SPN Reverse Bang: The Greatest Treasure - Part Two
Masterpost
Part One
Part Two
Time on board the ship passes quickly. Castiel thinks that is has something to do with the fact that he is always busy. From the moment he wakes up to the moment he goes to sleep, Dean makes sure that he has something to do. Most of the time, he's helping Dean down in the galley, but at least once a week, Dean has him swabbing the deck. Dean claims that it's because no one has the time and they need to keep the ship clean, both for practical reasons, such as hygiene, and to keep up appearances. Castiel suspects, however, that there is a third reason, namely that Dean likes to see him suffer.
Swabbing the deck is hard work and despite all the time that he has spent helping his mother at the inn, Castiel is unused to such physical labour. It always puts him into a bad mood, which isn't improved by the fact that Dean likes to sit around with a bottle in his hand and watch Castiel work, pointing out imaginary spots that Castiel has missed. For some reason, Dean's presence has a strange effect on Castiel. His limbs stop obeying him and he becomes much clumsier than usual, constantly fumbling and stumbling. It's embarrassing and Castiel doesn't want to embarrass himself in front of Dean. He has come to admire Dean and he feels the most ridiculous need to impress him. Obviously, that isn't going to happen while he keeps acting like a gawky teenager.
Fortunately, Dean doesn't seem to notice his mortification. Whenever Castiel does something stupid, Dean simply laughs and teases him good-naturedly. He'll then proceed to help Castiel clean up whatever mess he's created, all the while grousing about how good help is so hard to find and how he has to do everything himself.
Because they spend almost every waking moment together, Castiel and Dean end up talking about a lot of things. Dean tells Castiel a bit about his travels, although he is careful never to reveal too much about himself or his past. Castiel hasn't forgotten the dying man's warning and he is reminded of it every time that Dean waves off one of Castiel's more personal questions. It always puts a heavy lump in Castiel's stomach and he usually tries to ignore his suspicions. He doesn't want Dean to be that cyborg and so he tells himself that Dean can't be.
Because Dean obviously doesn't want to tell Castiel too much about himself and because any conversation they have about Dean ends with Castiel feeling as if someone has put a stone in his chest, they usually end up talking about Castiel instead. In return for those tiny glimpses of Dean's life, Castiel finds himself telling Dean everything. He tells him about his childhood on Montressor, with all the stories that he read and all the adventures he dreamed of. He tells him about his mother and Jo, and how they're waiting for him back home. He tells him about Gabriel and how he came to live with them. He even talks about his father.
Castiel has never liked talking about his father, even though his father is never far from his thoughts. He used to believe that it was because those thoughts were too private, but now he's beginning to suspect that it was simply because he had no one to talk to. He couldn't talk to his mother, for fear of opening up old wounds. The few times that he breached the topic with her, she looked so sad that Castiel couldn't bring himself to ask any more questions. He couldn't talk to Jo, because Jo was too young when their father left to really remember him. She may have some vague memories of him, but his leaving didn't affect her the way that it did Castiel. As for Gabriel, he's been through enough with losing his own parents. It would hardly seem right for Castiel to complain to him, when Gabriel has lost so much more than Castiel.
With Dean, however, there are no such concerns. Somewhat surprisingly, Dean is very good listener. He doesn't say much, but the way that he simply allows Castiel to unload all his thoughts, all his anger and all his feelings of guilt and insufficiency on him is more than enough. All his life, Castiel has blamed himself for his father leaving. He has always felt that if he had been a better son, someone that his father could feel proud of and would want to spend time with, then maybe his father wouldn't have left. If only Castiel hadn't been so boring, so caught up in his own fantasies, maybe Bill would have felt that he had a reason to stick around. It's left him feeling worthless and convinced that he is undeserving of anyone's interest.
Dean is making him re-evaluate those convictions, not as other people would, with empty words and reassurances, but through his actions. He treats Castiel as a friend, even when he treats him as his own personal slave, and he never shows any indications that he is weary of Castiel's company. Although he isn't the most patient of teachers, he still makes an effort to teach Castiel about life on board a ship and he seems pleased with how easily Castiel picks things up. He shows Castiel around the ship and teaches him to perform different tasks, even ones that aren't technically part of their duties. Whenever he takes the longboat out to buy supplies on some nearby planet, he takes Castiel with him and introduces him to many different cultures.
On some of those trips, he asks Castiel to fly the longboat. Castiel always eagerly accepts. He loves flying and he's good at it. It's one of the few things that he does better than Dean and he's always happy for the opportunity to show Dean that he's not entirely useless.
*****
“So who taught you how to fly?” Dean asks.
He's half lying in the bow of the longboat, watching as Castiel steers it back towards the Crossroad King. They've been to nearby planet, buying supplies. Castiel may have been showing off slightly, just to make Dean grin at him in that way he does whenever Castiel does something to surprise and impress him.
“My father,” Castiel says, “before he left. He was great at it. The best. When I was little, he'd take me with him sometimes. It was the only time we really spent together. As soon as I was big enough, he let me steer the boat. After he left... It was all I had left of him. It's the only thing I've ever been really good at.”
Dean snorts.
“Hardly the only thing,” he says.
Castiel loves the way he says it. It's not the same way that his mother or Gabriel says it. When they say it, it sounds comforting, like they're trying to reassure him. When Dean says it, it just sounds matter-of-fact, as if it's something so obvious that it barely needs saying. Dean never tries to coddle him or treat him as a child. He treats Castiel almost as an equal and it always makes something swell in Castiel's chest, like a hot-air balloon that could carry him into the sky.
“Back home, it was my way of escaping,” he confides. “Unfortunately, it was also what always got me into trouble.”
Dean laughs.
“You, a troublemaker?” he says. “I find that hard to believe. Not good little Castiel.”
He leans forward and ruffles Castiel's hair. Castiel glares at him and amends his own thoughts. Dean almost never treats him as a child.
“Better than you,” he says. “Bet you couldn't do this.”
He accelerates quickly, while performing a complicated manoeuvre with the longboat that has Dean shouting with laughter and gripping the railing, so he won't fall out. Only when they're flying alongside the Crossroad King does he slow down again.
“Fine,” Dean grumbles, but he's still smiling. “Frickin' show-off.”
There's a warmth in his eyes when he looks at Castiel that's apparently contagious. It spreads through Castiel's body, from his chest to his limbs, until he's almost feeling too hot. Unable to stand it any longer, he bows his head to break their gaze. Instead he concentrates on getting the longboat back into the ship's hold, through the opening in the ship's hull. He and Dean help each other secure it before climbing out.
Just then, the ship rocks violently. Castiel, who is halfway out of the longboat, loses his balance and falls forward, right into Dean, who's waiting on the small ledge beside the longboat. Dean's arms fly up to catch him and Castiel finds himself with his face buried in Dean's chest and Dean's arms around him. He can feel his cheeks flaming as he pushes himself away, muttering an embarrassed, “Sorry!”
Dean's grinning wryly.
“Don't worry about it!” he says.
The ship rocks again, and Dean and Castiel instinctively reach out to steady each other. Dean frowns.
“I may have spoken too soon,” he says. “Maybe we should be worried. What the hell is going on?”
With his hand still gripping Castiel's arm, he drags Castiel up the stairs to the main deck. The sight that greets them is cause for more than just worry. The star that's closest to them looks to be about to explode. Burning light moves outwards in circular waves, spreading to the air around it, which hits the ship and causes it to rock violently. Bobby and Crowley are both standing by the railing. Dean and Castiel run up to them in time to hear Bobby say,
“It's the star Pellucid! It's gone supernova!”
“Mr Winchester!” Crowley roars. “Evasive action!”
“Aye, Captain!” Sam calls back.
He's obviously struggling with the helm. The ship has been caught in the gravitational field of the collapsing star and they are being pulled in. Sam does his best to turn the ship around, but it is resisting all his efforts. Finally, Gabriel moves up beside him and grips the helm too. Together, they're able to wrench it around.
“All hands,” Ms Masters shouts, “secure your lifelines!”
The crew rush to comply, running to the main mast. A number of ropes is tied to it and the crew takes these ropes and ties the other ends around their waists. By now, the sky around them is a deep red, like the colour of blood. Leaning over the railing, Castiel watches in horror as the star finally explodes. A huge tidal wave of pure flame and burning rock rises up behind them, chasing them in their wake. Some smaller pieces of burning rock catch up with them and tear through the sails.
“Meg! Secure those sails!” Crowley shouts.
“You heard him!” Ms Masters calls to the crew. “Secure all solar sails!”
Castiel carefully makes his way out onto the narrow bowsprit to secure the staysail. Dean is behind him, moving more slowly with his cybernetic leg. Castiel has almost reached the luff of the sail, when he hears a shout. Spinning around, he sees that one of the rocks has cut through Dean's lifeline. Dean is flailing madly, having lost his balance. His eyes lock with Castiel's and the terror in them paralyses Castiel. Then Dean is falling, his feet slipping off the narrow beam.
“Dean!”
Castiel throws himself forward, heedless of his own danger. He manages to get a hold of the end of Dean's lifeline. Using all his strength, he manages to pull Dean back, until Dean's hands get a grip on the bowsprit and he can pull himself up. Trembling with residual fear and adrenaline, they both crawl back onto the deck and Castiel doesn't even think about it as he clings to Dean, so relieved not to have lost him. Dean is breathing heavily, but his arm is strong and steady around Castiel's shoulder.
“Thanks, Cas,” he says gruffly into Castiel's ear.
Castiel just nods and squeezes Dean's waist with his arm, unable to get any words past the tightness in his throat.
“Captain!” Crewman Brady's voice sounds almost panicked, calling down from the crow's nest. “Captain! Behind us!”
Castiel and Dean both get to their feet and run to the railing. Leaning out, they look towards the stern of the ship. A huge, burning rock is approaching too quickly for them to escape it. It's bigger than the ship and if it crashes into them, there will be nothing left of the ship.
“Mr Walker!” Ms Masters shouts to the crewman manning the laser cannons. “Blast it out of the sky!”
Mr Walker fires a number of rapid shots at it, but they are too weak to do much damage. The entire crew seem frozen in fear as they watch this boulder of death come ever nearer. Then suddenly, it stops. Instead of closing in on them, it seems to be moving away, backwards towards whence it came.
