fic: MMOM #20: The Cult of Dean (3/3) (Dean/Castiel)
Title: The Cult of Dean (3/3)
Author: eggblue
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Supernatural, Sam, Dean and Castiel are not belong to me.
Word Count: 2075
Notes: Post-4.22. Where Dean and Sam are possessed by archangels, and Castiel is stuck in a triangle.
Part 1 here.
Part 2 here.
It’s been hard going since Castiel raised him from Hell. But Dean hadn’t truly known how hard.
So yesterday he felt what it was like to be healed by an angel of the lord -- his angel of the lord, Castiel.
It was one of many new things he learned about his guardian angel.
One - He did not know Castiel.
He knows this now because he felt the extent of Castiel’s presence when he raised him from the dead for the second time.
They were hunting for the sword again, the one Anna had hidden. She’d left clues that only Castiel seemed to be able to read.
Two - Castiel was an expert at reading signs and symbols, as good as he was at making them.
Three - Angels don’t like to dig up graves.
Dean learned that the hard way, but he was used to arguing with Castiel all the time now. Because Cas was a prude; and Dean really really wasn’t.
Only the sword wasn’t in the grave. Dean had dug up an empty grave, alone, for nothing. He was thinking about that fact, and thinking about what a shitty day it had been -- driving around with a sullen angel in the car who didn’t even let him listen to AC/DC, grave digging, the usual -- looking up at the stars and thinking of every horrible name he could think of to curse god with.
And that’s when Castiel chose to stab him through the throat and heart with Michael’s sword.
Four - Castiel was an excellent swordsman.
Then all Dean felt was fire from the inside out. He became electric current, running through wires and veins in the earth, down and down and down, in chains back to Hell.
And Dean hadn’t remembered what Hell was like. Not really. He’d remembered Hell through the veil of human memory, what it could store and what it could handle. Memory also worked differently in Hell -- He had remembered who Alastair was, but he hadn’t really remembered Alastair. He knew the plot, not the details.
This time, Dean did not call into the dark for his brother, trapped as he was under Lucifer’s control. This time, Dean called for Cas.
Five - Castiel liked to make a grand entrance.
Castiel came down and down and down, diving into Hell like a comet with wings. Burning him again in the same place. There was no stopping him this time, no hesitation or doubt. Castiel was acting, choosing to do this, and nothing was going to stop him. Like he had something to prove. And he did.
As Castiel pulled him from the pit, Dean continued to burn. He felt the same fire burning him from the inside out -- like the moment he had felt Michael die within him in the graveyard -- the moment Castiel stabbed him with his own sword.
This fire was burning through Dean, not burning him up. It was a pure light shining through his memories - so many memories of Sammy, so many faces of the people he’d saved, memories of monsters and Hell and Dad. Memories of his childhood, and Castiel.
Six - Castiel had watched over Dean his whole life.
Castiel truly was his guardian angel, with him since birth. For Dean’s entire lifetime, in Hell and on earth, but only a fraction of the angel’s time, Castiel was there. Here at the end of time, Castiel was still there.
Cas has watched him his whole life. Dean has been his religion.
Seven - Castiel has a serious case of ennui.
The world’s worst case, in fact. He’d just killed his most heavenly on high highest of high angel superior, at least in part to be with the human charge he was in love with. Who happened to be obsessed with his Lucifer-possessed little brother at the moment.
And no one is going to come after him.
Dean watches Castiel stare out the window with a pinched face on. For hours.
“I don’t think anyone’s coming, Cas.” Dean can’t manage to get off the bed, tired as he is from getting stabbed in the heart and sent back to Hell again. And his arm hurt. “You know, you kind of turned my arm into raw hamburger here. Burn bright enough for you?”
Cas turns his head around for an instant, enough to show Dean just how bright his fire burns for him and him alone, and Dean gets kind of lightheaded and droopy-eyed, and yeah he’s kind of far gone.
Eight - Dean is in love with Castiel. Fuck.
“Cas, are you going to stop looking out that window anytime soon? Because some of us have to eat.” Dean figures he’s not going to answer.
Then he does. “What is the point, Dean?”
“Are you seriously asking me that question? Because if you are, we are seriously fucked, right?”
