Forgive you? forget you. The end... chapter 2

[caz2y5]

Inky black eyes surveyed the crowded club before flashing back to hazel. Dean smirked. His body was healed and whole except for the injury over his heart where a tattoo had been carved away from his flesh. Every part of his body thrummed with excitement and power.

Being a demon was way more fun than he had ever thought possible.

This was the first time he’d been allowed out without Sam holding his hand and he knew he would have to show his brother that he could handle it and that Sam was being over protective. He knew that Sam thought the angels would try and grab him but there was no way that Dean was going to let that happen. He figured all he would do was enjoy a drink, find a nice, friendly girl with the kind of curves he liked then he would take her back to the hotel room and play doctor with her. Well, until she broke.

He wondered if bringing her heart back to Sam would prove to his little brother that he could trust him to go off and have fun on his own once in a while. If he could just do that then maybe Sam would trust him enough to let him in on the more important stuff that he knew Lucifer was planning. It kind of sucked being so close to the man in charge when he didn’t trust you with anything. Not that Lucifer trusted anyone but it was still Sam in there too and Sam should know that he could trust his big brother.

That was the way things worked when all of your underlings were demons. But Dean had every intention of proving to his brother that he wasn’t just one of his demon underlings. They were brothers and if Dean loved Sam enough to fall for him, to go to hell for him, then Dean could be trusted more than the other regular Joe demons. He just needed to prove it to Lucifer, which was why he was out in some ass fuck nowhere town in Wisconsin looking for some fun.

The bar was busy for a Thursday night which was good. Dean glanced around the room and his new senses told him instantly who would be easy to tempt or take advantage of. It was weird and kind of wonderful how he could see things about people just by looking at them. He could even listen in on their random thoughts. Bastards, I'll show them…. She told me she was 18… they can’t miss the money if they don’t know it’s gone... I swear if she doesn’t do what she is told…

No wonder Ruby had been able to manipulate them so easily; it was like a super-power.

Biding his time, Dean mingled amongst the patrons of the bar. Listening, watching and waiting until he found what he was looking for; then he heard it: He’s cute; bet he won’t even notice me.

Dean glanced up, using his long lashes to shield his eyes as he searched the bar for his prey. There! The thought belonged to her, a pretty little blond sitting at the bar and nursing some blue drink that had a cherry on a paper umbrella toothpick floating in it.

Dean looked her over and smiled softly. She wore a dress in a reserved floral print like a little girl would wear to church. However, the fabric hugged her curves in all the good places and ended above her knees. Long wavy hair flowed over her shoulders and provided a flirty cover for her otherwise bare shoulders. .It was hardly a demure design. Neither were the bright red heels or the fuck-me lipstick on her pouty lips.

She was looking better than good; she was looking like the perfect choice.

Dean caught her eye and gave her his best ‘I’m harmless and interested’ smile, She returned it shyly before glancing away.

Oh yeah, perfect. He almost felt bad for what he was thinking of doing to her. Almost.

Slowly Dean sauntered to the bar, slid into the seat next to her and waved over the bartender. “Whiskey, straight and another of these for the lady.” He pointed to her drink and flicked the umbrella softly. Dean gave her his ‘take me home and fuck me blind’ smile. It had never failed him-unless Sam, old Sam, blundered into the conversation-and it didn’t fail him now. The woman-girl really, barely legal-blushed and tugged nervously at the silver cross pendant that hung from her neck. Oh my god, she thought, I can’t believe he’s sitting next to me. Take that Melanie Johnson!

Absolutely perfect he thought. Now he just needed to get her back to the hotel room, or maybe even just out to the alley.

“Hey, I’m Dean. What’s your name, beautiful?”

“Cherrie.” She bit her bottom lip slightly and Dean winked at her. She swallowed nervously but managed to ask, “You come here often?” Lame, Cherrie, he heard her tell herself, he’s going to think you’re a total geek and you’re not!

“Nah, first time.” He paid the bartender and waited until the man was busy elsewhere before leaning towards Cherrie-his little cherry-“Can I let you in on a secret?” She giggled, squirmed and blushed before she managed to meet his eyes and nod. Dean leaned in closer and she mirrored him until it only took a breath for him to whisper in her ear. “I would love to take you back to my room and play naked twister with you.”

Dean leaned away a little and looked her in the eyes, biting his bottom lip as he did. An action guaranteed to make him seem nervous and therefore soothe the girl’s nerves which had jumped at his boldness. She watched him chew on his lips and the tone of her thoughts changed, just like he’d planned. They became less virginal and more experimental. She wanted him.

He watched her blush as she looked him up and down. Then she looked around the room, checking to see if anyone else was watching, if the rubes in the bar knew that she, Cherrie Lipton, was being picked up by the hottest guy in the room. She met his eyes again and smiled. It wasn’t as confident and sultry as she thought it was, but it was the acceptance Dean was hoping for.

He nearly snorted out loud. It was funny how much easier this was now. He even knew what her answer would be before she said a word.

Cherrie-cherry licked her lips and raised an eyebrow. “Are you that forward with all the girls you play twister with?” Her eyelashes flashed as she winked at him and closed those lips of hers around the straw in her drink. A move she’d probably picked up from some cheesy romantic comedy or something. Whatever…

“Only the ones that look like they prefer naked twister to naked backgammon,” he chuckled out his response and finished the whiskey in his glass. He stood up, moving close enough that her scent filled his nostrils and his thigh pressed softly against the curve of her hip. Dean was tempted to lean in and let his lips find the curve of her ear, then he could whisper all the things that he wanted to do to her.