“Captain!” Brady calls again, sounding no less panicked. “The star! Look at the star!”
Castiel hears Bobby curse loudly.
“It's collapsing!” he shouts. “It's turning into a black hole!”
The pull on the ship becomes stronger and it begins rocking from side to side, as Sam and Gabriel use their combined to strength to keep it on course. It's obvious to everyone that they're fighting a losing battle.
“Captain!” Sam shouts. “We can't hold her. We're being pulled in.”
“Don't give up now, Mr Winchester,” Crowley calls back, “or we'll all be lost.”
Sam's reply is cut off when a large wave hits the ship, and he and Gabriel have to focus all their energy on keeping the helm steady. Crowley lets out a loud and inventive string of curses.
“Blast these sodding waves!” he cries. “They're too erratic.”
Bobby has been studying the ship's radar.
“I don't think they are,” he yells. “There seems to be a pattern. Come here, Crowley, and look at this!”
Crowley hurries over to Bobby and Castiel watches them both lean over the radar screen, obviously discussing something eagerly. A grin spreads over the captain's face and to Castiel's great surprise - and Bobby's, too, by the looks of it - he grabs Bobby's face and places a sloppy kiss on his cheek. He then turns around, surveying the ship and clearly looking for someone. His eyes fall on Ms Masters, walking towards him from the bow of the ship.
“Ms Masters,” he calls to her, “I assume all the sails are secured.”
“Every one of them, Captain,” Ms Masters confirms.
“Very good, Ms Masters! Now release them.”
Ms Masters jaw seems to hit the deck. Castiel really can't blame her, as he too stares at the captain in disbelief.
“Release them?”
It's the first time that Castiel has heard her forget to use the proper address. She sounds almost hopeful, as if expecting the captain to tell her that he was just joking or that she heard him wrong. Unfortunately, her hope is all in vain.
“Is there an echo here?” Crowley asks. “Yes, release them, Ms Masters. And quickly. We don't have much time.”
Ms Masters frowns and opens her mouth, but a look from the captain silences her. She shrugs and says, “Aye, aye, Captain!” before turning to the crew. “You heard him, you lazy maggots! Release the solar sails!”
There is a lot of grumbling among the crew and for a moment, Castiel fears that they aren't going to obey, but they quickly move into action. He sees Ms Masters rushing to help them, climbing nimbly up the ratlines. Then he hears the captain call to him, “Young Mr Harvelle!”
Castiel looks up at him.
“Yes, captain?”
“Make sure the lifelines are all secure! I'd hate to have one of them come loose just now.”
“Aye, aye, captain!”
Castiel hurries over to the main mast. He checks the lifelines by pulling each and every one of them, making sure they're all good and tight. They are all securely tied to the mast and he tells Crowley so.
“Very good, Mr Harvelle!” Crowley calls back. “Everybody, hang on. Mr Winchester, I trust you are ready?”
“Ready, captain!” Sam calls back.
He is standing at the helm, looking determined. Gabriel hovers beside him. Castiel recognises the mingled look of terror and excitement on his face, and he wonders what madness they have planned.
“Captain!” Bobby calls. “The final wave!”
Without Castiel noticing, Dean has moved up behind him. He pushes Castiel up against the mast and presses himself protectively against Castiel's back, so that they are both holding on tightly to the mast. The rest of the crew brace themselves as best they can, as the ship falls helplessly down into the black hole. Everything seems to go silent, as if the entire Etherium is holding its breath. Castiel cannot move, caught between the mast and Dean's solid body. All he can do is stand there and wait for what feels like an eternity. He can feel Dean's chest moving against his back with breath the other man takes and he closes his eyes, focusing on that steadying sensation.
Suddenly, the space around them seems to erupt in an explosion of light, coming from within the black hole. Castiel's eyes fly open as Dean presses even closer to him. Out of the corner of his eye, Castiel sees the explosion grow bigger and bigger, until its force pushes the ship before it out of the black hole. There are some startled cries from the crew. Dean curses quietly into Castiel's ear, but doesn't let go of him or the mast. Then, finally, the ship slows down and begins to sail more steadily.
After several long moments, Dean carefully moves backwards, still without releasing Castiel, and casts a glance over his shoulder. Apparently, whatever he sees reassures him that the danger is over, because he grins and steps back fully. To his surprise, Castiel finds himself missing his warmth at his back.
“That was some fancy sailing, there, Sammy!” Dean calls to his brother.
Sam merely grins at him from behind the helm. Gabriel rises to his feet beside him, apparently having been thrown to the deck at some point. He looks shaken and dishevelled. Sam looks at him and laughs, reaching out to ruffle his hair even more.
“Indeed,” the captain says, a rare note of admiration in his voice. “Not bad, Mr Winchester! Not bad at all.”
“Thank you, Captain!” Sam replies.
“Everyone accounted for, Ms Masters?” the captain asks. He gets no answer. “Ms Masters?”
Azazel appears at his side. His head is lowered, but his yellow eyes glow maliciously.
“I'm afraid Ms Masters didn't quite make it, Captain,” he says with an exaggerated note of regret in his voice. “Her lifeline seems to have come loose.”
Crowley looks shocked for a moment. Then he turns to stare at Castiel, who feels the bottom drop out of his stomach. He checked those lifelines, every last one of them. He knows he did.
“I...,” he says. “No! No, I checked them all.”
He turns back to the mast and checks the lifelines again, counting them again and again. Eventually, he is forced to accept the evidence of his eyes. Ms Masters lifeline isn't there.
“I did,” he says numbly. “I swear I did. They were all secure.”
“Clearly,” Crowley says coolly, “not all of them.” He bows his head and bites his lip for moment. When he raises his head again there is a hard look on his face. “Never mind. Ms Masters was a fine spacer and an excellent first officer. I'm sorry to lose her, but she knew the risks. Everyone back to their stations. We carry on.”
Castiel can't move. He feels as if he's still falling into that black hole. He can sense Dean's gaze upon him, but he can't bring himself to face him. A woman is dead and it's because of his mistake. Once again, he has proven what a failure he is. How could he ever have thought that just because he'd finally left home, things would change? He's still the same, still useless. Unable to bear the accusatory looks coming from the crew, he walks away towards the stern of the ship and finds a secluded spot in which he can hide. If only he could hide from himself, as well.
*****
Gabriel comes to find him almost immediately. He tries to talk to Castiel and tells him not to blame himself. Castiel only scoffs at him. Who else is there to blame? He appreciates Gabriel's support, as well as his obvious concern, but this isn't something that he can help Castiel with. Finally, he's able to convince Gabriel that he'll be fine; he just needs some time to himself. He'll find Gabriel if he needs to talk. It's obvious that Gabriel knows he's lying, but he also seems to understand the underlying message. Castiel doesn't want to talk about it.
After that, Castiel is thankfully left alone. He sits with his back against the railing and stares up at the stars. The morbid and self-punishing part of his brain wonders what it was like for Ms Masters falling into the black hole. Did she suffer for long or was it a quick death? He tries to imagine the terror that she must have felt and it makes him feel nauseous. Did she scream or did she realise that it was hopeless?
Now and again, a crew member walks past him. Most of them ignore him, but some of them throw him dark glares and mutter to each other. Castiel doesn't care. Their opinions aren't important. They're not the ones that he let down and he doubts that many of them will shed any tears over Ms Masters. Ms Masters ran a tight ship and she didn't tolerate any nonsense from the crew. Whenever someone misbehaved, she saw to it that they were immediately reprimanded. It didn't win her many friends. Castiel respected her, though. She may have been strict, but she was fair and she obviously knew what she was doing. And now she's dead because of him.
Night falls while Castiel is sitting there. They call it night when darkness falls, even though there isn't really any such thing as night and day in space. It's all to do with their proximity to the stars around them. At the moment, their closest source of light is a nebula, which casts a red tint over the ship and the sky around them. Most of the crew have gone below deck and the rest are occupied in other parts of the ship. Castiel hasn't seen anyone in what feels like hours.
There are footsteps approaching. Every other step is accompanied by a mechanical hissing, which is how Castiel knows who it is. He doesn't turn his head, but keeps staring upwards. Of all the people that he doesn't want to face, Dean is probably at the top of the list. Castiel doesn't want to know what Dean must think of him. He can't bear the idea of having Dean think less of him.
Dean stands over him for a while, looking down at him. Since Castiel isn't looking back at him, he has no idea what expression is on Dean's face, so he can't tell what Dean's thinking. It must finally become clear to Dean that Castiel isn't going acknowledge his presence, because he sighs and sits down on the deck beside him.
“Still sulking, huh?” Dean says.
It's probably the last thing that Castiel was expecting him to say. He's so shocked by Dean's insensitivity that he turns to stare at him incredulously. Dean's lips are twisted in a crooked smile, but his eyes are sad and, Castiel thinks, a bit worried. When Castiel meets his gaze, the other corner of Dean's mouth rises as well. He bumps his shoulder against Castiel's.
“It wasn't your fault, Cas,” he says.
“How can you say that?” Castiel asks, feeling almost betrayed. Out of all the people he knows, he thought Dean would be the least likely to offer him hollow reassurances. “Ms Masters is dead, because I couldn't even check the safety lines properly.”
Dean shakes his head.
“I don't believe that,” he said. “I know you, Cas. You wouldn't be careless with a job like that. If you say that you checked the safety lines, then you checked the safety lines. Something else must have gone wrong.”
Hearing the unwavering certainty in Dean's voice makes the tightness in Castiel's chest loosen slightly, even though he knows that he doesn't deserve it. He would like to let Dean believe that, because he craves Dean's approval so badly, but he doesn't want to get it based on a lie. That's why he feels compelled to ask, “Like what, Dean? What other explanation is there? The line wasn't there, which I should have noticed. Either that, or it wasn't tied properly, which I also should have noticed. However you explain it, I made a mistake and now a woman is dead because of it.”
To his great mortification, his voice cracks and his eyes fill with tears. He hasn't cried all day, because he doesn't feel as if he has the right to. Now he's breaking down in front of Dean.
“Just leave me alone,” he chokes out, desperate not to let Dean see him like this.
Of course, Dean doesn't listen. Instead he puts his mechanical arm around Castiel and pulls him closer, until Castiel's head is resting against Dean's shoulder. It does nothing to help Castiel keep himself together.
