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Thanks to Dragonsrule18, Skyla Andrews, L. Thestrup, LuNaLoverAlex, dean-winchester-is-our-king, cerridwenjones and Guest for your reviews :)
The next month passes in a blur of action. Between Kevin going missing and a case involving Charlie Bradbury, her vegetative mother, and fear djinns (which an annoyed Castiel had said that he could have been dealt with in minutes had he been allowed to come along, to which Dean had retorted that they weren't going to expose him to Heaven for too long if they could help it – not to mention that his grace had been on the blink since this recent round of torture), they've had a lot on their plate. Though one bright spot is when Charlie gets to meet Castiel while enlisting them for the case.
"You're Castiel? The Castiel? Smitey angel of the Lord?" Charlie said, staring at Castiel in awe. Castiel shot Dean a puzzled look.
"Uh…yes. I am Castiel," Castiel said after a moment. Charlie beamed widely at him.
"You're so much dreamier in person!"
"Hey, hey!" Dean reprimanded. "Stick with your own team, okay? He's taken. And I don't share."
When Castiel looked at him in confusion, he quietly explained that Charlie was a lesbian and that 'sticking with your own team' meant being attracted to your own gender. Meanwhile, Charlie squealed loudly and started gushing about how, "Destiel is real!" and, "Oh my gosh, you guys, you're making me fangirl!" and, "I knew all that subtext about you being bi wasn't just my imagination, Dean!"
Dean was less than happy with that last one.
But now they finally have a lead on Kevin's location – and it isn't a good one. It comes in the form of an automatic email, with a video message from Kevin explaining that if they do get this message, it means he's dead or captured. As the message plays and Kevin gets visibly tearful and curses them for dragging him into everything, Dean's heart slowly breaks and he pointedly doesn't look at Castiel, who he knows can tell exactly what he's thinking. But what he's thinking is true: it is his fault that Kevin's dead. He should've done more to look out for Kevin, maybe even relocated him here to keep him safe instead of just dumping him on Garth and only calling when he needed translations.
"The one thing I know is that I won't break this time," Kevin says with conviction. "Not sure how I know, but – but I do. I've been uploading all my notes, the translations…I'm sending you the links so you can get all of it. You guys are gonna have to try to figure out the rest. I'm sorry…I know it was my job but I – I couldn't…I'm sorry."
The video ends. Shaking with self-loathing and fury, Dean turns and swipes a stack of books off the table.
"Dammit!" he shouts. He feels a hand on his back, touching him with so much gentleness that he doesn't deserve, and he flinches and slaps it away.
"Don't touch me!" he snaps at Castiel. The angel withdraws, visibly hurt, and Dean wilts and rubs his face with one hand. "I – sorry. But see? This is why I'm not good for you!"
Castiel tries to talk – probably to launch into a spiel about how Dean does deserve love and how he's not a toxic person – but Dean cuts him off by stabbing a finger at Sam.
"You. Print Kevin's notes. I'm gonna call around."
Ignoring Castiel's attempts at a conversation, he calls up every hunter he knows in the area to try and track down Garth. But the guy's still MIA, much to Dean's utter frustration. Why can't he do anything right?
"How about the other prophets in line?" Sam says. "I mean, if Kevin is, uh…dead, then won't one of them be activated?"
He looks at Castiel for confirmation. Castiel gives a short nod.
"Yes. If Kevin was dead, the next prophet in line would be activated." The angel's eyes seem to glaze over for a moment. "Donatello Redfield. Fifty seven years of age. Lives in Lewis, Oklahoma. He has not been activated yet, so Kevin is still alive."
"Yeah, and in Crowley's slimy clutches," Dean says bitterly. "We should've moved him here. We shouldn't have just left him!"
"Dean –"
"No!" Dean slaps Castiel's hand away again. "Don't touch me!"
Castiel scowls at him. The next minute, two fingers are pressed to his forehead and, in a dizzying swirl, he finds himself in his room with Castiel. Well, their room. It's been their room since the two of them had dry-humped each other (among other things that Dean has taken it upon himself to teach Castiel since then) and Sam had tried to pretend that he didn't know what was going on.
"Maybe ask next time you go zapping me around?" Dean snarls. He knows he's being unfair on Castiel but dammit, this is exactly why he doesn't let people close to him! Why can't Castiel see that?
"I understand, Dean," Castiel says. "I understand that you feel personally responsible for all of our safety. But you must unshoulder some of that burden. This massive weight should not rest solely on you."
Dean just looks at the floor. A hand under his chin forces him to raise his head again and when he meets Castiel's blue eyes, all he sees is affection and…and love.
"I know that you are blaming yourself for Kevin's abduction," Castiel continues. "But don't. You are always so quick to take responsibility, but you are never easy on yourself. You never forgive yourself. And I cannot for the life of me understand why."
