Oh, yeah, everything is unbeta'd. All my mistakes are my own. Also, didn't do quite as many re-reads and edits so there will probably be more mistakes than usual.
Disclaimer: Kripke owns all Supernatural characters. I'm only borrowing them.
Pairing: Dean/Castiel - very graphic. This is my first attempt at something like this because this muse wouldn't leave me alone. Please let me know what you think, constructively.
Overall Warnings: Rated M for swearing, graphic sexual content with S and M undertones, implied forced sexual torture and other adult subject matter.
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Actually in this chapter there is only swearing. It was more for my muse who really enjoyed this version of what happened. Definitely needing some fun dreams right now.
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Chapter 39 – The Stranger
Dean only got five miles out of Sioux Falls before his baby started acting up. His baby, the Impala, that is. She sputtered to a stop about a mile from the nearest gas station. He barely managed to pull over to the side of the road. He sighed with weary resignation then intoned with a heavy dose of sarcasm, "Great. That's just . . . great."
He mentally ran through all the possible causes in his head but he wasn't coming up with much. He had gas. None of the warning lights had come on. All the gauges had read good readings. In fact, there really shouldn't be anything wrong with the Impala as far as he could tell.
He frowned heavily and glanced down at his stomach, warning harshly, "This had better not be what I think it is, baby. Because this isn't helping anyone." He waited a moment for a response of any type, either from the Impala or his baby, but there was nothing. Not even a faint kick or movement.
He leaned his head back in frustration and closed his eyes a moment. Seeing no help for it, he opened his eyes and climbed out of his baby. He closed the door and checked the road both ways. He didn't see anyone following him or anyone coming to his rescue so he zipped up his jacket against the cool night air and stuffed his hands into his pockets. Then he started walking toward the nearest gas station.
He'd only gone about half a mile when he saw an old man leaning against a tree wearing a goofy, misshapen, wide-brimmed wizard's hat and very faded old robes that were mostly dark gray. The robe was frayed along the edges and the wide brim hid most of his face. The old man was on the thin side and had a long flowing white beard to match his below the shoulder length white hair.
But what really caught Dean's eye was the small, yellow glowing dot that drifted erratically in the air about an inch above the old man's hat. It almost looked like a fairy but not quite. Or Dean just wasn't close enough to see the fairy's body. It slowed down its movements as Dean heard the soft snores, unconsciously stopping on the roadside even with the man to stare in curious disbelief.
The soft yellow light slowly drifted down onto the wide brim of the misshapen wizard's hat. Dean stared at it for a long moment. About the time he started to look away, he realized with dread that there were wisps of smoke coming from the hat.
"Aw, hell," he grumbled irritably under his breath then started forward, intent on removing the old burning thing from the old man's head. He growled out in warning, trying to ignore the oddity before him, "Hey, old man, your hat's burning. Hey, wake up!"
The old man snored louder in response. Dean had gotten close enough to shake the old man awake. He growled out again as he reached for the burning clothing, "Hey. You're on fire! Wake up. Keep your eye on the stupid ball of . . . what the hell? Hey!" He objected with a startled yell of surprise as the ball of light flew straight at him, reminding him way too much of Nipples.
"F – Fire . . .?" The old man mumbled under his breath while he slowly woke up. "Fire . . . ball . . . fire . . . ball . . . Fireball!" His arm rose up and fire shot out of his hand like a flaming ball. Dean let out a shout of surprise and dodged back, out of the way, barely.
"What the hell!" He shouted in angry surprise. "Was . . . Was that a freakin' fireball that came out of . . . oh, man." He ran a hand through in his hair, fighting his extreme exasperation.
"Fireball?" The old man snapped awake instantly. "What? Where?" He demanded as his head bobbed around in all directions, searching for the source of Dean's upset. Then he focused the dancing yellow light in front of him, completely ignoring the huge burning tree mass across the road from them. "What? Sparks, here? He's not a fireball." The old man admonished tenderly. "He's just a spark, aren't ya, Sparky?" The ball moved up and down in the motion of a head nod.
"No, not him. The . . .," Dean trailed off and motioned toward the burning tree then blinked and had to ask for some reason, "A spark? A spark of what? It almost caught your, uh . . ." Dean motioned in the direction of the old man's head then guessed uncertainly, "hat(? )on fire."
