And the Moment Lingers On - DCBB - 4/6
Part 4
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Fools. Lucifer thinks to himself. All of them. Fools.
That foolish human, the one who looks so much like his brother Michael, haunting him no matter where he goes, he’ll have his head. He passes a picture of his family as he moves through the house and slams it to the ground.
And that stupid, stupid, angel. If he tries to cross him again, he’ll take his other wing too, kill him like he’s told the rest of them he already has. He cares for him, makes sure he gets his stupid little books, and what does he get in return, just more disobedience. Enough with the disobedience. Why are they all incapable of falling in line as they should? Why is he the only competent one?
“Thinking violent thoughts again, bro?” A would-be careless voice echoes through the chamber and he looks up at Gabriel and rolls his eyes.
“It’s none of your concern.” He turns away from his younger brother. “Don’t you have something you ought to be doing, some sweet shop with your name on it.”
“Well I heard rumors you were outdone by a human,” Gabriel smirks, “So I thought I’d come down and make sure the house was still in one piece.” He doesn’t cow at the glare Lucifer sends in his direction. “and maybe to remind you to chill. It’s one kid, not worth all this fuss. Guards around the cathedral, really?”
“I didn’t take you for a religious man.” Lucifer snorts angrily striding over to the window that overlooks the square. “Why should you care?”
“I’m not. And I don’t.” The younger angel crosses his arms and determinedly steps back into Lucifer’s sightline. “But I like my peace and you big bro, are on the verge of ruining it over this stupid monkey and the rest of his stupid monkey friends.”
“What would you have me do?” Lucifer finally looks at him directly. “Ignore his insolence, ignore that no matter how hard I try to crush them, they still spread like ants and infest the city?”
Gabriel looks at him, considers for a moment, and then nods his head. “Yep.” He steps closer. “Because I know you Luci, and you are going to push this, and push this, and you are going to push it right over the edge and I can’t let you do that. I love you, but I can’t let you do that.”
Lucifer rolls his eyes. “Always a flair for the dramatics,” He mutters and Gabe gives a little bow and disappears.
He’s about to consider his brother’s words, he really truly is, but before he can, someone else appears, unannounced and uninvited.
“What are you doing here.” He narrows his eyes. “You were supposed to be -”
“I know what I was supposed to be, oh your mightiness.” Raphael’s eyes darken, “And that is exactly why I am here, I just thought that perhaps you might want to know that your darling little obsession was spotted scaling the walls of the Cathedral some time ago, we tried to follow him but he managed to quite disappear. Clever little mud, isn’t he?”
“He what?” And with that, all of Gabriel’s words vanish, the whole conversation wiping itself from his mind. The menace is in his voice is barely contained, but Raphael doesn’t so much as blink. “We searched the place to make sure. He’s not there anymore. But I am not going hunting for him. You have your own men, oh Lord Justice. Have them do it.”
He’s gone before the flower vase shatters against his head.
“Balthazar.” Lucifer summons instead, pacing, and it takes the goddamn angel far too long to come but once he does, Lucifer ignores his lateness, ignores the glare, and the insolence because he’s too preoccupied right now. He won’t be made a fool of by this human twice. “All the guards, send them through the city, every human bring him to me. We’re going on a little hunt. We’re going to find him, we’re going to find them all.”
And hunt they do. He makes sure guards swarm everywhere, rides along with his men, searches every house and street he comes across. They move from the city quickly out to the country, where the houses are sparser and the roads are harder. But there are swiftly becoming less and less places for the man to be able to hide. Twice he’s sure he spots him, in the distance or maybe just in a damned dream. But the human is never there when they get closer and his anger grows with every false move.
“Somewhere,” He growls out from his horse, as the angels who live in this particular house cower in front of him, he’d pulled them out with little explanation, but he owes them nothing, he is better than they are, he is in charge and so they should accept. That is how it works. “He must be somewhere.”
Balthazar next to him hops off his horse and walks over to them, saying something in some soothing tone and leading them back into the house and somehow that makes him even more furious, even though he knows these angels haven’t done anything, not to him. But the damn human isn’t here and he wants to see something burn. This was the last house for miles and he’s damn sure the insolent bastard came this way. They’ve caught human after human in the raids, and he’s had Balthazar kill every last one of them. But not the right one. Never the right now.
