True to his word, Castiel took Dean home. He remained unconscious as he went up the stairs and laid him back down on the same bed he had before when he was intoxicated. Except there was no intoxication this time. Just the injuries that he had noted earlier. He mentally cursed himself for his carelessness. He should have taken Dean out of the body shop by the ear. Castiel originally came there to make sure he was safe, and now he had walked out with Dean being anything but safe.
The demon who attacked was clearly mad and not right in the head, but that didn't mean it wasn't worrisome. The voice in his head indicated that he came for Dean. That meant he recognized Dean as a demon...or perhaps in his madness, he saw him as such. Dean's face was pretty recognizable for those from Hell.
So much for protecting him. He couldn't even do that.
Dean wasn't moving very consciously. His face would twist here and there in a grimace if his leg moved. This was an injury he was very conscious of. It would be quite a spell if he just found a method to heal this directly. Despite the fact that Dean had murmured "angel" just now...he was sure he was completely aware of what had just occurred. If Dean was privvy to the knowledge that angels existed in this plane, he didn't know how he would react to that news. Probably violently and in complete disbelief. Whatever he saw with Castiel that prompted him to use the word "angel", Castiel hoped he would discount it as being delirious from the head injury.
Gentle as he could, Castiel reached into Dean's jean pocket and pulled out his phone. Just like before with invading his personal life, he dialed the number labeled "Dad". He completely ignored the fact that a notification was already on Dean's phone indicating he had missed fourteen calls from "Dad" already.
"There you are," Michael said in an exasperated tone when he picked up. "Where have you been? Haven't you been getting my calls? What have you been doing? We've been in the sewer all morning looking for Tarana demons, and you go gallivanting off at the first chance for whatever personal issues you have. Sam's still cleaning sewer out of our clothes."
Normally Castiel would jump at the opportunity of giving a sarcastic reply. But not right now. "There's been a situation."
Michael was silent for a moment, then there was a brief rustling like he was adjusting himself and then walking somewhere where Castiel heard the door close. A bathroom perhaps. "Castiel. What happened? Where's Dean?"
"We got attacked. By a Tarana demon," said Castiel. "It almost tore Dean apart. It was set on destroying him. I need you to come to my place as soon as possible."
"I'll be right there," said Michael grimly on the other line before hanging up.
Castiel put the phone down on the nightstand, continuing to watch Dean. He was hesitant in touching him. Already, there was a reddening spot on his cheek that was starting to swell. He kept a moderate ice spell that kept Dean from fully feeling all of the pain. It would only last with him being unconscious, however. This was one of those rare moments where he wished he still had the power of a celestial. He could heal Dean no problem that way. Kind of funny how fate worked. While he was a celestial, he could not heal the demon without definitely harming him. Now as a Fallen he could only harm the human if he tried to heal him. They were never at a place where they could synchronize.
Fate had a sick sense of humor.
A few minutes later, there was a knock at the door. Castiel didn't move. He knew Michael's patience level enough to know that moving to get the door was pointless, especially after the last time Michael was at his door. As expected, the door was slammed open and Michael stood at the threshold. Castiel raised his eyebrow at him from beside the bed as the Archangel zoomed up the stairs at lightning speed.
"Very subtle, what if he was awake to catch that?" Castiel scowled.
"I trusted on your sense of initiative," said Michael simply. Without much preamble, he approached Dean's other side and began to place his two fingers on Dean's forehead.
"Michael," Castiel called his attention. "He called me angel. I think he saw too much."
Without looking up, Michael's fingers made contact with Dean's head. "You better hope that he thinks it's a dream. I could alter his mem-"
"You've done enough of that," Castiel snarled.
Michael looked at him, his face impassive. "I do what's necessary to protect Dean, Castiel. If that means suppressing his memory some more...I will do it."
"No," said Castiel firmly.
"Have it your way. But you know. You're not an angel. You're a Fallen. There's a very thick line between the two. Fallen falls under the category of demon. It's still a tainted spirit. Dean is a demon hunter...and he would not pleased if he knew what you were. So if you insist on keeping his memory intact, then be prepared to deal with repercussions. Or at the very least, pretend like he's delirious," said Michael.
"That was my original plan," said Castiel. As he watched Michael, the bruise and scratches on Dean's face began to shrink until all that was left was a red rash, and the contusion in his head became nothing more than a bump. Even the hip where the bone had broken reattached itself like puzzle pieces fitting together. Except it was not perfect. Michael had left some evidence of injuries to sustain the belief that something had happened, as opposed to nothing at all.
