Darkness enveloped the forest that wind and rain threatened to tear apart. A crack of lightning scorched across the sky into a clearing, and in it appeared a glowing figure crouched low to the ground. The figure slowly stood, emanating a radiant light from the core of its being. Its features were difficult to discern, but one could make out a silhouette of a long billowing trench coat and glowing blue eyes aflame with intent. Behind the figure stretched two huge, inky black wings crackling with electricity, pulsing with the rainbow sheen of an oil slick, feathers blowing wildly in the swirling wind and rain.
Dean. Where are you? thought Castiel, Angel of the Lord.
Castiel was confused. When he had visited Dean before, he had appeared directly nearby. His light dimmed as he folded his wings behind him. "DEEAAAN!" He called out over the wind, searching for his friend. He could not sense his presence in the storm. He called out again, and then clutching his coat he pushed forward, through the trees.
This was not how it was supposed to work. Dean's conscious mind let him in. He was here to help, with permission. Panic caught in the angel's throat as he realized that, yes, Dean's conscious mind gave permission, but his subconscious was a whole other beast, a beast whose hostility Castiel could feel washing over him in angry waves. Out of the corner of his eye, Castiel saw something move, disappearing behind a tree.
"Dean!" Castiel called out. "Is that you?" His glow brightened as he moved toward the figure he glimpsed. "Let me help you!" He reached the tree and looked around it, blue tie flapping in the stinging rain. To his dismay, he saw no one. He squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose, a habit he had picked up from Dean. Dean , he thought, can you hear me?
Suddenly, Castiel could feel electricity streak up his spine and throughout his body. Nearly losing control of his senses, he felt long, strong fingers stroke through the sensitive feathers of his left wing. His knees buckled at a touch he had never before experienced in any form. From his knees he looked up as the familiar silhouette of Dean Winchester stepped in front of him, a barely perceptible smile creeping onto his face.
"Cas," said Dean lovingly, achingly. "You came for me." Dean reached out his hand for Castiel's and helped the angel up, and as Castiel felt the warm, calloused hand, his light grew brighter and his wings unfurled.
Still holding hands, Dean leaned into Castiel and whispered in his ear, "I can see you."
Tears welled in the corners of Castiel's eyes as he quavered, "Am I acceptable, Dean?"
Dean's breath was hot on Castiel's neck, overpowering the wind and the rain and the roar of the storm. "Angel, you're beautiful."
Castiel swallowed hard and nodded. He reached up to touch Dean's head with his free hand but Dean caught it and brought it back down. Lightning flashed and thunder boomed, and Dean had to yell over the wind.
"Not yet, Angel!" he shouted. "Let's enjoy ourselves first! Aren't I a good man? Don't we deserve something nice?"
Castiel nodded weakly, overcome with emotion. He was here, with his human, close for the very first time after years of angst. Dean held his hand and led him through the woods, through the storm, and after a few minutes the trees thinned out and parted, and Castiel could see they were at the base of a large hill, atop of which was a building with many windows and doors, and a neon sign that pulsed "MOTEL" in large, yellow letters. Castiel could see a sliver of light through the slightly parted curtains of one of the windows, and over the wind and rain he could hear the faint strains of music.
And if you listen very hard,
The tune will come to you at last,
When all are one and one is all,
To be a rock and not to roll.
Dean guided him to the shelter of a gazebo. The inside of the gazebo was somehow protected from the storm. The cold, stinging blasts of wind could not cut through whatever force shielded the two of them, and the inside was lit up by thousands of tiny fairy lights that pulsed softly to the beat of Castiel's heart, and his own glow began to match the rhythm.
"Do you want this body, Angel?" growled Dean alluringly. Castiel nodded, wide blue eyes aflame.
"Tell me I am good," Dean commanded authoritatively. He reached up to stroke Castiel's wings, crackling with ozone and swirling with color, and Castiel braced himself for the blissful burn about to arrest his heart, but Dean stopped short. "Tell me you don't deserve me."
"Oh, Dean," Castiel shuddered, head tilting back, long dark lashes fluttering. "I am not worthy."
Dean closed the distance between them, enveloped in Castiel's pulsing glow, lips brushing against his stubbly cheek. "Tell me you'll stay here forever, with me. This will be our place."
Castiel blinked and then blinked again. He pulled back slightly to look at Dean's face, brows furrowed. "Dean, we cannot stay here, this is your dream. All dreams end."
"Babe, we don't ever have to leave," Dean soothed. "You're mine now, don't you see?" Dean smiled and a table appeared, set for two, with hamburgers and pie and two beers. "It's hamburgers and pie forever, Cas. Just you and me."
Castiel cleared his throat. "There is more to life than hamburgers and pie, Dean."
"Oh, you want more?" Dean asked mischievously. He snapped his fingers and the flannel shirt and jeans he'd been wearing vanished to reveal blue boxer briefs and nothing else. His toned body glowed in Castiel's light, and he could see the handprint he had left on his friend when they had first met, when he had pulled Dean out of Hell.
"I am here just for you, Cas," Dean said, plaintively. "Please don't reject me."
This was not the proud Dean Winchester Castiel knew. Dean did not bargain. He did not plead. He did not beg others to validate him. If Dean chose him, it would be out of genuine love and desire, not weakness. He would not want Castiel in this way. His glow began to dim and his gaze shifted up the hill toward the motel.
Castiel's voice dropped low enough to scrape the earth itself, reverberating with righteousness. "You mistake me. You are not Dean."
"Of course I am," Dean purred. "Where do you think you are, exactly?"
"You are the worst of Dean. His faults. His insecurities. You are why he cannot let go." Castiel's voice was steeped in rancor.
Dean continued to smile and stepped toward Castiel, who backed against the railing of the gazebo. Suddenly, the force that had kept them warm and dry was gone and the storm cut straight through them both, extinguishing the fairy lights, disappearing the table and food. Dean remained unclothed and pressed himself into Castiel. The angel could feel Dean's want for him through the leg of his pants. He shuddered with pleasure and revulsion. Castiel could feel Dean's heart pulsing through the heat of his chest. He wrapped his hand around Castiel's tie as he pulled closer, and then spat, "If I am the worst of Dean Winchester, then what does that make you?" A large grin spread across the man's face and he chuckled, shoving the angel to the ground.
With that, Dean's posture shifted. His eyes were swallowed by darkness, and he paced around the angel aggressively. "You are nothing, Cas," he shot venomously. His voice was filled with contempt, his lips curled into a sneer. "You came here to help? Look at you! You're hopeless. Broken. Worse than me!" Castiel's light dimmed, his wings faded into shadows. "You love Dean Winchester? And this is how you show it? You can't even tell him from a shade."
The wind picked up and howled even louder, lightning flashed, and thunder boomed as the shade shouted, "You know NOTHING of love, and you know NOTHING of Dean Winchester!"
Castiel's mind swirled with righteous, inimitable anger. Slowly, he pulled himself to standing. As he rose, his glow returned, intensified until it was near blinding. His eyes exploded with blue, slicing through the darkness. He wings unfurled gloriously, filling the gazebo. His voice rumbled out, through the forest and up the hill, shaking the trees and the ground and the sky.
"DO NOT QUESTION MY LOVE FOR DEAN WINCHESTER."