no?!" Dean cut him off.

"Yes." Castiel answered, his eyes falling to the floor. Dean could see the pain in those airy blue orbs.

"Then Ion, you keep your eyes on Crowley. If he escapes, I swear I'll rip out your wings myself and feed them to you. Comprende? Good." Dean ordered.

Dean turned back and pointed to Kevin, "Your room! Now!" and then he set off past the boy towards the infirmary. "Castiel!" he shouted.

"Yes, Dean." the angel obliged instantly and followed the older Winchester out of the main hall.

Inside the medical ward of the Bunker, Dean stood deep into the room with his hands clenched tightly on the edge of one of the medical tables, his back to the door as he heard Castiel enter and close the door behind him. His mind was spinning and it made him unsteady on his feet and it caused a pull of anxiety mixed with nausea behind his belly-button.

Dean breathed deeply, trying to find his calm and collected self with not much success. He closed his eyes and exhaled as he felt the angel's solemn stare from behind him.

"Spill it!" Dean finally demanded.

"Dean, you seem irritable and disappointed. What is…"

Dean slammed his fists, for the hundredth time that day, down onto the table in front of him causing the containers with medical apparatus and supplies to rattle. The shattering noise echoed through the room like rain smashing down on a corrugated iron roof.

"Castiel," he forced the words threateningly through his teeth, "I am only going to ask you this once," his voice on the edge of breaking due to anger, "Explain yourself!"

Dean thought he heard a gulp from the angel's throat as if Cas was nervous and frightened. The angel clearly understood the menacing tone of Dean's demand and took a step forward.

"After we parted, that night in the crypt…"

"Cut the crap, Cas. I don't fucking care why you left or where you were," Dean interjected again, his emphasized words causing Castiel to flinch, "But I guess you would have known I didn't give a shit if you had actually listened to me, answered my calls."

Confessing that he had resorted to calling the angel when he needed him, praying, made Dean feel dirty and embarrassed. Yes, Cas had saved him so many times bfore, God, he pulled him from the Pit, but he still felt like he didn't need to be rescued. Dean praying to the blue-eyed creature was out of desperation to not resign from his duties, what was by now expected of him, his job. He had been so lost that it had seemed the only option.

Castiel didn't make a sound. It was as if Dean had been barking at nobody. He hesitated but turned around, seeing Castiel standing where he had been. It appeared as if Castiel was summoning everything in his might to not look at Dean. It frustrated Dean that the angel did not even have the decency to look him in the eye. Dean put his hands up to his head, rubbed hard at his eyes and slid his fingers down his face; asphyxiating in his own loss for words.

"I… I am… sorry, Dean."

Dean disbelievingly shook his head as he grimaced at Castiel.

"No, Cas! No! You don't get to walk in here and say you're sorry. You don't get to play the victim here. You left us. You left me." Dean struggled to reply as his throat constricted. He could feel his body vibrate; the anger, frustration and his own hurt boiling from his skin.

Castiel opened his mouth to say something, his gaze still fixed on his open hands in front of him. He failed to even make a sound, sighing as he felt Dean's tension pulsating towards him.

"Why did you come back? Why did you bring Crowley?"

Dean waited a second and was ready to ask the questions for the goddamn last time when Castiel started speaking in his normal, raspy voice, his eyes never moving from his hands.

Castiel started off by telling Dean that Naomi and her followers caught up with him, still adamant on taking the angel Tablet. Crowley had interrupted the scene and the angels fled after Crowley brandished his gun with the angel bullets. Crowley had taken Castiel and retrieved the Angel Tablet from inside the angel. After that, Castiel escaped. He had to flee; he had to keep out of sight. Naomi was still after him. Crowley was going to kill him. After a week or two, Castiel and Ion were discovered by Crowley. Crowley was in the crappy state that he now was. Abbadon had been let loose, now Castiel knew she had escaped the Winchesters, and had rained down on Crowley like infernos from the sky in revenge. She overthrew Crowley from his thrown and took her newly acquired place as the Queen of Hell. So the angels decided that the best thing to do was seek out Dean and Sam and bring Crowley to them, for interrogation.