“Not a chance,” Dean whispers into his hair.
“I killed her.”
Castiel is sobbing now. The guilt is almost too much for him to bear. Almost against his will, he presses closer to Dean, as if he can shield him from the pain of that knowledge. Both of Dean's arms encircle him, holding him tightly. Castiel is almost sitting in Dean's lap and he buries his face against Dean's neck. Dean's real hand begins stroking his back soothingly.
“You didn't,” he whispers. “Please, trust me on this, Cas! I know you didn't kill her. I know you weren't to blame. Don't ask me how I know, just please believe me!”
There's something in his voice that Castiel can't quite identify. He sounds almost as wrecked as Castiel feels. For some reason, Castiel finds himself almost trusting him. He knows that he checked all the lines, but he's been convinced that his memory is deceiving him. If Dean tells him that there is another explanation, however, then maybe there is. Dean doesn't sound as if he's saying it just to make Castiel feel better. Still, there is that niggling sense of doubt that tells him that all other explanations are impossible. He shakes his head.
“Dean,” he says sadly.
He's stopped crying, at least for now, but he still clings to Dean, unable to let go. It feels so good to sit there with Dean's arms around him, his face pressed against Dean's skin and Dean breathing into his hair. His heart is pounding, his hands are trembling and his head is spinning slightly. Something brushes against his forehead, once and then again. Only after the third time does Castiel realise that it's Dean's lips. The realisation makes him clutch the fabric of Dean's shirt even more tightly in his hands. When Dean's lips touch his forehead again, he feels as if the spot that they touch is burning, spreading heat throughout his body.
“Dean,” he says again, sounding dazed.
“Cas,” Dean whispers. “Cas, look at me!”
Castiel doesn't want to move. He wants to remain as they are and he wants to continue feeling Dean's lips on his skin. Dean, however, seems to have other plans. The hand that has been stroking Castiel's back rises, until it's clutching Castiel's jaw and making him lift his head to look at Dean. The expression on his face is breathtaking. It's so soft and Castiel thinks he can read affection in it, but he doesn't dare to feel certain for fear that he's wrong.
“You've got to stop blaming yourself,” Dean says.
Castiel has the feeling that he isn't just talking about Ms Masters. He shakes his head and lowers his gaze, unable to continue looking into Dean's eyes. Breaking their gaze doesn't stop Dean from continuing, however, nor does he let go of Castiel's face. His thumb is gently stroking his cheek and jaw.
“I know your dad did a number on your head and trust me, I can relate. But you've got to let go of that. Whatever he did, it was all on him and none of it was your fault, just as Meg dying wasn't your fault. So enough of this guilt trip and this wallowing in self-loathing. You are not worthless, not even close. And if your dad couldn't see that, then screw him. His loss. Stop believing someone who never took the time to know you and listen to those of us who do know you instead.” His thumb moves, until its tracing the shape of Castiel's lips. Castiel closes his eyes and focuses on the sensation, barely listening to Dean as he leans close to whisper, “If only you could see yourself as I do, you'd never doubt yourself again. I don't even know what it is that you've done to me, what you are doing to me. Cas, you have no idea. I can't...”
Dean's final words disappear along with the distance between their mouths, crushed between their lips pressing together. Castiel can't suppress a gasp and it's echoed by a desperate noise in the back of Dean's throat. They begin carefully, with just their lips moving slowly against and over each other, but it isn't long before the kiss becomes more intense. Castiel has never kissed anyone before. He never dreamed that it would feel like this, like his entire being is reduced to his mouth against Dean's, Dean's tongue in his mouth, Dean's air in his lungs. He wants to get closer, wants to feel every part of Dean pressed up against him. His heart feels as if it's about to explode, growing too big for his chest. There are tiny, winged creatures in his stomach, fluttering around, and his entire body trembles.
Dean's hands move to grasp his hips. Castiel startles slightly when Dean's cybernetic hand grabs him, but he refuses to break the kiss. When Dean pulls at him, he goes willingly, until he's straddling Dean's lap. Lost in the kiss, he is barely aware of Dean’s right hand pulling his shirt free of his trousers. Suddenly there are fingers brushing against the skin of his back and sides. His head is swimming and he has to break the kiss to concentrate on just breathing. Dean’s mouth moves across his jaw, whispering against his skin.
“Cas.”
There is a question in his voice and Castiel answers it without thinking.
“Yes. Please.”
Before he knows what’s happening, he’s on his back with Dean’s body covering his own and Dean’s mouth once again devouring his. He can feel every part of Dean pressed up against him and he lets out a moan when he realises that Dean is as affected by this as he is. Dean’s hands are working on unbuttoning his shirt, but the cybernetic hand is not made for such a delicate task. When Dean fails to open a button for the fifth time, he lets out a frustrated growl, which would be amusing if it wasn’t so arousing. Castiel is as eager as Dean to feel skin upon skin, so he decides to take pity on Dean and opens the remaining buttons himself.
Meanwhile, Dean has managed to remove his own shirt by simply tearing it off his body. He pulls Castiel close, pressing their bare chests and stomachs together, and the sensation is almost too much for Castiel to bear. He bites his own lip until he almost draws blood, while his hands move as of their own volition across Dean’s back. When his fingers dip beneath the waistband of Dean’s trousers, Dean’s entire body shivers on top of him. Castiel traces the skin there softly, enjoying the soft noises that Dean’s making.
This time it is Dean who breaks their kiss. Castiel groans in protest, but he is silenced by Dean’s mouth moving downwards across his chest. Dean takes his time, mapping every inch of his chest and stomach with his lips and his tongue. Castiel can do nothing but lie back and try to bury his fingers in Dean’s short hair. If he could think, he would have trouble believing that this is really happening, but as it is, all thoughts are driven out by the intensity of his feelings.
Then Dean is tugging at his trousers, pulling them down and off his legs, until he is lying naked on the deck. Dean is sitting up and straddling his legs, while his eyes travel over Castiel’s body, quickly followed by his hands. Castiel can’t help but feel embarrassed. He has never felt more exposed and he is worried that Dean won’t like what he sees. Dean seems to read the anxiety on his face, because he smiles and leans down to kiss Castiel softly.
“You’re beautiful,” he tells him. “The things I want to do to you.” His eyes glaze over temporarily, as if he’s imagining it. Then he shakes his head and grins at Castiel. “But we’d need more time for that. Tonight, I just want to make you feel good.”
Castiel can’t exactly argue with that, so he simply nods, not trusting his ability to speak. The implication that they may do this again makes something in his chest both clench and relax at the same time. He can’t wait to find out what things Dean was talking about. Not that he thinks anything can make him feel better than he’s feeling right now. Dean’s hands and mouth are back on his body, slowly mapping it, almost possessively, as if Dean is marking him. It isn’t necessary. At the moment, Castiel knows that he belongs to Dean and that he will do so for as long as Dean wants him. With shocking clarity, he finally recognises what he’s been afraid to acknowledge until now: that he has slowly but steadily been falling in love with Dean.
He is so caught up in the wonder of this realisation that he completely fails to notice when Dean removes his own remaining clothing. The sudden sensation of their naked bodies pressing together brings him back to reality with a surprised moan. Dean’s skin is burning against his, a startling contrast to the cool night air. Castiel lets his hands move freely over every part of Dean that he can reach, wanting to touch all of him. Dean seems to approve, judging by the sounds he’s making. He’s moving downwards again, with more purpose this time, and Castiel knows what will happen next.
When he feels himself enveloped by the wet heat of Dean’s mouth, he almost whimpers with pleasure so extreme that it borders on pain. His head falls back against the deck with a dull thud and he forces himself to move his hands away from Dean’s body, for fear of hurting him. Instead he claws desperately at the wood underneath his fingers and concentrates on remaining as still as he can. It isn’t easy and he doesn’t quite succeed, but Dean doesn’t seem to mind.
With his body already so worked up and this being his first time, it is only natural that Castiel doesn’t last very long. He barely has time to warn Dean, who doesn’t pull away, before he’s sent tumbling over the edge. There are stars dancing before his eyes and he can’t tell which ones are real. He’s biting his lip to prevent himself from screaming and this time, he really does taste blood. The pleasure explodes within him, moving in waves throughout his body and reminding him of the star that they saw implode earlier. This time, however, there is no escaping it, even if he wanted to, and he is left drained and gasping on the deck. His entire body feels numb and too heavy to move, so he lies still and tries to remember how to breathe.
Dean has moved off so that he’s lying beside him. His shoulder bumps against Castiel’s, as his arm moves quickly. Suddenly, he lets out a low, drawn-out groan, as his entire body seems to convulse. Then he too grows still. When Castiel turns his head towards him, he finds that Dean is already looking at him. He is grinning hugely, but his eyes are soft and filled with undisguised affection. Castiel grins back, knowing that his feelings must be equally obvious and not caring in the slightest. At that moment and despite being so exposed, he feels absolutely invulnerable. As long as Dean is with him, everything is perfect. The pain and the guilt that he felt earlier are forgotten, replaced by a sense of calm and joy.
They put their clothes back on to protect themselves against the cold, then Castiel curls up against Dean’s side and Dean puts his arms around him. Lulled by the steady rhythm of Dean’s breathing and inhaling his scent with every breath of his own, Castiel quickly drifts off into sleep.
*****
Castiel wakes up to the sound of voices speaking quietly near him. It takes him a moment to remember where he is. It's obvious that he is outside. There is hard wood underneath him, a cool breeze blowing around him and bright sunlight penetrates his closed eyelids. Then the memories of the night before return to him. He smiles, but doesn't move. His body aches slightly from having slept on such a hard surface, but he's happy enough that he doesn't care. Even the thought of Meg can't cloud his joy, at least not entirely.
The voices that woke him are still talking and Castiel finally recognises them. One of them belongs to Dean, which explains why he's no longer lying next to Castiel. The other belongs to Dean's brother Sam. Sam sounds upset.
“What if one of the others had found you?” he's saying. “Dean, how could you be so stupid? They're already beginning to question the plan. If they knew...”
“What then, Sam?” Dean growls. “What do you think they'd do?”
Sam doesn't reply. Instead he asks, “You know what Azazel is saying? He's saying that you've gone soft. That you won't be able to go through with it. He doesn't think you have the nerve to do what needs to be done.”
