Grace and Glory (Baku-Verse chapter 5)
Title: Grace and Glory
Author: Hevyyd
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Spoilers: noneWarnings: some violence
Word Count: 4,571
Summary: Castiel is reuinited in a most awkward fashion, Dean's life is saved by the last expected saviour. The plot thickens and an old friend comes back.
MASTERPOST
Castiel is aware, perhaps more aware than he has ever been in his centuries of existence. He is aware of the dragon-fire warmth emanating from Dean's core, the smooth flow of his chest as it rises and falls. He is aware of the feather pricks of Deans hairs against his skin, and of the soft length of Dean's manhood resting against his hips. As though responding to some unbidden command, Dean's hands move up and down Castiel's chest, tracing small figure eights against his skin. A soft moan of pleasure escapes the angels lips before it is smothered by a soft kiss pressed against his lips.
"Are you sure you want this?" He asks, breaking away from Dean and boring into his bright green eyes, questioning, searching for any signs of hesitation, of doubt.
"I want you to be my first," Dean replies, then he chuckles softly to himself, "Well, the first from what I can remember anyway, though I'm pretty sure you'd still be the first man I've ever done this with regardless." His smile is easy, nonchalant even.
"It might hurt, this kind of action needs to be done with care."
"I figured," Dean sighs, allowing his head to rest gently against Castiel, "That's why it has to be you, why I need it to be you, and only you."
Castiel can feel himself hardening against Deans leg, he feels his vision swimming as they adjust on the couch, he is vaguely aware of his fingers working their way inside of Dean. All he can truly see is those bright green eyes, watching every movement, their shifts and phases betraying his every moan, every whimper.
"Please." Dean shudders, his voice broken, a hoarse whisper, it's all Castiel needs. But the very moment of truth, where two become one, and Castiel sinks his cock deep into Dean's warm, tender flesh, everything is gone.
The world goes black, cold, and silent.
"Dean?" Castiel calls out into the void. In response a grassy field grows beneath the angels feet, and from a small patch of exposed earth a single flower grows, coming into bloom before his very eyes. Out of the darkness a small sign appears and plants itself down next to the flower. 'My name is Dean,' the sign reads, 'when encountered in the wild I am a very strong a sturdy flower, capable of withstanding harsh wind and rain, able to thrive even in arid or cold climates. I am strong and I adapt well.'
Castiel smiles, this sign does sound very much like a description of Dean. he takes a moment to think of all that Dean has struggled through, all he has endured, and is proud of the strength his human possesses. Turning back to the sign, he continues to read. 'But please be careful, when raised domestically, I become more beautiful, but far less resilient. Without struggling to survive my defenses become weak, and even though I know you'll care for me with tender love, do not overcrowd me, I break easily.' A cold sense of dread spreads through Castiel, a foreboding, a warning of dangers yet to come.
Distressed, Castiel attempts to return to Dean, he is weak and small and must be protected. In his hurry he accidentally steps on the flower, and the sound of Dean screaming in pain and of glass breaking echoes far and wide throughout the empty landscape. Castiel looks down in horror as the flower lies, wilting and dead, it's petals rent by Castiel's carelessness.
'Even though I know you'll care for me with tender love, do not overcrowd me, I break easily.' The words echo through the air, inside of Castiel's mind and out, taunting leering, teasing. How could Castiel do the one thing that's bad for Dean? Now, look, you killed him, murderer. Castiel sinks to his knees, trying to block out the voices accusing him of hurting Dean, he tells himself he didn't mean it, but it only makes the voices louder. So loud that he doesn't hear the sound of soft steps approaching him on the grass.
"Hello again, Castiel-sama." Says the mysterious voice. All at once the voices silence.
Castiel's gaze snaps up to see the unwavering, watery black eyes of a tapir gazing at him. The creature is reclined on it's haunches, gazing at Castiel with curiosity. "You," Castiel whispers in disbelief, "It can't be, I killed you."
"Not entirely, though I apologize for the deception," says the Baku, rolling forward on it's haunches in a bow. "You seem to have forgotten that more than a physical being I am an idea, and ideas are not so easily slain by angry angels."
"I apologize for my actions, it was uncalled for and cruel." Castiel says, casting his gaze downward in humility.
"And I accept your apology Castiel, for it is not my way to hold grudges."
"Thank you."
"You are more than welcome, though I am surprised to find myself in an angels dream, I did not believe your kind had the capacity."
"We don't," Castiel responds quickly, "Not usually anyway, I'd assume I am dreaming because my Grace is still weakened enough that my mortal shell requires rest, opening my mind to the dreaming world."
"Interesting." The Baku rolls forward, so it is lying flat on the ground, legs splayed around it at rest, it's eyes never leaving Castiel. "Your nightmare attracted me here, I can consume it if you wish."
"That is a kind offer Baku, but I must decline, for I believe there is a lesson hidden in this terror, and I must decipher it, lest I repeat my mistakes again."
"That is very wise of you, though sadly that does nothing for my stomach." The Baku's belly grumbles audibly, causing Castiel to laugh aloud, he is joined by the Baku's own chuckle in it's rich, psychic resonance.
"Thank you for coming to see me," Castiel says, standing. "it truly disturbed me that I hurt you, and I am glad there was no lasting damage. I am equally grateful for your easy forgiveness."
The Baku does not reply, simply lowering it's eyes in a bow, and disappearing. Castiel smiles at the grass where the Baku had lain not moments before as a sunrise graced the horizon on his dream world. Behind him the broken Dean flower lay forgotten, it's lesson in Castiel's mind. The angel closed his eyes and bid himself awake.
