Part 5: All Good Things End in Blood

Chapter 42

Sam sat high on the ridge overlooking the small town and waited. Gabe whined softly beside him and Sam's fingers found comfort in the dog's fur.

"I know. It won't be long now." He said.

For close to a month he worked on training his technique with Gabe. The angel was no longer able to talk to him in words, but in that time together they learned that words were not needed. The bond between them far surpassed any spoken language.

The moon was just coming out from behind the clouds; a full moon tonight, and Sam got to his feet. He heard enough stories of this town to know werewolf sign when he saw it, and Sam thought a werewolf would be a good practice run to test out their abilities. He wanted to get a feel for what they could do before he went against the big baddies. Before he tackled Serrath.

A lone howl resounded from deeper in town and Gabe stiffened.

"Wait," Sam whispered and so his dog did. It wasn't long and another howl responded from the woods followed by a third. This was what Sam was waiting for. He needed to not take out just the wolf in town but the entire pack to stop the spread of the infection. To stop more children from getting killed.

"Ok Gabe, let's go," Sam said, and he reached out to brush against Gabriel's Grace. It would never fill him as strongly as it once had, but Sam did well with the compromise. Instead of having two self-aware persons competing for control of the same body, he and Gabe were able to work together now. To protect each other. Gabe was truly his best friend and for that, Sam would give up all the power he gained just to have.

In this moment, he channeled just enough Grace to quicken his speed, and the hunter moved like a shadow beside his angelic dog.

They stayed in the woods, navigating through the dim moonlight at a dangerous pace, and edged towards the sound of the second wolfs howls. Sam could sense from Gabe the smell of a hunt and the prickly scent they was strictly lycanthrope. They turned in unison towards the scent. He could also feel emotions from Gabe that told him how much the dog had craved this. Independence, freedom, life. It might not be to the degree that he once had, but at least he was doing something. He was helping again, and that was what mattered most to the angel.

The underbrush didn't faze them. Both dog and human used Grace to navigate soundlessly through the night. So it was no surprise that they should arrive upon the creature undetected while it worked it's fangs into a small deer.

Gabriel huffed. A small sound just under his breath but Sam sensed his emotions and knew what he wanted.

Let me go, let me hunt, let me prove myself to you.

"Go," Sam whispered and Gabe moved lightning quick to close in on the werewolf. The monster caught sight of the Australian husky just as he moved to flank. It lifted its muzzle, drenched in blood and turned, but was not quick enough. Gabe lunged, sinking his teeth deep into the things trachea, and tore it cleanly from its throat. The werewolf didn't make a sound when he collapsed to the earth. Gabriel stood over him, spitting the remains of the things wrecked throat from his teeth, and Sam strode over to stand next to him.

"Good boy," he whispered and Gabe whined softly in his throat. Sam could sense his pleasure at the hunters praise. "Let's go get the other two." Pulling at the dogs senses through the unexplained bond that they shared, Sam could smell the other moving in the distance. He could smell her same musk on the fur of the deceased wolf-turned-human near them and Sam instinctively knew she was his mate. Without words, using their thoughts to guide them, both man and dog broke into a run.

Dean laid on his back and stared up at the ceiling. They have been holed up in the bunker for the better part of two weeks while Sam was off finding himself. Serrath and her whereabouts remained unknown, and Crowley hasn't made an appearance since he blasted them out of a basement in Sussix.

"I'm telling you, we should be out there, Cas. Looking for leads." The water shut off in the adjacent bathroom, and Castiel emerged moments later; his hair slicked and wet, a towel loosely tucked low at his hip. Dean's eyes followed him as he walked across the room; staring at the way the bones of his hip peeked out just above the towel. Cas didn't need to take showers. He could just mojo all the grime of the day away, but Dean suspected that he did it just to drive Dean crazy. The way his mind was flashing a sex-appeal billboard in Dean's brain pretty much confirmed that assumption.

"We should have Sam with us, Dean. Sam is who Serrath is after, he could lure her out better than we could." Cas turned away, and Deans eyes followed thin drops of water as they trailed slowly down the man's toned back. He watched as Cas lifted his boxers from a folded pile of clothing, and Dean bit at his lower lip.

"Leave it," he rasped and Castiel looked over his shoulder at the hunter.

"Dean?" The question carried weight with it but Castiel playfully tilted his head to the side. In the two weeks that they have been holed up in the bunker together, Dean and Cas had spent a lot of time exploring their sexual boundaries. There was a lot of tug and pull; give and take between them. Dean couldn't give too much of himself and Cas couldn't take too much of what was given. It often left Dean with one hell of a headache but they made small progress from the effort.

Sometimes, when Dean was in the shower or otherwise alone, he would think about how it would feel to actually fuck Castiel. Full out gay angel porn would stream through his head like it was on its on celestial channel. He suspected that Cas might be able to sense what he was thinking about in those times by the way color spread over his cheeks.