"I'll take it from here," said Castiel as soon as Michael was done.
Michael gawked at him. " 'You'll take it from here'? Excuse me, but you're the one who got him in this mess in the first place."
"It sounds like you were close to uncovering something big, Michael. Don't let me interrupt," said Castiel coolly.
Michael crossed his arms. " I don't trust you to keep him safe. Especially after this."
"I don't trust you around him worth a damn either, Michael. Every word you spew to him is a lie. Every action you make as his loving and concerned Father is a fabrication. I deal with it, because providing him with the truth would overwhelm his mind," said Castiel, looking down at Dean's sleeping form. "A human mind can't handle the memories that Dean once had."
"And I pray that you keep it that way," said Michael absently. "You're right though. He's better off recovering here for the night. I may have to return to the focus site later on tonight. What did you see about the demon? You said it was a Tarana demon."
"It was," said Castiel. "But something was wrong with it. It looked like it was under some type of possession."
"Maybe it was," said Michael. "We found a focus site today. It looks like they are very close to raising Tarana from the depths. If that's the case, we need to beat them at the source. I need to find out where the other activation sites are. I'll take Sam with me, do some recon."
"Recon," Castiel repeated, amused.
Michael ignored his tone. "It's very imperative that Tarana does not rise. You don't understand what it will mean if he does. He's an extremely powerful demon, that may be at my level or beyond. It took quite a number of celestials to take down Tarana before, and we don't have even that."
"That would be easily repairable if you reconvened with the heavenly host," Castiel suggested.
"There is a new General in command...and they would hardly be understanding to my side of the story, regardless of the circumstances surrounding it," Michael answered.
"I know. I just was hoping you'd still talk to them so I could attend your execution," said Castiel with an "innocent" smile.
"I'm going. Keep him sleeping if you can. The more time passes between whatever he saw with you and when he wakes up, the better. That gives more time for it to fade into his consciousness. And that's exactly what we want," said Michael, stepping away from the bed after a long measured look at Dean. Castiel could see concern and some affection but how genuine it was was debatable.
He'd never forgive Michael.
"Call me if he wakes up," said Michael, with a glance at Dean's phone. He scowled. "And invest in a phone. Trust me when I say that the idea of forming a Link with you repulses me just as much as it repulses you."
"I'd rather not be at a place where I might have to remain in regular contact with you. So I'll stick to conveniently using Dean's phone if I need to contact you," said Castiel smoothly, indicating it with a finger. "Seems like we're a couple that way, doesn't it? Already sharing our belongings with one another."
Michael ground his teeth together and then seemed to debate giving Castiel a biting reply. He seemed to think himself above it, however and simply deigned to turn and walk back down the stairs where he stopped at the door, looking above him at Castiel.
"Notify me immediately if something happens," said Michael. "I should be back by tomorrow. If another Tarana demon gets close...give me some sort of signal."
"Like what? You want me to flap my arms and squawk?"
Michael scowled again. "Send a red spark through the air. How's that?"
"Better," Castiel approved. "By the way, what about Sam? How are you going to explain where Dean is?"
"Dean was originally going to take a night off anyway," Michael explained, but his gaze grew icy on Castiel. "I wager because he wanted to find you. So that's a not a problem. I'm not going to rile Sam up. If he were to know Dean had been injured, it'd be him kicking down your doorstep, not me."
"Well, that's comforting," said Castiel sarcastically.
Michael narrowed his eyes once and disappeared behind the door. They were never going to get along, it looked like. Not while Castiel still remembered how Michael had left Balthazar, Carmen and himself behind. There was no getting around the fact that there was no excuse for not taking them as well. Or for blocking Castiel's access to the Divine Circle.
It was kind of amusing that he did it to protect Dean. And then that all became moot point with the arrival of the Tarana demons.
Dean began to stir. Castiel automatically moved to stand closer to the bed. His eyes closed tightly as if he was expecting pain. But nothing came, because those sharp green eyes opened. His eyebrows furrowed in some confusion and then he turned his head to the side to face Castiel.
"Am...Am I dead?" Dean asked.
Call Michael if he wakes up, huh? Well, that was going out the window.
"No," said Castiel gently, sitting down on the space he had next to Dean. "You were injured by a demon...Try not to think too much."
"Yeah, I remember that. He was at the glass," Dean slowly started to sit up and Castiel bit back a disapproving scowl, and resisted the urge to push Dean back down on the bed.