*
Dean awoke to the soft touch of Castiel's hand against the muscles of his back, delicate fingers tracing the lines of muscle, the sinew, the bone. Curious, he opened his eyes to find the angel staring at the ceiling, he looked rested to be sure, but weak, probably still sick. "Good morning," Dean said softly, earning him a pleasant gaze from his angel, who brought his face to Dean's and pressed their lips together in a chaste kiss.
"Good morning Dean." Cas replied as they broke apart, the sound of his voice, all gravel and power, had Dean hardening instantly. Embarrassed he shifted on the couch, but there wasn't enough room to hide his erection from Cas. The angel chuckled, amused. "It's only natural for men to be hard in the morning Dean, it means you like me." His eyes gleamed softly as he pressed another kiss to Deans lips.
"Well I do like you, a whole lot." Dean laughed against Cas' mouth. "Did you want to, err, well..." Dean trailed off as he glanced downward, then pressed his body against Castiel, allowing the desire coursing through him to speak words he didn't yet know.
"Sex?" Cas inquired with a raised eyebrow.
"Yeah, I guess, you wanna?"
"I don't think sex is one of the things I taught you about." Castiel pondered, worrying his lip.
"You didn't." Dean replied, pointing over to his laptop computer, "It was there, you were gone, and I found a folder labeled porn and thought I'd take a look."
Astounding. Castiel thought to himself.
"But surely your computer did not contain sexual videos with two men?" Castiel questioned again, wondering just how much information about adult matters Dean had managed to sneak past him.
"It didn't . But there's this thing called the Internet, and when I looked up two guys having sex I found all kinds of gay porn, and there was lots of Doctor Sexy fan fiction as well." Dean replied, unabashed at how frankly he was discussing such matters.
"And how much of this porn have you watched?"
"Tons." Dean replied simply.
Astounding. Castiel thought again.
"Not for lack of wanting," Castiel said slowly, "But I would like to take things slowly with you, give you a proper relationship experience, is this acceptable?" The way Deans eyes lit up as he grinned made the sun shine just a little brighter.
"That's great Cas!" Dean said happily as he threw his arms around Castiel and kissed him passionately. The kiss was intense, but brief, and after it was over Dean leapt off of the couch, put on his pants, and made his way to Bobby's kitchen. Several clanking sounds later informed Castiel that Dean was cooking breakfast.
"What the hell is going on this early?" announced Bobby's arrival into the land of the waking. He walked past Castiel, not seeing Dean's other clothes on the floor, grumbling a g'mornin Cas as he approached Dean. "What are you so excited about boy?"
"Cas and I are dating" Dean replied, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. Bobby stared at Dean, then Castiel (who had hidden the majority of his face beneath the covers), then back to Dean. He opened his mouth to speak before throwing his hands up in the air, deciding it was simply better to drop it, and began to make coffee.
*
Dean stares in fascination at the viscous red liquid pooling all around him. The dull throbbing in his navel tells him he's been stabbed, that he is bleeding, that he will die. Yet he isn't afraid. Blood is so red. Dean thinks, enraptured by his own life falling from the open wound. Why did this happen, and how? Dean isn't really sure. Some men had asked to speak with him when he had gone into down to fetch more beer and medical supplies for Cas, and here he was. Dean thought perhaps one had stabbed him while the other distracted him perhaps? It didn't really matter, they had taken his wallet and his purchases and now Dean was going to die.
Poor Cas wont have his medicine. Was the only thought racing through Dean's mind. Poor Cas, not poor Dean, Dean was expendable, Dean could die at any moment, but poor Cas. Cas had needed Dean the way Dean needed Cas. And now Dean had let him down, how stupid, how childish.
How very Dean.
A soft touch, fingers curling up into his own brings Dean back to the waking world. He is staring at himself, strong and serene, and all around him Dean can hear whispers and beautiful music. This other Dean is surrounded by a corona of light, it makes him think of Cas again.
"Hello Dean." The new Dean says.
Hi. Dean thinks, to weary to speak.
"Your about to die, you know that?"
Yes.
"You don't care?"
I do, I don't want to leave Cas all alone, but there isn't much I can do.
"I can help you."
How? And why do you look like me? Your not me, are you?
"I'm not you, my name is Michael, I'm an archangel."
Panic spreads through Dean. Though the name is unfamiliar to him, it registers somewhere deep within his core that Michael is a manipulative dick who made his life hell. Dean tries to breath quickly, to run away and hide from the bad man, but he can't. Instead his eyes go wide, blown out with fear and anxiety. Across from him Michael sighs and then sighs softly.
"You don't trust me, I understand." Michael says sadly, "I hurt you in the past, your brother too, and you still remember it somehow. But Dean, I'm not the same as I was back then, I'm here to make it right, if you will let me." Dean doesn't know why, but the sincerity reflecting in Michael's eyes, his own eyes, makes Dean trust him somewhat.
What do you want? Dean asks, wary.
"If you become my vessel for one whole day, that is to say exactly twenty-four hours, I will save your life, re ignite Castiel's Grace, and give you the most powerful weapon in all existence, the power to protect yourself against Sachiel and his fallen brothers and sisters who would seek to do you harm. I will also never come to you again unless you ask me to."
Dean stares at Michael in disbelief, stunned out of thought and emotion. This isn't what he was expecting, he thought Michael would give him a sob-story, try and build a rapport. Nope, he just went straight for the trump card and pulled it on Dean hard. It felt like something Dean himself would do, and the familiarity allowed him to trust.