“I see,” Dean says. His voice is low, dangerous. It sends a shiver down Castiel's spine. “And what do you think, Sam? Do you think I've gone soft?”
“Of course not! Don't be stupid! All I'm saying is that these men aren't like Dad's crew. They aren't to be trusted. If you give them even the slightest opportunity, they will stab you in the back.”
“You don't think I know that? Sam, you know what I've sacrificed, what this has cost me. What it has cost both of us. Dad, his ship, his crew. Do you really think I'd let anything stop us now that we're this close?”
“No,” Sam says. He sounds almost sad. “I don't.”
Dean sighs heavily.
“Summon the crew,” he says. “I'll talk to them. Remind them that I'm still their captain. I'm the one with the plan and they obey my orders. Not Crowley's, not Azazel's. Mine. And right now, I want to see them all in the galley.”
“Aye, aye, Captain!” Sam's voice is dry, but Castiel hears him walk away, obviously to obey Dean's order.
Castiel's heart is pounding and he can't bring himself to move. Dean is the crew's captain. Dean has a plan. Dean wants something and he's close to getting it. And Dean is a cyborg. How could Castiel have been so stupid as to trust him? He feels sick with betrayal and shame.
There is a long silence, during which Castiel focuses on keeping his breathing steady. He isn't sure whether Dean is still there, but he can't risk letting him know that Castiel overheard his conversation with Sam. Just when he's beginning to think that Dean must have left, he hears someone sigh heavily. Footsteps approach him and he senses Dean kneeling beside him. His heart leaps and for a moment, he thinks Dean's going to touch him, maybe even kiss him. If that happens, he truly doesn't know how he'll react. But Dean only sighs again and rises to leave. Castiel hears his footsteps moving in the direction of the galley. He remains where he is while he counts to thirty, then he gets up and hurries after Dean.
When he gets to the stairs that lead down to the galley, he discovers that he’s in luck. The crew aren’t there yet. Dean is the only one in the galley and he’s standing with his back towards the door. He’s leaning against the counter with his shoulders slumped and his head down. Castiel hesitates for a moment. His heart is beating so loudly that he’s sure Dean must hear it, but Dean makes no sign that he’s aware of Castiel’s presence. Castiel knows that this is his best hope of learning about Dean’s plan, so he makes his way down the rest of the steps as quietly as he can. With his eyes firmly fixed on Dean to make sure he doesn’t turn around, he makes his way over to one of the corners where there are a number barrels behind which he can hide.
He barely has time to find a position from which he can watch Dean unseen before he hears more people coming down the stairs. Immediately, Dean straightens and spins around. There is a hard look on his face that Castiel doesn’t recognise. He wonders if this is the real Dean and if the charming man that’s become his friend, and his lover, was nothing but a mask. He can barely bring himself to look at him.
Most of the crew have gathered now. Castiel wonders if they think that no one will notice that they’re all missing. If so, they are severely underestimating Crowley. Castiel doubts that there is anything happening on-board the ship that Crowley isn’t aware of. Then he remembers what Dean said about being the real captain and he’s forced to reassess that thought. Apparently, there are things that even Crowley has missed.
Sam is the last one to enter the galley and he remains standing by the closed door, obviously keeping guard. His attention seems divided, however, since he keeps sending Dean worried looks. It’s clear that he doubts Dean’s ability to force the crew back into line. Judging by the dark glares and angry mutterings coming from the crew, Castiel thinks his fears may be well-founded.
To his surprise, Dean is able to silence them all with only a sharp look. He is standing tall and straight with his arms crossed, surveying the crew coldly. His eyes linger for a moment on Azazel, who is standing near Castiel’s hiding place with an insincere look of polite interest on his face.
“Right,” Dean says loudly, “now that we’re all here, there are a few things that I think we need to get clear. But first things first. I want to know what really happened to Meg Masters. And don’t give me those innocent looks! I know one of you knuckleheads had something to do with it. So out with it!”
No one says anything. Castiel is holding his breath, partly in anticipation of the answer and partly because he’s afraid that if he lets it out, he’ll start screaming. So that’s why Dean was so sure that Ms Masters’ death wasn’t Castiel’s fault. It didn’t have anything to do with his faith in Castiel. He knew that one of his crew was guilty, but he kept quiet, knowing that Castiel would take the blame. Castiel feels as if someone has taken a knife and is slowly twisting it around in his heart. In fact, he thinks it would probably hurt less if Dean had taken a knife and literally stabbed him in the back. At least that pain would have been tangible and passing. Castiel fears that the wound caused by Dean’s betrayal will never heal.
Dean keeps glaring at the men that stand gathered before him, making it clear that he’s willing to wait until someone answers him. Hardly surprisingly, it’s Azazel who finally speaks.
“I was the last person to see Ms Masters,” he says. “She was aloft on one of the yards, working on releasing the sails. She must have lost her footing, because I saw her fall, and apparently, her safety line wasn’t all that secure. I tried to reach her, but I was too late. All I could do was watch her drift off into the star. As you can imagine, it was a horrible sight to witness.” He sighs dramatically. “Poor girl!”
Dean fixes him with a disdainful stare.
“In other words, you cut her safety line. Did you push her too?”
Azazel shrugs insolently. From where he is hiding behind the barrels, Castiel can only see half his face, but he can tell that Azazel is smirking. It makes his blood run cold to see the cruelty in the man’s eyes.
“Now, now, boy,” Azazel says, “you shouldn’t go accusing people without a shred of evidence. You’ll make a lot of enemies that way.”
“Captain,” Dean snarls. “You address me as captain and you obey my rules. How many times do I have to make it clear to you? We do not kill!” He walks forward, until he’s standing face to face with Azazel. “I’m of a mind to drop you off at the next empty planet that we pass,” he said in a low voice. “I don’t want murderers in my crew.”
“Your crew?” Azazel looks around at his crew mates. “I’m not so sure they are your crew anymore. It seems to me - to many of us - that you made a lot of promises, but you don’t seem to have any intention of keeping them. We’re beginning to think that maybe we should find ourselves a captain who is willing to look after our interests.”
“What the devil are you talking about? Do you seriously think that anyone else could have taken you this far? I promised I’d lead you to Treasure Planet and that’s exactly what I’m doing.”
“So you say,” Azazel says. “And we’re just supposed to take your word for it. Meanwhile, we’re working our asses off for that worthless piece of shit that calls himself the ship’s captain and you’re off making googly-eyes at that boy toy of yours.”
For a moment, the shadow of something that could be regret passes over Dean’s face, but it’s gone so quickly that Castiel thinks he imagined it. Instead, Dean looks contemptuously incredulous.
“Are you really that stupid?” he asks. “You think I’m doing it because I like the boy? Crowley forced the whelp on me; I couldn’t say no or it would have looked strange. I’ve been trying to keep the kid distracted, so he won’t suspect anything. Uriel must have warned him about me when he gave him the map. The kid knows a cyborg is looking for him. I think I’ve thrown him off the scent, but it hasn’t been easy. You have no idea the lengths I’ve had to go to. So don’t think for a moment that you’re the ones doing all the hard work. None of you could do this without me. I’m the one with the plan and I’m the one who can make it happen. That means that you do what I say. If anyone breaks my rules again, I will personally make sure that you never get anywhere near that treasure. Is that clear?”
The only good thing about that speech, Castiel thinks, is that at least he isn’t hurting anymore. He feels nothing now except hollow and numb. It’s as if all his fears, all his insecurities have finally been confirmed. He sees now how stupid he’s been. How could he have thought that someone like Dean would ever want someone like him? Of course it was all just one big lie, a ruse to gain his trust. Dean could obviously tell that Castiel was falling in love with him and he decided to use that to his advantage. What happened the night before was just the culmination of his manipulations and if Castiel hadn’t overheard his conversation with Sam, he would probably have succeeded. If Dean had asked him about the map, Castiel isn’t sure that he would have been strong enough to lie to him.
There is a lot of grumbling, but after a while, the crew members seem to grudgingly agree. They nod their heads and shrug. Dean and Azazel are still locked in a staring contest, but after a while, Azazel looks away, apparently conceding defeat.
“Crystal clear,” he says. “Captain.”
Another of the crew members clears his throat. Dean raises one eyebrow at him, while his eyes narrow.
“Not to question your plan, Captain,” the crew member says, in a tone that makes it clear that that is exactly what he intends to do, “but some of us are beginning to feel a little impatient. We’ve been waiting a long time and as Azazel says, all we have to go on is your word. How much longer before we can set this plan of yours into motion?”
Dean doesn’t answer straight away. It’s obvious that he’s thinking about how to answer the question.
Finally, he says, “Soon. Sam’s been flirting with the cousin, trying to gain his trust. I’m not ashamed to say that he’s been more successful than me. From what he tells me, we’re on the final stretch of the journey. Treasure Planet is close. So you all need to be ready, because as soon as we’re sure of its location, we’re taking control of the ship. You all know what to do. Just watch for Sam’s signal. And remember, no killing!”
This final injunction is met with more muttering from the crew. Azazel is shaking his head.
“It’s a bad idea, letting them live,” he says. “Not only does it mean leaving witnesses behind, but it makes us look soft. I say we kill them all and be done with it. It’d be neater and more efficient.”
Dean looks as if he’s grinding his teeth together. Despite everything, there is a part of Castiel that is still happy to see that Dean seems to hate Azazel almost as much as Castiel does. He’s aware of the irrationality of that reaction. Dean obviously knows what Azazel is like and he still keeps him on his crew. What does that say about Dean?
“One more death, Azazel,” Dean growls, “and the next one will be yours, I swear. I’ll throw you into the next star or leave you floating around in empty space. Don’t test me! Now get back to work before Crowley gets suspicious.”
Azazel’s face twists into a cold sneer, but he makes a lazy salute.
“Aye, aye, Captain,” he drawls.
The men head back up the stairs and soon the galley is empty, except for Dean and Sam. Sam looks nervous, but determined, as he walks up to his brother. Before he can speak, however, Dean cuts him off.
“Save it, Sam,” he says. “I don’t want to hear it.”
“Dean,” Sam protests, but Dean doesn’t listen. Instead he pushes past Sam and disappears up the stairs. Sam sighs, but has no choice but to follow up onto the deck.
