"Tell me what went on, Castiel. Tell me how you got out," said Michael, following Castiel as he walked to the dining table. Like much of the furniture and surfaces Castiel had, this too was made of glass. This whole place looked expensive.
"Let's make this easy, Michael. You have questions for me. I'm curious about your...doings as well. So how about you ask me anything you want to know...and I'll answer...Afterwards, however...You answer my questions. With full honesty, of course."
Michael glowered at him. "I have no reason to lie to you. I have nothing to hide."
"Then, take a seat," Castiel waved a hand as an oak chair next to the dining table moved itself back for Michael. Castiel's voice was polite, but there was something too amused about his eyes. Michael slowly lowered himself in the chair, looking up as Castiel moved to stand next to the kitchen entrance against the wall. One foot resting against it with his arms crossed as he watched Michael with an unblinking gaze.
"How did you get out?" Michael cut straight to the point. He wasn't exactly afraid of Castiel. He shouldn't have been. Michael's own power was still phenomenally greater...or so he thought... Castiel hadn't been wrong about himself. As he put it, he had "learned a few tricks". For one thing, he was hiding his power signal so Michael couldn't get a true reading on it. He had yet to display any sort of power beyond the sword which was still pretty good as evidenced in their fight. He also had a very strong psychic block on his mind which kept his thoughts hidden. And Michael had tried quite a few times since coming in here to pull information by force out of him, but that was impossible. Each time he tried, it was like poking a steel plate with a pin. No effect, not even a dent.
"I made a deal," said Castiel conversationally. He never looked away from Michael. Michael had yet to see Dean and Castiel together since he got out, but he gathered Castiel never looked at Dean that way. "With Dante."
Registering too much how Castiel was glaring at him, Michael almost didn't catch the last part of that sentence. "With...With Dante. Foolish boy...How could you? You should know better than to make a deal with a Fallen."
"I am a Fallen, Michael," Castiel reminded him, raising an eyebrow. "That warning may have rung true for someone of lesser stature...but considering how limited my options were...I don't feel too strongly regarding the deal."
"What did it entail? Where is he?"
"Don't get ahead of yourself. I made a deal and he delivered...surprisingly well..as for what he asked in return. He never did say," said Castiel, shrugging one shoulder as if it didn't really matter. "I wouldn't concern myself with Dante, Michael. He should be the least of your problems."
"I shouldn't be concerned? Need I remind you that Dante manipulated you into Treachery the first time, Castiel. He nearly picked us off one by one in the ninth circle. If not for Sam's prayer and my saving you all, he would have succeeded," Michael told him.
"I admire your high opinion of yourself," Castiel commended sarcastically.
Michael ignored the snide remark. "Where is Dante now?"
"Last I saw, he was writhing and babbling incoherently on Treacherous grounds," said Castiel.
"That's not an answer. Where is he, Castiel?" Michael snapped impatiently.
"I honestly don't know," And there was no lie in Castiel's voice. "Like I said, however...I wouldn't concern myself with Dante."
"Why do you keep saying that?" Michael sighed.
"Because let's just say...I took something very important from him," said Castiel.
That was a vague statement at best. Michael couldn't help but pour venom into his gaze. A statement like that could have many meanings. It could mean that Castiel had taken Havoc and possessed another of Dominion's fragments. A very dangerous one, at that. And yet, he had a feeling that was not the case. Havoc would have warped Castiel's entire being, and Michael felt sure he would at least detect that, if nothing else.
"Are my vague answers upsetting you, Michael?" Castiel asked, watching his expression closely, gauging it. "It's the least you deserve, considering you...left us behind."
There it was.
"I had no choice in that," said Michael scathingly. "I had to save Dean. There was no room for error."
"Are you calling me an error, Michael?" Castiel scoffed. "Still quite the military man, aren't you? I'm not a chess pawn in one of your strategies. You took something from me. I'm here to retrieve it. I warned you in Treachery. You can't keep Dean away from me...and I invite you to try."
