Summary: His wings always seemed to be the problem, Castiel figured. But when he and his family move to Sioux Falls and he meets a Beast locked away in a castle, could his wings be the solution? Dean/Cas, Sam/Gabriel, Adam/Michael; fusion with Beauty and the Beast
Words: 4180
AN: Thank you to all of my reviewers and to my wonderful beta, Delu.
Chapter Title: Cause it's the heat of the moment
The heat of the moment
The heat of the moment showed in your eyes.
-"Heat of the Moment" Asia
The first thing Sam noticed after Castiel passed through the Barrier was that Dean's angel had personal space issues. No, that wasn't right, Sam corrected himself. Dean's angel had personal space issues with Dean. He didn't do it with anyone else—in fact, with most people he stood at a greater length than the average talking distance. Then, Dean would enter the room and Cas would insinuate himself into his space in less time than it took Sam to blink. The really weird part of it was that Dean—Mr. You have your bubble, I have mine—didn't say one word about it.
Watching his brother get used to human contact again was odd to say the least. For the last century and a half, Dean had been alone. Now, he and the angel were attached at the hip and—if Sam were being honest—it was sorta freaky.
There hadn't been many humans in the castle since the curse, but those who had been were too scared of Dean to even look at him. The animals that lived around the castle knew to steer clear of him because their senses told them he was dangerous. Castiel seemed to have—if anything—the opposite instinct. When Dean was in the room, the angel's eyes would focus only on him and Dean didn't even seem to notice. He would go about his business as though nothing unusual was happening. If ever Sam had doubted whether his brother would be able to fall for the angel, he didn't anymore.
Well, it seemed they wouldn't be cursed for too much longer. Gabriel hadn't been kidding about the… um… eyefucking.
While he didn't begrudge Dean his happiness, Sam had to admit that he was maybe just a little bit jealous. His brother and the angel seemed so happy and though they weren't romantically involved as of yet—well, consciously anyway—they carried on like an old married couple—what with the ease of touch and all that staring. He and Gabriel had been together for what seemed like forever and they still hadn't moved past the initial sex-crazed frenzy.
Sam was happy with Gabriel. He really was. He loved Gabriel—for all that he had never admitted it—and he accepted the fact that romance would never be their forte. Still, he couldn't keep himself from watching his brother's progressing relationship wistfully and wishing for something more.
Gabriel wasn't much of a romantic. He had a tendency to skip straight to sex and—when he couldn't do that—badger the object of his affection with innuendo. The problem with he and Sam's relationship wasn't the lack of sex—though that was an annoyance in and of itself. No, it was the fact that they had been together for so long and he had never—not even once—taken Sam on a date.
He felt bad about that—really, he did—but it wasn't as if either of them were girls. He figured Sam didn't care one way or another. Then, he noticed how his boyfriend watched as Dean and his angel sloshed their awkward brand of romance all over the place. Sam—it seemed—was even more of a girl than his brothers had always claimed he was.
He and Sam hadn't been together when they were human. Gabriel had been hired by John Winchester when he was eighteen and had been with them for the better part of fifteen years before Dean had been cursed. In that time, he and Sam hadn't shown more than a fleeting sexual interest in each other that never would have been acted upon. Post-curse, they had developed a relationship out of loneliness and as a necessary precaution against boredom-driven insanity. Over the near century and a half they had been together together, they had proven to be pretty good for each other and Gabriel found that he had actually gone and fallen in love with the big stupid coghead. Not that he had told Sam that, but maybe if they went on a date…
Gabriel smirked to himself and set about making his plans.
Lucifer was not in a very good mood. His forces had traveled all the way to Lawrence on the information that an angel lived there only to find that it was already gone when they marched into the city. After talking to the thing's neighbors, he learned that it had left with its 'father' and 'brother'. So far, he hadn't been able to pick up a trace on where it had gone, and that pissed him off.
Contrary to popular belief, Lucifer wasn't crazy. He simply had a very justified desire for revenge—in his mind at least. His wife Lilith had been murdered by a group of Hunters. Sure, she had been possessed by a demon at the time, and okay, maybe she had tried to kill him. That didn't mean that those asshole demon hunters needed to put her down like a rabid dog. And so, he had started waging his war, throwing his lot in with the monsters and demons, leading them across the country and killing all who stood in his way. It wasn't ideal—after all, supernatural creatures were so far beneath him that they almost couldn't even be considered living things at all—but, if he wanted to take his revenge, he wasn't above using them to suit his purposes. Since they seemed to like Hunters even less than he did, Lucifer found it very simple to manipulate them into doing what he wanted them to do.