Castiel’s face had that pinched look on it again, only with his nostrils flared like they do before he makes a joke, and his eyes always searching in wondrous annoyance… and when did he start paying so much attention to Cas’ face??
Oh man.
“You’re hungry, Dean. Really? You want to eat at a time like this?”
Wait a sec… “We’ve been waiting here for hours… Hey! Did you just read my mind?”
“Well, are you? Hungry?”
Dean actually has to think about that. What does he want?
He wants to feel Castiel again. That’s it. That’s what he wants.
He’s sitting on the paisley orange hotel bedspread with his hand absently creeping up his arm towards his burned shoulder, and it still burns like hell, but… he wants Castiel’s hand right there. And when he looks up, finally, he knows that Castiel sees exactly what he wants.
“You want that too?” He whispers. Then Castiel moves so quickly over him, breathing so hard, like he’s in pain, but Dean’s pretty sure it’s pleasure. Castiel covers the raw, bleeding, half-healed wound with the shape of the hand that made it.
He presses down, watches the flesh connect them with blood, that force that separates man from angel.
Dean watches in awe as Castiel’s face, his whole body, shivers. It makes him want to take his dick out of his pants immediately.
Ok, Dean understands this. Fear, lust, escape. He can do this.
Then Dean breathes through the pain in his arm. Then Dean is gone with him.
It’s like nothing else has ever been. It doesn’t remind him of anything, and after the life he’s had, that’s a blessing. Castiel is just… everything that Castiel is. This perfect puzzle piece.
It’s like peace without death. Peace and bliss and satisfaction. Divine, like it was always meant to be.
When Dean comes to, Castiel is licking the skin clean over the scarred-over but still tender mark on his arm. His clothes are still on, but his fly is down and his dick is still hanging out of his pants. He’s so blissed out he doesn’t even care.
“Is this like Heaven, Castiel?” And yeah, that was the cheesiest question he could have asked, but he had the right to ask it.
“I don’t know. This is… new.”
Dean freezes. “What do you mean, you don’t know? Isn’t Heaven your home base?”
“It is, Dean. But I don’t know what it feels like. I don’t know what it means to be human there.”
Dean watches him ponder. He does it so much more these days. Truly ponders.
And, damn, now he’s hungry. “I think I need a pizza.”
That gets a smile from his angel. “It’s strange… The things you crave are the very same things we use as torture.”
Dean looks for a nostril flare. “You’re joking.”
Castiel closes his eyes and very briefly shakes his head. “No, actually I’m not.”
“What?”
“Imagine your pizza with no taste. Imagine having sex and not feeling a thing. Jerking off and never coming. Or watching television in another language. Or being naked in public against your will. That’s what it’s like for us.”
“So the Cult of Dean is torture for you guys? I didn’t realize that by taking off your tie and making you watch cartoons I was committing a mortal sin.”
“It is said there are angels in Heaven above the archangels in glory. They have four pairs of wings and their only duty is to stand next to our Father and sing.” Cas’ nostrils flare just so. “We can’t all be Britney Spears.”
Dean scoffs. “Well we can’t all have psychic angel hand tattoo orgasm marathons. So, what? You make fun of us lowly humans when you’re bored? Real nice. Seriously, you guys are dicks.”
“Well, I never think the joke was all that funny. Everything is forbidden, Dean.”
“So what we just did, you don’t do that with each other?”
Pinched face returns. “Dean, I’m not sure any two beings have ever done what we just did.”
Sex pioneers. He had to admit, that was awesome. “Cas, that was kind of awesome.”
“That word has interesting implications.”
Grammar jokes. Right. “So you give up doing stuff like that for… what? What do you get in exchange?”
“In exchange, we can prove our loyalty. Prove who we are.”
Dean turns the corners of his mouth down in mock agreement. “You need to tempt yourself with things you are not allowed to have - things that you all convince yourselves are horrible things - so that you can validate your existence?”
Castiel seems hurt at that. “Yes.”
Dean pauses. “Like you stormed into Hell to find me, and burned off half my arm in the process.”
“I liked having a purpose again. I liked saving you - I believe it’s what I was created to do.”