"You're still a soldier, Castiel," Michael replied icily. "You may harness the taint of Fallen and embraced your more...wrathful side...But take into consideration that when I first laid eyes on you, you were nothing to me. You were a soldier just like your comrades in arms while under Raphael. I never looked twice at you. That. Hasn't changed."
"Your problem. Not mine," said Castiel.
"I don't know what you want by...claiming Dean here, Castiel...If you intend to take him away...or turn him back into a demon," Michael's face darkened somewhat. "But I can't allow your interference for either. It took me a long time to stabilize his mind after we left. And he's finally in a more...peaceful place. I won't allow you to jeopardize that. I don't care how much more powerful you are...I can't allow you to harm Dean."
"It must pain you greatly to see me here," Castiel mused. "To ruin your white picket fence life here. It must have taken some time to manipulate Dominion's Memory in Dean to do your bidding...but I'm curious as to why you erased Sam's memory as well. Do tell, though. I can semi-understand the situation with Dean...but, why drag Sam along? He's not of any kin to you, thank Heaven."
"Sam's greatest wish was desiring a family," said Michael bitterly, glowering at Castiel. "By doing this, I've given him that."
"Sam's greatest desire was to wash all evidence of hell, heaven, demons and angels out of his life so he could live with the love of his life in peace," Castiel retorted. "How easily you disregard the facts. "
"I saved his life," Michael slammed a fist on the table, cracking the glass. "I never took away Dean's Memory. Nor did I take away Law. These fragments are integrated into his very being just as Retribution and Compassion are embedded deep into you. I merely suppressed Memory for his own survival. As for Sam. You're right. His greatest wish was desiring an out from all of this...but like I said. He wanted a family...and this way, he has one. I used the power from Memory to suppress his memory of Treachery...of all those horrible events that have happened to him in his youth...I saved him. He's just as much as son to me as Dean is now."
"You erased his memory and planted him in a false life," Castiel amended. "Such a good judge of what people want most, aren't you, Michael? I wouldn't play with fire like that and assume...This may yet backfire on you."
Michael said nothing for the longest time, but his jaw locked, eyes tightening in a threatening sort of manner before he stood up from the table and closed the distance between them, invading Castiel's space. "What about Carmen? Balthazar? You took something from them too? Was that Dante's price? The death of your friends? Curious how you come out of the deepest circle alone."
"You should address a monarch with a little more respect," Castiel's eyes narrowed. "Carmen is Queen. Dean's power and royal claim to the throne transferred when you...took him."
He definitely edited that part to keep from saying something more cruel. Michael wasn't surprised to hear that. "Is she now...I wager you've been training her these last few years in Treachery. Good thing, since she had a twisted opinion of you while you worked for Dante."
Castiel smiled unpleasantly. Michael's claws were out.
"And Balthazar? Where is he?" This one, Michael felt a slight pang asking for. Balthazar was human. Michael had watched Dante change him into a human with the mortality curse. Right after he used it on Sam and sent him through the Divine Circle. He was unconscious last Michael looked at him.
"That depends," said Castiel. "What's the time?"
"What does the time matter?" Michael asked impatiently.
"Well, depending on the time, he could be in a different place then where he was before," Castiel looked behind him at the microwave and spotted the time that said 9:00 AM.
"Is he...Is he all right?"
"About as all right as a celestial turned human can be," said Castiel as he returned his gaze to Michael. "If you're asking about his mental condition...Don't worry about it. I Linked with him. The Link prevents his mind from being..overwhelmed."
"You Linked with a human," said Michael disapprovingly. "I don't need to tell you how dangerous that can be. Him feeling your pain, your thoughts across a great distance."
"I don't follow Heaven's rules regarding Linking, Michael. You should know that by now. Balthazar's health began to gradually deteriorate in Treachery and he was not far from going insane if I hadn't. I'd rather have my brother's mind fairly intact than not at all," Castiel justified.