"Easy, Dean...he hit you pretty hard. How are you feeling?"
Instead of answering, Dean frowned at Castiel. "I saw you. You were...It was...Ugh...my head kind of hurts."
He was what? Castiel wanted to ask. But his lips tightened a little bit. "Try to relax."
"My head," Dean complained.
Castiel deigned to reach behind Dean then, run his fingers along the scalp. At the base, Dean winced. "Tender?"
"A little," Dean grimaced. "Your skin is so cold...It feels nice."
Castiel immediately retracted his hand, let Dean fall back on the pillow. His gaze instead when to his waist where the formerly broken hip was. "You broke a bone in the middle of it. Let me see."
Dean didn't protest when Castiel told him to lie on his side with the inured side facing up. His back was to Castiel as Castiel slowly lifted his shirt up a few inches. His touch was strictly clinical, however Dean's skin seemed to heat on contact. He expelled a very soft sigh, his body shifting slightly as he did so. Castiel slid his fingers down the exposed skin. It wasn't red, and had the injury remained, it might have become so.
Castiel applied some pressure and Dean's reaction was to curl his legs up. "A little painful?"
"Yeah," said Dean. "But I'm okay. It actually...doesn't feel that broken right now. It just feels a little sore...like I went for a run."
"Hmm," was all Castiel said.
Dean turned his head in Castiel's direction, without fully looking at him. "Since when did you become an expert in the medical industry?"
"I've had my experience with injuries before," said Castiel simply. "Enough to know the basics. Lie flat. Bend your knee and raise it for me."
Dean did was he was told, his hands firm by his side as he slowly began to bend his right leg to curl in front of him. It would have looked effortless if not for the fact that Dean was biting his lip off the entire time. When his knee bent all the way, his whole body seemed to relax with a sigh.
"You might not be able to walk without a bit of a limp," Castiel noted. "Lie on your side. Keep pressure off it."
"Thanks," Dean muttered, stretching his leg out and turning to his side so his back was to Castiel. It was not without extreme effort, Castiel could tell. He was trying his best not to show his pain. Castiel slid the fabric of jeans down a few inches until he could feel the injury for himself. Dean's skin heated up another few degrees and Castiel could hear his heartbeat accelerate. He was very conscious of Castiel touching him. It was just a circular red bruise. Michael had repaired the bone. But that didn't mean it wouldn't still hurt.
Dean let out a soft sigh of contentment which stilled Castiel's hand on him. He placed his palm over Castiel's.
"Sorry. About what I said earlier. You...saved my life back there. I owe you," said Dean.
"It was nothing," Castiel replied sheepishly, moving to remove his hand from Dean, but Dean's grip was surprisingly tight.
"No. It means a lot..I...I don't understand a lot, Cas. I wasn't lying when I said I feel I should remember you. Every time I'm around you, every time I look at you...it's like you're something carved from glass...old, but always new, you know? Maybe we had a life together somewhere in the past."
Yes, and that past is long gone. said Castiel in his head.
"Like reincarnation," Dean was continuing. "I don't know...but I don't want you to go away. I want you to stay. I keep feeling like you're going to disappear...God...like I'm gonna wake up and be in the back end of some smelly motel with Dad throwing a running drill on me in the early morning. I don't want..that. I want to be here. I just want to be here with you." He tilted his head in Castiel's direction. "Does that sound crazy?"
"It sounds...," Castiel began, clearing his throat as he slid Dean's jeans back up over the previous injury. "It sounds like you're tired. Don't think too much, Dean. Just try to rest for a bit."
"Are you going to be here?"
This time, Castiel did remove his hand from under Dean's. "I will be. I'll be right here."
"Do you promise me?" Dean asked.
Castiel went around the bed so that he was facing Dean this time, sliding on to lie in front of him. Dean reached for him automatically and Castiel took his hand again, pulled Dean into the circle of his arms. "I promise."
Within minutes, Dean was breathing deeply, sleeping soundly in his arms. Castiel did not require sleep, even as a Fallen, but as a Fallen, he could now if he wanted to. It was a welcome prospect to retreat into dreams where reality wasn't so apparent. He didn't have to face the daunting idea that Dean was human now and he was not. And he never would be.
Maybe Michael had been right. He should have just left. His presence was hurting Dean. He would never age. Dean would. He would never look older or more than what he was. He still wasn't sure if Dean had seen what happened in detail. And he didn't know if he could pass it off as something of a hallucination if questioned about it. Part of him wanted to admit everything.