Well okay, he would lie about what he wanted to do to her because if he told her what he really wanted to do then she would run away screaming. So, no talking Instead he stood close enough for her to feel his heat and for them to brush up against each other. He looked at her like she was a lollipop he couldn’t wait to savour. He let her think about why he thought she was more of a twister girl than a backgammon girl. And it worked. He wouldn’t even have to buy her a second drink.

By the time she had finished the drink he brought her, her breath was already rapid and shallow. He could see the shape her nipples trying to push their way out of her dress, and he could hear her thoughts-though actually, just ‘oh my god, oh my god, I can’t believe I’m doing this’ repeated over and over. He was going to have so much fun…

He remembered to pretend to be a gentleman so he paid for their drinks and offered her his arm to escort her out of the bar.

“How far is it to your place?” She hesitated as she turned to grab her purse from the bar.

Crap, she was backing out...

“I have a room at the hotel. I’m in town with the doctors’ convention.” He let his lips quick up, teasing her, “We can play doctor if you would prefer?”

She giggled and Dean knew he’d won. When she rested her hand in the crook of his elbow, he put his over hers possessively.

Dean led her back through the press of people and out the entrance. He kept his attitude light and easy, reassuring her that she wasn’t making a mistake, She hesitated only briefly once they were outside, in the dark. The lights from the bar didn’t stretch very far and there were few cars on the road to lend their brightness to the area. Primal instincts were reminding her that bad things hide in the night so he murmured nonsense at her; his room was just across the parking lot, she was so pretty, he was so lucky. Junk words to help ease her into the shadows. He smiled and slipped his arm around her waist and pressed a kiss just behind her ear. The woman shivered, feeling safe and protected as she nuzzled against him.

He nearly laughed.

Dean led her through the parked cars and up to the motel room he had booked scant minutes before going into the bar to hunt. It wasn’t a bad motel-he’d stayed in worse-but it certainly wasn’t what a doctor would stay in. Good thing she was so hot for him she wasn’t thinking.

He pressed his hand to the small of her back and crowded her into the wall, kissing her as he dug his keys out. He didn’t press, didn’t undulate, only their lips touched but she moaned like he was already getting her off. It made her feel brave and daring, or maybe she was just a little tipsy, either way he wasn’t surprised when she slid her hands down his back and squeezed his ass, hard.

Oh yeah, baby, he thought but didn’t say, give it up for me.

Since she had started fondling him, it was only fair that he return the favour. He slid his free hand over her breast and squeezed lightly, petted softly and generally kept it PG-13 since she wasn’t through the door yet. Then she giggled in muzzy arousal so he rolled his hips and pressed against her a little harder.

This close he can smell the alcohol on her skin and see that her eyes weren’t focussing very well. She was a bit more than tipsy. Too bad; Dean wanted her to be mostly sober so she could fully experience all the activities he had planned for her. Though, once she felt sharpened steel press into her porcelain skin, he was pretty certain she would sober up very quickly. Sober up and panic and make all that lovely adrenaline shoot through her system which would, in turn, make her body even more sensitive to the things he was going to do to it. He laughed out loud as he stepped away from her. “We’re going to have such fun, tonight, Cherrie,” he purred as he pushed the door open.


One month.

Just over four weeks. Thirty-one days.

Castiel didn’t bother calculating the hours or minutes. It didn’t matter. What mattered was that it had been a month since the demon had told them Dean was still alive.

The two hunters had had no luck in finding the location of either Dean or Sam. They had gone back over everything that had happened since Ilchester, revisited every place of significance to either of the brothers, visited every 2-bit carnie mystic and roadside seer…nothing. It hurt knowing they were the Winchesters’ only family and they couldn’t do anything. They couldn’t find them so they couldn’t talk to them and they couldn’t save them.

The days were long and the nights restless. They took turns driving while the other slept but sometimes, like this moonless night, they would pull into a motel just so Bobby’s back could remember what it was like to lay down. Well, that was the excuse. Neither of them commented when they drank themselves to sleep on the lumpy motel beds.

Castiel was brushing his teeth, staring at the face in the mirror. He looked tired, dark circles under his eyes and his cheeks were a hollow. Becoming human had certainly resulted in Jimmy’s body thinning a little although there was more muscle than the office-going human had had when Castiel first took over his vessel.

The memory flashed through his mind of Dean telling Uriel that he should walk more or he would get fat. It made him smile. Dean had been so cocky and, and irrepressible. Righteous angels hadn’t been able to make the hunter show respect where it hadn’t been earned. Castiel still had problems with that. Even more than Dean, he’d been raised to be obedient, unquestioning, taking everything on blind faith and unthinking hope. He’d been learning a different method from Dean but now Dean was gone and there was no one to encourage him.

He lowered the brush and spit his mouthful of toothpaste down the sink before turning his back on his vessel’s sad reflection.

It had been Jimmy’s face once but now Jimmy was lost. It was just Castiel, the angel who had become human. At least Bobby and Chuck had been good about teaching him how to be human with the stuff that he had no clue about.

Bobby had taught him to drive as they’d criss-crossed the country looking for answers and cleaning up hunts. They drove Bobby’s ’71 Chevelle, which was smaller but quieter than the Impala. Bobby had told him that Dean would have wanted him to have the Impala, and Castiel agreed that, yes, he probably would have, but Castiel didn’t feel comfortable in it. It was just a mode of transportation to him, noisy and slow as most human vehicles were, but he knew it had been much, much more to Dean. It had been the hunter’s baby and his security and his home.