"If the Link breaks. If you are harmed, if he is killed, you understand..what that will do," said Michael slowly.
"Is that false concern I detect, Michael? I'm so touched. Spare me your lies, if you will. I can only stomach so much,"
"It's not false...," Michael began, but then he sighed. "Listen, Castiel. I know you mean well. But I can't have you take Dean away from here...or...change him back. Can't you understand he's happy now? That this is where he belongs...Memory was unstable when I held Dean, it was going to kill him...but I had no choice. I suppressed his memories as a demon, as a human before that. I created a whole new life in his mind because that's what he needed. You have to leave this place, for his sake. His idea of a perfect world, a perfect life is with me...and Sam. Not with you. Not any longer...You're..."
"I'm what," Castiel growled.
"You're a depiction of his past...of a dark past. He doesn't need that around to make him unstable," said Michael.
"I saved Dean's life last night, Michael...It's not my fault if he finds me of his own free will," Though there was a gleam of satisfaction in Castiel's eye.
One Michael was loathe to see. He hissed. "It is your fault. He's intrigued by you...and how can he help it when you-"
"Have a tumultuous past with him?"
"...When you parade yourself in front of him," Michael amended. "I love Dean, Castiel. I love him very much. I don't want to see him hurt...and any interaction with you and future interaction with you will do just that. Dean and Sam are linked by the spell of Memory. I don't want you to destroy this."
"How so?"
"Have you thought about the long run? Have you thought about ten years from now? When he's older...perhaps hardened by the world of hunting. How you'll never change from your current state? Have you thought about the fact that one day he might retire from all this? Settle down. Meet a woman and start a family. As talented as you are, Castiel...You can't provide any of these things for him."
Castiel's jaw locked, his lips clamped tight together. As if to further enclose himself, Michael felt his power signal plummet even lower as if he was invisible altogether to Michael. But he was sure there was a spike, a spike in his emotional state. Michael knew he had hit a nerve. A particularly sensitive one at that.
"I've lived a long time, Michael," said Castiel quietly. "I've experienced...a lot. I'm not here to take your son away from here, throw him in a hole and force feed him. You can relax. I just...want to be near him. I can't explain it. I feel like...every time I'm around him, it's not enough. Something is always happening. I...had no choice but to make the deal with Dante down under. There was no other way out."
"That sounds like what would be your excuse for coming down to Treachery too. You had no choice. You always have a choice, Castiel. Father didn't give us free will for nothing," Michael told him.
"Don't lecture. You have no idea how hard this is for me,"
Michael sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Fine. But this... It's only going to hurt both of you and you know it."
"Thank you," said Castiel sourly. "In any case, Michael...I'm not here to ruin your 'perfect' setup, so you can curb your hostilities...for now. We're on the same side. We want the same thing."
"Fine," said Michael again. "Do me the favor, though. I'm working hard on keeping my power in check. I advise you do the same. As far as Dean and Sam are concerned, there are demons walking the earth...We really don't need to start a panic with the beliefs that angels exist as well."
"No promises," said Castiel, holding up his hands.
Michael threw him a baleful look. "Fine."
Castiel gestured towards the door. "Be seeing you."
"So...I'm thinking...If you're free. I mean absolutely. If you're free. I mean...er...I wouldn't...ask...if you weren't free. I mean, that's just crazy right. If you got plans, why would I even bother? Errr...If you're free, maybe you and I can...you know, go on this job together," Dean picked up a newspaper off the table and pointed at a news article expectantly.
Sam stared at him for a long time, sipping his coffee slowly while Dean "rehearsed". He removed his reading glasses and began to wipe them of any stains. "I have plans."
"Sam!" Dean rolled up the newspaper and smacked him with it.
"Sorry, that was just really bad," said Sam honestly. "You're too nervous. Come on, Dean. You've asked someone out before."
"Yeah, but not on a hunt," said Dean, sighing, slumping down on the chair opposite Sam.