They almost had a life together. Had it not been for Dante's interference, they would be as they were...so long ago. An angel and a demon, in love. With a horrid past but a sense of satisfaction that they had made it through, together. But they hadn't. Not fully anyway.
He wanted to blame Michael for everything, but it was not Michael who had cast the mortal curse on Dean and Sam. And Balthazar even. It was Dante. Dante, who wanted revenge.
Dante, who was powerless.
He didn't really want to think. He buried his face in Dean's shoulder, basking in the warmth that he provided, that was Dean and Dean alone. Demon or human, his scent hadn't changed. A constant reminder of what they had, a constant reminder of what they couldn't have anymore.
Castiel didn't even know he fell asleep. One moment, he was watching Dean's sleeping form, watching and memorizing every detail. Every freckle, every twitch of his eye and hitch of breath. The next moment, he was somewhere else. Sleep usually provided a sea of black until the next blink and wake.
He was standing on a smooth, grassy plain. He could see no structures, just a place where the plain ended and the clear blue sky began. There was a faint breeze that felt nice. Castiel looked down at himself and noticed that his garments felt heavier for a good reason. He wasn't wearing the clothes he was coined as a Fallen in. He was wearing full set, silver angelic armor that had exposed knees which Dean had once called a skirt.
Castiel wasn't that shocked to find himself in it. He was very conscious that this was a dream. As a Fallen or an celestial, he had much more lucidity than a human did while navigating the dreamscape.
He felt a light whoosh around his legs and watched as something small rushed past. He caught the back of his head, and saw when he turned in Castiel's direction that it was Dean. A much younger, child version of Dean, no more than four or five. It occurred to Castiel that he had seen Dean in this state before. In a memory from the Scripture.
"You're going to be late!" Dean shouted when he glanced Castiel's way. "Come on! Hurry."
Castiel quickened his pace, following Dean. "What am I going to be late for, Dean?"
But the boy didn't answer him, just kept running. He was six feet in front of Castiel when he noticed how his entire form kept blurring and coming back into focus. Like a ghost. They were a long time running before Castiel was surprised to find that he was out of breath. He stopped, his hands on his knees as he struggled to find an even level of breathing.
"We're going to be late, if we don't hurry," said a voice next to Castiel. He looked up to find himself looking at Dante. Except...it didn't look like the Shadowalker. Not truly. He still had an army boy type hair cut, short brown hair...but like Castiel, he was not wearing the black clothing of a Fallen, but the same armor Castiel was in. This must have been what Dante looked like before the Fall.
"What are we late for?" Castiel asked, curious despite himself.
"What, you don't know?" Dante asked with a small chuckle. "You're a little new here, Castiel. I forget that."
Dante walked past Castiel, following Dean's path. He led Castiel to a place where Dean was sitting on a picnic blanket, unloading a basket full of sandwiches.
Dante sat by him first but Castiel remained standing.
"What are we doing here?" Castiel asked. "Why am I dreaming of you two?'
"You're new," Dante stated yet again. "Dean and I have been sharing dreams for years."
"Really," said Castiel. "He never said..."
But he broke off. Some knowledge was embedded deep into his subconsciousness. Dean dreaming about Dante all the time and vice versa came off absurd to Castiel, and yet not altogether unbelievable. Dean never spoke of his feelings or experience. He kept a lot hidden in his mind.
"You just got here. Just got into the clique," said Dante. "Sit down, Castiel. There's plenty to eat."
"You know, I'm really not that hungry."
"But sit," Dante insisted.
"Yeah, sit," said Dean earnestly.
" I don't really want to join in. You two go ahead," said Castiel, shaking his head.
Dean made a face. He got up off the picnic blanket and Castiel expected him to come over to him, but Dean completely ignored him thereafter and made his way into the grass where he picked out two twigs and began to rub them together.
"Careful Dean," Dante chastised lightly. "You might make a fire."
"Make fire," Dean repeated enthusiastically.
Castiel watched him for a moment and he did make a spark, a brief flame on the grass before it turned the tiny fixture of plant black before slowly fading into nothingness.
"And you killed it," said Dante as if he expected as much.
"Fire doesn't die," Dean answered.
"Okay, whatever you say," Dante got off the picnic blanket too and approached Castiel. "He's a little pistol, isn't he?"
"Pistol," Castiel replied. "Interesting."
But Castiel looked at him, really looked at him. Dante had a bloodstain on his chest plate and a very distinct line through the middle like something had opened up inside of him and been taken out.