“Burn them.” He hisses when Balthazar returns, tosses a bottle of holy oil into his hands and the other looks at him, something of a horrified expression gracing his features. He looks disbelievingly up at Lucifer.
“Burn them? What, they’ve done nothing.”
The sword is drawn before another word can be said. “Are you refusing me?” He asks calmly. Because there’s a simple answer to this and a simple response. He doesn’t care anymore about lessons and examples and the reason Balthazar is here to begin with, he’s tired of everyone disobeying him. He is the one in charge; they should all learn their place.
“Yes.” The bottle smashes to the floor, the oil spilling out of it seeping into the ground. “Yes, I believe I am.”
The sword swings without a chance for anything else to be said and the force of the blow sends Balthazar tottering back, grace pouring from him, and then down, unbalancing into the river. Lucifer doesn’t even bother to check if he’s fully dead, he should have done that ages ago.
---
He should go, by all counts. Should go now. From here the way home is clear and he has to get there, to let them know he’s okay, to lay low until Lucifer gets bored and moves on. He should not. Should not. Be turning around to look at fallen guard, unconscious in the river, floating slowly down to where Dean is hiding. Doesn’t matter if he owes him a favor or not.
He’s a damn fool. The arrogant bastard is probably dead, he probably deserves it. And it’s not Dean’s problem if he went and got himself cut down for disobedience by his master. He should choose better masters to serve. And still, his fingers are closing down around the angel and pulling him out of the water, the storm that’s been threatening finally coming down on them.
He looks more exhausted than the last time Dean saw him, his eyes closed, the cut on his chest gleaming silvery blue, but it’s not spilling out as worryingly as it was before. Not that Dean was worried. He figures that means the angel is still alive after all and does his best to drag him back under the bridge where he was hiding, out of the rain.
“Hey,” He sets him down, leans over him and slaps his cheek as soon as they’re out of the torrent. “Hey. Look I can’t lug you with me, okay. So wake the fuck up.” His fingers move to probe against the cut, not that he knows much about angel wounds, and for a moment he’s sure the man is really dead, but then there’s a groan, too bright blue eyes slitting to look at him.
“Could have - ,” The other’s lips barely manage to move, but the words breathe out all the same. “Gotten out of there myself.” He’s shivering now and there’s sweat glistening on his skin. Dean recognizes a fever when he sees one.
“Yeah, I’ll bet you could have.” He snorts back, lips quirking despite himself at the echoes of their first conversation, a ghost of a smirk plays against the blonde’s mouth. For some reason Dean can’t help but lift his fingers up and brush sweaty, wet, strands away from the other’s forehead. The man is soaked and he’s only getting himself all wet and still he moves closer.
“Don’t you,” The words are even less audible and Dean leans in, fingers still on the other’s skin, “have somewhere to run off to?”
Home, right, he does, he should. “And miss you groveling at my feet?” He looks from the angel to the open road and back. “Not in this lifetime.”
That causes a huff of laughter to whisper out of the other, but it turns into a wince midway through and somehow the shivers are getting worse. “Should go.” The slits are closing again, thunder curling through the sky. “Supposed to be dead now. Kill me soon,” He groans. “Either way.”
“Thought you’d be more like the one to tell me I’d better save your ass or else.” The words are measured, but somehow he doesn’t like this, somehow it angers him, this broken, tired, version of the angel. He liked the bright, annoying one better.
Another raw half laugh, half gasp. “Me too.” And then his head turns to the side, whimpering and Dean’s grabbed his hand without thinking.
“Why’d you toss the damn coin?” He asks out of nowhere, when the noises have died away, and the other breathes a little more evenly again. What he really means, is why’d you save me, but somehow, he can’t form that question.
“Thought you might be cute when you got angry.” The faint answer rises into his ear and he rolls his eyes. “and you were.”
Fuck it, Dean thinks, he can’t let him die.
---
Cas doesn’t really expect to see Dean ever again. Still from the moment the man leaves, he wishes that he might. The other’s warmth still playing through his memory, some strange...some strange attraction lingering...He thinks. He’s not too sure how these feelings work.
But certainly he doesn’t expect to see him so soon, not with all the guards still swarming through the city looking for him, with the killings that fill every corner. He’s heard the shouts rising from below, the slashing of swords, a now familiar noise to his ears. The army no longer surrounds the cathedral though, Lucifer seemingly decided Dean would run farther. Castiel, sadly, agrees with him. Coming back here, of all places...it would be suicide.