Okay. Dean thinks, it was fairly obvious the archangel could read his thoughts, convenient really.
Michael stands up and leans over Dean, pressing a cool palm against his eyes, helping them close. "Sleep now Dean." the archangel soothes, "I will fulfill my word to you and you shall awaken in exactly twenty-four hours, starting now." Dean feels the weight of the world bearing down on him, of light and color and power and Grace. His world goes black.
All becomes darkness.
*
Dean barely resisted as Michael seated himself within his vessel, a brief push before settling into a peaceful rest. Almost immediately Michael was overcome by a sense of euphoria, of longing, and of right. This was his true vessel and his Grace felt more at home than it had ever been. So pure, so warm.
No wonder Castiel wanted to tap this.
Michael slowly stood from the alley floor, briefly acknowledging that blood still leaked from the wound on his stomach. "That's right," Michael said softly, stunned at Dean's voice, so masculine, yet emotional and deep, perfect, "my vessel needs this blood." The archangel raised his hands and his Grace responded freely, the blood on the ground rose and hovering in midair. Michael began to weave his arms in an intricate circle, every move like a dance, he removed the sweat, dirt and grime from Dean's blood. The germs, and any foreign infection, briefly he wondered if he should remove the dragon blood that had been mixed in, but seeing as how it was not harming the vessel and added to it's resilience, he allowed it to stay.
Reaching from the purified blood as though to embrace it, Michael pulled it all back inside of his body and then ran his hands deliberately over the wound, closing it and mending the torn clothing. He was whole once more. The integrity of his vessel assured, Michael quickly faced a broken mirror in the alley and removed his shirt to better inspect his body. The muscled were large, hard, and taught, low amounts of fat, the skin lightly freckled. While Dean might not have had the blonde hair and blue eyes Michael preferred, his vessel was a vision of perfection. Pity he could only have it for a day. His admiring over, Michael dressed once more and walked out of the alley.
Though the mortals on the sidewalk could not see the way the archangel unfurled his wings, large, powerful, and magnificent, behind him, they could feel the sheer presence rolling from him. His vessel would say the he 'swaggered as though he were the hottest piece of ass in existence' and maybe his vessel was right. But Michael was his father's perfect son and thus it was his right to swagger if he so chose. They parted before him and stared after him, some with envy, others with lust, but Michael didn't care. He had much to do and not much time with which to do it.
When Michael reached Dean's Impala he sent it back to Singer Salvage with an easy twist of his Grace, he needed to take care of the little things first. Next he summoned Dean's stolen wallet and purchases to his hands with another twist. While it would have given him great pleasure chastising wicked humans, now was not the time. The first steps complete, Michael spread his wings and left to go visit his little brother.
*
Dean had been gone for far too long, of this Castiel was certain. As his paranoia reached it's peak the soft flutter of wings alerted him to an angelic presence within Bobby's home. Castiel immediately began to panic, the sigils had been redrawn so no other angel should be able to enter, so how? How was this happening? Castiel was in no condition to fight. His panic changed to confusion when Castiel heard the fridge opening and closing, the sound of bags being deposited on the kitchen table followed by the pop of a beer bottle.
Footsteps told Castiel the intruder was near, and just as Castiel had managed to work up into a sitting position Dean crossed into his field of vision.
"Hello Castiel." Dean said.
Wait a minute.
"Your not Dean." Castiel growled out, pained and panting.
"Your right, I'm not. But I might as well be, right?" The intruder smiled easily, reclining against the wall and taking a sip of beer. Suddenly a horrible thought crossed through Castiel's mind.
"Michael?" Castiel asked, praying he was wrong.
"Yup." His older brother responded, lacking all composure and formality, apparently Dean was rubbing off on his brother. Castiel briefly found it hilarious that not even an archangel could suppress Dean's unique personality. His amusement turned to rage and he breathed in deep to give Michael the worst talking-to he had ever had to endure. Before he could, however, the archangel cut him off.
"Relax Castiel, Dean gave his consent knowing full well who I was and what I had done. Furthermore there were conditions attached."
"What." Castiel stated blankly, in total disbelief that Michael was, for once, not being a complete self-righteous prick. Dean is rubbing off on me too, Castiel thought.
"I get to use Dean as my vessel for one day while I accomplish some tasks which need doing, and after that I leave I never come back unless Dean asks me to, that's the deal and I gave him my word."
"Give it me." Castiel glared at his brother.
Michael knelt before him and foreign green eyes burned into him deeply, "I swear in the name of our father I have not deceived your human, nor will I defy the terms of our pact. I have twenty-three hours and thirty minutes remaining and upon the agreed-upon deadline I will vacate my vessel with no lasting damage done." Michael smiled at Castiel's dumbfounded expression and patted his face gently, "Happy now little one?"
"Err, yes. I suppose." Castiel responded weakly, "Why are you being so nice?"
"Because Father is mad at me and I'm doing penance." Michael replied casually, exhaling with an exasperated sigh and settling down on the floor, taking another swig of beer. "I went against his wishes by starting the Apocalypse and now I'm trying to make it up to Father, problem is I'm still not sure how."
"And you think taking Dean as your vessel will solve anything?" Castiel inquired.