"Oh, nonsense," the old man dismissed laughingly. "It's just a spark. Could be life, could be an idea . . . could be lots of things. Won't know until it grows up but this one is being particularly stubborn about it."
Dean tried to follow the old one's logic. He really did but he ended up shaking his head and running a hand through his hair distractedly. "Oh, I so need a drink," he observed dryly.
"Oh, well. Why didn't you say so?" The old one questioned kindly then offered in kind. "Here you are, sonny." He held up a metallic thermos.
Dean started to argue but then that stupid yellow light moved in close to his face again, giving him very unpleasant fairy flashbacks, so he swallowed down a healthy gulp and found the liquid to be some very refreshing water. In fact, it was better than any other water he had ever tasted before which intensified his thirst. He greedily drank the whole thermos down very quickly.
"Go keep watch," The old man told the speck of light which darted away quickly, only to run into the first tree in its path. The old man shook his head and muttered something about no glasses being small enough before he turned to watch Dean with a slight smile on his face then observed vaguely, "What are you running from, sonny?"
Dean jerked self-consciously in sudden surprise then refocused his eyes on the man before him. He felt calming warmth fill his insides, distracting him slightly. He'd never felt so relaxed before . . . well, without some mind-blowing sex, that is. He stared at the old man then stalled uncertainly, "Wh-What . . . ah . . . What do you mean?"
"Don't try that with me, young man," The elder one cautioned sternly with a very knowing gaze. "Most of you young folk are either running away from something, or to something. You keep looking back, not forward, which shows quite plainly which of the two categories you're in."
"Let me guess, lover's quarrel? Normally is these days," The old one continued to prod intuitively while Dean only glared back at him, not wanting to show how accurate the old man could be. "Has to do with the kids, most likely. That's the most common thing nowadays, except for money which neither of you have." He paused and cocked his head to the side in a disturbingly familiar way, reminiscent of Castiel. "What excuse are you using this time?"
"I'm saving their lives," Dean argued hotly while his mind scrambled at all the oddities happening. "And how do you know about . . ."
"Oh," the old man gasped in wide-eyed astonishment, interrupting Dean's second question, but Dean could see through the act. "Wow. A very, very worthy cause, to be sure, however, I do have one more question."
Dean blinked at how the old man faintly reminded him of Balthazar in that moment but could still snark with the best of them. "Why does that not surprise me?" Dean muttered under his breath before he snapped irritably, "You know what . . ." Only he was blatantly ignored as the man continued as if he hadn't spoken.
"How?" The old man questioned forcefully with surprisingly focused eyes all of sudden, totally negating the seemingly addled look from earlier. Dean sent him a questioning look before the old man asked pointedly, "How are you saving their lives exactly? How does running away save anything? Solve anything?"
Dean paused uncertainly then decided to evade. After all, who said that he had to stand here and have this conversation? No one. That's who. Dean started, "You know what, I'm . . ."
The old man cut him off again insistently, "Does any of this really saving anything? By having them split up? Split up both their numbers and their resources and then search for you all over the countryside? How does that help them? How does that save their lives? Seems to me that it makes the whole 'divide and conquer' spiel more of a reality."
Dean flinched over the accuracy of the pointed questions and started to answer, even though he wasn't sure what he was going to say. Only he was brought up short again by the old geezer.
The old man moved in close and expanded on his previous questions with a twist, "How exactly does this keep them from doing something even more stupid? Huh? Like bring the fight to them, just to protect you, since you won't let them by staying with them? How does any of that save their lives? Do you really expect them to stand down? If so, why? How can you? Is it something that you would do if the positions were reversed? Have you ever done it? If you haven't, then how do you honestly expect them to do this now?"
Dean opened his mouth to argue but quickly closed it when he realized that he didn't have a legitimate argument against any of that. He knew he wouldn't stand down if positions were reversed, except if it was Michael or Lucifer. He wouldn't do anything for those dicks, well, unless Castiel asked him to. No, that didn't make him whipped.
Suddenly, the ball of light came speeding back and slammed into the tree behind the old man. It bounced back slightly then twirled in an unsteady circle before falling on to the wide brim of the wizard's hat again. It vibrated there for a moment as the old man's eyes rolled in exasperation.
