They make love—as Dean calls it—until both of them are too exhausted to keep going. Dean pretty much passes out after, but Castiel stays up, feeling tired but unwilling to fall asleep because he's sticky with sweat and the residue of their copulation.
He pads over to the bathroom to get some wet towels to clean them both off. The pleasure is almost completely gone now and he's finally coming down from the high but as the self-awareness fills him,so does the raging hatred. It makes him dizzy with the force of it and he has to pause what he's doing to deal with the range of emotions that are competing for his attention.
Eventually, he settles on deep sadness. He doesn't cry; he's had enough of that. Instead, he takes several deep breaths. The compulsion is there, to take a knife and stab it through his heart just to quell his torment, have it be over. But he can't, Dean's commands still have their control and Emeline, all innocent and unaware, needs to live, to grow, to get out.
The despair always comes suddenly and takes twice as long to leave but pass it does, and after a moment Castiel resumes cleaning Dean up. As much as he may wish it were a blade he was dragging across his husband's skin, he does the job without further distraction or any complaint and then proceeds to do himself.
Emeline takes the opportunity to start kicking as Castiel's about to finish and he coos, strokes his bump with a soothing hand to reassure her, to let her know that every thing's going to be fine. He can only hope it's the truth.
The next morning, Dean leans in to kiss Castiel before he leaves for work. It's deep and filled with promise and the warning bells go off but Castiel just fakes a smile and returns the enthusiasm like usual while Dean is none the wiser.
When he is finally alone, the routine begins again. He feels the cage begin to close around his mind until all he can focus on are the commands. He starts on the chores, then the cooking and then everything else. He does it all mechanically, while a patient part of him waits for that break, that one moment to be himself.
Once it eventually comes, he's exhausted but grateful for the pause. With the little energy he has left, he climbs into the recliner and sits there, willing his brain to slow down and return to normal.
For as long as Castiel could remember, the curse had been bad. However, it had always been bearable before. It was there since he was born, separating him from his brothers and sisters by making him the black sheep. The curse was as much a part of him as his nose was a part of his face.
People never understood it, they told him to defy the orders and never knew that fighting only made him weaker and did nothing to lessen the pain. The curse was far more complicated than anyone could fathom. Trying to simply ignore or flout a command came with agonizing consequences. Frankly, it scared him. Yet people still told him it was a mind over matter situation, that the self-deprecation and self-pity were weighing him down and making the curse seem stronger than it was.
Eventually he came to the conclusion, at a young age, that he had the curse because he wasn't perfect. It was a strange idea but it seemed to make the most sense. He was clumsy and silly and never really special so God, or whoever, 'blessed' him with the ability to make those around him pleased with his behavior.
He never once thought of rebelling.
But apparently, his efforts to be good never impressed his family. They wanted him gone as soon as he was of consenting age. He didn't understand, they seemed to love him, but who could love someone who never spoke or laughed, who was sad all the time? Whose only good trait was his obedience?
As the curse worsened so did Castiel. He became more stoic each passing day. It didn't make sense to him to act like a 'normal' person when the odds of finding a cure seemed less and less likely. So he didn't. When it was about the time his parents started noticing, it was already too late. Castiel had given up and resigned to live out the rest of his days as a machine.
Then, Dean crawled out of some level of hell, and they found each other. Dean didn't belong, he was too bulky, too hard but that just attracted Castiel more. They were similar, the misfits. For once, Castiel thought he could taste salvation.
Dean had made him feel so many things, so many good things. He thought he found someone who could love him despite his many imperfections, someone who could make it feel like he wasn't cursed and not exactly blessed but almost deserving, of freedom, of love, of something better than the eternal torment he had to live with, because Dean, though an amazing man, wasn't perfect either.
Dean's brother, Sam, became his best friend and his second favorite person in the world, (second to Dean of course). Sam was kind; he treated Castiel as if he was normal. And Castiel felt special, that he was lucky enough for these two wonderful people to like him.
He never really knew what brought Dean and Sam to his village but he didn't care. All that mattered was that they were there.
Castiel's family couldn't wait to see him and Dean get married and then see that Castiel was moved out. To Castiel, even if the both of them never found a cure, Dean would be with him and he'd never have to deal with it alone.
They moved far away from Castiel's village, which was fine with him because Castiel never liked it much anyway and he wouldn't really miss it or the few friends he did have. He didn't even mind it when Dean made most of the decisions because Dean was smart and loved him and knew what was right.
Dean chose whom Castiel hung out with for awhile before deeming them all too toxic. He decided what Castiel wore and what he ate, where he went and what he did. But Castiel never thought anything was wrong until the day Dean started giving orders.
It happened during their first fight. Castiel was frustrated with all the hell Dean was putting him through and was packing up to leave while Sam waited in the car.
"Please don't leave me Cas," Dean was saying as he paced the room back and forth while Castiel continued to ignore him.
"You're insane Dean. This is insane. I'm sorry but I need to go somewhere for awhile." Castiel continued stuffing the suitcase, feeling the tears build up. He needed to do this, to teach Dean that his behavior wasn't right, that it wasn't the way you were supposed to treat people.
"Please Cas," Dean repeated. "I'll change. Just don't leave."
But Castiel was almost finished packing and Sam was blowing the horn. He never should have allowed Dean to get away with so much. Why had he been so stupid? "I'm sorry."
There was a silence; a pause from the groveling before Dean spoke and his words were as cold as ice. "No, I'm sorry."
It was so sudden Castiel had no idea what was going to happen or how to even react. "I have no choice Cas. Put that suitcase down and tell Sam to screw off. You will not leave."
He felt the words pour out of his mouth before it could get to him. "You bastard!" And then he was dropping the suitcase and going to the window to yell at Sam. Doing exactly what he was told like a good, obedient boy.