They were outside of a coffee shop. It was best to have conversations like this outside rather than in. Any talk of hunts or...potential dates didn't really need an audience. Since it was still pretty early, most people were coming in and out, grabbing their coffees and/or breakfast and running off before being considered late. This particular place had some French name that Sam had insisted on. He didn't want a dollar coffee at a cheap shop.
"Well, you said you didn't want to take him to dinner," said Sam fairly.
"He's just not...the dinner...type, you know?" said Dean, sighing. "I don't know...He's more like..."
"A bad boy?" Sam finished for him.
"Well, I was going to say...maybe...Yeah...well, not really," said Dean, scratching his head. "I met him on a hunt, you know? And I mean...You should have seen his loft, Sam. Just a lot of...stuff. It looked more like an elaborate antique shop."
"Maybe he's not a hunter like you thought," Sam suggested, pulling a notebook from underneath his coffee. "Maybe he's just a collector. Or that's probably putting it nicely. Maybe he's a thief."
"Ha...Figures I'd find the one cute guy that's a thief," said Dean exasperatedly, slumping in the seat in front of Sam as he began to jot something down on a blank sheet.
"Cute?" Sam looked up at him and raised an eyebrow. "Never heard you call anyone cute, even if they were cute. You must really...Heh."
"Must really what?" Dean demanded. "What? I'm just saying. I tell you, if you saw him, you'd agree. But you know what? The weird thing was...I met him last night...I even spent the night in his bed...but we didn't...we didn't...do...anything."
Sam gauged him with a long look. "That must be new for you. So you just passed out?"
"I don't know...We were talking...I drank a lot. He didn't drink at all...And he took me to his place. I thought he was going to...you know...I thought that we'd...," Dean flushed a deep shade of red.
Sam widened his eyes. "Oh wow. Way to ruin the mood. I hope you didn't throw up."
"Shut up, I can hold my liquor just fine," Dean replied irritably. But it was clear the subject was really bothering him. He had been rejected before, much to Sam's amusement, for whatever reason. Girls and boys alike. Dean really didn't have a differentiation when it came to the two. Of course...Dad didn't know that.
This particular case though was especially annoying him. He definitely didn't talk about his "pursuits" well into the next day.
"Looks like you can't...," said Sam, averting his eyes back to the notebook. He changed the subject. "I wonder where Dad went. He was there when I went to sleep..."
Dean's face soured somewhat. "Who cares? Probably hunting. He always wakes up before five. You know me. I'm out like a light until like twelve usually."
Which was not necessarily true. His sleeping schedule mirrored John's most of the time and he hated it. That his body just decided to wake up at a certain time to accommodate him.
"Yeah, I hope he's all right," said Sam.
They sat in companionable silence for a short while with Dean sipping his coffee, staring around like he was looking for someone. He even kept an eye on the coffee shop doors and watched the patrons come in and out. None of them gave Dean or Sam a second glance.
"What are you doing?" Dean finally asked him, more out of boredom than anything else.
"Just a quick doodle," said Sam.
Dean leaned back in his chair and rocked a little bit. "You haven't drawn anything since elementary school. Remember? Dad posted that drawing of him on the fridge and everything."
"I think I've improved a little since then," said Sam disapprovingly, clicking his tongue as he continued to draw with the notebook facing up so Dean couldn't see it.
Typical older brother though. Dean grabbed it out of Sam's hand and pulled it towards himself without looking at it.
"Dean!" Sam snapped. "Give it back! It's not even finished yet!"
Dean raised his hand, high out of Sam's reach as the latter lunged for it across the table, eliciting a few incredulous stairs from people in nearby tables. A few laughed, but a pair of old ladies were particularly disturbed by the noise when Sam rocked the table dangerously and nearly knocked off both of their coffee cups.
"Fine," He growled, sitting back. "I was just trying to get an idea, anyway. And again, it's not finished yet."