"Oh, what now?" he snapped irritably at Sparks. It slowly rose and buzzed back in forth in front of his face while emitting a high pitched warble. The man sighed with heavy resignation, "Of course, you are. Are you harmed?" The ball of light shook back and forth in the negative.
"Hey, Dumbledore," Dean snarked impatiently. "Your sorting hat's smoking again."
"Oh, dear," the old man sighed then smothered out the remnants of the fire.
Dean rolled his eyes in exasperated amusement, wondering why he always got stuck with the crazy. He decided to go with it and asked ruefully, "What? Did the fluff not want to go to Gryffindor? More of a Hufflepuff type?"
"It's good that you know all that. It will help you out later but, ah, no. I am not Dumbledore. Think older, much older. Still a series but much less main stream commercialized . . . Then again, considering how much you actually read for fun during your teens . . . never mind, your brother might have a chance but you . . . no," the old man answered slowly, eyeing Dean with different eyes before shaking his head to clear it. "No. Actually, Sparks is actually just afraid of the dark."
Dean's eyebrows rose in surprised disbelief and he clarified haltingly, "The ball of light, Sparks, is afraid of the dark. Of course, it is. Wait. Seriously?" What next? Raindrops that can't swim? Dean wondered idly as he inwardly questioned his sanity at the moment.
"Yes," the old man stated firmly then elaborated clinically. "Everyone has their own fears and those fears don't have to make sense, even to the being that carries them. For a being of light, the dark can be overwhelming, suffocating. You should understand that. After all, you have your own childhood fears, do you not? Who's to say that they make sense to people who don't know you, who don't know your life? Will you discredit your own child's fears, just because they don't make sense to you? Did you discount Sam's when they didn't make sense while he was growing up?"
"No," Dean answered softly then with more resolve. "No, I didn't. I wouldn't. It was just . . . uh . . ."
"Not what you were expecting," the old man observed kindly. Dean nodded in agreement. The old man nodded in response then told Sparks, "Go check the road. It's almost time."
"Time?" Dean wondered vaguely, "Time for what?"
"Nice children, though," the old man stated with a wide smile, totally blindsiding Dean with yet another quick change of subject. He stared at the man in frustrated confusion until he followed the man's line of eyesight and then he saw the children playing hide and seek in the woods nearby. He didn't know how he had missed them but then he saw their faces and it all became so very obvious.
"I'm dreaming," Dean stated in a daze then he turned to the old man and verified, "Aren't I?"
"Children have so much potential, you know," the old man continued on blithely. "They can become the worst of us, the best of us, or any combination of the two. Some make you very, very proud while others . . . well, you know, perhaps more than most, how some turn out. As well as how important parental guidance can be."
Dean frowned heavily at the man's meaningful stare, wondering if the man was referring to Dean's parents or Dean, or, possibly . . . Dean wasn't exactly known for his intelligence but his gut tended to be much more accurate than most. He snapped out irritably, unable to stop himself, "Yeah, it is, which is why deserting them is such a douche move. Kinda makes them wonder what the hell they did that was so wrong, especially when they were just following their parents' orders." Yeah, Dean was talking about him and his dad but some of it did carry over to Castiel. He continued caustically, "It also makes them overcompensate to do things better next time to the point that they overdo the righteousness."
"And play God?" The old man drawled out the explosively loaded question slowly but in such a way that even Dean knew to keep his mouth shut.
But, honestly, when had had ever done that? Dean couldn't stop defending his mate, and best friend, "Only because of those creatures inside of him. He wouldn't have had to do that if someone had actually helped him with the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle gone Terminator."
The old man cautioned ominously with unquestionable menace, "Remember what you are judging and what you have yourself warned your brother against judging. Do you know all of the facts involved, Dean Winchester? Do you really feel qualified to judge me? Me? I think not!"
Rolling thunder caused the ground to tremble while lightning struck a tree six feet from him, causing him to jump slightly. Dean swallowed thickly at having one of his worst fear confirmed. He wondered where all of his previous ire had fled but he really couldn't gather much of it together at the moment, especially staring into the face before him. God, I am so screwed! Again. He thought frantically to himself.
The old man arched an satirical eyebrow at him, having obviously heard his thought, then eyed him with irritable distaste and reminded him tautly, "You know why he did it, don't you? You know why he forsook me? Why that 'little engine that could' did? That he did all that he did? Do you know, Dean?"
