fic: MMOM #18: The Cult of Dean (1/3) (Dean/Castiel)
Title: The Cult of Dean (1/3)
Author: eggblue
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Supernatural, Sam, Dean and Castiel are not belong to me.
Word Count: 1500
Notes: Post-4.22. Conversation fic where Castiel has his faith destroyed and wakes up naked in a hotel room next to Dean.
Part 2 here.
Part 3 here.
When the archangel Michael appears behind Dean’s eyes for the first time, Castiel wants to run from his side, far away from the cursed church convent. He wants to fly back home and forget he’s ever heard the name Dean Winchester.
He is Michael, the prince. He has sent Lucifer far away, trapped in the body of his brother. Brother trapped in brother.
Castiel stays. He does the only thing he’s ever wanted to do his whole angelic life, since the beginning of time.
Castiel folds his hands in prayer and supplication, asks him, over and over: “What have you seen? Tell me, what have you seen?”
Michael places his hand on the grunt angel’s cheek in harsh sympathy. “Nothing, Castiel.” Holds his gaze steady as the light in his eyes dims. “There is nothing, Castiel.”
There is something like cold laughter in the prince’s eyes, joining with his cloying compassion.
It happens so quickly.
“No!” Castiel screams at the archangel, slaps his bloody palm across the cold cold face and says the Word of subjugation.
Dean awakes in the chapel with blood on his cheek. He has never heard an angel cry before. It is horrible.
So after days of silence, Castiel disappears, walks into the local children’s hospital and lays hands on every patient.
God will take who he wills, he thinks. I shall save the rest.
Dean finds him hours later, passed out, feverish, on the sidewalk outside their hotel.
When Castiel awakes, naked and under the covers, Dean is sitting there watching him.
He reaches out to soothe him, to put his hand on the angel’s brow like he had done to so many children, until he was made to stop.
Castiel brushes it off and begins to hunt for his clothes frantically, comically to Dean’s eyes, but serious, he knows.
It isn’t right. He’s always known that. For every life saved, another is lost. He’d just wanted to rebel. And he has failed again.
“Castiel,” Dean calls, “just stop for a minute…”
“There are laws, Dean. Laws I can’t break even if I choose to. And I can’t afford to choose to.”
“Laws like what?”
Dean has seen Castiel angry before. It is frightening. He stands with the entire comforter wrapped around him like an oversized toga and points his finger at Dean accusingly. He begins:
“Angels have seven laws:
Do not commit blasphemy.
Do not remove vestments.
Do not eat of the earth.
Do not reveal manifestations of grace.
Do not kill your brother.
Do not covet the children of Eden.
Obey.”
Dean counts seven, thinking. Obey, right. “Ok, so, ‘Do not eat of the earth.’ Does that count if it’s convenience store food?”
“Dean, I can’t eat food, any food, in man’s kingdom, just as you can’t eat the food in Heaven.”
“Like Zach’s burgers, you mean?”
“Yes.”
“And I’m not supposed to remove your clothes? Ever?”
Castiel sighs at that as he finds his tie balled up on the seat of a chair. “Yes.”
“What about ‘manifestation of grace’?”
“I can’t reveal my… ‘wings’ to you any more than I already have.”
“What if I told you I still don’t believe? Would you have to show me then? What if I still don’t believe you’re an angel?”
“Dean. You know exactly what I am.”
Oh, right. Cas is angry.
Dean isn’t going to touch the killing commandment. God seems to have a loophole with that one for every kind of being under his control. Nice.
“What was that last one again?”
“Obey. The last one is always obey.”
Right. “The one before it? ‘Eden’s children’?”
“Do not covet the children of Eden.”
“So, like, what? Don’t steal our cars? Or, don’t wish to be us and actually fall?”
“More like don’t steal you. Don’t feel lust, or jealousy, or loyalty for man above your duty to god. Don’t want for what we can’t have.”
Dean doesn’t really say anything to that. Except…
“Cas? How many of these rules have you guys broken? And how many of you besides, you know, Lucifer? I mean, what really happens if…”
“Dean! I need to find my clothes.”