Part Three
Part One
Part Two
Time on board the ship passes quickly. Castiel thinks that is has something to do with the fact that he is always busy. From the moment he wakes up to the moment he goes to sleep, Dean makes sure that he has something to do. Most of the time, he's helping Dean down in the galley, but at least once a week, Dean has him swabbing the deck. Dean claims that it's because no one has the time and they need to keep the ship clean, both for practical reasons, such as hygiene, and to keep up appearances. Castiel suspects, however, that there is a third reason, namely that Dean likes to see him suffer.
Swabbing the deck is hard work and despite all the time that he has spent helping his mother at the inn, Castiel is unused to such physical labour. It always puts him into a bad mood, which isn't improved by the fact that Dean likes to sit around with a bottle in his hand and watch Castiel work, pointing out imaginary spots that Castiel has missed. For some reason, Dean's presence has a strange effect on Castiel. His limbs stop obeying him and he becomes much clumsier than usual, constantly fumbling and stumbling. It's embarrassing and Castiel doesn't want to embarrass himself in front of Dean. He has come to admire Dean and he feels the most ridiculous need to impress him. Obviously, that isn't going to happen while he keeps acting like a gawky teenager.
Fortunately, Dean doesn't seem to notice his mortification. Whenever Castiel does something stupid, Dean simply laughs and teases him good-naturedly. He'll then proceed to help Castiel clean up whatever mess he's created, all the while grousing about how good help is so hard to find and how he has to do everything himself.
Because they spend almost every waking moment together, Castiel and Dean end up talking about a lot of things. Dean tells Castiel a bit about his travels, although he is careful never to reveal too much about himself or his past. Castiel hasn't forgotten the dying man's warning and he is reminded of it every time that Dean waves off one of Castiel's more personal questions. It always puts a heavy lump in Castiel's stomach and he usually tries to ignore his suspicions. He doesn't want Dean to be that cyborg and so he tells himself that Dean can't be.
Because Dean obviously doesn't want to tell Castiel too much about himself and because any conversation they have about Dean ends with Castiel feeling as if someone has put a stone in his chest, they usually end up talking about Castiel instead. In return for those tiny glimpses of Dean's life, Castiel finds himself telling Dean everything. He tells him about his childhood on Montressor, with all the stories that he read and all the adventures he dreamed of. He tells him about his mother and Jo, and how they're waiting for him back home. He tells him about Gabriel and how he came to live with them. He even talks about his father.
Castiel has never liked talking about his father, even though his father is never far from his thoughts. He used to believe that it was because those thoughts were too private, but now he's beginning to suspect that it was simply because he had no one to talk to. He couldn't talk to his mother, for fear of opening up old wounds. The few times that he breached the topic with her, she looked so sad that Castiel couldn't bring himself to ask any more questions. He couldn't talk to Jo, because Jo was too young when their father left to really remember him. She may have some vague memories of him, but his leaving didn't affect her the way that it did Castiel. As for Gabriel, he's been through enough with losing his own parents. It would hardly seem right for Castiel to complain to him, when Gabriel has lost so much more than Castiel.
With Dean, however, there are no such concerns. Somewhat surprisingly, Dean is very good listener. He doesn't say much, but the way that he simply allows Castiel to unload all his thoughts, all his anger and all his feelings of guilt and insufficiency on him is more than enough. All his life, Castiel has blamed himself for his father leaving. He has always felt that if he had been a better son, someone that his father could feel proud of and would want to spend time with, then maybe his father wouldn't have left. If only Castiel hadn't been so boring, so caught up in his own fantasies, maybe Bill would have felt that he had a reason to stick around. It's left him feeling worthless and convinced that he is undeserving of anyone's interest.
Dean is making him re-evaluate those convictions, not as other people would, with empty words and reassurances, but through his actions. He treats Castiel as a friend, even when he treats him as his own personal slave, and he never shows any indications that he is weary of Castiel's company. Although he isn't the most patient of teachers, he still makes an effort to teach Castiel about life on board a ship and he seems pleased with how easily Castiel picks things up. He shows Castiel around the ship and teaches him to perform different tasks, even ones that aren't technically part of their duties. Whenever he takes the longboat out to buy supplies on some nearby planet, he takes Castiel with him and introduces him to many different cultures.
On some of those trips, he asks Castiel to fly the longboat. Castiel always eagerly accepts. He loves flying and he's good at it. It's one of the few things that he does better than Dean and he's always happy for the opportunity to show Dean that he's not entirely useless.
*****
“So who taught you how to fly?” Dean asks.
He's half lying in the bow of the longboat, watching as Castiel steers it back towards the Crossroad King. They've been to nearby planet, buying supplies. Castiel may have been showing off slightly, just to make Dean grin at him in that way he does whenever Castiel does something to surprise and impress him.
“My father,” Castiel says, “before he left. He was great at it. The best. When I was little, he'd take me with him sometimes. It was the only time we really spent together. As soon as I was big enough, he let me steer the boat. After he left... It was all I had left of him. It's the only thing I've ever been really good at.”
Dean snorts.
“Hardly the only thing,” he says.
Castiel loves the way he says it. It's not the same way that his mother or Gabriel says it. When they say it, it sounds comforting, like they're trying to reassure him. When Dean says it, it just sounds matter-of-fact, as if it's something so obvious that it barely needs saying. Dean never tries to coddle him or treat him as a child. He treats Castiel almost as an equal and it always makes something swell in Castiel's chest, like a hot-air balloon that could carry him into the sky.
“Back home, it was my way of escaping,” he confides. “Unfortunately, it was also what always got me into trouble.”
Dean laughs.
“You, a troublemaker?” he says. “I find that hard to believe. Not good little Castiel.”
He leans forward and ruffles Castiel's hair. Castiel glares at him and amends his own thoughts. Dean almost never treats him as a child.
“Better than you,” he says. “Bet you couldn't do this.”
He accelerates quickly, while performing a complicated manoeuvre with the longboat that has Dean shouting with laughter and gripping the railing, so he won't fall out. Only when they're flying alongside the Crossroad King does he slow down again.
“Fine,” Dean grumbles, but he's still smiling. “Frickin' show-off.”
There's a warmth in his eyes when he looks at Castiel that's apparently contagious. It spreads through Castiel's body, from his chest to his limbs, until he's almost feeling too hot. Unable to stand it any longer, he bows his head to break their gaze. Instead he concentrates on getting the longboat back into the ship's hold, through the opening in the ship's hull. He and Dean help each other secure it before climbing out.
Just then, the ship rocks violently. Castiel, who is halfway out of the longboat, loses his balance and falls forward, right into Dean, who's waiting on the small ledge beside the longboat. Dean's arms fly up to catch him and Castiel finds himself with his face buried in Dean's chest and Dean's arms around him. He can feel his cheeks flaming as he pushes himself away, muttering an embarrassed, “Sorry!”
Dean's grinning wryly.
“Don't worry about it!” he says.
The ship rocks again, and Dean and Castiel instinctively reach out to steady each other. Dean frowns.
“I may have spoken too soon,” he says. “Maybe we should be worried. What the hell is going on?”
With his hand still gripping Castiel's arm, he drags Castiel up the stairs to the main deck. The sight that greets them is cause for more than just worry. The star that's closest to them looks to be about to explode. Burning light moves outwards in circular waves, spreading to the air around it, which hits the ship and causes it to rock violently. Bobby and Crowley are both standing by the railing. Dean and Castiel run up to them in time to hear Bobby say,
“It's the star Pellucid! It's gone supernova!”
“Mr Winchester!” Crowley roars. “Evasive action!”
“Aye, Captain!” Sam calls back.
He's obviously struggling with the helm. The ship has been caught in the gravitational field of the collapsing star and they are being pulled in. Sam does his best to turn the ship around, but it is resisting all his efforts. Finally, Gabriel moves up beside him and grips the helm too. Together, they're able to wrench it around.
“All hands,” Ms Masters shouts, “secure your lifelines!”
The crew rush to comply, running to the main mast. A number of ropes is tied to it and the crew takes these ropes and ties the other ends around their waists. By now, the sky around them is a deep red, like the colour of blood. Leaning over the railing, Castiel watches in horror as the star finally explodes. A huge tidal wave of pure flame and burning rock rises up behind them, chasing them in their wake. Some smaller pieces of burning rock catch up with them and tear through the sails.
“Meg! Secure those sails!” Crowley shouts.
“You heard him!” Ms Masters calls to the crew. “Secure all solar sails!”
Castiel carefully makes his way out onto the narrow bowsprit to secure the staysail. Dean is behind him, moving more slowly with his cybernetic leg. Castiel has almost reached the luff of the sail, when he hears a shout. Spinning around, he sees that one of the rocks has cut through Dean's lifeline. Dean is flailing madly, having lost his balance. His eyes lock with Castiel's and the terror in them paralyses Castiel. Then Dean is falling, his feet slipping off the narrow beam.
“Dean!”
Castiel throws himself forward, heedless of his own danger. He manages to get a hold of the end of Dean's lifeline. Using all his strength, he manages to pull Dean back, until Dean's hands get a grip on the bowsprit and he can pull himself up. Trembling with residual fear and adrenaline, they both crawl back onto the deck and Castiel doesn't even think about it as he clings to Dean, so relieved not to have lost him. Dean is breathing heavily, but his arm is strong and steady around Castiel's shoulder.
“Thanks, Cas,” he says gruffly into Castiel's ear.
Castiel just nods and squeezes Dean's waist with his arm, unable to get any words past the tightness in his throat.
“Captain!” Crewman Brady's voice sounds almost panicked, calling down from the crow's nest. “Captain! Behind us!”
Castiel and Dean both get to their feet and run to the railing. Leaning out, they look towards the stern of the ship. A huge, burning rock is approaching too quickly for them to escape it. It's bigger than the ship and if it crashes into them, there will be nothing left of the ship.
“Mr Walker!” Ms Masters shouts to the crewman manning the laser cannons. “Blast it out of the sky!”
Mr Walker fires a number of rapid shots at it, but they are too weak to do much damage. The entire crew seem frozen in fear as they watch this boulder of death come ever nearer. Then suddenly, it stops. Instead of closing in on them, it seems to be moving away, backwards towards whence it came.