"Because none of his dick brothers would and you were unavailable on your Caribbean cruise," Dean growled out irritably in defense of his mate. "Or was that something that you really wanted? Did you really want it all to end?"
"Did you? Did Sam? Or any of the other numerous people involved who weren't part of the conspiracy?" The old man snapped back and stared at him sternly then, after a long moment, deflated slightly, allowing, "What I intended . . . what I intended was for my creations, my children, to find the right path and . . . what I intended . . . never happened." He paused and turned his gaze back over to the children. "I wanted what all parents want but when I . . . forced them to leave the nest . . ."
"But you didn't groom them for it, though, did you?" Dean argued absently then a horrible thought occurred to him. "Wait a minute. Is this, the baby, another punishment for him? Am I . . .?"
"You, and your baby, are what you are," he answered vaguely. "Just as all creations are. They are blessings and curses, depending on circumstances. Everything in the universe can be either. Or any combination of both. Or, even a function of their own individual choices. You well know yourself the consequences of your baby and its genetics, don't you?"
"Why even allow it to begin with then?" Dean demanded hotly, protectively fearful for the safety of everyone involved now.
"What do you do when the old soldiers are tired of guarding, protecting? When the old ones doubt their cause and just want an end? An end to the fight, the strife, the . . . everything," the old man questioned curiously.
Dean frowned in confusion at the, once again, abrupt change in subjects but answered automatically, "Switch them out with fresh soldiers trained by the old ones but not as cynical."
"And when there are no fresh soldiers to trade out or train in the old ways?" the old man prodded intently.
"Recruit more. Come up with new, better ways. There are always new soldiers, new ways, new missions, new hope . . . wait a minute," Dean trailed off as the plan became clear in his mind. He'd always had a knack for tactics. He closed his eyes briefly in dread then stared into the old man's eyes disbelievingly and correctly guessed, "You're starting a new one. A combination of the old and new. So this is punishment."
"Is it? Really?" The old man pried knowingly then advised gently, "Only if you want it to be. The truth of the matter is that the Earth has been on the brink of destruction several times in the last few millennia. In fact, it has come closer than ever the past three years and you know what they say, the third time's a charm. The world can only come back from each time so far before it doesn't come back at all. You know from the year your brother, Samuel, came back that things, living and nonliving things, are acting differently because the world is not elastic. It needs help realigning itself after a while."
Dean could easily follow this and felt that he was finally going to get to the heart of the information when the old man once again switched gears and stated, "Although, in the interest of truth, I really must point out that, currently, you are the only one in all of creation punishing Castiel."
Dean glared sullenly at the old man and snarked tightly with a slight mimicry thrown in, "You know, in the interest of truth, I think I like the Morgan Freeman version better."
The old man's eyes crinkled in amusement at the backward insult as he admitted confidentially, "I was always partial to the George Burns version myself."
He reached out and grabbed Dean's right hand. He pressed something into it while he shook it with a genuinely happy smile. He stated solemnly, "It has been nice chatting with you, Dean. If you want, you can tell Gabriel good job on the necklace. Definitely out of the box thinking that you always seem to inspire. Also, remember, if you can, St. John's wart, yallow and rue for the fae."
He leaned in close and added intently, "They hate lies and deceptions of all kinds, especially if it involves important personal secrets that affect others. As long as you are ladened with these, you will ever be at their mercy."
He leaned back and let go of Dean's hand then glanced over at the children who ran over to hug him. He smiled and gently patted their backs. Finally, he turned and informed Dean, "You have been blessed, Dean, in repayment of all your sacrifices. Don't waste the gift that was given, by any of us."
Out of nowhere, a red convertible pulled up on the road and honked. Sparks squealed out with a high pitched noise and shot over to the sports car. It settled on the top of the front seat headrest.
He heard the old man beside him huff cynically, "Youth. So impatient."
Dean tried to see who was driving but the being was so bright that he felt like he was staring into the sun. He felt the old man shift beside him then disappear, only to reappear in the car. He waved to Dean as the car sped away, hovering slightly above the blacktop road. It left flaming tire streaks in its wake.