To Castiel, without Dean, it was none of those things.

He wished that he could have had the chance to learn more from Dean, to spend more time with the human he was supposed to protect. The man he had given up everything for, only to lose him. Hell, Castiel wished so many things. That he had known Zachariah’s plan sooner. That he had turned his back on his family sooner once he did know.

Instead, Castiel had been dazed by the emotions he had begun to feel and that he hadn’t understood and didn’t know what to do with. .

To paraphrase; ‘if onlys’ sucked. They symbolized all the possibilities that would never be. If only he had gotten Dean to the church sooner … If only he had betrayed Zachariah sooner… If only, it was the catch cry to all the pain that threatened to drown him when he thought about Dean and what had happened. Castiel frowned as he slowly walked out of the bathroom and over to his bed, the one closest to the door.

“You really need to stop kicking yourself about stuff you can’t change, Castiel,” Bobby was sitting on his bed, tucked in for the night, reading a brittle old tome they had collected from a friend of a friend who thought it might have some information on helping them stop Lucifer. Bobby hadn’t been hopeful but there was no difference between the having nothing and getting more of nothing.

Castiel sat on the bed and rubbed his eyes with his fingertips. “I’ll stop when you do.”

Bobby snorted and went back to reading.

The former angel was tired but his brain won’t shut up. It circles round and round, thinking about all the things he should have done differently, all the things he could be doing now. Except that they’re doing all they know how. There is nothing more to do.

“This is pointless. I am going to walk around, maybe commune with nature.” Bobby grunted in acknowledgement but didn’t look up from the heavy book. Cas sighed and pulled his boots back on, then he stood and eased into Dean’s old brown leather coat. Unconsciously he took a deep breath, inhaling the scent embedded in the coat. He told himself that he wore it because it was more practical for hunting than a trench coat. It was a safer explanation than the feeling it gave him to wear it; the feeling that Dean was still with him.

On his way to the door, he confirmed that he had the key to get back into the room in one pocket and his cell phone in another. Standard precautions now since he could no longer ‘zap’ anywhere he wanted. He opened it, and looked back at Bobby before repeating something Dean had said to Sam once. “Remember to put a sock on the door if you bring a girl home.”

It never before failed to make the older hunter blush and it didn’t now. Seeing it made Cas’ frustration recede. Not for long, but long enough for him to smile in honest amusement. He smiled even wider when Bobby threw a pillow at him.

“Go on get, ya idjit.” Bobby growled. . Castiel could actually hear the older man chuckle and grumble to himself as he pulled the door shut. Sometimes they needed to be silly, to remember that humour and friendship was as much a part of their life as anger and fear.

Once outside the door he pushed his hands into the jacket’s pockets. It wasn’t exactly cold but Castiel felt the chill quite a bit now that he was human. Before it had never bothered him. One final breath to push the useless thoughts out of his mind before he strode out into the night. He could no longer achieve revelation but he could often find some kind of peace by hiking in the lonely dark of a small town. They were remarkably safe compared to other cities they had traversed so he didn’t really pay attention to where he was going, just followed the footpath. Occasionally he glanced up at the stars and at the other unseen things that existed in the firmament. He’d been able to see them once upon a time.

When Castiel finally took stock of where he was, he was on the other side of town. He checked his watch which told him he had been walking for over an hour. No wonder his cheeks were tight with cold.

He looked around at the place he’d wound up. It was a bar, loud, crowded and dark. Dean would have loved it.

What Dean would have felt or done, had no bearing on Castiel’s decision to step into the bar for a shot or two of whiskey. He merely wanted to take the chill out of his cheeks. It was a logical choice so, before he began second-guessing himself, he stepped off the footpath and walked toward the entrance. He was half way across the parking lot when he heard a voice that stopped him cold. He turned in its direction, heart thumping, stomach tight, his eyes scanned the area desperate to find the source, confirm it... because it couldn’t be. It was just someone who sounded like him. It had happened to Cas before.

It was Dean.

Or at least it looked like him, short hair, broad shoulders, He couldn’t see the man’s legs so he didn’t know if he had Dean’s distinctive bow legged stance but that laugh had certainly sounded like Dean. The man disappeared into a hotel room before Castiel could be sure.

He had to be sure.

He had to see if the man he had glimpsed was the man he had spent his entire human life searching for.

He broke into a sprint almost before the door closed. It only took seconds to cross the parking lot. Moments more and he reached the edge of the covered walkway that ran the length of the building. He was at the door and he hesitated. Should he call Bobby?. Could Sam be in there too? What if it wasn’t Dean? He couldn’t just burst in there, especially if he was mistaken about it being Dean.

Could he live with not knowing?

He had to know. It was likely not going to be Dean but he had to know for sure. He decided to sneak up peak through the curtains when a woman screamed. It had come from the room in front of him-something was attacking Dean. Castiel moved without thinking.

He stepped forward and kicked, his heel landed just above the dead bolt and forced it out of the wooden door frame with a snapping crunch sound. The door hadn’t even swung fully open before he was in the room, pulling his gun out and pointing it at the figure looming over a female who was crouched on the bed in terror.

Where was Dean? Why wasn’t he trying to help?

His confusion was short-lived because Dean was there, in the room.