"Where did that come from?"
"Oh," said Dante, following his gaze. "Yeah. I lost control of the white one."
Castiel didn't know how to make head nor tail of that. So he looked towards Dean again and in that moment, he saw the young boy in her peripheral morph, change and become something large and black. The demon that stood before him looked just as Castiel remembered him in life, except there was a smile on his face that was uncharacteristic. Not arrogant or devious like he had come to know but cruel. His hand extended towards Castiel as if inviting him to take it.
"Dean?" Castiel called, but he found he had no voice. He grabbed his throat instead, rubbed it and felt no resistance. "Dean?" He tried again, but there was again, nothing.
Dean's eyes were bright and hungry, all-consuming. He could have been a statue for as still as he was.
And the dream ended. Castiel sat up in bed, his eyes wide open and sweat beading in a fine warm sheet down his face that felt particularly hot for someone like him. He was back in the dark clothing he wore as a Fallen, and they felt hot and sticky on him all of a sudden. Next to him, Dean was sleeping with his front still facing Castiel, exactly in the same position Castiel had left him in.
How long had he been sleeping? He tried to recall the scenes in the dream, still vivid in his mind. But for the moment, his attention diverted to the time. It was a little past two AM. Was he really sleeping for so long?
Balthazar still hadn't returned from wherever he was, and for that, Castiel was grateful. Not only because of Dean being here but because of what happened in the dream that had him shaking. The sight of Dean in demon form should have given him relief, and yet in the dream, he felt nothing but fear and a strange sense of disappointment at seeing him like that. He wasn't like Dean. He wasn't what Castiel remembered.
And yet it made him realize something. Yes, he was a Fallen Angel of great might and when he did dream, the few times he had, he usually had full control of himself. And yet it seemed at the last moment with the demonic version of Dean, he didn't. His reaction didn't make sense to him.
But it was just a dream. A whole lot of it didn't make sense to begin with. He leaned towards Dean on his elbow, using his free hand to take his shoulder and shake him very gently.
"Dean?" Thank God he could speak his name now.
Dean stirred. When he opened his eyes and looked at Castiel, his dry lips cracked into a smile. "You stayed."
"Dean," Castiel said again. Without hesitating, he took both of Dean's shoulders and rolled on top of him. He was very careful of keeping his weight from causing Dean pain or discomfort, but enough weight that his presence ought to be very much felt. Reaching up, Castiel carded his fingers through Dean's hair and pulled him up to meet his lips. Castiel's breath was harsh and cold, he knew, and he took every breath Dean gave as if it was his own. His grip on Dean's shoulders was tight enough that the bones would break if he held on any tighter. He caught himself just in time when Dean pulled away to take a breath, panting as he struggled to collect himself.
"Cas...What..?" said Dean when he could speak.
"I want you to know, Dean," Castiel told him in a fierce voice, locking a tight grip on Dean's hands, fingers interlocking on either side of Dean. "I don't care. I don't care that these hands bleed and this heart forgets. I just want you. That's all I've ever wanted. It's the most selfish thing I've ever asked for. But it's also the only thing I've asked for in my entire life. I will fight to my last breath to have it."
"Cas..," Dean began but Castiel had released Dean's fingers and taken a grip underneath his arms, pulling him up so he could feel his warmth more, pressing against his chest. Dean didn't resist, wrapping his arms around Castiel and returning the feverish kiss. Unconsciously, he let out a soft groan into Castiel's mouth which Castiel instinctively reacted with a slow grind against Dean's lower body. Dean groaned again, pulling away from their kiss for another sharp intake of breath.
Castiel's grip on Dean's shirt was so hard, he tore the fabric into halves. Not wasting a moment, Castiel pulled the sleeves off Dean's shoulders and threw the torn shirt pieces off to the side. Dean made to pull Castiel's jacket off, but Castiel caught his wrist before he could remove the garment and pinned it over his head, flattening him on the bed where he covered Dean's parted lips again, his tongue invading, possessing a sort of a dominant flare that he never had before. Dean's free hand caught on Castiel's shoulder, clawing into the fabric of his jacket, pulling him closer.
Castiel broke off the kiss abruptly, raised himself a few inches above Dean. In the darkness, he knew he was barely a silhouette to Dean who had a much weaker eyesight than he did. But Castiel could see every detail that Dean was missing. He watched Dean, as he always did. Watched him every hitch in his breathing, felt the rapid rise and fall of his chest underneath him. But his eyes asked a question he had been burning with since the moment they laid eyes on each other in this new life.