Dean's eyes were mesmerized by the scene until he felt someone touch his hand and glanced down into Mary's hopeful face. He smiled slightly while his hand automatically opened to her, unknowingly dropping whatever he was given into her hands. He felt John hug his other side and sighed with resignation. He asked casually, "So, which of you two rugrats called Big Bird Gramps down on us?" They both stared at him with wide innocent eyes, just like they always did, but he could tell somehow that it didn't come from them. He didn't know whether to be relieved over that knowledge or not. He decided to save that question for another day as he offered a more pertinent question to his baby, "So, what do you think? Back to Poppa Cas now?"
This time he received a definite gentle kick in answer and smiled over it.
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At the extremely loud squeak of his door resulting from it being yanked open, Dean bolted upright but was still blinking the sleep from his eyes as he felt his body being pulled out of the car by an obviously superior, stronger being. His back slammed into the side of his baby under the direction of the strong hands encircling his upper biceps. His eyes cleared quickly in light of the eminent threat then he almost wished that they hadn't as he stared into the fiery gaze of his clearly pissed off mate. He swallowed nervously and started to talk.
"Don't!" Castiel hissed venomously with distinct warning. "Do not say a single word, Dean, or I will lose what little control I currently have. Do. You. Understand?"
Dean barely nodded once then swallowed again with dread and stared at Castiel with wide, slightly worried eyes. He felt the barely restrained smiting power of his angel and almost trembled in reaction, not because he was afraid of Castiel. No, nothing like that. In fact, it was much, much worse than that.
It was because he knew he was in deep, deep trouble and he really couldn't fault Castiel from being this ticked off, especially after the 'nice old' geezer had him switch places with the other. That acknowledgement left Dean particularly defenseless which made matters even worse. He was well aware of that fact even before he felt his blood warm at the dominating power and presence of his mate.
He tried to breathe through his mouth so that he didn't do something disturbingly desperate. Stupid hormones. Stupid dominance kink. And stupid Trini for making him so submissive in the first place. Or did she? Dean couldn't help but wonder slightly before Castiel redirected his attention to the matter at hand.
"Do you have any idea how enormously stupid this was?" Castiel bit out slowly, like he would lose control if he talked any faster through his teeth. "How dangerous? For you. And the baby."
There was a flutter of wings behind Castiel but Dean couldn't drag his eyes away from his mate's stare. Castiel didn't turn around, apparently automatically knowing who the new arrival was. He ordered over his shoulder tightly, "Take the Impala and store it. Somewhere he cannot find it."
Dean's eyes widened more and he opened his mouth only to have Castiel close it for him. Castiel warned tightly but with the same slow pacing, "Not one word. Besides, you will be lucky if you can even breathe when I am done with you, boy."
When there was no immediate flutter of wings, Castiel snapped out irritably, "What is the problem, Gabriel?"
"Look, I know what he deserves," Gabriel started in a very subdued voice, "and I'm totally for that and all, but, remember, Cassie, he is only human."
"Oh, I am very aware of that fact," Castiel snarled snidely.
"And," Gabriel continued firmly, even though he sensed that he was fighting a losing battle, "he didn't get even five miles from the house so he might have had second thoughts."
Castiel narrowed his eyes at Dean's too expressive green ones then clearly read, "He probably did. But, he did so only after he ran out of gas, because I set the gas gauge to not read its true volume in the event that something like this did happen. Leave now, Gabriel. Take the car with you." Finally, the awaited rustle of feathers sounded and Dean found the only thing hold him up now was Castiel's grip which was only a hand's width from Castiel's print on his marked shoulder.
Castiel growled menacing, very low in his throat, as he felt his unrelenting anger twist and turn within his being. He leaned in closer to his mate's face, taking great care to not inhale his mate's scent. He knew that it would probably distract him in a way that he really didn't need right now.
Castiel eyed his mate's shocked expression impassively, much like a scientist would view an insect he was going to dissect. He admitted to himself stoically, "Gabriel was right. I have allowed you way, way too much . . . freedom in this . . . partnership. As much as it repulses me to do this, I think it's time to train you, Dean. As you should have been initially, as my proper, completely submissive, mate."
Castiel leaned back slightly, noticing the innate defiance in Dean's eyes. He steeled himself mentally for the task before him and warned harshly, "It will be better for you if you did not fight but I realize that is, as you say, a pipe dream so prepare yourself, Dean Winchester. We have a very, very long . . . month ahead of us."
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I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please review and let me know what you think.
Probably won't be able to update again until the weekend because the next chapter is going to be nasty to write.