Dean was the figure standing by the end of the bed. Dean was the man terrorizing the woman. It was Dean who had one hand around her throat, and it was Dean who turned to look at the intruder with eyes of demon black. .


“Let her go, Dean.” Castiel managed to grind out the command even though he felt like something inside his chest was tearing him apart. His head was telling him to stay calm-keep breathing-stay calm. “Let her go,” he repeated because he was a hunter now and hunters rescued the innocent from the monsters.

Dean couldn’t be a monster. He couldn’t... except that he was.

The black disappeared from Dean’s eyes and the storm green shone in them as Dean smiled. There was no mistaking who this was only it wasn’t really Dean, he was possessed by some demon “Cas?”

There was no mistaking who this was only it wasn’t really Dean. Dean was possessed. There was a demon inside him making him torture that poor girl. “Let her go or I’ll shoot.” Castiel still had his gun aimed but it wavered. This was Dean’s body he was aiming at, and Dean was likely still inside of it, forced to the back, lost, fighting to get out.

The demon frowned as if that wasn’t the reaction he was looking for. He tilted his head and raised an eyebrow, almost teasing, before he turned his wrist and snapped the woman’s neck. He dropped her body to the bed, not even looking at her-a chore taken care of before moving on to more important tasks. Dean turned to face Castiel, the door slammed shut and the lights flickered.

A force hit Castiel in the chest; it slammed him against the wall, spread him out like an offering. The gun went flying, knocked from his hand. He couldn’t move. He could only watch as Dean sauntered closer. Green eyes trailed down the former angel’s body then back up like Castiel was the main attraction of an all you can eat dinner. Green eyes inked out again as Dean met Castiel's gaze.

“Well, well, well. Castiel,” the demon spoke with Dean’s voice but it was mocking and cruel. It wasn’t Dean. It was a demon wearing Dean. “Better a late angel than none, I suppose,” Dean stopped and Castiel could see a flash of anger in the way Dean clenched his fists and his jaw. Just as quickly a new expression took over and the demon smiled slyly as realization dawned. “I’ll be damned; your wings have been clipped.” There was no actual concern or interest in his voice.

Castiel answered anyway, trying to reach his friend. “Chuck’s archangel turned out to be Raphael; he tore my grace from me. I’m human now.” Even as he spoke it occurred to Castiel that he probably shouldn’t be telling this to a demon. He reminded himself that this wasn’t Dean, it wasn’t; no matter how much the pain in his chest knew that it was.

Castiel squirmed and tried to break free of the hold Dean had on him.

“Stop that,” the demon casually said and the hold on Cas tightened. The demon glanced back at the woman’s body, cooling on the bed He walked over to the counter and poured himself a glass of whiskey. “You made me break my toy,” Dean huffed in exasperation.

“She wasn’t a toy,” Castiel protested.

Dean shrugged, “Whatever.” He lifted the glass to his lips and downed the whiskey before turning back to face Castiel. The former angel tried to push free of the wall as Dean watched him, face inhumanly still. “Why are you here, Castiel?”

“I was looking for you, Dean,” he replied as the demon inside Dean held him like a bug pinned under glass. Castiel almost growled in frustration. Every muscle strained as he raised his head to look directly at Dean “We have been trying to find you since Lucifer was freed.”

The demon’s hand was a blur as he threw the empty glass. It shattered against the wall just above Castiel’s head. It showered him with cheap whiskey and shards of glass and made him flinch.

“Don’t lie to me, Cas,” the demon stepped closer to Castiel.

Dean’s face was no longer serene or still. It was twisted with anger. He grabbed a handful of Castiel’s jacket-Dean’s jacket-and pulled Castiel from the wall. The next instant, his other fist connected with Castiel’s jaw. The crunch was audible but not debilitating and now he could move. Castiel raised one hand to block Dean’s second swing even as he grabbed at Dean’s wrist to stop him. “Dean,” he pleaded, “You can fight this.”

He was ignored. The demon was too fast, too strong, for the now mortal being and Dean’s fist connected, with his face. He could taste the blood from where his teeth had cut the inside of his cheek. “Fight,” he begged, “Fight it”

Cas knew he could defend himself better than this, but this was Dean and he didn’t want to hurt the body of his friend. The demon inside the oldest Winchester had no such qualms. Castiel would have fallen to his knees except Dean held him in place with one hand, twisted so tight into his shirt it was choking. The other rained blows against his face, his ribs, and his arm, anywhere Dean could reach. Each blow reverberated inside his skull, this was his friend doing this, beating him to death.

“Dean...” It was practically a groan of desperation. He could barely see there were so many sparks of pain bursting behind his eyes. “Don’t let the demon make you do this.”

Laughter bubbled up out of Dean’s mouth. “I’m not possessed, Castiel,” he stated casually. He let go and Castiel crumpled to the floor, looking up at his friend in horror. Dean beamed with delight at whatever he saw on Castiel’s face.

He leaned over, still smiling. “It’s true,” Dean said before he closed his hand around Castiel’s throat and lifted until his feet no longer touched the floor. He tightened his grip and constricted Castiel’s breathing. Dean pulled Castiel closer until their faces were inches from each other. “This is all me, Cas. Remember? The thing that Alistair created; the darkness you ‘rescued’ me from?”

“No!” Castiel’s head shook in denial. Demons lie. It had to be a lie. Castiel didn’t think he could face it if it wasn’t.

“Yes,” Dean’s smile was cruel as he watched Castiel’s face while tightening his grip on Cas’ throat.