But Dean's answer was already there. Firm and resolved in decision as it often had been in the past. He could see it in his expression. It was something Castiel thought he would never see again. The fire in his eyes that burned as hot as hellfire itself. He kissed Dean again, more gentle this time, careful to control his power. Dean may not have fully understood what Castiel was and what he could do, but he was aware to some degree that something was different about him than other people. Perhaps he had already guessed that he was more than human.
Yet, Castiel was careful on how he touched him. Restrained, even now. He released Dean's wrist and almost pulled away from him completely, settling at the end of his bed near his feet where Castiel hooked two fingers on the waistband of Dean's jeans and pulled them all the way down to wrinkle around his ankles. He freed one leg at a time and tossed the jeans side. His fingers grasped under Dean's knees, raising his legs up a few inches as he bore down on him. His gaze lingered on Dean's expression, at the burning redness on his cheeks. And then his eyes shifted downward at the hard erection still hidden behind Dean's black boxer shorts, tempting him in heat, visible for Castiel even without what a human might call 'x-ray vision'.
He had seen Dean naked before. It had been a long time. Even for someone like Castiel who was a being of forever. Ten years spent without Dean...and back then, he attributed his behavior as naive...weak...and pathetic. He never appreciated Dean then. He never appreciated Dean's own yearning for him. His mind had been twisted by Heaven's laws of discrimination and mistrust of demons. But he had let him in that night because Dean needed it, because he was vulnerable. Later on, he would reflect that he needed that night too. It was their last night together before Dean's descent into the ninth circle...and Castiel knew that no matter where he went, no matter how far apart they seemed to be, he would carry that memory with him for the rest of his life. Not even Dean could take that memory away.
Now he was the one desiring Dean, much more, perhaps than Dean could ever desire him.
He moved down, a long tongue licking the shape of the head, the cloth darkening as Castiel opened his mouth to take the head that was still inside the fabric of Dean's boxer shorts. His teeth cut through the fabric easily, the sound loud in the silence. But it was Dean's gasp that caught Castiel's attention. He glanced up, saw a brief glimpse of Dean curling his fists over his head into the pillow, arching his back just slightly. Castiel pulled away for the briefest second then swooped down again, teeth clamping down on the waistband of the shorts, pulling until they went up and over the exposed muscle and Dean was nearly fully exposed to Castiel. Castiel wrapped full lips around the head, suckling with moist lips.
Dean gasped and arched his back even more then, and Castiel glanced at taut veins on his neck as he threw his head back and let out a soft cry, slightly muffled as he bit down on his lip. Well, that was just very inconvenient for Castiel who pulled away just a little bit, watching Dean. He kept his hands on Dean's knees for a moment, squeezing before he flattened most of himself on top of him, palms embedded in the sheets on either side of Dean's arms, watching him as he struggled to contain himself.
"Dean," Castiel called his attention in a gentle voice. Dean's face was turned away, his eyes shut tight. His teeth were still cutting into his lip, enough to draw blood. Castiel drew close and took those lips for himself, feeling the warmth of Dean's blood as he tasted him. He suckled and bit and then pulled away, leaving Dean breathless once again. A fine sheet of sweat was forming on Dean's cheeks, beading and running down his face. And yet Dean was finally looking up at him.
"You're so cold," Dean murmured, barely audible. He freed his hand from ripping through Castiel's pillow and gently cupped Castiel's cheek with a shaking hand. Dean felt warm to him, and he knew his own touch was as cold as ice. Different...How it must have felt aside from the physical sense was beyond him.
Dean's fingers trailed downward, his touch leaving skin and stopping his path right above Castiel's chest where he felt the warmth of Castiel's Grace. Angel or Fallen, he still had the fire inside of him that echoed of angelic power.
"Do you feel this?" Dean whispered.
"Yes," Castiel answered, placing his hand over Dean's.
"What is this...You're so...cold...all over...but not here," Dean noted quietly, keeping his palm there.
Castiel clenched his fingers and gripped Dean's fingers tight to the point where his skin began to turn white. He half debated pulling Dean close, cutting off his curious question with another kiss to evade answering it. Those lips were red and swollen from all their kissing. Very tempting as Castiel debated.
But he didn't want to hide.
"Because I am more," said Castiel at last.
"You're more...," Dean repeated in the same soft voice. "What does it mean? You're more..?"