“Captain!” Brady calls again, sounding no less panicked. “The star! Look at the star!”
Castiel hears Bobby curse loudly.
“It's collapsing!” he shouts. “It's turning into a black hole!”
The pull on the ship becomes stronger and it begins rocking from side to side, as Sam and Gabriel use their combined to strength to keep it on course. It's obvious to everyone that they're fighting a losing battle.
“Captain!” Sam shouts. “We can't hold her. We're being pulled in.”
“Don't give up now, Mr Winchester,” Crowley calls back, “or we'll all be lost.”
Sam's reply is cut off when a large wave hits the ship, and he and Gabriel have to focus all their energy on keeping the helm steady. Crowley lets out a loud and inventive string of curses.
“Blast these sodding waves!” he cries. “They're too erratic.”
Bobby has been studying the ship's radar.
“I don't think they are,” he yells. “There seems to be a pattern. Come here, Crowley, and look at this!”
Crowley hurries over to Bobby and Castiel watches them both lean over the radar screen, obviously discussing something eagerly. A grin spreads over the captain's face and to Castiel's great surprise - and Bobby's, too, by the looks of it - he grabs Bobby's face and places a sloppy kiss on his cheek. He then turns around, surveying the ship and clearly looking for someone. His eyes fall on Ms Masters, walking towards him from the bow of the ship.
“Ms Masters,” he calls to her, “I assume all the sails are secured.”
“Every one of them, Captain,” Ms Masters confirms.
“Very good, Ms Masters! Now release them.”
Ms Masters jaw seems to hit the deck. Castiel really can't blame her, as he too stares at the captain in disbelief.
“Release them?”
It's the first time that Castiel has heard her forget to use the proper address. She sounds almost hopeful, as if expecting the captain to tell her that he was just joking or that she heard him wrong. Unfortunately, her hope is all in vain.
“Is there an echo here?” Crowley asks. “Yes, release them, Ms Masters. And quickly. We don't have much time.”
Ms Masters frowns and opens her mouth, but a look from the captain silences her. She shrugs and says, “Aye, aye, Captain!” before turning to the crew. “You heard him, you lazy maggots! Release the solar sails!”
There is a lot of grumbling among the crew and for a moment, Castiel fears that they aren't going to obey, but they quickly move into action. He sees Ms Masters rushing to help them, climbing nimbly up the ratlines. Then he hears the captain call to him, “Young Mr Harvelle!”
Castiel looks up at him.
“Yes, captain?”
“Make sure the lifelines are all secure! I'd hate to have one of them come loose just now.”
“Aye, aye, captain!”
Castiel hurries over to the main mast. He checks the lifelines by pulling each and every one of them, making sure they're all good and tight. They are all securely tied to the mast and he tells Crowley so.
“Very good, Mr Harvelle!” Crowley calls back. “Everybody, hang on. Mr Winchester, I trust you are ready?”
“Ready, captain!” Sam calls back.
He is standing at the helm, looking determined. Gabriel hovers beside him. Castiel recognises the mingled look of terror and excitement on his face, and he wonders what madness they have planned.
“Captain!” Bobby calls. “The final wave!”
Without Castiel noticing, Dean has moved up behind him. He pushes Castiel up against the mast and presses himself protectively against Castiel's back, so that they are both holding on tightly to the mast. The rest of the crew brace themselves as best they can, as the ship falls helplessly down into the black hole. Everything seems to go silent, as if the entire Etherium is holding its breath. Castiel cannot move, caught between the mast and Dean's solid body. All he can do is stand there and wait for what feels like an eternity. He can feel Dean's chest moving against his back with breath the other man takes and he closes his eyes, focusing on that steadying sensation.
Suddenly, the space around them seems to erupt in an explosion of light, coming from within the black hole. Castiel's eyes fly open as Dean presses even closer to him. Out of the corner of his eye, Castiel sees the explosion grow bigger and bigger, until its force pushes the ship before it out of the black hole. There are some startled cries from the crew. Dean curses quietly into Castiel's ear, but doesn't let go of him or the mast. Then, finally, the ship slows down and begins to sail more steadily.
After several long moments, Dean carefully moves backwards, still without releasing Castiel, and casts a glance over his shoulder. Apparently, whatever he sees reassures him that the danger is over, because he grins and steps back fully. To his surprise, Castiel finds himself missing his warmth at his back.
“That was some fancy sailing, there, Sammy!” Dean calls to his brother.
Sam merely grins at him from behind the helm. Gabriel rises to his feet beside him, apparently having been thrown to the deck at some point. He looks shaken and dishevelled. Sam looks at him and laughs, reaching out to ruffle his hair even more.
“Indeed,” the captain says, a rare note of admiration in his voice. “Not bad, Mr Winchester! Not bad at all.”
“Thank you, Captain!” Sam replies.
“Everyone accounted for, Ms Masters?” the captain asks. He gets no answer. “Ms Masters?”
Azazel appears at his side. His head is lowered, but his yellow eyes glow maliciously.
“I'm afraid Ms Masters didn't quite make it, Captain,” he says with an exaggerated note of regret in his voice. “Her lifeline seems to have come loose.”
Crowley looks shocked for a moment. Then he turns to stare at Castiel, who feels the bottom drop out of his stomach. He checked those lifelines, every last one of them. He knows he did.
“I...,” he says. “No! No, I checked them all.”
He turns back to the mast and checks the lifelines again, counting them again and again. Eventually, he is forced to accept the evidence of his eyes. Ms Masters lifeline isn't there.
“I did,” he says numbly. “I swear I did. They were all secure.”
“Clearly,” Crowley says coolly, “not all of them.” He bows his head and bites his lip for moment. When he raises his head again there is a hard look on his face. “Never mind. Ms Masters was a fine spacer and an excellent first officer. I'm sorry to lose her, but she knew the risks. Everyone back to their stations. We carry on.”
Castiel can't move. He feels as if he's still falling into that black hole. He can sense Dean's gaze upon him, but he can't bring himself to face him. A woman is dead and it's because of his mistake. Once again, he has proven what a failure he is. How could he ever have thought that just because he'd finally left home, things would change? He's still the same, still useless. Unable to bear the accusatory looks coming from the crew, he walks away towards the stern of the ship and finds a secluded spot in which he can hide. If only he could hide from himself, as well.
*****
Gabriel comes to find him almost immediately. He tries to talk to Castiel and tells him not to blame himself. Castiel only scoffs at him. Who else is there to blame? He appreciates Gabriel's support, as well as his obvious concern, but this isn't something that he can help Castiel with. Finally, he's able to convince Gabriel that he'll be fine; he just needs some time to himself. He'll find Gabriel if he needs to talk. It's obvious that Gabriel knows he's lying, but he also seems to understand the underlying message. Castiel doesn't want to talk about it.
After that, Castiel is thankfully left alone. He sits with his back against the railing and stares up at the stars. The morbid and self-punishing part of his brain wonders what it was like for Ms Masters falling into the black hole. Did she suffer for long or was it a quick death? He tries to imagine the terror that she must have felt and it makes him feel nauseous. Did she scream or did she realise that it was hopeless?
Now and again, a crew member walks past him. Most of them ignore him, but some of them throw him dark glares and mutter to each other. Castiel doesn't care. Their opinions aren't important. They're not the ones that he let down and he doubts that many of them will shed any tears over Ms Masters. Ms Masters ran a tight ship and she didn't tolerate any nonsense from the crew. Whenever someone misbehaved, she saw to it that they were immediately reprimanded. It didn't win her many friends. Castiel respected her, though. She may have been strict, but she was fair and she obviously knew what she was doing. And now she's dead because of him.
Night falls while Castiel is sitting there. They call it night when darkness falls, even though there isn't really any such thing as night and day in space. It's all to do with their proximity to the stars around them. At the moment, their closest source of light is a nebula, which casts a red tint over the ship and the sky around them. Most of the crew have gone below deck and the rest are occupied in other parts of the ship. Castiel hasn't seen anyone in what feels like hours.
There are footsteps approaching. Every other step is accompanied by a mechanical hissing, which is how Castiel knows who it is. He doesn't turn his head, but keeps staring upwards. Of all the people that he doesn't want to face, Dean is probably at the top of the list. Castiel doesn't want to know what Dean must think of him. He can't bear the idea of having Dean think less of him.
Dean stands over him for a while, looking down at him. Since Castiel isn't looking back at him, he has no idea what expression is on Dean's face, so he can't tell what Dean's thinking. It must finally become clear to Dean that Castiel isn't going acknowledge his presence, because he sighs and sits down on the deck beside him.
“Still sulking, huh?” Dean says.
It's probably the last thing that Castiel was expecting him to say. He's so shocked by Dean's insensitivity that he turns to stare at him incredulously. Dean's lips are twisted in a crooked smile, but his eyes are sad and, Castiel thinks, a bit worried. When Castiel meets his gaze, the other corner of Dean's mouth rises as well. He bumps his shoulder against Castiel's.
“It wasn't your fault, Cas,” he says.
“How can you say that?” Castiel asks, feeling almost betrayed. Out of all the people he knows, he thought Dean would be the least likely to offer him hollow reassurances. “Ms Masters is dead, because I couldn't even check the safety lines properly.”
Dean shakes his head.
“I don't believe that,” he said. “I know you, Cas. You wouldn't be careless with a job like that. If you say that you checked the safety lines, then you checked the safety lines. Something else must have gone wrong.”
Hearing the unwavering certainty in Dean's voice makes the tightness in Castiel's chest loosen slightly, even though he knows that he doesn't deserve it. He would like to let Dean believe that, because he craves Dean's approval so badly, but he doesn't want to get it based on a lie. That's why he feels compelled to ask, “Like what, Dean? What other explanation is there? The line wasn't there, which I should have noticed. Either that, or it wasn't tied properly, which I also should have noticed. However you explain it, I made a mistake and now a woman is dead because of it.”
To his great mortification, his voice cracks and his eyes fill with tears. He hasn't cried all day, because he doesn't feel as if he has the right to. Now he's breaking down in front of Dean.
“Just leave me alone,” he chokes out, desperate not to let Dean see him like this.
Of course, Dean doesn't listen. Instead he puts his mechanical arm around Castiel and pulls him closer, until Castiel's head is resting against Dean's shoulder. It does nothing to help Castiel keep himself together.