“Dean…” the angel gasped out. It was barely a whisper. Castiel dug his nails into Dean’s wrist, trying to hit a nerve or a tendon, something to make Dean’s fingers loosen. With his other hand, he struggled to uncap the bottle of holy water in his pocket. Castiel could feel sparks misfiring in his brain as his body was deprived of oxygen, his pulsed bounced and boomed inside his body. He didn’t want to hurt Dean but he had to stop Dean from killing him.

Dean’s smile deepened into something dark and twisted while the demon in the former hunter concentrated on watching the life slowly drain out of Cas.

It was now or never. Castiel splashed the holy water in Dean’s face and he raised his knee ‘til it connected hard with Dean making him howl in pain. The hand around his throat loosened and finally let go. Castiel found the ground under his feet and managed to stay upright as he gulped air. Dean was doubled over, clutching himself, so Castiel pushed like a linebacker and sent his demonic friend flying. He ran at the window because Castiel figured it was the fastest way out before Dean finished what he’d started.

He needed to run.

“Castiel!” Dean’s voice rasped and it carried a threat; “I haven’t finished playing!”

There was no way Castiel was going to play what ever sick games the thing in Dean wanted, so he kept moving. He could come back later with Bobby, if the old hunter thought it a good idea. Right now, it wasn’t a good idea to stay.

He jumped at the window, arms crossed in front of him to protect his face when a force hit him from the side and Castiel knew he’d been too slow. He was torn backwards, across the room, until he slammed into the cupboards so hard he bounced. Castiel crashed to the floor where he gasped out in pain. Dean stood in front of him smiling as he wiped the water from his face. It was one of Dean’s old smiles, full of anticipation and enjoyment and it was totally wrong.

The holy water had done nothing which meant that the demon in Dean was more powerful than any Castiel had faced since becoming human.

The demon that was wearing Dean flicked his hand and sent Castiel smashing face first into the opposite wall then letting him hang there. He coughed up blood, tonguing a loose tooth or three, while stars danced in the periphery of his vision. He was pretty sure though that if Dean let him go he would just collapse to the floor anyway.

Dean moved closer, pressed against Cas’s back, until Castiel was pinned with his face pressed against the wall and Dean hard against his back. He curled his hand in Cas’s hair, yanked Castiel’s head back and twisted it around, forced Cas to look what was left of Dean in the face.

The demon smiled, evil smile, wrong smile, leaned closer as if to share a secret. “Mmm, you smell good.” he whispered lightly, then swiped his tongue across Castiel’s cheek.

What the fuck? Castiel thought for if any situation called for swearing this was one.

“You could be my new toy. Would you like that, Cas? Hmmm, want me to play with you?” Dean’s teeth scraped over Cas's ear as the palm of his other hand pressed hard against Castiel’s groin. “I think I’d like it.”

Anger flared through Castiel, making his nerves vibrate, making his teeth grind, and his hands clench into useless fists. Since he had become human he had dreamed of being intimate with Dean but not like this. Not Dean possessed by some demon. And, because it was something he’d wanted for so long, and because it hurt to be offered a hollow facsimile of it, Cas made his response as cruel and cutting as he could.

“You mean like you do with, Sam?”

It didn’t get the response he’d thought-hoped-it would.

Dean laughed. “You would not believe what Sam does to me, Cas.” He nipped at Cas' ear and throat and cheek. It hurt where teeth scraped over bruises and Castiel tried to pull away but Dean’s hands and the demon’s power held him motionless. “But I could share some of it with you,” Dean purred.

Castiel could feel Dean getting aroused because he was rubbing his erection against his lower back. It felt wrong, Cas pushed against the wall, strained against the body behind him. He struggled to move but the demon just leaned harder into him and chuckled fondly, as if Castiel’s protest was a cute trick performed by a puppy.

He stopped moving, stopped fighting for that reason, and because the struggling made the demon friendlier. Dean still rubbed harder against him. “Do you like this, Cas?” he whispered as his lips brushed over Cas’ neck making all the small hairs stand up and raising goose bumps down his spine. “Want me to make you hard?”

Dean’s breath was hot against his skin and, in Castiel’s deepest core, the demon’s words were so very tempting. Castiel had to close his eyes to fight the feeling of being pulled in to many directions. He wanted Dean, he couldn’t deny that. But this wasn’t Dean, this wasn’t the man he had literally fallen for. Yet, it was; his voice, his body, his smell…

“Want me to fuck you, Cas?” Dean’ voice practically dripped honey as he undid Castiel’s belt.

It was the snick of metal against metal that snapped Cas out of ‘might have been’ and back to ‘now’.

“No,” Castiel snapped out, “No I don’t.” He shrank away from false-Dean’s touch. He couldn’t move far enough to stop it. “Please don’t do this,” his voice wavered with emotion and he had to bite his lip. He had dealt with a lot in the last few months, learned much of what it meant to be human, but the emotions Dean was rousing in him were confusing and painful. Arousal due solely to physical stimulus-he knew the theory but the reality was much harder to accept.

Dean nuzzled at the skin just behind Castiel’s ear and chuckled again. “You sure?” Dean’s hand tugged at his jeans, undoing the button and pulling the fly open. Dean tugged on Cas’s hair, once again forcing the former angel to look him in his Dean-green eyes. “You’re not even begging for me to stop. You’re barely struggling. You know what I think?” Dean nuzzled at Cas’s cheek and pressed a kiss to the bruise below his eye. “I think you want it.”