Dean tries to look away again but again, Castiel's hand gently guides his face back. He's pinned by those bright blue eyes, unable to move under the sheer weight of the love he can see in them, and he once again wonders just what the hell he did to deserve this angel, when there are plenty of other people out there far more deserving than him.
Then Castiel steps forward, starts to kiss him, and all he can think of is those perfect lips pressed against his own. He resists, not wanting to reward himself for his failure to protect Kevin, but Castiel is remarkably stubborn and refuses to go anywhere.
"If you truly don't want to sleep with me, then I will back off," Castiel murmurs, tracing Dean's bottom lip with his thumb. Dean shivers violently. "But if you are depriving yourself of this simply because you feel that you have failed and don't deserve this, please don't. You do deserve to be loved, Dean. You do deserve to be taken care of. Please. Let me show you."
Dean closes his eyes so that he doesn't have to see the raw affection on Castiel's eyes. He's punished for this by kisses being peppered all over his face – over his cheeks, his nose, his eyelids, his forehead. His resolve is crumbling and Cas – that fucker – knows it, because he plants one more gentle kiss right on Dean's lips.
"Okay," Dean finally whispers, his will shattering. Castiel gives him a smile, then kisses him again with more force and carefully manoeuvres him to the bed, where he pushes Dean down. Every touch, from his kisses to how he guides Dean further up the bed, is careful and delicate, as though Dean is a fragile thing that must be handled with caution. If this were anyone else, Dean would throw a fit at being treated like something breakable. But this is Castiel, and Castiel seems to get away with a lot when it comes to Dean.
"Sit up," Castiel instructs softly, unbuttoning Dean's plaid shirt. Dean sits up to allow Castiel to tug his plaid off and then his T-shirt, before he's lowered back down and Castiel's lips are attached to Dean's collar as if by a magnet. As Castiel kisses down Dean's bare chest, every touch feather-light and loving, Dean closes his eyes so that he doesn't have to watch something he doesn't deserve. He even hates himself for relaxing into Castiel's touch and allowing the angel to do this, rather than doing what he should and keeping Castiel at arm's length to avoid him getting hurt.
"I don't – I can't, Cas," he mumbles feebly. Castiel takes a pert nipple into his mouth and suckles, scraping the nub between his teeth, and Dean hisses and arches into the touch, eyes squeezed shut. "Cas, I don't – I don't deserve this. I don't."
He's disappointed when Castiel stops sucking on his nipple, but a small, dark corner of his mind is relieved.
"I'm a fuck-up, Cas. Always have been, always will be. And if you stick around…Cas, if you don't leave my sorry ass, you're gonna get hurt. Everyone I love dies!"
Dean doesn't realise that he's crying until Castiel's hand caresses his cheek and dampness is spread across it. He tries to turn his head, to hide how he's crying like a fucking baby, but Castiel still won't allow him to hide and ensures that Dean can't turn away by cupping his face with both hands.
"Dean. Open your eyes."
Dean doesn't want to, but he knows that Castiel is going to convince him to anyway and the more sappiness and cheesiness he can avoid, the better. His stomach drops when he sees how fucking sad Castiel's eyes are, and how his mouth is drooping, and if he thought that Castiel would let him get away with it, he'd punch himself in the face for putting that look on Castiel's face.
"You don't think you deserve to be loved," Castiel murmurs after a moment of examining Dean. "But you do, Dean. You are so worthy. You are the Righteous Man, and you saved me from Heaven. You didn't drag me down. I chose to come to you, and I will always choose you."
He leans down and brushes his lips against Dean's. Until the day he dies, Dean will deny whimpering and leaning up into the touch to beg for more.
"Please, Dean. Stop holding on to all of this self-loathing. Let me take care of you. Don't push me away, because I'm not going anywhere."
Finally, Dean nods. When he does come, with a tender hand and loving eyes and worshipping lips, it's a near-silent affair, punctuated only by a gasp and an arch of his back. When Castiel lowers himself down to lie next to Dean, he's grabbed in strong arms and squeezed in a desperate embrace.
As he'd promised Dean, he doesn't go anywhere.
They don't emerge from their room for hours. When Dean finally ventures out, leaving Castiel lying peacefully in bed in a sort of meditative trance, he finds Sam with a whole library of notes and books around him.
"Cas calm you down?" Sam says with an odd smile. Dean's saved the trouble of making a smart remark by Sam launching into a coughing fit, splattering blood into a tissue that he tosses aside into a small pile of others.
"You sure you're doing okay?" Dean says worriedly. Sam waves a dismissive hand.
"Not like I'm gonna get any better until I do the third trial. But I've been studying Kevin's notes and – look at this."
Dean strides over to look at the symbol that Sam's pointing at. It's an odd, three-spiral shape that he's never seen before in his life and he wonders what the hell it could mean.
"See that? Kevin has it down as – as sort of a signature for the Scribe of God. It appears every time Metatron makes one of his – uh – editor's notes."
Dean has no clue what this 'symbol of Metatron' has to do with finding Kevin.