There was one time especially after Dean was done giving his dick a good once over thinking about Cas bent over his bed that Castiel's face was on fire and he wouldn't look Dean in the eye for the rest of the night. This made Dean all the more wanting but the way Castiel was a fucking sex god the second he was in a bed, Dean wasn't sure he would ever get to the point that he could handle full blown penetration without going supernova on them both. For the time being, he would have to entertain himself in other ways.

"Come here," he said, low and sultry. Cas obeyed him instantly and when he was within range, Dean reached out and yanked away Cas's towel.

"Dean, what are you doing?" Cas gasped, half surprised, half aroused. Dean reached for his hand, pulling him down, and Cas stumbled forward over his towel, falling into Dean's arms.

Their mouths worked together like an old song. Tongues and voices harmonizing the tune. It was heaven, it was ecstasy, it was Cas.

Dean let his hand slide down the length of his angel's ribs and gently cup against his ass. "Let's take it nice and slow tonight," he whispered against Cas's lips and the angel nodded as he pressed his forehead against Deans.

Dean kissed Cas again deeply; drinking from him every moan and whimper until Cas was hot and writhing in his arms, then he pulled away, allowing Cas to catch his breath while guiding him onto the bed. That was the way that seemed to work best for them to avoid any accidents. When Cas got hot, Dean would cool him down. It helped Cas to better concentrate on not overdoing the soul to Grace thing. That was not to say Dean hasn't gotten burned once or twice but he was able to handle it, and there was nothing Cas couldn't heal. It certainly didn't stop him from hungering for more of Cas. For all of Cas.

"Dean..." Cas said with a sigh while Dean trailed a hot tongue against the semi-rigid curve of his cock. The action gave Dean a bit of an idea. He wanted to do so many things to Cas. Own every inch of the angel in any way he could imagine, but it seemed that creativity was getting the best of him that evening.

"Roll over," he said low and gruff. Cas lifted his head and peered down the length of his body into Dean's eyes, but he did not hesitate to turn and roll onto his stomach.

Dean explored the curve of his back, the soft humps of his ribs, the toned flex of his shoulders; all with his mouth and with his kisses. Cas's hips shifted against the bed for friction but Dean let him to it. The attention he gave Cas was to sooth him. To calm him as Dean was. When his hips slowed and his breathing evened out, Dean knew he was ready. The next part would be a bit more interesting.

Sliding down the length of Cas's body, Dean rolled his hands gently over Castiel's ass, spreading him in the process. With no warning, and with Cas completely unprepared, he leaned in and flicked his tongue against the tight pucker of Cas's entrance just as he pushed a wave of desire right at Cas with his soul.

"Fuck! Dean! Fuck!" Cas went from zero to one hundred in a second and Dean sat back startled. Cas never swore like that.

"Whoa," was all he could say as Cas rolled into his side and curled into a ball. Then concern crept in. "Cas are you okay?"

"Dean..." Cas groaned and lifted his hand to show the stripes of wet painted there.

"Cas…wait... did you?"

"This is embarrassing," Cas muttered.

"You came without me touching you?" Dean was astonished.

"How can you possibly say that? With your... tongue and that emotional spear... Father in heaven. Dean, how can I resist you?"

Well Dean liked that sound of that. He didn't ever think to use his emotions in this way before, but it certainly opened new doorways as long as Cas could keep his Grace under control. Cautiously, curiously, Dean let his eyes creep over Cas's body, curled up as it was, and lust sprung up inside him. He pushed it out, with much less force than before, and envisioned it creeping along Cas spine.

Cas groaned in the back of his throat, and pulled out of his ball to arch his back.

"Oh Dean," he panted, and Dean could already see his spent cock, showing signs of life. "Dean that feels so good." Dean smiled triumphant. He didn't even have his fucking clothes off and already Cas was so hot he could barely breathe after just coming to Dean's one stroke rimming.

Concentrating, Dean took reign of his growing lustful desire and split it into two tendrils that he snaked up Cas's thighs like teasing hands. The angel fell onto his back, thrusting into the sensation, his eyes squeezed shut, his mouth open in a soft moan of desire.

Fuck if this wasn't the hottest thing Dean has ever bared witness to.

"Well this was an angle I never expected to see from you, angel," said a familiar husky voice, and both men turn to see Crowley standing at the entrance to their room.

"What the fuck, Crowley!" Dean snarled but already Castiel was out of bed, using his angelic wings to lightning-flee into the bathroom.

"Oh, was it something I said?" Crowley asked with a tilt of his head and a lift of his brow, "Or maybe he just doesn't like the idea of a demon getting full view of his wet angelic body."

"Give me one reason not to punch you," Dean bit through his teeth. He did not like Cas being humiliated like this, and he especially did not like a fucking demon showing up in his bedroom. "How the hell did you even get in here?"

"Now now, Squirrel. No need to get your panties in a bunch. While you and Samantha have been playing with your angel pets, I've actually been doing some work for you. As for how I got in here..." Crowley reached out and slid his fingers down the length of Dean's doorway. "Once you let a rat in, you never really can get rid of him."