Dean’s fingers tickled across Castiel’s abdomen and then pressed under the elastic of his boxers. Castiel flinched and gasped as those fingertips grazed over his cock.

“Tell you what, Cas,” Dean sighed against Castiel’s ear as his hand closed over the former angel’s growing erection and began to stroke him slow and teasing. “You beg for me to stop as much as I begged for you to save me…” Dean’s voice was serious, all mockery erased, his hand and lips stilling against Cas’s skin. His gaze was direct and un-shuttered. “If you can do that, then I’ll let you go.”

Castiel’s eyes widened and his heart stopped beating. His brain reeled as he made sense of what the demon was saying. He didn’t even know how to react to that. His whole world came crashing down and Castiel had to close his eyes again. Couldn’t even process what he was supposed to say or how to feel.

It was silent for a moment and then Dean nipped at his ear again. His hand moved up and down against Castiel’s cock as Dean’s thumb teased over the tip. The demon’s hips rolled and Dean’s erection rubbed against him.

The sound of synthesized guitar filled the room and Castiel figured it was a cell phone. Dean sighed, dropping his forehead to Cas’s shoulder. Dean untangled himself physically from the angel though he kept him pinned against the wall.

“Hey, what’s up?” Dean’s voice sounded friendlier than it had a second ago. One hand came out to stroke down Castiel’s back, running all the way down his spine to rub at his ass like Dean was petting a dog. Castiel bit his bottom lip and rested his brow against the cool wall, trying to stop his heart from racing. He wanted it to be over but even as Dean listened to the person on the phone his hand started pulling Cas’ pants down an edge at a time, baring him, making him even more vulnerable.

“Now? I’m kinda in the middle…” Dean sounded irritated but he stopped mid-sentence as the person on the phone raised his voice and cut him off. “Yeah okay, Sammy,” Dean sighed in resignation, “No, I said okay. I’ll be right there. Okay, soon.”

Dean put the phone in his pocket and leaned in so his lips brushed against Cas’ neck as he talked. “Looks like we’ll have to play another day, Cas.” He gave Cas’ neck a playful nip. “Something to look forward to, I guess.”

Then Dean’s weight was no longer against Castiel’s back. He felt Dean’s presence disappear but it was still a long moment after, that Cas felt the force pinning him to the wall dissipate.

He fell to his knees with a thump and didn’t bother trying to rise for a long, long time.


Castiel crumpled into a ball. His hands covered his head as he fought back the tears. Dean… This was nothing like what Castiel had expected to have when he found him. Castiel had wanted to find his Dean, the man he had saved from hell and had grown to love. Instead he was beaten and almost raped by the terrible black eyed thing that Dean had become.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there but it wasn’t long enough for him to gain any kind of peace or think of any kind of plan. Castiel did the only thing he knew he could do. Castiel lifted his tear and blood stained face toward heaven and prayed. He prayed for his father to help him make this right. He wanted to save Dean, and Sam, return them to the men he’d known before. If he couldn’t have that then, he prayed, he asked to be given the strength to do what he would have to do to save the world: if Castiel couldn’t save Dean then he was going to have to kill him.

De profundis clamavi ad te, Domine: Domine, exaudi vocem meam: Fiant aures tuae intendentes, in vocem deprecationis meae. Si iniquitates observaveris, Domine: Domine, quis sustinebit? Quia apud te propitiatio est: et propter legem tuam sustinui te, Domine. The words were Latin, he wasn’t an angel anymore and using the language of Heaven for such a personal matter seemed… presumptuous. Sustinuit anima mea in verbo eius: speravit anima mea in Domino. A custodia matutina usque ad noctem: speret Israel in Domino. Quia apud Dominum misericordia: et copiosa apud eum redemptio. Et ipse redimet Israel, ex omnibus iniquitatibus eius. Gloria Patri, et Filio, et Spiritui Sancto. Sicut erat in principio, et nunc, et semper, et in saecula saeculorum. Amen.

Castiel hoped that his Father heard his words of benediction, he sighed softly. He was like the rest of the humans with no way to know if anyone was listening and, most likely no one would answer anyway. , He idly wondered how people did it; how did they maintain their faith when all they ever received in return was silence. Nevertheless, prayer was the only weapon left to him, and he refused to give up. Dean was alive! That meant there was hope, no matter how small.

Suddenly the light above him flickered and wind whispered through the empty room. It rustled the curtains and blew papers around. He smelt it before it solidified, the tang of an angel’s presence. His prayers had been answered.

Castiel stood up, because he refused to look defeated and desperate in front of one of his former brothers, and then he turned to face...

“Hello, Castiel.” Zachariah looked as smug and triumphant as he had been in Dean’s waiting room so many months ago. His tailored black pinstripe suit was meticulous and Castiel doubted that the grey tie was ever crooked. Zachariah looked him up and down, made a tutting noise with tongue against his teeth and shook his head sadly.

Castiel had not worn his suit since he became human. Instead, he was wearing Dean’s clothes, an old pair of jeans with holes, a faded t-shirt, and the brown leather jacket that had been Dean’s fathers. He was even wearing an old pair of Dean’s boots because Bobby had pointed out that his vessel’s dress shoes really weren’t good for kicking demon asses. They were a little too large, but acceptable.

In fact, all his clothes were acceptable for what he was now. He lifted his chin and refused to feel ashamed.