Sam wasn't buying it though, he knew something was off, Sam who knew about the curse and knew never to abuse it, who felt sincerely awful for the rough childhood Castiel had, rushed out of the car in seconds.
"Castiel, what are you saying?" he asked, scrutinizing the crestfallen, tearful blue-eyed man.
"You heard him," Dean spoke, appearing suddenly behind Sam, looking as vicious as the lies he told Castiel. "You need to get the hell out of my house."
Everything seemed to go off kilter and nothing was making sense. Sam looked over to Castiel to see if this wasn't some sort of trick, but all the other man did was stare dejectedly back at him. "He's right Sam. You need to go."
Sam narrowed his eyes. What was wrong with Castiel? Something was definitely off. "I'm not going anywhere without you."
Fresh tears poured down Castiel's face and before Sam knew it, Dean had him pressed against the wall.
"You deaf or something, Sammy?" The hunter's voice was filled with so much acid that it shocked Sam. Dean had always been protective of Castiel but not like this. He didn't know what was wrong with his brother but he knew he didn't like it.
Sam was never one for making trouble especially not with his older brother but this was one of those times that he needed to assert himself. "I'm getting Castiel out of here."
Dean gritted his teeth and pressed Sam further into the wall. "Over my dead body."
"Stop!" Castiel begged and Sam could see him trying to pull Dean off of him by grabbing his shirt. "If it means that you won't kill each other then I'll stay. Just please stop."
"Castiel." Sam warned because damn it, Castiel wasn't staying even if both Dean and himself ended up in body bags, but it was clear that the other man had already made up his mind. It still didn't make sense. With the way Dean was treating Castiel lately and the way Castiel seemed to dislike it, why would he change his mind so quickly? Then Sam took one look at the both of them and the light bulbs in his head lit up. "Castiel, is he making you?"
The other man's eyes refused to meet his and Dean had the decency to look ashamed. It was all the confirmation he needed. "You sick shit!" Sam gritted out, straightening up to pounce on his older brother.
Dean put up a good fight but Sam was so fueled with adrenaline and anger that he nearly killed the other man, until he was able to register Castiel trying to intervene again.
"Sam, please, this is the man I love!" He begged, trying his best to pull the much larger brother, Sam, off of the smaller, Dean.
Sam finally complied, but only for Castiel. He would have put Dean in a more critical condition if it weren't for the black-haired man who he cared for so deeply. What Dean was doing was just plain wrong. His brother must have been sick in the head or the biggest coward he knew if he was using the curse to manipulate Castiel. How long had this been going on anyways?
"Castiel, I'm so sorry. H-how could this happen? " He reached out a hand for the blue-eyed man but Castiel moved away from him to rush to Dean's side.
Castiel, who looked so small in his and Dean's giant living room, was silent for a long moment. Checking Dean's pulse and crying softly. He didn't say anything to Sam. When the other man got a closer look, it was clear Castiel had started praying. Sam reached out a hand to Castiel again to bring him back to the situation at hand but Castiel shrugged him off. "I think it's best if you go." He whispered.
"Not without you." Sam reiterated.
Dean, who was wavering in and out of consciousness, said, "If I ever catch you back in this house again, I'll kill you with my bare hands."
Sam ignored him, already making up his mind that Dean wasn't worth it, that anyone who could do this to Castiel wasn't worth it. "But Cas," Sam was pleading now, attempting to get the black-haired man back to the side of rationality.
"Go." Was all Castiel said. And some part of Sam's brain registered the scene before him and what had just happened and realized that it was exactly what Castiel and he were trying to avoid. There was no use now. What would be the point of fighting when all it would lead to was more violence and even more suffering for Castiel? Making things worse for Cas had never been Sam's intention.
So Sam left, though, he promised to come back.
After that fateful day, Dean apologized profusely and promised never to do it again and Castiel, of course, believed him. Because Dean was great, a little pedantic, but still great and Castiel was willing to make this marriage work. Everything was going to be okay, like in the beginning.
But like most things that Dean said, they were laced with deception. Whenever Dean needed to keep Castiel in check he'd issue a command even worse than the one before. Apparently, Castiel needed to be kept in check regularly because the commands never let up; they just kept coming and coming and all the while Dean kept takingtakingtaking. Of course, he would apologize, but eventually they both realized it made no sense;you keep messing up babe, I just have to fix you sometimes, you know? Help you to be better. I do this because I love you, that's all.
Then everything that could go wrong did. Castiel learned that he was pregnant; a condition that he thought had only occurred in women but apparently also in his male ancestors whom he had inherited the curse from. And as it so happened was a trait as easily inherited as the curse itself. So not for the first time in his miserable life, he wanted to die.
Sam tried to help again but together they would never get far enough away. Dean had become more of a head official in the little town they moved to and was also becoming more skillful in his commands.
And as Castiel started to swell and grow it became harder to run and easier to just give in. The love he felt for Dean had long ago curdled and dissipated but he was still Dean's,to have and to hold, remember babe, and he knew that would never change.
Castiel doesn't realize he's fallen asleep until he feels an arm shaking him awake. When he looks around he realizes he's still in the recliner and Dean is looking at him as if he's the most beautiful thing in the world. He feels horrified and slightly annoyed, wishing he could sleep longer or better yet, never wake up at all.
It's clear in the way the hunter looks at him, with pure love and adoration in his eyes, that Castiel is his whole world. It's warped and so, so wrong but Castiel can't deny that the reverse is also true.
"Hey babe." Dean greets, kissing him on the forehead. "Come eat dinner with me."
Castiel gives him a small smile in return and waits for the cycle to start up again and after a beat, it does.