Author's Note:

This was really very mean to the poor characters, but if they were being put through fanfic, they would eventually run into some slashyness. Enjoy.

Chapter Five- Destiel

Dean didn't sleep much, so it didn't surprise him when he drifted back to consciousness at nine in the morning. Nearly five hours seemed an astronomically high number. He yawned, stretched, and pulled on some clothing. He heard Sam doing the same from the other side of the wall. Dean smiled to himself, one of the perks about Bobby's house was separate bedrooms.

He was fully awake within minutes, and headed downstairs to get some coffee. Bobby was standing in the kitchen drinking a cup, already started on a second round of research. A certain socially awkward angel had spent the last several hours popping through old libraries and museums looking for helpful books that Bobby didn't have, and the old hunter was determined to read through all of them before Cas took them back. The silliness of putting a label like "theft" on it, when Bobby could put them to much better use than just collecting dust.

"Morning Sunshine" Dean called with only a little sarcasm. No one had turned into llamas in the night, no spectral fake sisters, no gender benders. The past few hours had gone rather well. He smiled sleepily.

Isabella liked to sleep late, but her roommate had staggered into the house drunk as anything at about five-thirty, and the noise of it had woken her up. A thousand curses against drunk, whore-y, stupid-face roommates! Since then she had been tossing, turning, and quoting her favorite Shakespearean insults. Finally she had given up. She sat, blinking blearily while she waited for her toaster waffle to be ready.

After breakfast she sat at her computer. She read through her recently posted stories, one had even gotten a comment. She smiled to herself as she pulled up a nearly forgotten, very unfinished story. She hadn't written any slash in awhile. Today was as good a time as any.

Her smile turned wicked as she started the chapter.

Sam was the last one to walk in, his long hair still wet from the shower. He noticed Bobby's book and smiled, "Find anything?"

"A big fat pile of headaches and no luck." Bobby replied without even looking up.

"Isn't that just great." Sam smiled wryly and shared a look with his brother before sitting down in one of the dilapidated chairs.

Suddenly Dean's phone went off. It was a wrong number, "Sorry, no Charlie here. Yeah, it's ok."

Castiel made a confused face, Bobby made a strange "harrumffing" type sound, and Sam stood up.

"Hey! What about Chuck?" He looked from Dean to Castiel excitedly.

"What about him?" Dean still harbored a small grudge against that particular prophet of God.

"Well, he sees what's going on with us, right? Maybe he knows what's causing this." Excitement lit up his words like Christmas. He did not want to suddenly find himself a woman again. Even Dean seemed to think this was a good idea.

"Not likely." Castiel just had to burst their bubble. "The prophet was sent the divine inspiration of the events precluding the Apocalypse. He was writing the story of the end of the world. Heaven no longer has plans, things have gotten off track from how they were meant. He will no longer be receiving prophecies. He can't help."

Dean was clearly not pleased with that news, "Great, well where does that leave us?"

Bobby called out from behind his lore, "Knee deep in shit to read. Now get to it."

"C'mon feathers, lets figure this out and kill something evil!" Dean jumped, and nearly skipped out of the room. He was definitely in a good mood this morning.

Isabella was having a surprisingly good morning, despite being woken up at an ungodly hour. She typed away.

"Cas was human now, and with that came human feelings. These confused him, but he could never ask Dean for help.

He couldn't look into those deep eyes and say it out loud."

She loved putting in as much angst as possible, drawing out the moment. Sometimes whole chapters would be introspection. Not this time though. Within fifteen minutes she had typed what she confidently thought of as a beautiful and dirty scene of fallen angel romance. She posted it and clapped her hands excitedly.

Shit. Dean was in a musty motel room. Crap. He didn't have his gun. Fuck. How had he gotten there. He looked around and saw that at least he wasn't alone. Whether that was good news or not, he wasn't sure. Having his angel friend there couldn't hurt the situation, whatever it was.

"Cas, you ok?" Dean noticed that Castiel looked pale. Not a good sign.