“Not a chance,” Dean whispers into his hair.
“I killed her.”
Castiel is sobbing now. The guilt is almost too much for him to bear. Almost against his will, he presses closer to Dean, as if he can shield him from the pain of that knowledge. Both of Dean's arms encircle him, holding him tightly. Castiel is almost sitting in Dean's lap and he buries his face against Dean's neck. Dean's real hand begins stroking his back soothingly.
“You didn't,” he whispers. “Please, trust me on this, Cas! I know you didn't kill her. I know you weren't to blame. Don't ask me how I know, just please believe me!”
There's something in his voice that Castiel can't quite identify. He sounds almost as wrecked as Castiel feels. For some reason, Castiel finds himself almost trusting him. He knows that he checked all the lines, but he's been convinced that his memory is deceiving him. If Dean tells him that there is another explanation, however, then maybe there is. Dean doesn't sound as if he's saying it just to make Castiel feel better. Still, there is that niggling sense of doubt that tells him that all other explanations are impossible. He shakes his head.
“Dean,” he says sadly.
He's stopped crying, at least for now, but he still clings to Dean, unable to let go. It feels so good to sit there with Dean's arms around him, his face pressed against Dean's skin and Dean breathing into his hair. His heart is pounding, his hands are trembling and his head is spinning slightly. Something brushes against his forehead, once and then again. Only after the third time does Castiel realise that it's Dean's lips. The realisation makes him clutch the fabric of Dean's shirt even more tightly in his hands. When Dean's lips touch his forehead again, he feels as if the spot that they touch is burning, spreading heat throughout his body.
“Dean,” he says again, sounding dazed.
“Cas,” Dean whispers. “Cas, look at me!”
Castiel doesn't want to move. He wants to remain as they are and he wants to continue feeling Dean's lips on his skin. Dean, however, seems to have other plans. The hand that has been stroking Castiel's back rises, until it's clutching Castiel's jaw and making him lift his head to look at Dean. The expression on his face is breathtaking. It's so soft and Castiel thinks he can read affection in it, but he doesn't dare to feel certain for fear that he's wrong.
“You've got to stop blaming yourself,” Dean says.
Castiel has the feeling that he isn't just talking about Ms Masters. He shakes his head and lowers his gaze, unable to continue looking into Dean's eyes. Breaking their gaze doesn't stop Dean from continuing, however, nor does he let go of Castiel's face. His thumb is gently stroking his cheek and jaw.
“I know your dad did a number on your head and trust me, I can relate. But you've got to let go of that. Whatever he did, it was all on him and none of it was your fault, just as Meg dying wasn't your fault. So enough of this guilt trip and this wallowing in self-loathing. You are not worthless, not even close. And if your dad couldn't see that, then screw him. His loss. Stop believing someone who never took the time to know you and listen to those of us who do know you instead.” His thumb moves, until its tracing the shape of Castiel's lips. Castiel closes his eyes and focuses on the sensation, barely listening to Dean as he leans close to whisper, “If only you could see yourself as I do, you'd never doubt yourself again. I don't even know what it is that you've done to me, what you are doing to me. Cas, you have no idea. I can't...”
Dean's final words disappear along with the distance between their mouths, crushed between their lips pressing together. Castiel can't suppress a gasp and it's echoed by a desperate noise in the back of Dean's throat. They begin carefully, with just their lips moving slowly against and over each other, but it isn't long before the kiss becomes more intense. Castiel has never kissed anyone before. He never dreamed that it would feel like this, like his entire being is reduced to his mouth against Dean's, Dean's tongue in his mouth, Dean's air in his lungs. He wants to get closer, wants to feel every part of Dean pressed up against him. His heart feels as if it's about to explode, growing too big for his chest. There are tiny, winged creatures in his stomach, fluttering around, and his entire body trembles.
Dean's hands move to grasp his hips. Castiel startles slightly when Dean's cybernetic hand grabs him, but he refuses to break the kiss. When Dean pulls at him, he goes willingly, until he's straddling Dean's lap. Lost in the kiss, he is barely aware of Dean’s right hand pulling his shirt free of his trousers. Suddenly there are fingers brushing against the skin of his back and sides. His head is swimming and he has to break the kiss to concentrate on just breathing. Dean’s mouth moves across his jaw, whispering against his skin.
“Cas.”
There is a question in his voice and Castiel answers it without thinking.
“Yes. Please.”
Before he knows what’s happening, he’s on his back with Dean’s body covering his own and Dean’s mouth once again devouring his. He can feel every part of Dean pressed up against him and he lets out a moan when he realises that Dean is as affected by this as he is. Dean’s hands are working on unbuttoning his shirt, but the cybernetic hand is not made for such a delicate task. When Dean fails to open a button for the fifth time, he lets out a frustrated growl, which would be amusing if it wasn’t so arousing. Castiel is as eager as Dean to feel skin upon skin, so he decides to take pity on Dean and opens the remaining buttons himself.
Meanwhile, Dean has managed to remove his own shirt by simply tearing it off his body. He pulls Castiel close, pressing their bare chests and stomachs together, and the sensation is almost too much for Castiel to bear. He bites his own lip until he almost draws blood, while his hands move as of their own volition across Dean’s back. When his fingers dip beneath the waistband of Dean’s trousers, Dean’s entire body shivers on top of him. Castiel traces the skin there softly, enjoying the soft noises that Dean’s making.
This time it is Dean who breaks their kiss. Castiel groans in protest, but he is silenced by Dean’s mouth moving downwards across his chest. Dean takes his time, mapping every inch of his chest and stomach with his lips and his tongue. Castiel can do nothing but lie back and try to bury his fingers in Dean’s short hair. If he could think, he would have trouble believing that this is really happening, but as it is, all thoughts are driven out by the intensity of his feelings.
Then Dean is tugging at his trousers, pulling them down and off his legs, until he is lying naked on the deck. Dean is sitting up and straddling his legs, while his eyes travel over Castiel’s body, quickly followed by his hands. Castiel can’t help but feel embarrassed. He has never felt more exposed and he is worried that Dean won’t like what he sees. Dean seems to read the anxiety on his face, because he smiles and leans down to kiss Castiel softly.
“You’re beautiful,” he tells him. “The things I want to do to you.” His eyes glaze over temporarily, as if he’s imagining it. Then he shakes his head and grins at Castiel. “But we’d need more time for that. Tonight, I just want to make you feel good.”
Castiel can’t exactly argue with that, so he simply nods, not trusting his ability to speak. The implication that they may do this again makes something in his chest both clench and relax at the same time. He can’t wait to find out what things Dean was talking about. Not that he thinks anything can make him feel better than he’s feeling right now. Dean’s hands and mouth are back on his body, slowly mapping it, almost possessively, as if Dean is marking him. It isn’t necessary. At the moment, Castiel knows that he belongs to Dean and that he will do so for as long as Dean wants him. With shocking clarity, he finally recognises what he’s been afraid to acknowledge until now: that he has slowly but steadily been falling in love with Dean.
He is so caught up in the wonder of this realisation that he completely fails to notice when Dean removes his own remaining clothing. The sudden sensation of their naked bodies pressing together brings him back to reality with a surprised moan. Dean’s skin is burning against his, a startling contrast to the cool night air. Castiel lets his hands move freely over every part of Dean that he can reach, wanting to touch all of him. Dean seems to approve, judging by the sounds he’s making. He’s moving downwards again, with more purpose this time, and Castiel knows what will happen next.
When he feels himself enveloped by the wet heat of Dean’s mouth, he almost whimpers with pleasure so extreme that it borders on pain. His head falls back against the deck with a dull thud and he forces himself to move his hands away from Dean’s body, for fear of hurting him. Instead he claws desperately at the wood underneath his fingers and concentrates on remaining as still as he can. It isn’t easy and he doesn’t quite succeed, but Dean doesn’t seem to mind.
With his body already so worked up and this being his first time, it is only natural that Castiel doesn’t last very long. He barely has time to warn Dean, who doesn’t pull away, before he’s sent tumbling over the edge. There are stars dancing before his eyes and he can’t tell which ones are real. He’s biting his lip to prevent himself from screaming and this time, he really does taste blood. The pleasure explodes within him, moving in waves throughout his body and reminding him of the star that they saw implode earlier. This time, however, there is no escaping it, even if he wanted to, and he is left drained and gasping on the deck. His entire body feels numb and too heavy to move, so he lies still and tries to remember how to breathe.
Dean has moved off so that he’s lying beside him. His shoulder bumps against Castiel’s, as his arm moves quickly. Suddenly, he lets out a low, drawn-out groan, as his entire body seems to convulse. Then he too grows still. When Castiel turns his head towards him, he finds that Dean is already looking at him. He is grinning hugely, but his eyes are soft and filled with undisguised affection. Castiel grins back, knowing that his feelings must be equally obvious and not caring in the slightest. At that moment and despite being so exposed, he feels absolutely invulnerable. As long as Dean is with him, everything is perfect. The pain and the guilt that he felt earlier are forgotten, replaced by a sense of calm and joy.
They put their clothes back on to protect themselves against the cold, then Castiel curls up against Dean’s side and Dean puts his arms around him. Lulled by the steady rhythm of Dean’s breathing and inhaling his scent with every breath of his own, Castiel quickly drifts off into sleep.
*****
Castiel wakes up to the sound of voices speaking quietly near him. It takes him a moment to remember where he is. It's obvious that he is outside. There is hard wood underneath him, a cool breeze blowing around him and bright sunlight penetrates his closed eyelids. Then the memories of the night before return to him. He smiles, but doesn't move. His body aches slightly from having slept on such a hard surface, but he's happy enough that he doesn't care. Even the thought of Meg can't cloud his joy, at least not entirely.
The voices that woke him are still talking and Castiel finally recognises them. One of them belongs to Dean, which explains why he's no longer lying next to Castiel. The other belongs to Dean's brother Sam. Sam sounds upset.
“What if one of the others had found you?” he's saying. “Dean, how could you be so stupid? They're already beginning to question the plan. If they knew...”
“What then, Sam?” Dean growls. “What do you think they'd do?”
Sam doesn't reply. Instead he asks, “You know what Azazel is saying? He's saying that you've gone soft. That you won't be able to go through with it. He doesn't think you have the nerve to do what needs to be done.”