"No." Michael shrugged, "But there are a few loose ends I can tie up while I'm down here that might go a long way towards putting me back in God's good graces, so here I am." Michael stared at the wall for several minutes as the two of them sat in silence. Finally, when he had finished with his beer, Castiel heard him stifle a sob and rub his nose. "You don't understand Castiel, I'm a good son, the perfect son, and I went against the wishes of my father. What does that make me? Lucifer? Worse? No, I wont have it. I'll make it up to Father and show him I'm still a good son."
"So all you care about is being a self-righteous daddies boy, you don't actually care about Dean or his pain at all, do you." Said Castiel, more statement than question, feeling rightly grumpy about Michael's poor grasp of just how many lives he had fucked over. Michael laughed at the comment, bringing another beer into his hand with his Grace and popping it open to take a swig.
"I never said I was enlightened brother."
"Just bring him back to me in one piece." Castiel sighed.
"That was the idea."
*
Michael touched down on the side of a dirt road, the burnt-out remains of a hotel to his left. All around he could feel the residue Lucifer had left on the land, the dark antithesis of his very own Grace. It made Michael sick to his stomach. But he wasn't here for Lucifer, though the taint would need to be dealt with. Searching through the burnt wreckage, Michael found his prize; a silvery angel blade. The next several hours passed by in a blur of drawing the necessary sigils, consecrating the land where Lucifer had spoiled it, and preparing the spell work for his task.
When the preparation had finished Michael sat quietly in a large seal. As the sun rose to his back, the archangel brought the full force of his Grace to a dull roar beneath his vessel's flesh. He stopped briefly, checking to see if he was met with any resistance, amazed that Dean's body not only allowed him to bring all of his power to bear, but actually flourished when the archangel's Grace shined at it's brightest. Now at the height of his power, Michael enacted his ritual, chanting in High Enochian.
A brilliant flash of light told him his work was finished, and before him stood his little brother, the archangel Gabriel, who looked as snarky as he did the last time he'd seen him. He also looked peeved, and slightly confused.
"Deano?" Gabriel said, raising a dark gold eyebrow.
"No brother, it's Michael."
"Dean quit joking arou-, holy crap it's Mikey." Gabriel's jaw visibly dropped as he snatched his angel blade up from the ground and pointed it in Michael's direction, his wings flaring out behind him. "What are you doing here? How the fuck are you inside of Dean? Where is Lucifer? How am I not dead? Also do you have any candy?" Michael blinked several times at his brothers rapid-fire questions and titled his head to one side.
"Let me start at the beginning." Michael said.
*
"So let me get this straight." Said Gabriel, folding his arms and his wings, "I died cuz Lucy killed me, then Dean killed Lucy plus Sam, lost his will to live, got mind whammied, regained will to live, and agreed to let you ride him so that you could bring me back?"
"Essentially." Michael replied.
"Kay."
"Is this series of events unacceptable?" Michael asked with a tilt of his head.
"I died Mikey. Our brother killed me." Gabriel said, his voice dropping to a low growl. "I died because your a self-righteous prick and he was a bitchy prima donna with daddy issues. I DIED FOR YOUR BULLSHIT MIKEY." Gabriel had been flat out screaming by that point, his newly re ignited Grace warping and twisting the surrounding area like a messed up kaleidoscope on steroids from his rage.
"I'm sorry." Michael said softly, sincerely.
"Piss off." Gabriel said, putting his angel blade and allowing his power to cool. "Let me make one thing clear, your dead to me, and I will never forgive you for the shit you put Deano and Sammy through. Am I clear?"
"Yes brother." Michael said again, softly.
Gabriel turned to leave, his golden brown feathers shimmering with an elegance that only the Trickster Angel could ever muster. Sighing heavily, he turned back to face Michael. "I get it bro, I do." Said Gabriel sadly, "I get how you must be feeling, and I'm still mad. But your family, and I still love you, even if I want to claw your face off right now. Let Dean know if he ever gets into a situation only I can fix, he can pray to me." Michael nodded as Gabriel added in a hoarse whisper, "Just once I'd like to save him. I owe him after the shit I pulled."
And then the Trickster was gone.
*
His time with Dean nearly up, Michael touched back down inside of Bobby Singer's home, returning to Castiel's side. Immediately his younger brother opened his eyes to gaze up at him, almost expecting him to be gone, for Dean to be back. "Peace brother," Michael whispered, "I have a few minutes left, and a task I've yet to complete."
"And that is?" Castiel asked, confused.
"There is no time to explain, you'll thank me later." Michael replied. Before Castiel could object, or do anything for that matter, Michael knelt beside the couch, taking Castiel's face in his hands and kissed him deeply. He could feel the mix of emotions pouring from his little brother, the maelstrom God had birthed deep inside of Castiel, a maelstrom Michael would one day call his own. Bringing his Grace to bear for the last time, he reached down deep into Castiel, to the waterlogged, soggy ball of Grace, classic Sachiel. It tried to resist him, but Michael bore the fire of God, and the chains binding Castiel were broken, his Grace quickly beginning to recharge from the exposure to Father's Light.
Michael unlatched himself from Dean, rocketing back up to heaven right on time, just as promised, allowing Dean to awaken to the kiss of his mate.
*
Dean opened his eyes groggily. Surprised to find his mouth entwined with Cas', their tongues dancing as they battled for dominance. He pulled away reluctantly, and settled down on the floor as Cas stared at him. "Dean?" Cas asked, hesitant.