"But I think I've seen it before. I mean, it was a long time ago. It was one of my, uh, humanities courses at Stanford."
A dull shock runs through Dean when he hears that word. God, it feels like millennia ago that Sam was just a college kid wanting to get into law school…and now he's been possessed by the Devil himself and is trying to close the gates of Hell. Dean wants to feel guilty for dragging Sam back into the life, but he knows that Sam will insist that he chose to come – and besides, he remembers the lesson that Castiel had very painstakingly taught him before.
"They taught Word of God at Stanford?" is what he finally says. Sam shakes his head.
"No, uh, it was an overview of Native American art – I think it's a petroglyph."
"A what?"
In reply, Sam locates a book and finds this symbol of Metatron inside as belonging to a small tribe in Colorado, who held on to their land when the white men invaded. Sam excitedly says that they have to go and check it out and though Dean tries to get Sam to stay behind, he knows it's a lost cause.
"Fine!" He throws his hands up. "But we're not goin' now. It's getting late, we're all hungry and outta food, and I got a seriously hot angel waiting for me in bed who I owe a blowjob."
"Gross, Dean!" Sam exclaims, wrinkling his nose. Dean cackles and ruffles Sam's hair.
"I'm gonna go get some pizza. Freaking sucks that they don't deliver here."
"Yes, I'm sure that a secret underground bunker is in the phone book," Sam says dryly. Dean just smirks at him.
"Be back in an hour. Don't go rubbing yourself on the books while I'm gone."
The sweet sound of Sam's indignant cries is music to his ears as he heads for the garage.
By the time he cruises into town, night has fully fallen and the only people out and about are either last minute shoppers like him, or people going to get drunk or picked up at the tiny local bar. Maybe even both.
After ordering the pizza, he decides to go and do some light grocery shopping to take care of this persistent problem of not having anything in the cupboards or fridge at the bunker. He easily finds a park outside the supermarket, but as he draws closer, he grows suspicious. It's…quiet. Almost too quiet, especially considering that he saw people entering only a minute ago. His hand drops to his hidden gun, even though he doesn't pull it out, and he goes inside slowly, eyes flicking all around. It's dead silent and the only lights that are on are those immediately around him.
"What the…?" he mumbles. Suddenly, the lights flicker and go out and he whips out his gun and whirls in all directions, his finger twitching on the trigger. But he can't see anything…at least, not until the lights turn back on. Then he sees somebody he'd really rather not see.
"Hello, Dean." Unlike when Castiel says it, Naomi's voice is devoid of warmth. And unlike Castiel, her smile is completely fake. "It took us a while, but finally we tracked you down. We've been trying to find the location of your warded hideout since you killed Esper and Ion. And we thought you might visit here as soon as we felt that you were leaving that little hole."
"Good for you! You want a cookie or something?" Dean says mockingly, already planning an escape route. He's not going to call Castiel – no way is he going to put his angel anywhere near Naomi. He doesn't have any sort of weapon that could hurt her, short of stealing her own blade from her, and he curses not being prepared when he knows that angels are after Castiel. He should've guessed that they would go for him as well.
It's a weird feeling, not being the one who's hunted down for once and being the one used to get to someone else instead of the other way around, and he isn't sure if he likes it.
"Come now, Dean." Naomi's all smiles and friendliness. "You know what we want. And I'm certain that you're telling the truth about not knowing its true location."
"Yeah? So what's this little get-together for?" He could try just running for her and hoping that he takes her by surprise, but that's practically suicide. And the minute he even looks like he's going to take off, Naomi's angelic reflexes are sure to kick in.
"I want you to come with me, Dean. No matter what I do to Castiel – no matter how many times I drill it into his mind, or condition him – he never learns. He never does as he's told! He's the angel with a crack in his chassis."
"Funny how he's better than all of you pole-up-your-ass schmucks combined, then," Dean says darkly. His only hope is to try and draw a banishing sigil without her noticing. Naomi gives him a humourless smile.
"You humans do have an interesting sense of humour. Now, come along, Dean."
"What if I don't? You gonna make me?"
Naomi's smile widens and she clicks her fingers. All of the lights in the supermarket flicker back on and, looking around, Dean's horrified to see people lying on the ground – whether dead or unconscious, he doesn't know.
"They aren't dead," Naomi assures him. "Not yet, anyway. But their lives rest in your hands, Dean. If you come with me willingly, I'll spare them. But if I have to fight to take you, they die. All of them. I'll burn their eyes out and leave them to rot."
A sick stone settles in Dean's stomach. He's got no choice now; there's no way he can get away from Naomi, not without an angel blade to shove in her throat, and he's not about to let her kill some innocent people who were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Naomi must be able to tell the exact moment she's won, because she beams at him and holds out her hand.
"Shall we?" she says. Dean takes one last look around at the people, sends a quick mental apology to Castiel, and then reluctantly grabs Naomi's hand. That's the last thing he remembers before his legs give out underneath him and his vision goes black.