And yet here he stands, solid. Tired, but unharmed, right in front of Cas.
“Dean,” He’s on his feet, not sure how to feel. Half of him wants to scold the other, to ask him what exactly he means by coming back here. Is he really that foolish? Yet there’s a distinct sense of relief that covers all of that, that Dean is here, that he hasn’t managed to get himself killed. And it’s been lonely for him, the sudden appearance and loss of companionship, and without quite realizing it, he finds himself hugging the other. Something intoxicating about the touch, building inside of him again.
“Hey Cas.” Arms come around him again, and the rush it brings is almost electric, a sizzle of power that makes him feel larger than himself, but then just as soon it’s gone, and instead he feels Dean sag tiredly against him, as though relieved in his own right to finally find a place to rest. The phantom sensations fade away from his thoughts, because suddenly all that matters is Dean. He wants to ease away the worries, the exhaustion, the fear.
“Why don’t you come sit?” He suggests, after they’ve stood there for a while, trying to guide Dean towards the bed. “I haven’t heard very much, but I can only imagine it’s been a trying week.” The news of the chase had reached even his ears eventually, Lucifer’s rants and the murmurs of the priest. But continued news meant that Dean was continually safe, so he welcomed it, even as his stomach clenched with fear for the other.
But Dean shakes his head, no, and Castiel pauses, watching curiously as the other heads back out into the hallway and comes back half dragging...something, someone. He feels a little lurch because Dean is looking at that somebody with an intense concern, and suddenly he feels invisible again.
Dean carries the man over to the bed and Cas frowns even more. An angel, he realizes, and he seems...something echoes familiarly about the sprawled figure. But that can’t be right. He knows no other angels aside from Lucifer. But he is certainly not the blonde lying on his bed. Then Dean has crossed over too, looking a little torn as he looks down at him and then up to smile at Cas.
Perhaps he just doesn’t understand.
“Dean I don’t -”
“Lucifer got him while they were hunting me down, and I kind of, owed him.” Dean’s green eyes are on him now, fully. “And you said, here was safe.”
Safe for you, he suddenly wants to clarify his earlier words, but he doesn’t think Dean would be very pleased with that, so he only nods his head.
“I think it’s healing, but he hasn’t been awake in a while so...” And that worry, it makes his stomach twist in uncomfortable ways. Something suddenly vicious that he’s never felt before rising slowly. He shifts uncomfortably and does his best to swallow it down. If Dean likes this person, cares for him enough to risk returning into the city when all are hunting for him, that should mean something. “But I have to get home,” Dean’s voice breaks in, “so I thought you might, you could look out for him for a little while and you wouldn’t have to be so,” The arm gestures around him, at the empty room. “alone.”
But he doesn’t want to be not alone with this angel, he wants to - “Of course, Dean.” He murmurs quietly and the grin he receives eases something.
“Thanks Cas,” Dean crosses the room and a light kiss falls on his cheek. “I knew I could count on you.” Sudden fluttering warmth leaps through him, he almost reaches out, asks for another, wanting Dean back closer. But the other has already danced out of reach again, back to the bedside. His fingers curling around the prone angel’s and squeezing.
“Take care of your snarky ass,” Dean murmurs, “Don’t die on me after all this.”
And then he’s pulled away reluctantly, turned back to Cas.
“Here,” He moves closer again, takes Cas’s hand and presses something into it. A tiny golden amulet. He’s fairly certain it’s been around Dean’s neck this whole time. “There’s a map inside,” Dean explains. “To where we live. You can’t find us without it. So if either of you need me.” He’s stepped in closer again, his eyes dart back for a moment, but land firmly on Cas again. “If you need me, you’ll know where to look.”
This is important he realizes as he watches Dean, the serious expression in his eyes. Dean is trusting him with information Lucifer would slaughter for. He understands, he’ll keep it safe. He wants to say that, to assure him that he’ll take care with it, but he can’t come up with the words and stays silent instead as Dean takes another step in.
“I’ll see you.”
Dean’s even closer now, as close as when they were going down the side of the building, and he wants to… but then the man pulls away, rushes out of the room, and Cas is left with his walls and the angel. The room has never seemed lonelier.
--
When he opens his eyes, he has no idea where he is. Tall stone walls above him and, he winces, his head hurts. But it’s not, his brow furrows, not a particularly bad hangover, no something happened, something bad. Something that’s making his chest feel as though it’s been split open and his body heavy and sluggish.