Angels, on the other hand, were a completely different matter. Lucifer lumped them into the same category as all of the other supernatural dirt in the world, but he seemed to be the only one of that opinion. The rest of humanity revered them as if they were gods and were not inclined to give up the whereabouts of those that were spending time in the mortal coil. Though he had managed to add some of the fallen to his ranks, the fully powered angels and the half-breeds remained ridiculously stubborn. As such, he had had to exterminate all of the ones he had managed to track down. He hoped that the one he was after now was either fallen or had some sense of self-preservation that had been lacking in the others. Otherwise, he was wasting his time and Lucifer did not like wasted time.
"Sir," a voice interrupted his musing.
"What is it?" Lucifer snapped at his second—a demon named Ruby.
Ruby flinched a bit at his tone, but she didn't back down. "We've found the angel. No one seems to know his name, but we've been told that he and his family moved to a small town in Ilchester Forest."
A somewhat deranged grin spread itself over Lucifer's face. "Ruby, rally the troops. We're moving out tonight."
Gabriel crept along the corridor leading to he and Sam's bedroom, pausing every so often to listen for footsteps just in case, and humming a spy theme song under his breath in between stops. The next time he halted, he heard the telltale sounds of something walking and flattened himself to the wall just in time to see Anna flutter by. She didn't stop, but gave him a strange look as she passed him. Once she was gone, Gabriel peeled himself off of the wall and resumed his progress down the hall.
When he reached their room, he popped his head around the doorway and cursed under his breath as he spotted Sam sleeping in one corner of the room. Oh well, he shrugged. I'm too impatient to wait. I can be sneaky. He began rummaging through their dresser and checking behind the frickin' huge mirror Sam insisted on having. He shuffled over to the bed and was bending down to check beneath it when Sam woke with a short yell.
Gabriel jerked up—task forgotten—and hopped over to his boyfriend. "Sam," he yelped. "What's wrong?" He panicked, checking Sam for injuries.
Sam panted a little bit and wrapped a hand around Gabriel. He sounded haunted when he spoke. "I had this dream where you killed Dean over and over and over again. I mean, you had him run over by a horse and you dropped a piano on him and you gave him food poisoning and every time it happened, I would wake up and there would be this song playing that kept repeating the words 'heat of the moment' and then Dean would die again." Sam's grip on Gabriel tightened.
Gabriel hedged, "I wouldn't do that." Sam glared at him. "Okay, well, if I did it would only be a joke."
"Don't even joke about that," Sam huffed. His hold loosened and turned into something more like an embrace as he relaxed. "So, what are you doing here? Weren't you tailing Dean and Castiel?"
"I was for a while," Gabriel admitted. "I got bored when they went to the library and Castiel started reading him Romeo and Juliet. And the love-struck fool was actually listening." He snorted.
"You didn't answer my question," Sam insisted. "You never come in here unless I drag you." His eyes narrowed. "What are you up to?"
Gabriel rolled his eyes and threw up his candlesticks. "Fine, fine, you caught me. I had nothing better to do and—since I figured you were girly enough to do shit like keep a diary—I decided to look for it." He smirked at Sam. "I'm sure it would be quite entertaining." He pitched his voice higher. "Gabriel looked at me today. My heart started going pitter patter and I—"
"Gabriel!" Sam protested. "I do not sound like that. And I don't have a diary." He waved an arm over Gabriel. "See, no fingers. I can't write." Sam set Gabriel back on the ground and made a shooing motion. "Now, go away and let me sleep." Gabriel started to hop away, relieved that Sam wasn't too pissed at him. Still, he winced when Sam's voice followed him. "And don't get into any trouble while I'm not around."
Well that was a bit of a bust, Gabriel thought as he made his way out of the room. At least, he didn't find out about the plan.
Dean wasn't much of a reader; Sam was the one who liked all that scholarly bullshit. So, when Cas said that he wanted to go to the library, Dean was a bit hesitant. He hadn't actually read a book since he had been cursed because his paws weren't well formed for turning pages. He didn't want to get in there and have Cas think that he was a complete idiot. He knew that Cas liked books, and so, he was willing to put his own dislike for them aside in the interest of their—cough, cough—relationship.
Dean had finally admitted—to himself, at least—that he had feelings for the angel. Not that he was gonna tell anyone about it, but he felt better after he had come to terms with it. And he knew that in order to continue—god forbid—wooing Castiel, he would need to take him to the library.
The look on Cas's face made it totally worth it. His expression brightened in complete happiness and he darted around the room from one bookshelf to the next as though he couldn't decide where to start, his wings quivering behind him with suppressed excitement. When he finally stopped long enough to take a breath, Cas looked over at Dean and gifted him with the most dopily adorable grin he had ever seen. It made Dean's stomach clench and his knees go a bit weak and all that sentimental shit. And really, it was that smile that made Dean come to the realization that maybe his feelings for Cas had blown right past the 'first man-crush' stage and well into full-on 'puppy love'. Oh shit, he was totally screwed.