Zachariah raised his eyebrows, he smirked as if he knew what Castiel was thinking, but he said nothing just looked around the trashed hotel room. He took the wrist of the woman, feeling for a pulse even though Castiel knew that the angel would already know that she was gone. It was for show, part of the negotiations that were about to take place so Castiel said nothing as Zachariah shook his head and tut-tutted as if the loss of a single human had hurt him deeply. Castiel knew better.

Next, pieces of the cabinet were picked up and returned to lie on the counter. More head shaking, more sounds of disappointment then Zachariah turned and looked at the fallen angel. Castiel tried not to straighten; he wasn’t an angel and he didn’t report to them anymore. .

“Raphael is going to be disappointed,” Zachariah said with false politeness. He smiled slightly, just a quirk of the lip before he pulled out a handkerchief and offered it to Castiel. When Castiel didn’t take it, Zachariah just shrugged and put it back in his pocket. “He thought you were going to want to stay human and live happily ever after with your mud monkey friends. I on the other hand, figured that once you found out what had happened to Dean you would beg us for the chance to be able to save him.” Zachariah smiled smugly, looking down as he unbuttoned and re-buttoned his coat, smoothing the seams before he looked at Castiel again.

“Is that why you’re here, Zachariah?” Castiel raised his chin defiantly not caring if the angel decided to smite him right then and there. He didn’t trust this angel and he wasn’t in the mood to deal with any of his rubbish, not after what he had just been through. “Have you come to gloat?”

Zachariah shook his head, disdainfully. “Now, now, Castiel, I would never gloat.” Even though he so obviously was.

Castiel said nothing. His injuries were draining him of strength and it took everything in him not to fall back to the ground. He refused to appear weak but perhaps leaning against the wall would be sufficient.

When he finally looked back at Zachariah, the angel was fidgeting with his tie and Castiel had to wonder if the angel kept fidgeting because he was uncomfortable with his surroundings or if it was the fact he had to talk to Castiel, the rebellious angel who’d ruined their plans. He doesn’t bother asking; Zachariah wouldn’t answer anyway.

“So this is where you have been hiding yourself, Castiel. Kind of fitting I think, for an angel that threw itself out of heaven for the wreck of humanity.”

Castiel ignored his flaring anger and his desire to tell Zachariah to fuck off because it would be pointless and his throat hurt too much for it to be worth the effort. Instead, he watched quietly as Zachariah seated himself on the edge of the bed and then picked an invisible piece of lint from his pants. He really does fidget a lot, Cas thought. “Why did you come?”

Zachariah looked at him again wearing that fake business man smile. “I am here on business, Castiel. Seems we both have something the other wants.” Cas said nothing but Zachariah just kept smiling. It was that same smugly evil smile that had made Dean want to punch his face in. Castiel found himself agreeing with the sentiment.

“You always were patient, Castiel,” The angel chuckled, “Very virtuous.”

Castiel just stared until Zachariah’s smile finally slid away. “Down to business then.” He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small vial. The contents glowed in a swirling mix of blues and purples; hypnotising yet impossible to see clearly.

Castiel didn’t need to see it clearly to know what it was. “How did you get that? I thought Raphael destroyed it.” He couldn’t help but lean forward to see it better, to be closer to it.

His grace, it was right there in Zachariah’s open hand.

He immediately understood what the deal was. With his grace returned to him he could destroy the demon inside Dean, heal his body and save him. In return... In return he’d have to give up everything... He licked his lips and swallowed, which hurt to do after the beating he took but his mouth and lips were dry and sore.

“I have a business proposition for you, Castiel. One I think you are going to accept.” Zachariah leaned closer. He rested his elbows on his knees, he raised the hand holding Cas’ grace and carelessly flipped the small bottle back and forth. He looked directly at Castiel waiting for Castiel to say something, to beg maybe. But Zachariah had been right: Castiel had always been patient. Cas looked at him and shifted so his stance was more comfortable.

Zachariah’s smile was a little less smug when he continued his pitch. “I’m suggesting a trade. We will return your grace to you in exchange for Chuck and your help securing Dean away from Lucifer.”

Castiel had been expecting the offer to have a catch, likely unpleasant, so no real surprise there. Castiel closed his eyes and lowered his head, smiling slightly which made the split in his lip bleed again as he shook his head.

“What makes you think I know where either of them are?” It was only half a lie and Castiel could tell from Zachariah’s reaction that the angel already knew it. But Castiel had no intention of turning Chuck over to Zachariah and, no matter how much he wanted to save Dean, he wasn’t about to hand him over so that Michael could convince him to be his vessel.

“Being human taught you how to lie,” Zachariah’s voice was mocking.

Castiel glared, “No, that I learned from you.”

The angel’s fake friendly look melted away and was replaced by a remote coldness. Zachariah shrugged and dropped the little vial back in his pocket. “I would have taught you to do it better.”

The room was silent and Castiel knew that it was his turn to make a move. Counter-offer. He licked at the split in his lip and pushed himself away from the wall. It hurt and his head spun, but the pain added fierceness to his voice when he ground out, “Even if I did know, why would I help you get your claws on either of them?”

“Really Castiel, you think we don’t know what’s important to you?” The angel sat back and rubbed his hands across his thighs, nervously smoothing the fabric even as he kept Castiel’s gaze. “You know that you need your grace back if you are going to save Dean from what Lucifer has done to him,” Zachariah tilted his head back, raising his chin in his usual self-satisfied way.

It was unfortunate that he was right; Castiel couldn’t say no.