“Ok, ok! Jesus, sorry I took off your soaking wet clothes and brought down your fever when you were done saving the world and all. I didn’t know you guys were so fucking modest.”
“Dean! Do not blaspheme!”
“What!? Christ, what do you want me to do, Cas?!”
And Cas just stops, and stares at the wallpaper with hopeless eyes, one sock balled up in his hand.
When Dean figures Cas isn’t going to say anything, he decides to speak first.
“I’m sorry?” He doesn’t mean it as a question, not really.
Castiel’s sigh is angry this time. “Do not take the lord’s name in vain or sully your mind with blasphemy.”
Dean pauses. “You mean I can’t swear? Why the hell not?”
Castiel doesn’t even bother to say his name this time. He just stares. “Because, you are carrying an archangel inside of you. The prince of Heaven, our highest, most highest on high of all the angels.”
“Wait a second…”
“I performed a subjugation spell on him. Michael is still within you, only enslaved to your will.”
Dean has a million questions to ask, and none of them are adequate. “For how long?”
“I don’t know. It won’t contain him forever.”
“But I’m supposed to live by those rules? I’m supposed to obey… whom??”
“I don’t know that either. Michael is an archangel; his ways are mysterious to me. I don’t know what is the truth anymore, what is god’s will.”
“Wait… so, Cas? You just disobeyed again? For me? Again??”
Castiel doesn’t even bother to sigh that time. He just closes his eyes and tilts his head to the ceiling, as if wondering when his torment will end. “Yes, Dean. I have chosen your will over the will of my highest superior in Heaven.”
“Besides god, you mean?”
And Castiel’s eyes snap open. He just stares at Dean, and his eyes open wider and wider. “Michael said…”
And Dean has no memory of what Michael had said. “What Cas?”
Castiel’s voice is soft when he speaks. “Michael said that there is nothing. There is no…” But his voice cracks. He stops.
“Cas…”
“Do you believe, Dean?” His eyes are so wide, so clear and filling with pained hope.
Dean doesn’t. He really doesn’t. But he can’t bring himself to say it. He wants nothing more than to make the angel Castiel -- savior of 17 patients at St. Mary’s Hospital in Louisiana yesterday afternoon - believe there is a Father guiding him.
He wants to make this mess that is Dean Winchester and the doomed rock he lives on ok for an angel like Castiel. He wants it as badly as he’s ever wanted it for Sam. So he does what he always used to do for Sam, back when it used to work - he rationalizes.
Dean sits next to his angel, now crouching dejectedly on the side of the bed, about to cry over a lost sock.
“Hey. Hey, Cas. Maybe Michael’s wrong about all of this. Maybe he’s never seen and he doesn’t know, but that doesn’t mean he’s right.”
Then something occurs to him. “Cas? How were you able to pull a spell on an archangel, anyway?”
Cas sits up then, a little bit of pride in his spine returning for the first time since he woke up naked. “I am an angel of the cosmos. I can set spells by the workings of the universe, and no power can break them if Fate does not will it so.”
“No shhh… I mean, you’re kidding me?”
“No, I’m not. My spells are perfect. But Uriel did interfere once. It is not impossible.” Castiel slumps again.
Well. “You defeated Michael. And you sure as hell saved me. And all those kids at the hospital. Cas, come on.” Dean nudges him until he responds. “I’d rather worship you than any dickish archangel any day. You’re better than all of them, you know that?” It’s working. “Hey, I’m not Michael or anything, but he chose my body to be his vessel. That’s got to count for something, right?”
Castiel doesn’t answer. Dean ignores the implications.
“I’m even better than he is! You can worship at the Cult of Dean for all I care. Eat of all the earth you want; go naked every day. It’s what I would do.”
Cas just looks at him. “You also eat chili dogs and jerk off to Gilligan’s Island.”
Dean pretends offense. (And did Cas just say “jerk off”?) “Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it. Good times in the Cult of Dean.”
For the first time in a week, Castiel is smiling. Sure, he has an all-powerful archangel stuck inside of him like a bad dream, and sure, Cas still doesn’t have a clue what to believe, but still, Dean would say that’s progress.
“Ok, Cas, now, let’s find that other sock.”