Needless to say, after Cas asked him who his favorite author was, Dean didn't want to tell him that he didn't like to read. So, he lied and told Cas the only name he could think of off the top of his head.
"Shakespeare," Dean blurted out. What the fuck? He thought. I've never read Shakespeare in my life.
Cas looked at him blankly. "Shakespeare?" he questioned. "He doesn't seem like the type of writer you would like." He tilted his head and stared at Dean as though he were a very complicated puzzle with several missing pieces.
Dean couldn't help his need to fidget under that gaze. "Well," he started, then stopped. "Maybe," he tried again. He sighed. "Fine, I don't read Shakespeare. Actually, I don't read period. Didn't do it much before the curse. Haven't done it at all since." He inhaled deeply before saying, "I just didn't want you to think I was stupid is all." He could feel the heat in his cheeks and was once again grateful that Castiel couldn't see it.
Cas seemed bemused by this. "Dean," he said seriously. "I would not think this simply because we do not share the same hobbies. You are free to like anything you wish to like." Cas gave Dean a somewhat mischievous look. "Although, I do think I will have to punish you for lying to me." He went to one of the shelves and searched for a second before pulling a book down. He walked back over to Dean and sat down in one of the armchairs, his wings curling around him to accommodate his position. "Sit down, Dean." Cas motioned to the seat next to him with a wave of his wing.
"What are you—" Dean began. He was thoroughly confused and a little turned on by Cas's words. Hell, the guy was talking about punishment for fuck's sake and stuff like that—combined with the look Cas had been giving him—went straight to a man's dick.
"I am going to read to you, Dean," Cas informed him. "Now, sit down." He opened the book to the first page and stared at Dean patiently until he finally sat. "Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare," he announced. He turned to another page. "'Two houses both alike in dignity…'"
When he realized that Cas's voice got deeper while he was reading, Dean decided that maybe Shakespeare wasn't so bad after all.
Castiel had been reading for what felt like hours, but he couldn't help feeling that it was worth it. Dean had a look of rapt attention on his face and was leaning slightly toward him—for once initiating the breach of personal space rather than just accepting it. "'…For never was a story of more woe, than this of Juliet and her Romeo.'" He closed the book and looked up at Dean expectantly.
Dean blinked. "That was…" he trailed off. "Well, it wasn't bad for girly shit like Shakespeare," he grunted, seemingly embarrassed for actually liking it.
Castiel nodded. "I am glad you liked it Dean," he murmured, meeting Dean's eyes and holding his gaze.
The stare went on for what seemed like forever before Dean finally broke it. He looked down and scratched the back of his neck with one of his front paws. "So, Cas, are you… Are you happy here?" He swallowed nervously as he waited for the answer.
Castiel smiled softly at him. "Of course I am happy Dean," he assured him. "I do miss my father and my brother and the ability to fly freely, but I do not regret coming here. Although I do not know how I can help you break the curse, I am glad that I am here to at least try."
Dean looked pained by this. "I am so sorry, Cas," he said sincerely. "I wasn't even thinking when I asked you to come here. I didn't realize that you would fucking lose your ability to fly."
He looked so remorseful and miserable that Castiel felt the urge to wrap him up in his arms and wings until Dean was feeling better. Unused to physical affection, however, he wasn't entirely sure that was a good idea. So, he settled for resting a hand on Dean's arm. "Dean, as I told you, I am not—in any way—sorry to be here, so you should not be either." He ran his fingers through the fur on Dean's shoulder almost unconsciously as he spoke.
Dean didn't respond to his words but looked over at his hand in shock. Noticing this, Castiel moved his hand back hesitantly, only to have Dean close the distance between them by pushing his head into Castiel's hand. A deep noise came from his throat and Castiel could only barely make out the words, "Been so long since anyone touched me." When Castiel began to thread his fingers into Dean's hair and stroke the skin beneath it, the rumbling grew louder.
It took Castiel a few minutes to comprehend that Dean was doing a beastly approximation of purring. Once he had come to this realization, a warm feeling coursed through him and he redoubled his efforts to make Dean happy—scratching behind his ears and under his chin with his other hand. As he was petting Dean, Castiel paid attention to the fur under his fingers. It was softer than he had expected it to be and extremely thick. Reluctantly, Castiel pulled his hand away from Dean and then chuckled when he saw that he had caused Dean's hair to stick up into something resembling a Mohawk. Dean, of course, was looking completely and adorably confused by the whole matter.
"What're you laughin' at?" he asked sulkily.
Castiel barely managed to hold back another laugh as he gestured at the top of Dean's head. "Your hair—" He reach over and smoothed the fur back into place. "There," he said fondly, smiling shyly at Dean.
Dean stared at Castiel for a moment. He opened his mouth and then shut it again, appearing indecisive. Then, apparently having made up his mind, he asked quickly, "Angel, will you marry me?"