"Yeah, it's me." Dean replied, a happy, sleepy smile on his lips. The urgent, needing embrace Castiel wrapped him in told him that Michael had probably had a chat with Cas, and that his angel was upset. It didn't matter though, Dean was alive, Cas looked better already, and Michael had kept his word. "That reminds me," Dean said suddenly, breaking off their embrace, "Michael said he would give me some kind of weapon to help fight off Sachiel and other fallen angels."
"He did? But he couldn't, the weapons of Heaven are forbidden for use." Castiel's brow furrowed before a flash of gold caught his attention. A golden band, not unlike one humans used in marriage, rested on the third finger of Dean's right hand, one that hadn't been there before. "Where did you get that?" Castiel asked, alarmed.
"This?" Dean said, looking down at the ring, "I'm not really sure. I don't recall ever owning a ring like this, especially one that I would wear on this finger." He took the ring off and rolled it around in his palm, it was slightly heavy and warm.
"That's no ring Dean," Castiel said slowly, realization dawning on him. "That's an angel's Halo."
Author: Hevyyd
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Spoilers: noneWarnings: some violence
Word Count: 4,571
Summary: Castiel is reuinited in a most awkward fashion, Dean's life is saved by the last expected saviour. The plot thickens and an old friend comes back.
MASTERPOST
Castiel is aware, perhaps more aware than he has ever been in his centuries of existence. He is aware of the dragon-fire warmth emanating from Dean's core, the smooth flow of his chest as it rises and falls. He is aware of the feather pricks of Deans hairs against his skin, and of the soft length of Dean's manhood resting against his hips. As though responding to some unbidden command, Dean's hands move up and down Castiel's chest, tracing small figure eights against his skin. A soft moan of pleasure escapes the angels lips before it is smothered by a soft kiss pressed against his lips.
"Are you sure you want this?" He asks, breaking away from Dean and boring into his bright green eyes, questioning, searching for any signs of hesitation, of doubt.
"I want you to be my first," Dean replies, then he chuckles softly to himself, "Well, the first from what I can remember anyway, though I'm pretty sure you'd still be the first man I've ever done this with regardless." His smile is easy, nonchalant even.
"It might hurt, this kind of action needs to be done with care."
"I figured," Dean sighs, allowing his head to rest gently against Castiel, "That's why it has to be you, why I need it to be you, and only you."
Castiel can feel himself hardening against Deans leg, he feels his vision swimming as they adjust on the couch, he is vaguely aware of his fingers working their way inside of Dean. All he can truly see is those bright green eyes, watching every movement, their shifts and phases betraying his every moan, every whimper.
"Please." Dean shudders, his voice broken, a hoarse whisper, it's all Castiel needs. But the very moment of truth, where two become one, and Castiel sinks his cock deep into Dean's warm, tender flesh, everything is gone.
The world goes black, cold, and silent.
"Dean?" Castiel calls out into the void. In response a grassy field grows beneath the angels feet, and from a small patch of exposed earth a single flower grows, coming into bloom before his very eyes. Out of the darkness a small sign appears and plants itself down next to the flower. 'My name is Dean,' the sign reads, 'when encountered in the wild I am a very strong a sturdy flower, capable of withstanding harsh wind and rain, able to thrive even in arid or cold climates. I am strong and I adapt well.'
Castiel smiles, this sign does sound very much like a description of Dean. he takes a moment to think of all that Dean has struggled through, all he has endured, and is proud of the strength his human possesses. Turning back to the sign, he continues to read. 'But please be careful, when raised domestically, I become more beautiful, but far less resilient. Without struggling to survive my defenses become weak, and even though I know you'll care for me with tender love, do not overcrowd me, I break easily.' A cold sense of dread spreads through Castiel, a foreboding, a warning of dangers yet to come.
Distressed, Castiel attempts to return to Dean, he is weak and small and must be protected. In his hurry he accidentally steps on the flower, and the sound of Dean screaming in pain and of glass breaking echoes far and wide throughout the empty landscape. Castiel looks down in horror as the flower lies, wilting and dead, it's petals rent by Castiel's carelessness.
'Even though I know you'll care for me with tender love, do not overcrowd me, I break easily.' The words echo through the air, inside of Castiel's mind and out, taunting leering, teasing. How could Castiel do the one thing that's bad for Dean? Now, look, you killed him, murderer. Castiel sinks to his knees, trying to block out the voices accusing him of hurting Dean, he tells himself he didn't mean it, but it only makes the voices louder. So loud that he doesn't hear the sound of soft steps approaching him on the grass.
"Hello again, Castiel-sama." Says the mysterious voice. All at once the voices silence.
Castiel's gaze snaps up to see the unwavering, watery black eyes of a tapir gazing at him. The creature is reclined on it's haunches, gazing at Castiel with curiosity. "You," Castiel whispers in disbelief, "It can't be, I killed you."
"Not entirely, though I apologize for the deception," says the Baku, rolling forward on it's haunches in a bow. "You seem to have forgotten that more than a physical being I am an idea, and ideas are not so easily slain by angry angels."
"I apologize for my actions, it was uncalled for and cruel." Castiel says, casting his gaze downward in humility.
"And I accept your apology Castiel, for it is not my way to hold grudges."
"Thank you."
"You are more than welcome, though I am surprised to find myself in an angels dream, I did not believe your kind had the capacity."
"We don't," Castiel responds quickly, "Not usually anyway, I'd assume I am dreaming because my Grace is still weakened enough that my mortal shell requires rest, opening my mind to the dreaming world."
"Interesting." The Baku rolls forward, so it is lying flat on the ground, legs splayed around it at rest, it's eyes never leaving Castiel. "Your nightmare attracted me here, I can consume it if you wish."