"Yes," Castiel replied. "I can show you."
For the first time since Castiel had ever known Dean, a flicker of something like fear passed through Dean's bright eyes. He felt a pang inside for frightening him and he might have immediately taken back his offer had he not spotted the base excitement there as well. Castiel called to something in Dean, that should have been buried long past with Michael's fabrication of memories.
"Show me,"
"Close your eyes," Castiel told him.
"What...I..."
"Do you trust me?" Castiel asked a little forcefully. His hand that wasn't touching Dean fisted itself threateningly in the sheets.
"I do," said Dean without the slightest hesitation.
"Then, close your eyes," said Castiel again. He waited until Dean did so, after giving Castiel a raised eyebrow.
Castiel laid Dean's hand down flat and lowered himself again, shifting his weight, his traveling hands went down Dean's chest. He heard the hitch in his breath, in the pounding of his heartbeat as Dean felt him. Castiel made sure he kept his eyes closed the entire time while finishing his exploration of Dean's body. He stopped at the waistband of shorts again, tugging just a little. Dean grunted and he shimmied underneath Castiel's touch eliciting a small chuckle from Castiel's lips. He felt the tiny cloth of Dean's boxer shorts as it passed further down before Castiel plucked it off completely and tossed it off the edge of the bed.
"I need you to do something for me," Castiel said in a voice barely audible, only for Dean.
"Anything," Dean breathed back, arching his back just slightly as Castiel stopped on Dean's knees.
" Believe in me," Castiel answered. "You...have seen demons of all types...killed them with your weapons, with your hands and under your Father's wing. You have seen horrors that most would not think to assume exists...But to fathom something like me, you have to believe in me. You have to believe that something like me exists."
"I don't...I don't understand," Dean frowned with his eyes closed, giving off the illusion that he was having a nightmare.
Castiel's dark wings extended and arced on his back. He could feel their very heavy weight and it was for this that he would deign to keep his body as light as a feather while on Dean. Yet it was such a relief to release them after keeping them restrained under his clothing for so long. Dean or anyone else other than Michael or Balthazar wouldn't have seen them anyway, and yet...he never failed to show some precaution. The shadow his wings brought seemed to darken the room times a thousand...and yet he never strayed his eyes from looking at Dean, sprawled and vulnerable below him.
" Believe in me," said Castiel again with more force. His true voice curled in with the voice he used in the mortal and hell realms. It was backed by power that Castiel barely let loose. The power of Retribution, and the mounting power of a Fallen. Soft like cloth and air and cotton, brushing down Dean's inner thighs, Castiel's wings were slow in their descent. He felt the full body shudder run through Dean, felt his body spasm and his mouth open in a soundless cry of ecstasy. His chest lifted, tempting Castiel to mouth and nuzzle as he lowered himself. He repeated a slow pattern with the slow rise and fall of his wings between Dean's legs.
Castiel watched Dean as he bit into his lip again, drawing blood, but Dean could hold himself in for so long. His soft moan nearly sent Castiel in a frenzy and again, his grip on Dean's knees tightening to the point of leaving red handprints where he touched. He couldn't help it when he gravitated towards Dean's lips again, lifting his wings and kissing him again. Dean moaned inside his mouth, grasping every part of Castiel he could reach, fingernails hard in his jacket.
"Open your eyes, Dean," Castiel demanded. Dean's eyes snapped open and he heard him gasp. Castiel's own eyes had darkened from their normal dark blue, shifting to a near black, a hint of scarlet hiding behind them. And yet when Dean looked at him, there was no fear. It was only awe and shock. He raised a hand almost hesitantly towards one of the wings that Castiel had arched above them.
"You're...You're...an angel," said Dean. "It...You can't...It's impossible."
The word made Castiel remember. Dean had so rarely called him by name. To hear the nickname, the word leave his lips in perfect clarity brought back a string of memories that Castiel would expect to break him down. He would never expect it to bring him joy.
He wrapped his arms under Dean's waist and lifted Dean up as though he weighed nothing. Dean's legs wrapped automatically around Castiel's waist as he settled on his lap. Castiel's grip on Dean's waist was tight, but he controlled himself, mentally chiding himself for forgetting Dean had been injured there. Dean hovered above him at this angle, and he tangled his arms around Castiel's neck, drawing low for a kiss that Castiel returned enthusiastically. His palm slid down sweat-slicked skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps wherever he touched. Dean's entire body was trembling in response but when Castiel's fingers slid past the cleft where a tight ring of muscles were waiting for him, Dean stiffened in his grip, his body jolting as if Castiel had shocked him. Ironic, considering what element Castiel simply loved to represent.