So why does he look sad when he says that? “So you should get lots of brownie points in Heaven for fulfilling your purpose, right?”
“Yeah. Well. I am waiting here for all of Heaven to come kill me. And for your brother to destroy the rest of humanity. I don’t think I’m doing this right.”
Don’t think of Sam don’t think of Sam. “Nah, Cas, I’d say you are the only shining example of Heaven’s army I have seen so far.” He really didn’t mean to sound like that.
All of the angel’s humor has left him. “I don’t even know what that means anymore. I thought… someone would come for me. But I’m not even being punished. I’ve just been left on my own.” It’s almost a whisper.
“What do you think?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever been asked that before, Dean,” and Cas’ smile is so full of regret, Dean’s heart seizes in brace of the impact.
“I think Heaven,” he looks down, and then Dean can see nothing but his eyes. “And Hell, are both about turning us - all of us - against the things we love the most.”
Dean can’t speak. And if Castiel doesn’t stop trying to keep that smile soon, he thinks something inside of him will snap.
And god, Castiel begins to cry.
“What I don’t understand,” and Cas is angry now, “what I’ve never asked myself before, even in all those years when you used to ask, long ago, and I ignored you -- because I didn’t understand the question-- is WHY?”
“It’s ok, Cas.” It really isn’t, but he says it anyway. And why is Castiel still fully dressed? Here he thought his father had armor… Don’t think about dad don’t think about dad…
“You say Heaven and Hell are set on turning us against each other, right?”
Castiel looks up from the bed like he never wants to move again.
Dean nudges him in the arm until he’s sure he’s listening. “And your purpose is saving me, right? So today you just managed to save me from the most powerful archangel in Heaven, and also from the pit of Hell. I’d say you’re doing a damn good job. What’s Heaven got to say against that? Nothing. Exactly. And Hell’s practically your bitch at this point. So if you want me, you got me. I don’t think anything’s going to stop you, Cas.”
When Castiel finally opens up his mouth to speak, Dean bends over his folded legs, leans down to the angel on his bed and kisses him.
“Let’s not talk for awhile.” Cas’ breath is soft and cold against his cheek.
Dean just nods, and kisses him again.
The End
Author: eggblue
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Supernatural, Sam, Dean and Castiel are not belong to me.
Word Count: 2075
Notes: Post-4.22. Where Dean and Sam are possessed by archangels, and Castiel is stuck in a triangle.
Part 1 here.
Part 2 here.
It’s been hard going since Castiel raised him from Hell. But Dean hadn’t truly known how hard.
So yesterday he felt what it was like to be healed by an angel of the lord -- his angel of the lord, Castiel.
It was one of many new things he learned about his guardian angel.
One - He did not know Castiel.
He knows this now because he felt the extent of Castiel’s presence when he raised him from the dead for the second time.
They were hunting for the sword again, the one Anna had hidden. She’d left clues that only Castiel seemed to be able to read.
Two - Castiel was an expert at reading signs and symbols, as good as he was at making them.
Three - Angels don’t like to dig up graves.
Dean learned that the hard way, but he was used to arguing with Castiel all the time now. Because Cas was a prude; and Dean really really wasn’t.
Only the sword wasn’t in the grave. Dean had dug up an empty grave, alone, for nothing. He was thinking about that fact, and thinking about what a shitty day it had been -- driving around with a sullen angel in the car who didn’t even let him listen to AC/DC, grave digging, the usual -- looking up at the stars and thinking of every horrible name he could think of to curse god with.
And that’s when Castiel chose to stab him through the throat and heart with Michael’s sword.
Four - Castiel was an excellent swordsman.
Then all Dean felt was fire from the inside out. He became electric current, running through wires and veins in the earth, down and down and down, in chains back to Hell.
And Dean hadn’t remembered what Hell was like. Not really. He’d remembered Hell through the veil of human memory, what it could store and what it could handle. Memory also worked differently in Hell -- He had remembered who Alastair was, but he hadn’t really remembered Alastair. He knew the plot, not the details.
This time, Dean did not call into the dark for his brother, trapped as he was under Lucifer’s control. This time, Dean called for Cas.
Five - Castiel liked to make a grand entrance.