And Dean, the image of the man comes swimming into his mind, Dean, where is he? Snatched moments come back to him, exchanging barbs and barely focusing, a horse maybe at some point? And a river, a sword, Lucifer. He tries to sit up, but his body seems to weigh too much suddenly. He’d been saved and now he’s …. somewhere.
“I would not suggest you try sitting.” He freezes at the voice, he’s dreaming, he must be. Perhaps he’s dead after all. “You still have some time yet to heal.”
But why on earth would there be pain if he was dead, but it can’t be, he doesn’t dare look up, fear that he’s just deluding himself, just letting another one of his false hopes live itself out, a bump too hard to the head. And still he knows he wouldn’t mistake that voice for anything.
“Am I dead?” He asks . Because that still that seems the only feasible explanation.
“Dead?” And the familiar bewilderment in the tone surges through him, but there’s something stronger about the tone now, the other moving closer. “No, I believe you are very much alive, Dean, he brought you to me. You’re … safe here.”
He chances a half glance to the side, and there’s brown hair, he can tell that much, and still he can’t bring himself to look completely. Has perhaps dreamed of a moment like this far too many times to accept it for reality.
He’s a coward anyway, too scared to look and find someone else sitting over him. But if it were...if it were him, wouldn’t he recognize? Wouldn’t he know?
“Are you?” The voice sounds softer now, it sounds searching, as though trying to remember something very distant and still so achingly familiar. “Are you alright?”
“I don’t know,” He finds himself answering, eyes closing - he wasn’t prepared for this. “I might be. But I can’t tell just now.”
“Oh,” He can almost imagine the expression on the face. “I think, are you…I mean” Balthazar waits patiently, but no more words come. He feels the man shifting next to him.
“Are you?” He echoes quietly, feeling the whisper of air as the person moves closer to him. “Who are you?”
“I -”
But before he can answer, Balthazar, ignoring the pain surges upwards and forces himself to look, doesn’t trust his ears, barely trusts his eyes, but it’s Cas, he knows that it’s Cas, and it, really, really, can’t not be Cas.
“Cassy,” He murmurs, reaching out, it doesn’t matter that his body burns, or that he feels some of the skin that had come glued together rip open again, it’s not important, not any of it. Because he has Cas, because Cas is back in his arms. And he’s missed him. Good God, he’s missed him.
The angel in his arms is rigid for a moment, like he doesn’t understand, and for a moment, he’s terrified that he doesn’t that he’s been erased somehow, but then the hands are moving to hold him too, gingerly, and they melt into each.
“Balthazar.” Cas murmurs thickly, as though he almost doesn’t know what he’s saying, snippets of dreams and faded memories working themselves into a whole. “I’d…I’d forgotten.” Too many days passing alone, nothing to hold onto.
And Balthazar just shakes his head lost for words before he manages to whisper. “I thought you were dead, Lucifer, he said -”
“Just gone.” Cas murmurs back. “Just gone away. I’ve only left here once and it was,” He buries his head in the other’s neck, still unable to comprehend this. That after all, after everything, all this time, there’s been someone missing him. Someone loving him. “Unsuccessful.”
Balthazar knows he needs to lie back down soon, the effort of sitting up quickly becoming too much, but he holds on, tucks Cas in closer to him, tightens his grip. Letting go seems…unbearable.
“And Dean saved me.” Cas whispers, Balthazar hears the longing whisper across the name. “He said he saved you too?”
’The angel’s lips quirk a little. “Well that’s how he tells it, anyway.” And he’s surprised by his own shock of fondness as he thinks of the other.
“Is there....” Cas asks suddenly, putting him gently back down on the bed, but reaching for his hand instead. “Is there something between the two of you?”
That’s an interesting question, certainly not the one he was expecting and Cas’s tone of voice, careful now, the want almost gone, makes him raise a brow. He squeezes Cas’s hand and watches something light up in the other’s eyes, like a spark of fire, like a flash of grace, but he can’t, can’t really feel any emanating from the other. Lucifer’s doing, he supposes, but tries not to dwell on it. “Perhaps.” He pauses, lips curling a little more. “ Is there something between the two of you?”
Cas squeezes back and it’s the first smile of Cas’s he’s seen in seven years.
“Perhaps.”
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