“I see,” Dean says. His voice is low, dangerous. It sends a shiver down Castiel's spine. “And what do you think, Sam? Do you think I've gone soft?”
“Of course not! Don't be stupid! All I'm saying is that these men aren't like Dad's crew. They aren't to be trusted. If you give them even the slightest opportunity, they will stab you in the back.”
“You don't think I know that? Sam, you know what I've sacrificed, what this has cost me. What it has cost both of us. Dad, his ship, his crew. Do you really think I'd let anything stop us now that we're this close?”
“No,” Sam says. He sounds almost sad. “I don't.”
Dean sighs heavily.
“Summon the crew,” he says. “I'll talk to them. Remind them that I'm still their captain. I'm the one with the plan and they obey my orders. Not Crowley's, not Azazel's. Mine. And right now, I want to see them all in the galley.”
“Aye, aye, Captain!” Sam's voice is dry, but Castiel hears him walk away, obviously to obey Dean's order.
Castiel's heart is pounding and he can't bring himself to move. Dean is the crew's captain. Dean has a plan. Dean wants something and he's close to getting it. And Dean is a cyborg. How could Castiel have been so stupid as to trust him? He feels sick with betrayal and shame.
There is a long silence, during which Castiel focuses on keeping his breathing steady. He isn't sure whether Dean is still there, but he can't risk letting him know that Castiel overheard his conversation with Sam. Just when he's beginning to think that Dean must have left, he hears someone sigh heavily. Footsteps approach him and he senses Dean kneeling beside him. His heart leaps and for a moment, he thinks Dean's going to touch him, maybe even kiss him. If that happens, he truly doesn't know how he'll react. But Dean only sighs again and rises to leave. Castiel hears his footsteps moving in the direction of the galley. He remains where he is while he counts to thirty, then he gets up and hurries after Dean.
When he gets to the stairs that lead down to the galley, he discovers that he’s in luck. The crew aren’t there yet. Dean is the only one in the galley and he’s standing with his back towards the door. He’s leaning against the counter with his shoulders slumped and his head down. Castiel hesitates for a moment. His heart is beating so loudly that he’s sure Dean must hear it, but Dean makes no sign that he’s aware of Castiel’s presence. Castiel knows that this is his best hope of learning about Dean’s plan, so he makes his way down the rest of the steps as quietly as he can. With his eyes firmly fixed on Dean to make sure he doesn’t turn around, he makes his way over to one of the corners where there are a number barrels behind which he can hide.
He barely has time to find a position from which he can watch Dean unseen before he hears more people coming down the stairs. Immediately, Dean straightens and spins around. There is a hard look on his face that Castiel doesn’t recognise. He wonders if this is the real Dean and if the charming man that’s become his friend, and his lover, was nothing but a mask. He can barely bring himself to look at him.
Most of the crew have gathered now. Castiel wonders if they think that no one will notice that they’re all missing. If so, they are severely underestimating Crowley. Castiel doubts that there is anything happening on-board the ship that Crowley isn’t aware of. Then he remembers what Dean said about being the real captain and he’s forced to reassess that thought. Apparently, there are things that even Crowley has missed.
Sam is the last one to enter the galley and he remains standing by the closed door, obviously keeping guard. His attention seems divided, however, since he keeps sending Dean worried looks. It’s clear that he doubts Dean’s ability to force the crew back into line. Judging by the dark glares and angry mutterings coming from the crew, Castiel thinks his fears may be well-founded.
To his surprise, Dean is able to silence them all with only a sharp look. He is standing tall and straight with his arms crossed, surveying the crew coldly. His eyes linger for a moment on Azazel, who is standing near Castiel’s hiding place with an insincere look of polite interest on his face.
“Right,” Dean says loudly, “now that we’re all here, there are a few things that I think we need to get clear. But first things first. I want to know what really happened to Meg Masters. And don’t give me those innocent looks! I know one of you knuckleheads had something to do with it. So out with it!”
No one says anything. Castiel is holding his breath, partly in anticipation of the answer and partly because he’s afraid that if he lets it out, he’ll start screaming. So that’s why Dean was so sure that Ms Masters’ death wasn’t Castiel’s fault. It didn’t have anything to do with his faith in Castiel. He knew that one of his crew was guilty, but he kept quiet, knowing that Castiel would take the blame. Castiel feels as if someone has taken a knife and is slowly twisting it around in his heart. In fact, he thinks it would probably hurt less if Dean had taken a knife and literally stabbed him in the back. At least that pain would have been tangible and passing. Castiel fears that the wound caused by Dean’s betrayal will never heal.
Dean keeps glaring at the men that stand gathered before him, making it clear that he’s willing to wait until someone answers him. Hardly surprisingly, it’s Azazel who finally speaks.
“I was the last person to see Ms Masters,” he says. “She was aloft on one of the yards, working on releasing the sails. She must have lost her footing, because I saw her fall, and apparently, her safety line wasn’t all that secure. I tried to reach her, but I was too late. All I could do was watch her drift off into the star. As you can imagine, it was a horrible sight to witness.” He sighs dramatically. “Poor girl!”
Dean fixes him with a disdainful stare.
“In other words, you cut her safety line. Did you push her too?”
Azazel shrugs insolently. From where he is hiding behind the barrels, Castiel can only see half his face, but he can tell that Azazel is smirking. It makes his blood run cold to see the cruelty in the man’s eyes.
“Now, now, boy,” Azazel says, “you shouldn’t go accusing people without a shred of evidence. You’ll make a lot of enemies that way.”
“Captain,” Dean snarls. “You address me as captain and you obey my rules. How many times do I have to make it clear to you? We do not kill!” He walks forward, until he’s standing face to face with Azazel. “I’m of a mind to drop you off at the next empty planet that we pass,” he said in a low voice. “I don’t want murderers in my crew.”
“Your crew?” Azazel looks around at his crew mates. “I’m not so sure they are your crew anymore. It seems to me - to many of us - that you made a lot of promises, but you don’t seem to have any intention of keeping them. We’re beginning to think that maybe we should find ourselves a captain who is willing to look after our interests.”
“What the devil are you talking about? Do you seriously think that anyone else could have taken you this far? I promised I’d lead you to Treasure Planet and that’s exactly what I’m doing.”
“So you say,” Azazel says. “And we’re just supposed to take your word for it. Meanwhile, we’re working our asses off for that worthless piece of shit that calls himself the ship’s captain and you’re off making googly-eyes at that boy toy of yours.”
For a moment, the shadow of something that could be regret passes over Dean’s face, but it’s gone so quickly that Castiel thinks he imagined it. Instead, Dean looks contemptuously incredulous.
“Are you really that stupid?” he asks. “You think I’m doing it because I like the boy? Crowley forced the whelp on me; I couldn’t say no or it would have looked strange. I’ve been trying to keep the kid distracted, so he won’t suspect anything. Uriel must have warned him about me when he gave him the map. The kid knows a cyborg is looking for him. I think I’ve thrown him off the scent, but it hasn’t been easy. You have no idea the lengths I’ve had to go to. So don’t think for a moment that you’re the ones doing all the hard work. None of you could do this without me. I’m the one with the plan and I’m the one who can make it happen. That means that you do what I say. If anyone breaks my rules again, I will personally make sure that you never get anywhere near that treasure. Is that clear?”
The only good thing about that speech, Castiel thinks, is that at least he isn’t hurting anymore. He feels nothing now except hollow and numb. It’s as if all his fears, all his insecurities have finally been confirmed. He sees now how stupid he’s been. How could he have thought that someone like Dean would ever want someone like him? Of course it was all just one big lie, a ruse to gain his trust. Dean could obviously tell that Castiel was falling in love with him and he decided to use that to his advantage. What happened the night before was just the culmination of his manipulations and if Castiel hadn’t overheard his conversation with Sam, he would probably have succeeded. If Dean had asked him about the map, Castiel isn’t sure that he would have been strong enough to lie to him.
There is a lot of grumbling, but after a while, the crew members seem to grudgingly agree. They nod their heads and shrug. Dean and Azazel are still locked in a staring contest, but after a while, Azazel looks away, apparently conceding defeat.
“Crystal clear,” he says. “Captain.”
Another of the crew members clears his throat. Dean raises one eyebrow at him, while his eyes narrow.
“Not to question your plan, Captain,” the crew member says, in a tone that makes it clear that that is exactly what he intends to do, “but some of us are beginning to feel a little impatient. We’ve been waiting a long time and as Azazel says, all we have to go on is your word. How much longer before we can set this plan of yours into motion?”
Dean doesn’t answer straight away. It’s obvious that he’s thinking about how to answer the question.
Finally, he says, “Soon. Sam’s been flirting with the cousin, trying to gain his trust. I’m not ashamed to say that he’s been more successful than me. From what he tells me, we’re on the final stretch of the journey. Treasure Planet is close. So you all need to be ready, because as soon as we’re sure of its location, we’re taking control of the ship. You all know what to do. Just watch for Sam’s signal. And remember, no killing!”
This final injunction is met with more muttering from the crew. Azazel is shaking his head.
“It’s a bad idea, letting them live,” he says. “Not only does it mean leaving witnesses behind, but it makes us look soft. I say we kill them all and be done with it. It’d be neater and more efficient.”
Dean looks as if he’s grinding his teeth together. Despite everything, there is a part of Castiel that is still happy to see that Dean seems to hate Azazel almost as much as Castiel does. He’s aware of the irrationality of that reaction. Dean obviously knows what Azazel is like and he still keeps him on his crew. What does that say about Dean?
“One more death, Azazel,” Dean growls, “and the next one will be yours, I swear. I’ll throw you into the next star or leave you floating around in empty space. Don’t test me! Now get back to work before Crowley gets suspicious.”
Azazel’s face twists into a cold sneer, but he makes a lazy salute.
“Aye, aye, Captain,” he drawls.
The men head back up the stairs and soon the galley is empty, except for Dean and Sam. Sam looks nervous, but determined, as he walks up to his brother. Before he can speak, however, Dean cuts him off.
“Save it, Sam,” he says. “I don’t want to hear it.”
“Dean,” Sam protests, but Dean doesn’t listen. Instead he pushes past Sam and disappears up the stairs. Sam sighs, but has no choice but to follow up onto the deck.
Part Three