Castiel could feel the smile drop off of his face. He tilted his head quizzically and a frown tugged down the corners of his mouth. Why is Dean asking me this? he thought. He searched mentally for an answer to this question but couldn't find one. Dean was still watching him and he couldn't seem to think through an appropriate response. "I am no angel," he finally said, before standing and rushing out of the library, trying to ignore the devastated look on Dean's face as he left.
Bobby was having a pretty good day, all things considered. His boy had been gone for over a week now and he missed him, but the sun was shining and Castiel was safe so all was as it should be. He stood up from where he had been sitting at the table in the kitchen and walked outside, stretching his arms up over his head to get all of the kinks out of his back and neck. Suddenly, the sounds of men making their way through dense forests reached his ears and he turned, alarmed by the noise. Any of the locals would be able to move—if not soundlessly—much quieter than whatever idjits there were in there right now. Besides, if he wasn't mistaken, he could make out the sound of armor and horse hooves. Bobby had a sudden feeling of dread and he started running toward the farm where Michael was working just as the leader of the small army burst through the underbrush and into the clearing around his home.
Not wanting to lead them to Michael, he turned and went in another direction, but by that point, the first man had already spotted him and was chasing him down. Soon enough, he was surrounded on all sides by creatures and men in armor waving long swords at him. He stopped trying to escape and stood there quietly, glaring at them. One of the men dismounted and moved to stand before him, looking down his nose at Bobby as though he were something on the bottom of his shoe. Well, Bobby thought. This must be Lucifer. Knew he'd find us eventually.
"Where is the angel?" Lucifer sneered at him. "If you hand it over to me, my men will not harm you."
Bobby bristled a bit at the implication that his son was an 'it'. "He isn't here," he said tersely. "I don't know where he is, so if ya don't mind gettin' offa my land—"
Lucifer cut him off with a snarl. "I have it on good information that he is here." He advanced on Bobby with his sword drawn. "So are you going to tell me where he is, or will I have to start cutting off body parts?" Lucifer's mouth widened into a horrible-looking smirk.
Bobby was saved from answering by Michael as he came home from work. "What the—" Michael was pushing his way toward him. "Father, what's going on?"
Lucifer turned in Michael's direction when he heard his voice and Bobby saw him stiffen as his son pushed past the last few bodies separating them. "Well, well, well," Lucifer said scathingly. "If it isn't my old friend Michael. Are you enjoying living the peasant life now that you lost your sword?" he asked sarcastically. "If you want to retrieve it, it's still stuck in my back."
"Lucifer," Michael said warily. "It is… good… to see that you are well. I did not think that we would see each other again after…" He trailed off in an attempt not to upset Lucifer any more than was necessary.
It didn't work. "After what?" Bobby could see the vein in his temple throbbing as he spoke. "Oh, you mean after you betrayed me?"
Michael sighed. "Lucifer, whatever happened in the past should stay in the past. Whatever grudge you have against me, leave my father out of it."
Lucifer grinned maniacally at him. "Oh, no, this isn't about you." He gestured to Bobby with his sword. "You, old man, tell your son why we are here," he commanded.
Bobby had heard the fear and anger in his son's voice and tried not to let the same show in his own as he answered. "These idjits're here lookin' for an angel," he sneered—as though the thought of an angel being there was completely idiotic.
Michael looked stricken. "An ang—"
Lucifer cut him off. "Yes, yes, an angel." He clapped a hand on Bobby's shoulder, ignoring him when he flinched. "You see, your father happens to know where it is, which leads me to believe that you must know as well." His face morphed from crazy to benevolent and it was then Bobby knew he was in the hands of a madman. The truly insane were the ones best at hiding it. "Tell you what I'm going to do. I'm a reasonable man and because of that, I will make you a little deal. Your father will stay with me for one week. In return for my hospitality, I expect you to bring me the angel at the end of that time." He steepled his hands and pursed his lips. "If, for any reason, you do not hold up your end of the bargain, I'm afraid that Daddy Dearest will end up the next plaything for my good friend, Alastair."
He snapped his fingers and a demon appeared at his side. "My lord, how can I help you?" he said in a high, nasally voice.
Lucifer put his other hand on Alastair's shoulder. Unlike Bobby, the demon didn't flinch. "You see, Alastair here is my resident torture master. He can get information out of anyone." He looked at Alastair fondly and gave Bobby's shoulder a shake. "Alastair, please take this man back to camp with you. He may be with us for a while."
Bobby struggled as the demon grabbed him and when he looked over at Michael, he saw that his son was being restrained by several of the creatures that had made up the circle. Unfortunately, their strength was no match for that of the supernatural entities that held them. When Bobby looked back once more, it was to see the devastation on his son's face as he watched his father being dragged away by a torture master. And that complete horror almost overwhelmed Bobby's dread for what awaited him in the next week—almost.