Castiel came down and down and down, diving into Hell like a comet with wings. Burning him again in the same place. There was no stopping him this time, no hesitation or doubt. Castiel was acting, choosing to do this, and nothing was going to stop him. Like he had something to prove. And he did.
As Castiel pulled him from the pit, Dean continued to burn. He felt the same fire burning him from the inside out -- like the moment he had felt Michael die within him in the graveyard -- the moment Castiel stabbed him with his own sword.
This fire was burning through Dean, not burning him up. It was a pure light shining through his memories - so many memories of Sammy, so many faces of the people he’d saved, memories of monsters and Hell and Dad. Memories of his childhood, and Castiel.
Six - Castiel had watched over Dean his whole life.
Castiel truly was his guardian angel, with him since birth. For Dean’s entire lifetime, in Hell and on earth, but only a fraction of the angel’s time, Castiel was there. Here at the end of time, Castiel was still there.
Cas has watched him his whole life. Dean has been his religion.
Seven - Castiel has a serious case of ennui.
The world’s worst case, in fact. He’d just killed his most heavenly on high highest of high angel superior, at least in part to be with the human charge he was in love with. Who happened to be obsessed with his Lucifer-possessed little brother at the moment.
And no one is going to come after him.
Dean watches Castiel stare out the window with a pinched face on. For hours.
“I don’t think anyone’s coming, Cas.” Dean can’t manage to get off the bed, tired as he is from getting stabbed in the heart and sent back to Hell again. And his arm hurt. “You know, you kind of turned my arm into raw hamburger here. Burn bright enough for you?”
Cas turns his head around for an instant, enough to show Dean just how bright his fire burns for him and him alone, and Dean gets kind of lightheaded and droopy-eyed, and yeah he’s kind of far gone.
Eight - Dean is in love with Castiel. Fuck.
“Cas, are you going to stop looking out that window anytime soon? Because some of us have to eat.” Dean figures he’s not going to answer.
Then he does. “What is the point, Dean?”
“Are you seriously asking me that question? Because if you are, we are seriously fucked, right?”
Castiel’s face had that pinched look on it again, only with his nostrils flared like they do before he makes a joke, and his eyes always searching in wondrous annoyance… and when did he start paying so much attention to Cas’ face??
Oh man.
“You’re hungry, Dean. Really? You want to eat at a time like this?”
Wait a sec… “We’ve been waiting here for hours… Hey! Did you just read my mind?”
“Well, are you? Hungry?”
Dean actually has to think about that. What does he want?
He wants to feel Castiel again. That’s it. That’s what he wants.
He’s sitting on the paisley orange hotel bedspread with his hand absently creeping up his arm towards his burned shoulder, and it still burns like hell, but… he wants Castiel’s hand right there. And when he looks up, finally, he knows that Castiel sees exactly what he wants.
“You want that too?” He whispers. Then Castiel moves so quickly over him, breathing so hard, like he’s in pain, but Dean’s pretty sure it’s pleasure. Castiel covers the raw, bleeding, half-healed wound with the shape of the hand that made it.
He presses down, watches the flesh connect them with blood, that force that separates man from angel.
Dean watches in awe as Castiel’s face, his whole body, shivers. It makes him want to take his dick out of his pants immediately.
Ok, Dean understands this. Fear, lust, escape. He can do this.
Then Dean breathes through the pain in his arm. Then Dean is gone with him.
It’s like nothing else has ever been. It doesn’t remind him of anything, and after the life he’s had, that’s a blessing. Castiel is just… everything that Castiel is. This perfect puzzle piece.
It’s like peace without death. Peace and bliss and satisfaction. Divine, like it was always meant to be.
When Dean comes to, Castiel is licking the skin clean over the scarred-over but still tender mark on his arm. His clothes are still on, but his fly is down and his dick is still hanging out of his pants. He’s so blissed out he doesn’t even care.
“Is this like Heaven, Castiel?” And yeah, that was the cheesiest question he could have asked, but he had the right to ask it.
“I don’t know. This is… new.”
Dean freezes. “What do you mean, you don’t know? Isn’t Heaven your home base?”
“It is, Dean. But I don’t know what it feels like. I don’t know what it means to be human there.”