"Do you accept me?" Castiel asked, his eyes very serious as he weighed Dean's expression and the look in his eyes. He searched for doubt or even mockery as he might have expected if Dean were still a demon. He found none of it. Just the slow nod as Dean returned his gaze with trust.
He laid Dean down carefully, flat and stationed himself between Dean's legs again, sitting up on knees so he was slightly higher. Finally he removed his own restriction. His pulled off his jacket, threw it aside and then pulled the white shirt over his head. Dean eyed him in appreciation but he saw his gaze linger on the scar on his chest. The place where Dante had reached inside of him and nearly destroyed the part of him that still felt for Dean.
Castiel ignored that memory. He wasn't going to think about Dante. Instead he looked at Dean, sliding his fingers between Dean's legs again and finding his clenching entrance once again. "There are many things you can't even fathom that I can do, Dean..."
"Like what?" Dean challenged.
Castiel gave him an approving look, a sideways smile before through pure Will, he summoned his power. Dean stiffened as a slick and watery substance penetrated him, softening the tight channel until it yielded easily when Castiel pushed two fingers inside. Dean squirmed and Castiel could feel every muscle in his body begin to clench. Castiel waited until he started to relax, waited until the thundering heartbeat began to slow. He soothed Dean, running his fingers up and down Dean's outer thigh until Dean calmed. He released a shuddering breath and let himself relax.
Castiel took the gesture as encouragement, pulling Dean by the hips towards him so he slotted to fit fully between Dean's legs. He unzipped, exposing himself before Dean, the head of his erection glistening with precome. Castiel edged closer, not yet close enough to penetrate, but close enough that his presence ought to be felt.
Dean stiffened again. Castiel laid himself down on top of Dean so that their chests flushed. Dean was shaking underneath him, his blood pumping faster than normal, his eyes closed yet again and his face turned away with his lips clamped tight. Castiel pressed his forehead against Dean's, again rubbing his outer tight, his wings wrapping around Dean, sliding underneath him like a second bed for him to lie on.
"Cas...I...I've never...I don't know...," Dean murmured incoherently, still not opening his eyes and looking at Castiel.
"Shh," Castiel knew this was not true and that Dean had done this before, many times and not just with Castiel that one time. That wasn't his first. Dean had moved with experience and expertise. But, of course, he didn't know that.
Castiel pressed his lips to Dean's exposed neck, lifted Dean's lower body with his wings enough to meet him in a single, but forceful thrust. Castiel sheathed himself inside Dean hip-deep. He heard Dean cry out in pain, felt the hot tear as it spilled from his cheek against his face. Castiel raised himself, wiped away the tear with a thumb, his wings massaging underneath Dean in a slow circle to soothe him.
Gradually, his body began to relax again. He sighed and reached up, grasping Castiel's shoulder to pull him down for another bruising kiss. Encouraged by the show of affection, Castiel began to move, building a slow rhythm of thrusts. Dean continued to tremble under Castiel, but his kiss was rough and hard, teasing as he bit into Castiel's lip instead of his own.
Castiel suppressed a growl, releasing Dean to grasp the sheets yet again. This time they yielded easily to his claw-like touch, tearing into white strips in his grip. Dean found purchase on his elbows, warmth on his icy skin. Castiel clenched his teeth together to keep from making any noise that might have broken anything unnecessarily. All the while, he buried himself deep in the warmth that Dean provided with each thrust, with each push and pull.
And yet still he wanted more. Every sense he had was tuned into Dean. The only thing he could truly hide from Castiel in that moment was his mind. That infallible mind that Castiel fought so hard to pry open and read for himself. That mind that had Dean speaking one thing out loud but thinking something else altogether. Here, naked, prone and vulnerable, Castiel saw everything. He truly didn't need to read Dean's mind to see it. Dean groaned and grunted underneath him with each pound Castiel laid on his body. Even now, he was still careful, knowing full well that his own bones were harder and made of something more. He didn't need Dean being unable to walk for a few weeks.
When he finally released, Castiel collapsed on top of Dean, his weight a little heavier than usual on him. But Dean didn't seem to mind, wrapping his arms around Castiel. Castiel remained there, lying atop Dean's naked chest, wrapping Dean in his own embrace of wings. For the first time, in perhaps ever, Castiel felt like he was completely content.