"Right," said Dean, looking down at the picture. What he saw surprised him. Sam had drawn Cas. Based on the very little description that Dean had given him, he had gotten it down surprisingly well. The black, slightly unkempt hair was scribbled in to emphasize dark or black with Sam using his pen hard to make the point. His eyes were shaped a little wrong though, his nose slightly larger in the picture, and his lips were definitely off. Not full and sensuous as Dean had come to know. Describing the black jacket, shirt and crucifix was a good idea because Sam had drawn the beginnings of the chain as it rested on his chest where there was curves for his shirt.
"This is...Wow...You really have improved," said Dean, leaning forward to place the drawing on the table. "But...May I?"
Dean held out his hand for the pen which Sam handed over. "Take the drawing out when you're done...I don't like keeping drawings in my journal."
Dean scowled a little bit, but he fixed Sam's mistakes, widened Cas's eyes, gave him the thick eyebrows he remembered. Sam's pen was luckily blue which he abused repeatedly when filling in the eyes, darkening them to a near black if not looked at closely. He sketched in the lips. The nose would have to do. There would be no way to make it smaller without having to do a whole new drawing.
As he was told, Dean pulled the drawing out of the notebook as soon as he was done. He handed it to Sam who eyed it critically.
"This is what he looks like?" Sam asked, taking it from him. "Really?"
"Mostly," said Dean, rather proud of his edits.
"Huh," was all Sam said as he handed it back. "Well, I think that's enough art class for now."
Sam handed him the drawing back. "Keep that. You know for when you want to up your creep level to one thousand."
"I'm not going to show it to him," Dean scowled again as he began to fold it in half and stuff it into his jean pocket underneath his cellphone.
"Why not? Isn't that sort of thing romantic?" Sam asked absently, pulling his glasses back on and proceeding to read into the newspaper. It wasn't as great as the internet, but it was a second option. Local news was the best source of information for mysterious deaths or finding demon nests where missing people were prevalent.
"Not really," said Dean. He thought for a moment, looking around in that expectant manner again when he spotted his father across the street, also seemingly looking around, probably for them. "Oh crap."
Dean slouched in his seat, drew the collars up of his denim jacket.
Sam blinked at him. "You know...He can still see me, right?"
"Shut up. Sh. Open that newspaper. Cover your face," Dean hissed back. But it was too late. John had already spotted them, crossing the street after looking both ways and stopping at their table.
"Fucking Sam. 'Let's sit outside today'," said Dean right before John was within earshot.
"I-" Sam began and then he looked up at John, smiling at little too forced. "Hey, Dad. Take a seat. I'll get you some coffee."
"No time," said John, snatching the newspaper out of Sam's hand rather rudely and opening it up to the obituaries. He flattened it on the table and began to skim it with his pointer finger.
"I'm not going to the morgue today," said Dean defiantly. It was clear by the edge to his tone that he was still pretty angry at John.
John, however, ignored him. He stopped his finger on a particularly ugly picture of an obese homeless man who was found dead in the sewers. Turning the newspaper around for Dean, he let him read it. "There. Dead in the sewers. That's the fourth one this week."
"He probably fell in a pothole," Dean shrugged as he read. Both John and Sam looked up at him. "What? A deep pothole."
"I spotted a bigger picture of him on the enquirer on the way here. This isn't a coincidence. We've caught demon nests for less. But I've never seen them act out like this before. They're getting bold," said John to both of them. "We have to go in there tonight."
"Why can't we ever catch a movie? I heard Avengers was a blast," said Dean. "Why is it always...'We're going in the sewer tonight.' and a segue to DUN DUN DUN with extreme zoom? I say screw the homeless dude. I say you give us a freebie tonight."
John threw him a cold look as he pulled the newspaper off the table. "A freebie? Why, Dean? Do you have any plans tonight? Considering you never came back to the motel."