"That is a kind offer Baku, but I must decline, for I believe there is a lesson hidden in this terror, and I must decipher it, lest I repeat my mistakes again."
"That is very wise of you, though sadly that does nothing for my stomach." The Baku's belly grumbles audibly, causing Castiel to laugh aloud, he is joined by the Baku's own chuckle in it's rich, psychic resonance.
"Thank you for coming to see me," Castiel says, standing. "it truly disturbed me that I hurt you, and I am glad there was no lasting damage. I am equally grateful for your easy forgiveness."
The Baku does not reply, simply lowering it's eyes in a bow, and disappearing. Castiel smiles at the grass where the Baku had lain not moments before as a sunrise graced the horizon on his dream world. Behind him the broken Dean flower lay forgotten, it's lesson in Castiel's mind. The angel closed his eyes and bid himself awake.
*
Dean awoke to the soft touch of Castiel's hand against the muscles of his back, delicate fingers tracing the lines of muscle, the sinew, the bone. Curious, he opened his eyes to find the angel staring at the ceiling, he looked rested to be sure, but weak, probably still sick. "Good morning," Dean said softly, earning him a pleasant gaze from his angel, who brought his face to Dean's and pressed their lips together in a chaste kiss.
"Good morning Dean." Cas replied as they broke apart, the sound of his voice, all gravel and power, had Dean hardening instantly. Embarrassed he shifted on the couch, but there wasn't enough room to hide his erection from Cas. The angel chuckled, amused. "It's only natural for men to be hard in the morning Dean, it means you like me." His eyes gleamed softly as he pressed another kiss to Deans lips.
"Well I do like you, a whole lot." Dean laughed against Cas' mouth. "Did you want to, err, well..." Dean trailed off as he glanced downward, then pressed his body against Castiel, allowing the desire coursing through him to speak words he didn't yet know.
"Sex?" Cas inquired with a raised eyebrow.
"Yeah, I guess, you wanna?"
"I don't think sex is one of the things I taught you about." Castiel pondered, worrying his lip.
"You didn't." Dean replied, pointing over to his laptop computer, "It was there, you were gone, and I found a folder labeled porn and thought I'd take a look."
Astounding. Castiel thought to himself.
"But surely your computer did not contain sexual videos with two men?" Castiel questioned again, wondering just how much information about adult matters Dean had managed to sneak past him.
"It didn't . But there's this thing called the Internet, and when I looked up two guys having sex I found all kinds of gay porn, and there was lots of Doctor Sexy fan fiction as well." Dean replied, unabashed at how frankly he was discussing such matters.
"And how much of this porn have you watched?"
"Tons." Dean replied simply.
Astounding. Castiel thought again.
"Not for lack of wanting," Castiel said slowly, "But I would like to take things slowly with you, give you a proper relationship experience, is this acceptable?" The way Deans eyes lit up as he grinned made the sun shine just a little brighter.
"That's great Cas!" Dean said happily as he threw his arms around Castiel and kissed him passionately. The kiss was intense, but brief, and after it was over Dean leapt off of the couch, put on his pants, and made his way to Bobby's kitchen. Several clanking sounds later informed Castiel that Dean was cooking breakfast.
"What the hell is going on this early?" announced Bobby's arrival into the land of the waking. He walked past Castiel, not seeing Dean's other clothes on the floor, grumbling a g'mornin Cas as he approached Dean. "What are you so excited about boy?"
"Cas and I are dating" Dean replied, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. Bobby stared at Dean, then Castiel (who had hidden the majority of his face beneath the covers), then back to Dean. He opened his mouth to speak before throwing his hands up in the air, deciding it was simply better to drop it, and began to make coffee.
*
Dean stares in fascination at the viscous red liquid pooling all around him. The dull throbbing in his navel tells him he's been stabbed, that he is bleeding, that he will die. Yet he isn't afraid. Blood is so red. Dean thinks, enraptured by his own life falling from the open wound. Why did this happen, and how? Dean isn't really sure. Some men had asked to speak with him when he had gone into down to fetch more beer and medical supplies for Cas, and here he was. Dean thought perhaps one had stabbed him while the other distracted him perhaps? It didn't really matter, they had taken his wallet and his purchases and now Dean was going to die.
Poor Cas wont have his medicine. Was the only thought racing through Dean's mind. Poor Cas, not poor Dean, Dean was expendable, Dean could die at any moment, but poor Cas. Cas had needed Dean the way Dean needed Cas. And now Dean had let him down, how stupid, how childish.
How very Dean.
A soft touch, fingers curling up into his own brings Dean back to the waking world. He is staring at himself, strong and serene, and all around him Dean can hear whispers and beautiful music. This other Dean is surrounded by a corona of light, it makes him think of Cas again.
"Hello Dean." The new Dean says.
Hi. Dean thinks, to weary to speak.
"Your about to die, you know that?"
Yes.
"You don't care?"
I do, I don't want to leave Cas all alone, but there isn't much I can do.
"I can help you."
How? And why do you look like me? Your not me, are you?
"I'm not you, my name is Michael, I'm an archangel."
Panic spreads through Dean. Though the name is unfamiliar to him, it registers somewhere deep within his core that Michael is a manipulative dick who made his life hell. Dean tries to breath quickly, to run away and hide from the bad man, but he can't. Instead his eyes go wide, blown out with fear and anxiety. Across from him Michael sighs and then sighs softly.