Castiel opened the bathroom door and stormed red-faced across the small expanse of the bedroom to push Crowley hard against the wall in the hallway.

"So you have clothing, I see. Here I thought maybe all angel pets went without," Crowley sneered and Castiel shoved him harder.

"You had no right to do that!" Castiel seethed. Dean was too his feet, moving to get between them. Crowley offered a rich smile.

"Do what? See you moan and squirm? I honestly didn't know I was coming here to see a show, but... see one I did." Cas reached up, hand splayed, palm ready to smite when Dean finally reached them. He pulled Castiel away from Crowley and the demon laughed.

"Cas stop! Stop!" Dean said as Cas struggled against him. Cas lunged at Crowley again, his eyes wide, his nostrils flared, and Dean jerked him back again. "Look at me, Cas!" Slowly, reluctantly, Cas turned and peered at Dean through his lashes. His face was hot with challenge and shame.

"I don't like him, Dean," Cas snapped and looked every bit the holy angel pouting. Dean reached out and laced his hands through Castiel's hair. So what if Crowley sees?

Not too long ago, Dean meant something to Crowley. He affected the demon in some way to the point that Crowley was willing to share ruling hell with him. And even though that sounded so horribly inviting, Dean turned him down pretty hard. He had to wonder...

Leaning in, Dean captured Castiel's lips and drew the angel into a deep kiss. Immediately, his body started to respond and he could hear Cas's breath catch in his throat.

"Oh, come off it," Crowley spat in disgust and Dean smiled against Castiel's mouth. Interesting. He pulled away and cast an indifferent glance over his shoulder at the agitated demon.

"Did you come here for a reason other than teasing Cas? Cause if not, I think we could make better use of this time if we were alone." Crowley wrinkled his nose and looked away. He seemed uncomfortable and dejected.

"I came to tell you about what I learned of the weapons Serrath was making," he said without meeting Dean's eye, "and what I suspect she bloody intends on doing with them." Dean pulled away from Cas, feeling he made his point well enough, and focused on Crowley.

"Let's go somewhere else to sit and talk," Dean offered but Crowley took a step back defensively, his arms raised.

"No, no thank you. Last time I was here in one of your rooms-to-sit, it was not so pleasant for me. Your bedroom will be fine." Dean hesitated, glancing at Cas, and Crowley took the opportunity to walk past them both and into the bedroom. They followed him with their eyes as he stretched casually out on Dean's bed, and smiled. Gently, he patted the area beside him inviting Dean to join him, and raised his other hand showing Dean his palm.

Jealousy surged through the mind connection Dean shared with Castiel so strongly, Dean almost thought it came from him. He glanced over at Cas and saw that the angel was glaring at Crowley with such forced indifference that it was almost amusing. When the hell did this all start?

Feeling very much like the guy with the overly jealous girlfriend, Dean awkwardly took the only seat in the room: an easy chair that used to house his dirty magazines before Cas moved in. Crowley shifted his hand so that two fingers were pointing at Dean like he was playing cowboys and Indians.

Cas stood a moment longer, not taking his eyes from Crowley, and then reluctantly crossed the room to perch on the bed next to him. His jealous emotions coursing through Dean's brain gave way to sadness and deep disappointment. Dean glanced at him surprised.

Crowley let out a long sigh that said these silly children, and rolled his eyes.

"Alright let's hear it," Dean said, but his eyes kept going back to Cas. Why was he so hurt?

"The weapons are for the monsters. It appears Serrath still wants her army and she wants them armed to the teeth."

"I don't understand," said Cas, sounding annoyed, "why would she want another army when all she really was after was Sam?"

"Of course you don't understand," Crowley jeered through his smile. "You need to be a strategy thinker if you want to get ahead. Maybe I should have explained that to you before your angel massacre that cost so many lives up in that sweet heaven of yours."

Castiel's eyes flamed blue. The sadness in him flipped to rage and deep gut wrenching shame. Dean pushed the feelings away. He learned pretty early on how to put Cas out of his mind. He suspects they would have driven each other crazy if they didn't know how.

"Stop poking a stick at Cas," Dean interjected gruffly, "Why does Serrath want an army?"

"That's an excellent question Dean!" Crowley said jovially and Castiel actually growled under his breath. "I thought about this for some time, you see, and I am an imaginative thinker. Do you know what that means, angel?"

"Cut the crap Crowley," Dean snapped and Crowley shrugged.

"I thought to myself, what if it isn't really Moose that's the key to all of this? So I did a little digging. A little of that research you hunters love to do, and everything became crystal clear to me."

Crowley twisted and stood. He strode confidently towards Dean. Castiel got up too, a look of warning on his face, but when Crowley stepped into Dean's no-fly zone it had nothing to do with desire and everything to do with control, power, and intimidation.

"The army isn't for him, Dean," he said in his low raspy voice, "it's for you."