"I'm old enough that I don't have to report every God forsaken thing I do...to you," Dean growled. "
"You don't act your age and you never have," John retorted. " Going out at night by yourself without any backup. What were you thinking? You could have been killed. It could have been you in this obits. Not some man. It could be you in the sewer. Would you have liked that?"
"I wasn't alone," Dean murmured.
"What was that?"
"I said, I wasn't alone. I had someone with me," said Dean a little louder. He met Sam's gaze and saw his brother shake his head just a little in warning. He didn't have time to express anything else to him before locking eyes with John. "But even if I didn't. It wouldn't have mattered. I can take care of myself. And I sure as hell don't need you to watch my back anymore."
"Dean-" Sam began as Dean took a step back, out of John's range.
"I'm sorry. I do have plans. I'm not going in the sewer," said Dean, and before John could make a grab for him, make a scene, he shifted out of his reach and turned and walked. Just like he had done last night.
John scowled behind him, turned back to Sam, slightly red in the face. "His phone is still on, right?"
"Uh...last I checked? But he never charges that thing," Sam pointed out. "Dad...Don't you think you're being a little hard on him?"
"Hard? On him? He's the one who started that!" said John, raising his voice and attracting more stares then Dean's childish act earlier. "He's a child at heart...It's my fault. He thinks he's super man, that he can withstand everything...but that's not the case."
"Let him have a freebie," said Sam, echoing Dean. "Really...You pissed him off last night, pops. Maybe you should go easy."
"Fine," John sighed, bringing the newspaper out again. "So...the sewer entrance is actually in the loop...That's where all the disappearances occurred. Maybe if we go there tonight, I think we can ambush them before they even catch it."
Castiel's short reprieve into silence, digesting his conversation with Michael was interrupted by the door opening. He expected to see Michael back...but instead he found Balthazar there. Disheveled and sporting a five o' clock shadow, you would never expect that this was once an angel of heaven. You'd never expect that this man led armies into battle and killed many demons with his own hands.
It was the clothing he had donned that made him look strange for someone who knew him to have done such things. He wore a wrinkled gray t-shirt with a black and white plaid shirt that was open from the front(two sizes too big) baggy blue jeans and brown boots. In his elbow he clutched a large brown paper bag that Castiel knew to be filled with several forty ounce bottles of alcohol.
Since coming out of Treachery, Balthazar had fallen into a state of...depression to say the least. Without his power, his title or any ties to Heaven, he had for lack of a better term, embraced his human nature. He had frequent outings without telling Castiel where he was going, and returned usually late in the night or early morning. He drank until he passed out if he stayed home and said very little. Castiel knew Balthazar hadn't blamed him for his current state, but he wasn't always happy with him either.
Castiel, of course, preferred his former commander stayed indoors during the night hours so he wouldn't be in danger of attack by demon like many other wandering humans that were bold enough to do it. But Balthazar shrugged him off, told him that no one would be looking to attack him, not even a demon.
It made protecting him difficult.
"Balthazar. Where have you been?" Castiel asked, leaning off the wall to approach.
His old commander was a tragedy to him. A formerly proud angel who had once harnessed the power of the Immortal Flame with merit. He was a warrior. He was created with a sword in his hand, bred for battle. But the mortality curse did not go so well for him as it had for Dean and Sam. He remembered everything, largely due to Castiel's Link to him which kept his mind from succumbing to insanity.
The Link did not allow him to fully perceive Balthazar at all times as Michael might have believed. It allowed him to feel him across distances. If he was in danger, Castiel would feel it, if he was feeling a strong emotion like anger or in pain, Castiel would feel. But he was glad he didn't get a glimpse at what Balthazar had been doing last night...or any other night for that matter.
Balthazar had a slight fault in his step as he placed his brown bag on the table with a loud clank. His gaze fell on Castiel and he regarding him in a surly accent. "Whatever I want. This morning I had a...ménage à...What's French for twelve?"