The End
(I lied: Part 2 here.
Part 3 here.)
Author: eggblue
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Supernatural, Sam, Dean and Castiel are not belong to me.
Word Count: 1500
Notes: Post-4.22. Conversation fic where Castiel has his faith destroyed and wakes up naked in a hotel room next to Dean.
Part 2 here.
Part 3 here.
When the archangel Michael appears behind Dean’s eyes for the first time, Castiel wants to run from his side, far away from the cursed church convent. He wants to fly back home and forget he’s ever heard the name Dean Winchester.
He is Michael, the prince. He has sent Lucifer far away, trapped in the body of his brother. Brother trapped in brother.
Castiel stays. He does the only thing he’s ever wanted to do his whole angelic life, since the beginning of time.
Castiel folds his hands in prayer and supplication, asks him, over and over: “What have you seen? Tell me, what have you seen?”
Michael places his hand on the grunt angel’s cheek in harsh sympathy. “Nothing, Castiel.” Holds his gaze steady as the light in his eyes dims. “There is nothing, Castiel.”
There is something like cold laughter in the prince’s eyes, joining with his cloying compassion.
It happens so quickly.
“No!” Castiel screams at the archangel, slaps his bloody palm across the cold cold face and says the Word of subjugation.
Dean awakes in the chapel with blood on his cheek. He has never heard an angel cry before. It is horrible.
So after days of silence, Castiel disappears, walks into the local children’s hospital and lays hands on every patient.
God will take who he wills, he thinks. I shall save the rest.
Dean finds him hours later, passed out, feverish, on the sidewalk outside their hotel.
When Castiel awakes, naked and under the covers, Dean is sitting there watching him.
He reaches out to soothe him, to put his hand on the angel’s brow like he had done to so many children, until he was made to stop.
Castiel brushes it off and begins to hunt for his clothes frantically, comically to Dean’s eyes, but serious, he knows.
It isn’t right. He’s always known that. For every life saved, another is lost. He’d just wanted to rebel. And he has failed again.
“Castiel,” Dean calls, “just stop for a minute…”
“There are laws, Dean. Laws I can’t break even if I choose to. And I can’t afford to choose to.”
“Laws like what?”
Dean has seen Castiel angry before. It is frightening. He stands with the entire comforter wrapped around him like an oversized toga and points his finger at Dean accusingly. He begins:
“Angels have seven laws:
Do not commit blasphemy.
Do not remove vestments.
Do not eat of the earth.
Do not reveal manifestations of grace.
Do not kill your brother.
Do not covet the children of Eden.
Obey.”
Dean counts seven, thinking. Obey, right. “Ok, so, ‘Do not eat of the earth.’ Does that count if it’s convenience store food?”
“Dean, I can’t eat food, any food, in man’s kingdom, just as you can’t eat the food in Heaven.”
“Like Zach’s burgers, you mean?”
“Yes.”
“And I’m not supposed to remove your clothes? Ever?”
Castiel sighs at that as he finds his tie balled up on the seat of a chair. “Yes.”
“What about ‘manifestation of grace’?”
“I can’t reveal my… ‘wings’ to you any more than I already have.”
“What if I told you I still don’t believe? Would you have to show me then? What if I still don’t believe you’re an angel?”
“Dean. You know exactly what I am.”
Oh, right. Cas is angry.
Dean isn’t going to touch the killing commandment. God seems to have a loophole with that one for every kind of being under his control. Nice.
“What was that last one again?”
“Obey. The last one is always obey.”
Right. “The one before it? ‘Eden’s children’?”
“Do not covet the children of Eden.”
“So, like, what? Don’t steal our cars? Or, don’t wish to be us and actually fall?”
“More like don’t steal you. Don’t feel lust, or jealousy, or loyalty for man above your duty to god. Don’t want for what we can’t have.”
Dean doesn’t really say anything to that. Except…
“Cas? How many of these rules have you guys broken? And how many of you besides, you know, Lucifer? I mean, what really happens if…”
“Dean! I need to find my clothes.”
“Ok, ok! Jesus, sorry I took off your soaking wet clothes and brought down your fever when you were done saving the world and all. I didn’t know you guys were so fucking modest.”