"You don't trust me, I understand." Michael says sadly, "I hurt you in the past, your brother too, and you still remember it somehow. But Dean, I'm not the same as I was back then, I'm here to make it right, if you will let me." Dean doesn't know why, but the sincerity reflecting in Michael's eyes, his own eyes, makes Dean trust him somewhat.
What do you want? Dean asks, wary.
"If you become my vessel for one whole day, that is to say exactly twenty-four hours, I will save your life, re ignite Castiel's Grace, and give you the most powerful weapon in all existence, the power to protect yourself against Sachiel and his fallen brothers and sisters who would seek to do you harm. I will also never come to you again unless you ask me to."
Dean stares at Michael in disbelief, stunned out of thought and emotion. This isn't what he was expecting, he thought Michael would give him a sob-story, try and build a rapport. Nope, he just went straight for the trump card and pulled it on Dean hard. It felt like something Dean himself would do, and the familiarity allowed him to trust.
Okay. Dean thinks, it was fairly obvious the archangel could read his thoughts, convenient really.
Michael stands up and leans over Dean, pressing a cool palm against his eyes, helping them close. "Sleep now Dean." the archangel soothes, "I will fulfill my word to you and you shall awaken in exactly twenty-four hours, starting now." Dean feels the weight of the world bearing down on him, of light and color and power and Grace. His world goes black.
All becomes darkness.
*
Dean barely resisted as Michael seated himself within his vessel, a brief push before settling into a peaceful rest. Almost immediately Michael was overcome by a sense of euphoria, of longing, and of right. This was his true vessel and his Grace felt more at home than it had ever been. So pure, so warm.
No wonder Castiel wanted to tap this.
Michael slowly stood from the alley floor, briefly acknowledging that blood still leaked from the wound on his stomach. "That's right," Michael said softly, stunned at Dean's voice, so masculine, yet emotional and deep, perfect, "my vessel needs this blood." The archangel raised his hands and his Grace responded freely, the blood on the ground rose and hovering in midair. Michael began to weave his arms in an intricate circle, every move like a dance, he removed the sweat, dirt and grime from Dean's blood. The germs, and any foreign infection, briefly he wondered if he should remove the dragon blood that had been mixed in, but seeing as how it was not harming the vessel and added to it's resilience, he allowed it to stay.
Reaching from the purified blood as though to embrace it, Michael pulled it all back inside of his body and then ran his hands deliberately over the wound, closing it and mending the torn clothing. He was whole once more. The integrity of his vessel assured, Michael quickly faced a broken mirror in the alley and removed his shirt to better inspect his body. The muscled were large, hard, and taught, low amounts of fat, the skin lightly freckled. While Dean might not have had the blonde hair and blue eyes Michael preferred, his vessel was a vision of perfection. Pity he could only have it for a day. His admiring over, Michael dressed once more and walked out of the alley.
Though the mortals on the sidewalk could not see the way the archangel unfurled his wings, large, powerful, and magnificent, behind him, they could feel the sheer presence rolling from him. His vessel would say the he 'swaggered as though he were the hottest piece of ass in existence' and maybe his vessel was right. But Michael was his father's perfect son and thus it was his right to swagger if he so chose. They parted before him and stared after him, some with envy, others with lust, but Michael didn't care. He had much to do and not much time with which to do it.
When Michael reached Dean's Impala he sent it back to Singer Salvage with an easy twist of his Grace, he needed to take care of the little things first. Next he summoned Dean's stolen wallet and purchases to his hands with another twist. While it would have given him great pleasure chastising wicked humans, now was not the time. The first steps complete, Michael spread his wings and left to go visit his little brother.
*
Dean had been gone for far too long, of this Castiel was certain. As his paranoia reached it's peak the soft flutter of wings alerted him to an angelic presence within Bobby's home. Castiel immediately began to panic, the sigils had been redrawn so no other angel should be able to enter, so how? How was this happening? Castiel was in no condition to fight. His panic changed to confusion when Castiel heard the fridge opening and closing, the sound of bags being deposited on the kitchen table followed by the pop of a beer bottle.
Footsteps told Castiel the intruder was near, and just as Castiel had managed to work up into a sitting position Dean crossed into his field of vision.
"Hello Castiel." Dean said.
Wait a minute.
"Your not Dean." Castiel growled out, pained and panting.
"Your right, I'm not. But I might as well be, right?" The intruder smiled easily, reclining against the wall and taking a sip of beer. Suddenly a horrible thought crossed through Castiel's mind.
"Michael?" Castiel asked, praying he was wrong.
"Yup." His older brother responded, lacking all composure and formality, apparently Dean was rubbing off on his brother. Castiel briefly found it hilarious that not even an archangel could suppress Dean's unique personality. His amusement turned to rage and he breathed in deep to give Michael the worst talking-to he had ever had to endure. Before he could, however, the archangel cut him off.
"Relax Castiel, Dean gave his consent knowing full well who I was and what I had done. Furthermore there were conditions attached."
"What." Castiel stated blankly, in total disbelief that Michael was, for once, not being a complete self-righteous prick. Dean is rubbing off on me too, Castiel thought.
"I get to use Dean as my vessel for one day while I accomplish some tasks which need doing, and after that I leave I never come back unless Dean asks me to, that's the deal and I gave him my word."
"Give it me." Castiel glared at his brother.
Michael knelt before him and foreign green eyes burned into him deeply, "I swear in the name of our father I have not deceived your human, nor will I defy the terms of our pact. I have twenty-three hours and thirty minutes remaining and upon the agreed-upon deadline I will vacate my vessel with no lasting damage done." Michael smiled at Castiel's dumbfounded expression and patted his face gently, "Happy now little one?"