"You can't keep doing this. You know there are Tarana demons out there. They ambushed us the moment we cleared the first circle. They're looking all over for us," said Castiel as Balthazar passed him on his way to the kitchen.
"You seem to be under some misguided impression that I care," Balthazar smirked at him reaching into the fridge for a fresh forty ounce there which Castiel promptly snatched out of his hand. "Hey."
"Michael was here," said Castiel, setting the bottle on the counter top.
Balthazar went slightly still. "...When?"
"Just now. Before you walked in," Castiel ran a hand through his hair and went to the dining table, placing both hands down on the edge where he gripped the glass tight. "It's as I thought. He suppressed Dean's memory. Sam as well...He...They don't remember us."
"What a tragedy," said Balthazar, kicking the fridge door closed. "I don't even know why we're in this city. It's a demon swamp. I don't even like Dean."
Castiel measured his expression and mannerism. "You're..trashed. You should take a shower. I can smell you from four feet away."
"Don't use that every time I bring up a valid point," Balthazar snapped. "Michael knows we're here. There's absolutely no point in us staying here any more. Not when he can...smite us."
"I'm not afraid of Michael," said Castiel.
"You're a fool," said Balthazar. Distractedly, he sniffed his shirt. "Mm...Shower sounds good."
Balthazar retreated upstairs. It was a one bedroom loft, yes...but Balthazar rarely ever showed his face to share a bed with Castiel and if he did, he never made it up the stairs in that state. He usually crashed on the couch or the floor, or the dining table...or maybe the kitchen floor. Didn't matter. Castiel had caught him in each of these places.
He heard the shower run while Castiel himself had walked across the loft towards the balcony where he slid the doors open and closed to retreat. It was still early morning and all he could hear was the sounds of the city as humans walked about below in their daily lives. Uncaring. Oblivious.
The thing about human beings was that everything was a matter of perception. Their senses were too dull to perceive angel wings or demon faces. The more obvious demons that looked like actual beasts were completely invisible to them. It took belief, true belief in evil for anything like that to be seen. It kind of hurt to know that Dean was not among the humans who could see his true form. He could see demons, as a hunter, but not his wings because he well and truly did not believe in angels.
Despite the fact that in his previous life, he had many dealings with angels. Fallen or Celestial.
He wanted to see Dean now. Last night he had muttered something before he could help himself.
Not mine.
It wasn't his Dean. It wasn't the Dean that he loved. It was the same body, but the mind was different. The pain he usually saw in his eyes behind green eyes was gone. That might have sounded better...but he remembered the puzzle pieces he wanted to put together when looking at Dean. Because he never said anything out loud. He never voiced his regard for anything.
And now Castiel could never ask why. Or...for the truth. If he ever felt the same way. Because that Dean was gone. Michael hadn't saved Dean from Treachery by suppressing his memory. By doing that, he had killed the Dean that everyone knew. The one Sam knew, the one Carmen knew, the one Balthazar knew, and even the one Michael knew. Paved a new personality that was bred in human mindset.
But of course Michael could suppress as much memory as he wanted. That didn't change a few things. Dean was still defiant of him. His nature was royalty in his past life after all. Castiel couldn't help but smile when he thought back to his conversation with Dean about his Father and very nearing on a future rebellion between Father and Son.
And then he of course, reflected on the private scene they shared in his room where something almost happened. Castiel nearly gave into the temptation. It wasn't something he wanted to do while Dean was intoxicated. But he couldn't help but feel a slight annoyance at how close he was to tearing Dean's clothes off and having him right there and then. He was a Fallen. There were impulses he had to keep on a tight grip otherwise he would be no better than the ones before him. His lust for Dean had always been universal. For his mind, for his spoken word, his body. They were all magnified now. He wanted it all. More and more. He felt like he could have him all night, and still, it wouldn't be enough to quench his thirst.
He had to think about something else. The idea was to protect Dean, not ravish him at first sight...