Dean watches him ponder. He does it so much more these days. Truly ponders.
And, damn, now he’s hungry. “I think I need a pizza.”
That gets a smile from his angel. “It’s strange… The things you crave are the very same things we use as torture.”
Dean looks for a nostril flare. “You’re joking.”
Castiel closes his eyes and very briefly shakes his head. “No, actually I’m not.”
“What?”
“Imagine your pizza with no taste. Imagine having sex and not feeling a thing. Jerking off and never coming. Or watching television in another language. Or being naked in public against your will. That’s what it’s like for us.”
“So the Cult of Dean is torture for you guys? I didn’t realize that by taking off your tie and making you watch cartoons I was committing a mortal sin.”
“It is said there are angels in Heaven above the archangels in glory. They have four pairs of wings and their only duty is to stand next to our Father and sing.” Cas’ nostrils flare just so. “We can’t all be Britney Spears.”
Dean scoffs. “Well we can’t all have psychic angel hand tattoo orgasm marathons. So, what? You make fun of us lowly humans when you’re bored? Real nice. Seriously, you guys are dicks.”
“Well, I never think the joke was all that funny. Everything is forbidden, Dean.”
“So what we just did, you don’t do that with each other?”
Pinched face returns. “Dean, I’m not sure any two beings have ever done what we just did.”
Sex pioneers. He had to admit, that was awesome. “Cas, that was kind of awesome.”
“That word has interesting implications.”
Grammar jokes. Right. “So you give up doing stuff like that for… what? What do you get in exchange?”
“In exchange, we can prove our loyalty. Prove who we are.”
Dean turns the corners of his mouth down in mock agreement. “You need to tempt yourself with things you are not allowed to have - things that you all convince yourselves are horrible things - so that you can validate your existence?”
Castiel seems hurt at that. “Yes.”
Dean pauses. “Like you stormed into Hell to find me, and burned off half my arm in the process.”
“I liked having a purpose again. I liked saving you - I believe it’s what I was created to do.”
So why does he look sad when he says that? “So you should get lots of brownie points in Heaven for fulfilling your purpose, right?”
“Yeah. Well. I am waiting here for all of Heaven to come kill me. And for your brother to destroy the rest of humanity. I don’t think I’m doing this right.”
Don’t think of Sam don’t think of Sam. “Nah, Cas, I’d say you are the only shining example of Heaven’s army I have seen so far.” He really didn’t mean to sound like that.
All of the angel’s humor has left him. “I don’t even know what that means anymore. I thought… someone would come for me. But I’m not even being punished. I’ve just been left on my own.” It’s almost a whisper.
“What do you think?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever been asked that before, Dean,” and Cas’ smile is so full of regret, Dean’s heart seizes in brace of the impact.
“I think Heaven,” he looks down, and then Dean can see nothing but his eyes. “And Hell, are both about turning us - all of us - against the things we love the most.”
Dean can’t speak. And if Castiel doesn’t stop trying to keep that smile soon, he thinks something inside of him will snap.
And god, Castiel begins to cry.
“What I don’t understand,” and Cas is angry now, “what I’ve never asked myself before, even in all those years when you used to ask, long ago, and I ignored you -- because I didn’t understand the question-- is WHY?”
“It’s ok, Cas.” It really isn’t, but he says it anyway. And why is Castiel still fully dressed? Here he thought his father had armor… Don’t think about dad don’t think about dad…
“You say Heaven and Hell are set on turning us against each other, right?”
Castiel looks up from the bed like he never wants to move again.
Dean nudges him in the arm until he’s sure he’s listening. “And your purpose is saving me, right? So today you just managed to save me from the most powerful archangel in Heaven, and also from the pit of Hell. I’d say you’re doing a damn good job. What’s Heaven got to say against that? Nothing. Exactly. And Hell’s practically your bitch at this point. So if you want me, you got me. I don’t think anything’s going to stop you, Cas.”
When Castiel finally opens up his mouth to speak, Dean bends over his folded legs, leans down to the angel on his bed and kisses him.
“Let’s not talk for awhile.” Cas’ breath is soft and cold against his cheek.
Dean just nods, and kisses him again.
The End