He stepped away from the wall and began slowly pacing the room. He kept his arms wrapped around his ribs to try and stop them from aching. It failed. Castiel turned and faced Zachariah. “I can’t get Dean away from Sam.” It physically hurt to actually admit that out loud.

“Yes you can.” Zachariah stood and adjusted his suit as he stepped closer to Castiel. “He’s going to want to finish what he started tonight.” Castiel jumped, was Zachariah suggesting... He couldn’t be, except that he certainly could. Cas searched for any clue as to what the angel had meant but Zachariah’s face was empty. “Just get Dean away from Lucifer and we’ll do the rest.” He smiled, a twist of the lips, and then he fidgeted with his tie again.

Something was missing but he hurt too much, was much too desperate, to figure it out. Given enough time, he could have-he did before-but he didn’t think Zachariah would give him months this time.

Castiel found Dean’s half-full bottle of whiskey when he accidentally kicked it across the thin carpeting. He carefully bent down and grabbed it, twisted off the cap And lifted it to his lips. He kept his eyes on Zachariah as he drank. He still didn’t like the taste of liquor much and it burned like a bitch on his cut lips and cheeks, but it still felt good.

“You know,” Castiel wiped his mouth “Dean was right about you,” Castiel pointed the bottle at the angel. “You really are a dick!” Castiel took another drink from the bottle as Zachariah’s face darkened; if the angel decided to smite him, at least all this pain would stop.

Zachariah chose to rant instead.

“Listen to me you insignificant little prick, you’re no longer an angel remember,” his voice was low and threatening. “You brought all of this on yourself. You disobeyed. You are the one that sent Dean to this fate.” Castiel lowered the bottle because each of Zachariah’s words stung, but he stood his ground as the angel stepped closer to him, close enough to loom.

“Lucifer has already freed three of the four horsemen.” Zachariah kept speaking even as he snatched the bottle from Castiel and threw it across the room. “Not long now and Lucifer will bring about the death of every last ape on this god forsaken rock.” Zachariah said it like it was something that couldn’t happen fast enough.

“And what are you going to do about it? Are you going to wait to die like the rest of the humans?” Zachariah asked. Castiel said nothing. Zachariah took one more step and now he was close enough that their jackets brushed, He held out the vial where Castiel could take it. “Or, you can stop being such a pathetic little looser and take responsibility for your actions.”

Castiel felt like everything was crushing him. The shock of finding Dean, and then finding out that Dean was a demon. The physical pain and the knowledge that Dean had done this to him. Then there was Zachariah, telling him that he could save Dean, and the world, but the cost would be his very humanity. He didn’t want to do it, the price was too high.

He liked being human in so many ways. He understood why his Father had been fascinated with the mortals he’d created; there were so many of them and they were similar but always different. And he was part of it now.

Taking back his grace meant that it was finished, he would go back to feeling nothing. His friends would once again become tools to be moulded and directed to do Heaven’s will. Sure he would be able to save them, heal them, but how many friends would he have left if they knew he’d traded their freedom for his grace. It wasn’t something he could take back at the cost of betraying Chuck or Dean.

“You have to try and fix this or you will stay human and die with everyone else.” Zachariah placed a hand on Castiel’s shoulder. It almost sounded as if his concern was genuine, like he cared if Castiel died with the humans. “You know, the angels are already discussing leaving. Once they do, there will be no reason for Lucifer to keep Dean at his side. He’ll kill him. You know he will.” Zachariah sounded very certain of that and, Castiel had to admit, it was a good possibility.

“I won’t sell out my friends,” Castiel shook his head and pulling his shoulder from the angel’s grip, “I cannot give you Chuck and I will not help you convince Dean to say yes to Michael.”

The angel backed away and straightened his tie. “You should be careful of the promises you make, Castiel. You once said you’d never betray your family and look what happened!” Zachariah sounded bitter and Castiel felt an urge to apologize to him, but then Zachariah adjusted his tie and pulled his composure around him like a cloak. He placed the vial into Castiel’s hand and smiled at him. “Take it and get Dean away from Sam. It’s the only chance any of us have.”

Zachariah stepped away from Castiel and walked back across the room to the door. “At the very least, you can spend your final days with your human before the world ends.” There was a flutter of wings and the room was empty.

Castiel glanced around the room as the wind settled, confirming that Zachariah had indeed left and that this wasn’t some kind of trick. It wasn’t. The angel was gone and he’d given Castiel his grace back without extracting any promise from the former angel. Castiel glanced down at the vial that Zachariah had given him. His grace had deeper tones than Anna’s, and the colours pulled him in-he could watch them for hours.

He may not have hours...

He knew that, in a way, this was exactly what he had prayed for. He had prayed for the power to be able to save Dean from the demon or, if he couldn’t rescue his friend, he needed the strength to kill him. Either one would be easier to do if he was fully an angel again, with all of Heaven to draw upon. . If he let the grace of his father fill him, it would take away the pain he felt, but it would also remove the emotions that were burning inside him. He might lose that part of him that Dean liked. Not the demon but Dean, his Dean.

It also meant that Zachariah would want something in return later. For now, he said separating Dean from Lucifer would be enough, but it wouldn’t stay that way. There would be something else that Castiel would have to do and chances were good that it would be something as equally repugnant as turning over your best friend to be possessed by creatures that would burn his personality, his soul right out of his body.

Both options could be beneficial. Both options could lead to betrayal and despair in the new future. One of them just might, might, solve all their problems and save the world. He just wasn’t sure which choice was the right one.
Go to part 3