“Dean! Do not blaspheme!”
“What!? Christ, what do you want me to do, Cas?!”
And Cas just stops, and stares at the wallpaper with hopeless eyes, one sock balled up in his hand.
When Dean figures Cas isn’t going to say anything, he decides to speak first.
“I’m sorry?” He doesn’t mean it as a question, not really.
Castiel’s sigh is angry this time. “Do not take the lord’s name in vain or sully your mind with blasphemy.”
Dean pauses. “You mean I can’t swear? Why the hell not?”
Castiel doesn’t even bother to say his name this time. He just stares. “Because, you are carrying an archangel inside of you. The prince of Heaven, our highest, most highest on high of all the angels.”
“Wait a second…”
“I performed a subjugation spell on him. Michael is still within you, only enslaved to your will.”
Dean has a million questions to ask, and none of them are adequate. “For how long?”
“I don’t know. It won’t contain him forever.”
“But I’m supposed to live by those rules? I’m supposed to obey… whom??”
“I don’t know that either. Michael is an archangel; his ways are mysterious to me. I don’t know what is the truth anymore, what is god’s will.”
“Wait… so, Cas? You just disobeyed again? For me? Again??”
Castiel doesn’t even bother to sigh that time. He just closes his eyes and tilts his head to the ceiling, as if wondering when his torment will end. “Yes, Dean. I have chosen your will over the will of my highest superior in Heaven.”
“Besides god, you mean?”
And Castiel’s eyes snap open. He just stares at Dean, and his eyes open wider and wider. “Michael said…”
And Dean has no memory of what Michael had said. “What Cas?”
Castiel’s voice is soft when he speaks. “Michael said that there is nothing. There is no…” But his voice cracks. He stops.
“Cas…”
“Do you believe, Dean?” His eyes are so wide, so clear and filling with pained hope.
Dean doesn’t. He really doesn’t. But he can’t bring himself to say it. He wants nothing more than to make the angel Castiel -- savior of 17 patients at St. Mary’s Hospital in Louisiana yesterday afternoon - believe there is a Father guiding him.
He wants to make this mess that is Dean Winchester and the doomed rock he lives on ok for an angel like Castiel. He wants it as badly as he’s ever wanted it for Sam. So he does what he always used to do for Sam, back when it used to work - he rationalizes.
Dean sits next to his angel, now crouching dejectedly on the side of the bed, about to cry over a lost sock.
“Hey. Hey, Cas. Maybe Michael’s wrong about all of this. Maybe he’s never seen and he doesn’t know, but that doesn’t mean he’s right.”
Then something occurs to him. “Cas? How were you able to pull a spell on an archangel, anyway?”
Cas sits up then, a little bit of pride in his spine returning for the first time since he woke up naked. “I am an angel of the cosmos. I can set spells by the workings of the universe, and no power can break them if Fate does not will it so.”
“No shhh… I mean, you’re kidding me?”
“No, I’m not. My spells are perfect. But Uriel did interfere once. It is not impossible.” Castiel slumps again.
Well. “You defeated Michael. And you sure as hell saved me. And all those kids at the hospital. Cas, come on.” Dean nudges him until he responds. “I’d rather worship you than any dickish archangel any day. You’re better than all of them, you know that?” It’s working. “Hey, I’m not Michael or anything, but he chose my body to be his vessel. That’s got to count for something, right?”
Castiel doesn’t answer. Dean ignores the implications.
“I’m even better than he is! You can worship at the Cult of Dean for all I care. Eat of all the earth you want; go naked every day. It’s what I would do.”
Cas just looks at him. “You also eat chili dogs and jerk off to Gilligan’s Island.”
Dean pretends offense. (And did Cas just say “jerk off”?) “Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it. Good times in the Cult of Dean.”
For the first time in a week, Castiel is smiling. Sure, he has an all-powerful archangel stuck inside of him like a bad dream, and sure, Cas still doesn’t have a clue what to believe, but still, Dean would say that’s progress.
“Ok, Cas, now, let’s find that other sock.”
The End
(I lied: Part 2 here.
Part 3 here.)