There was a knock at the door when Balthazar exited the shower and it sounded like someone had been knocking for a while. He had no time to dress without making the visitor walk away. He wrapped a black and white striped towel around his waist and walked downstairs with wet feet, leaving footprints where he stepped.
The knocking continued, and much more persistently. Balthazar grumbled a little incoherently before opening the door and peeking out.
Dean.
Balthazar stared at him for a long moment without expression. He just blinked and looked at him. Oh, he knew it wasn't a hallucination. Dean was real and very human. His appearance said it all. He looked like something out of a denim commercial. And slightly smaller too. He was about a head shorter than Balthazar remembered.
"Can I help you?" Balthazar asked politely.
Dean looked at him with confusion, tried to peek past him. "Is this uh...Is this the right place?"
"Are you lost?" Balthazar's tone became pointed and annoyed.
"Is...Is Cas here?"Dean answered.
"Oh, you know Cas?" Balthazar smiled unpleasantly. "That's nice. He's kind of busy...right now, if you know what I mean...maybe you could come back later?"
Dean eyed him up and down and flushed red. "You know what? That's all right. I think I got the wrong house. Must be someone else."
Balthazar gave him a too-understanding nod as he began to close the door.
"Balthazar," Castiel called as he shut the balcony door behind him and caught a brief glimpse of Dean's cheek as he turned away. Not even being subtle about it, Castiel flitted to his side and nearly shoved his brother to the ground with his palm. But he did however succeed in moving out of the doorway.
"Dean," said Castiel, sounding a little too out of breath with the tiny flight he just took. "What are you doing here? It's still early for you, isn't it?"
"Cas," Dean replied rather stiffly. "Nothing. I just wanted to...er..You know...I...never mind."
Castiel didn't miss that his eyes went on Balthazar. Castiel stepped out in the hallway and closed the door in Balthazar's slightly gloating face before he stepped in Dean's space. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing, Cas," Dean's eyes were swiveling all over the place, looking anywhere but at Castiel, and looking rather like he wanted to be anywhere else but right there at that moment. "Just checking if you were awake. I should be going now."
Dean began to turn and make a sprint for the elevator but Castiel caught his arm and spun him around. Too much force. Dean was pulled into the circle of his arms in a tight grip with Castiel releasing his elbow in place of both his shoulders.
"Tell me?" Castiel whispered, cool breath blowing across Dean's lips.
"...I...Um...What?" Dean blinked rapidly, trying to clear his head.
"What's wrong?" Castiel repeated, so close. Dean could barely see his lips move as he spoke.
"It's...It's a bad time...right...that guy...," Dean murmured, trying to make sense of scrambled thoughts. "It's...all right...You're busy."
"That 'guy' is my brother. And I'm not busy," said Castiel, releasing Dean at last to stand back. "What do you need, Dean?"
Dean bit his tongue. "No, I was...I was just wondering. You know if you're not doing...anything tonight...if you'd maybe like to...see me again? We...we can catch a movie. You know if you're free."
Castiel's lips turned up, definitely amused. " Are you asking me out on a date?"
Dean's cheeks went even redder. He looked down, intent on a few shoe stains on the linoleum. "Um...No, not really? Just two guys. Hanging out. I don't mean anything about it, I mean, you know. You seem like a decent guy...you know. Could totally just...go make fun of a dumb movie. No big deal."
Castiel tipped his chin up. "I'll see you tonight. Seven good for you?"
Dean's mind completely and utterly pulled a blank. "Uh...uh...What? Yeah. Seven's perfect."
"I'll see you then," said Castiel, turning from him. A second passed and he closed the space between them again, long fingers brushing the opening of Dean's long-sleeved blue denim shirt. "And Dean? Don't wear this again."
Without preamble his hand crept under Dean's arm where he wrapped his fingers around the collar and yanked the denim down to Dean's wrists, leaving his arms exposed from the t-shirt he still wore.
"Better," Castiel remarked with a raised eyebrow as he headed back inside the loft.