"Dean. I'm human." This was the second time in as many days, and Goddamn-it it was getting less horrifying and more annoying.

Well there went any hope of angel mojo help. Dean spun in a circle, trying to figure out where they were and what was going on. That was when he felt it. Right before it started, he felt the electricity fill the room around him, almost unnoticeable. Then his feet spun him around like a marionette. He saw Cas facing him in a similar way, head hanging as if in defeat. Well, almost defeat, the tendons in his neck were popping, showing how hard he was trying to slip out of the invisible grip.

"Cas, what is it?" These forced dialogues were getting old. They didn't seem to be doing any harm. Dean decided maybe he'd let it run it's course and save his energy for actually fighting the cause of all this.

"It's- It's nothing." Cas had apparently picked up on Dean's calm. Maybe he thought it was a new plan of attack. Lulling the puppet master into a false sense of security or something.

"It's alright, Dude. You can tell me." When Dean was relaxed the words came out more naturally, bringing their own inflections with them. It was weird, like watching a play from backstage.

"Dean. Really. I can't." The strangest expulsion of air was forced from Cas, it was almost a sigh, but not a natural one. "I can't tell you."

"Is it some kinda of human thing? Cause I can help. I know it's weird for you." Dean nearly stumbled as he was unexpectedly moved forward. Someone was very pushy, and it was pissing him off.

"Please, don't." Castiel's head jerked up like it was attached to a string. The strangest look came over his face. A combination of embarrassment, repulsion, and fear. Whatever he had picked up on, Dean was a little slower in the uptake.

"Cas, there is nothing you can't tell me. I'm here for you." Another robot-step forward. They were a foot apart. Dean would've rolled his eyes. He did not like touchy feeling crap, and his blood nearly boiled that someone was offending his masculinity in such an invasive manner. Invasive? Shit. He now understood the look plastered on Cas' face.

In that moment they both decided, screw false sense of security, screw saving energy, screw this crazy crap. They fought against what what happening with every ounce of panicked strength they could muster.

Dean's traitorous hand reached out, he couldn't stop it. It landed shakily on Castiel's shoulder. Cas' eyes nearly popped out of his head, while Dean gave him a "you better not" look.

Cas tried to stop it, but he took a step forward, closing the gap between them. This was worse than any horror movie. Worse than any monster hunt. They looked into each other's nauseated and scared eyes.

Dean took of that ridiculous trench coat, cursing to every creature, deity, demi-god and angel he had ever met. He threw God in for good measure. He had never felt such panic. His face had turned red, and then shifted into purple. Cas had turned white.

They both knew it was coming. Their bodies leaned in slowly, stiffly, they tried everything but couldn't stop. Torture was one thing, but what kind of sicko would force this on them?

It couldn't really be called a kiss. They both ground their teeth, tried to squash their lips shut, tried to stop it. Unfortunately, they couldn't. But that wasn't the worst part.

After the cringeworthy moment was over, they really lost control. They could barely register what was happening, much less do anything more than struggle lamely. Clothing went flying, hands went everywhere. There was more kissing.

A strangled whisper came through Castiel's clenched teeth, "Dean, I've never done this."

Dean was forced to reply by dropping to his knees. His hand (Oh if he could cut off his hand) started to reach...

There went that rushing release. They were saved from the very worst of what was surely to come. Dean wanted to cry with gratitude. He jumped back, and Cas did the same.

They couldn't look at each other. They gathered their clothing and got dressed. Dean had to fight off fits of gross-out shivers, and Cas was making a noise similar to a cat about to throw up. Dean noticed a small cardboard sign on the bedside table that read "Blue Moon Motel, Chicago"

After a few minutes of intense awkwardness, Dean cleared his throat. "So, uh. Do we need to steal a car to get back to Bobby's? Or are you an angel again?"

"Car." Cas still avoided looking at Dean.

Dean hot-wired a fifteen passenger van. Castiel caught on quickly, hopping in the very back row, as far from each other as possible. They would each need a rape shower when they got back to Bobby's.