Dean took in every word, forming new questions as he listened, not asking them immediately. When Castiel finished his play-by-play of events, Dean shifted in his boots and felt the full weight of what happened settle in his brain.

"So, you're bleeding because Crowley yanked the Tablet from your gut?" Dean asked.

"Yes."

"Why aren't you healing?"

"The turn of events complicated our situation to an even more detrimental state." Cas answered.

"English, Cas." Dean shot at the angel.

"I am unsure about what precisely is causing this, but Ion and I both," Castiel swallowed hard, "Our Grace is gradually being drained from our vessels."

Dean's mouth fell dumbfounded to the floor, "You… you mean to say that… that..."

"Yes, we assume that Naomi might be the culprit. She craves revenge on the angels she thinks has betrayed her. The enigma, Dean, is that this has never been heard of; an angel draining the Grace from their brothers or sisters without physical contact."

Dean froze for what seemed like hours, before his mind snapped back. He turned around and cleared the medical table where he had stood earlier. Over the cold, metal surface he positioned a clean, sheet he had found in a box under the table. It fit perfectly and shielded anyone who sat there from the hard and icy area. He sighed as he already regretted what he was going to say next.

With his back to Castiel, he tapped the surface of the table twice with his fingers, "Let me look at you."

"Dean, I do not understand?" Castiel said tilting his head.

"Jesus, Cas, if you're not healing, I should probably check your wound and stop the bleeding."

Without any response Castiel moved towards where Dean was standing, like he was ordered. Dean couldn't manage to look at the angel in such close proximity. He was giving off waves of displeasure and cloudiness. It not only possibly made the angel uncomfortable and scared, it was frightening himself too. His internal struggle had become more and more external by the second; and as he saw it, it could either end real bad or with him forgiving the angel. But Dean knew he wasn't ready yet. Time would only tell.

He waited as Castiel climbed onto the surgical table in front of him and sat down facing Dean, with his legs hanging from the bend, not touching the floor. The angel placed his hands in his lap as he breathed a heavy sigh, his eyes closed after squinting because of the heavy, old-school infirmary lights. It made Dean want to burst out in laughter as Castiel struck that face that resembled a little boy under the lights of a dentist – somewhere between sleepily aware and annoyingly cute . But his anger got the better of him, striking hard at the positive emotions to keep them under submission. Dean admitted the lights and equipment looked more like stuff out of a Frankenstein-movie. Maybe it wasn't a medical ward after all; could have been a room for dissecting and torturing – you never know.

Dean's eyes shifted from the equipment back to Castiel, just as the angel slowly and carefully opened his eyes. The sight had blown a hole straight through Dean's chest as those gloomy and yet blizzard blue eyes stared into Dean's.

Dean was engulfed by the realization that he hadn't seen those sapphires for weeks and that with one stare Castiel could make him feel weak and lost; like the human he was. That was what made him feel and care so much for Castiel, because Cas was the only one who could make him feel like a man, not a savior or a hunter, just a normal man. His mind was blank, and all he could think was that he had missed the watchful eyes of the angel… of his friend.

Dean licked his now sandy dry lips, shifted in his shoes and looked down.

"Castiel," he said, clearing his throat, "Take off your coat… uhm… and your suit jacket… your, uhm shirt too…"

Another magnificent yet delicate blow to Dean's metaphorical gut as the angel, as if it had been customary, canted his head questioningly to his right shoulder. "Is it appropriate for me… I mean, you will not mind me exposing myself before you?"

Dean choked at Castiel's words. He quickly played it off as an awkward sneeze and replied,"Well, it's either that or you bleed to death."

Another A/N: Please keep the PM's and reviews rollin' in. Would love to hear more from you! :D Maybe I'll add some sexy stuff in the next chapter! Let me know if you trust Ion or not?