"Err, yes. I suppose." Castiel responded weakly, "Why are you being so nice?"
"Because Father is mad at me and I'm doing penance." Michael replied casually, exhaling with an exasperated sigh and settling down on the floor, taking another swig of beer. "I went against his wishes by starting the Apocalypse and now I'm trying to make it up to Father, problem is I'm still not sure how."
"And you think taking Dean as your vessel will solve anything?" Castiel inquired.
"No." Michael shrugged, "But there are a few loose ends I can tie up while I'm down here that might go a long way towards putting me back in God's good graces, so here I am." Michael stared at the wall for several minutes as the two of them sat in silence. Finally, when he had finished with his beer, Castiel heard him stifle a sob and rub his nose. "You don't understand Castiel, I'm a good son, the perfect son, and I went against the wishes of my father. What does that make me? Lucifer? Worse? No, I wont have it. I'll make it up to Father and show him I'm still a good son."
"So all you care about is being a self-righteous daddies boy, you don't actually care about Dean or his pain at all, do you." Said Castiel, more statement than question, feeling rightly grumpy about Michael's poor grasp of just how many lives he had fucked over. Michael laughed at the comment, bringing another beer into his hand with his Grace and popping it open to take a swig.
"I never said I was enlightened brother."
"Just bring him back to me in one piece." Castiel sighed.
"That was the idea."
*
Michael touched down on the side of a dirt road, the burnt-out remains of a hotel to his left. All around he could feel the residue Lucifer had left on the land, the dark antithesis of his very own Grace. It made Michael sick to his stomach. But he wasn't here for Lucifer, though the taint would need to be dealt with. Searching through the burnt wreckage, Michael found his prize; a silvery angel blade. The next several hours passed by in a blur of drawing the necessary sigils, consecrating the land where Lucifer had spoiled it, and preparing the spell work for his task.
When the preparation had finished Michael sat quietly in a large seal. As the sun rose to his back, the archangel brought the full force of his Grace to a dull roar beneath his vessel's flesh. He stopped briefly, checking to see if he was met with any resistance, amazed that Dean's body not only allowed him to bring all of his power to bear, but actually flourished when the archangel's Grace shined at it's brightest. Now at the height of his power, Michael enacted his ritual, chanting in High Enochian.
A brilliant flash of light told him his work was finished, and before him stood his little brother, the archangel Gabriel, who looked as snarky as he did the last time he'd seen him. He also looked peeved, and slightly confused.
"Deano?" Gabriel said, raising a dark gold eyebrow.
"No brother, it's Michael."
"Dean quit joking arou-, holy crap it's Mikey." Gabriel's jaw visibly dropped as he snatched his angel blade up from the ground and pointed it in Michael's direction, his wings flaring out behind him. "What are you doing here? How the fuck are you inside of Dean? Where is Lucifer? How am I not dead? Also do you have any candy?" Michael blinked several times at his brothers rapid-fire questions and titled his head to one side.
"Let me start at the beginning." Michael said.
*
"So let me get this straight." Said Gabriel, folding his arms and his wings, "I died cuz Lucy killed me, then Dean killed Lucy plus Sam, lost his will to live, got mind whammied, regained will to live, and agreed to let you ride him so that you could bring me back?"
"Essentially." Michael replied.
"Kay."
"Is this series of events unacceptable?" Michael asked with a tilt of his head.
"I died Mikey. Our brother killed me." Gabriel said, his voice dropping to a low growl. "I died because your a self-righteous prick and he was a bitchy prima donna with daddy issues. I DIED FOR YOUR BULLSHIT MIKEY." Gabriel had been flat out screaming by that point, his newly re ignited Grace warping and twisting the surrounding area like a messed up kaleidoscope on steroids from his rage.
"I'm sorry." Michael said softly, sincerely.
"Piss off." Gabriel said, putting his angel blade and allowing his power to cool. "Let me make one thing clear, your dead to me, and I will never forgive you for the shit you put Deano and Sammy through. Am I clear?"
"Yes brother." Michael said again, softly.
Gabriel turned to leave, his golden brown feathers shimmering with an elegance that only the Trickster Angel could ever muster. Sighing heavily, he turned back to face Michael. "I get it bro, I do." Said Gabriel sadly, "I get how you must be feeling, and I'm still mad. But your family, and I still love you, even if I want to claw your face off right now. Let Dean know if he ever gets into a situation only I can fix, he can pray to me." Michael nodded as Gabriel added in a hoarse whisper, "Just once I'd like to save him. I owe him after the shit I pulled."
And then the Trickster was gone.
*
His time with Dean nearly up, Michael touched back down inside of Bobby Singer's home, returning to Castiel's side. Immediately his younger brother opened his eyes to gaze up at him, almost expecting him to be gone, for Dean to be back. "Peace brother," Michael whispered, "I have a few minutes left, and a task I've yet to complete."
"And that is?" Castiel asked, confused.
"There is no time to explain, you'll thank me later." Michael replied. Before Castiel could object, or do anything for that matter, Michael knelt beside the couch, taking Castiel's face in his hands and kissed him deeply. He could feel the mix of emotions pouring from his little brother, the maelstrom God had birthed deep inside of Castiel, a maelstrom Michael would one day call his own. Bringing his Grace to bear for the last time, he reached down deep into Castiel, to the waterlogged, soggy ball of Grace, classic Sachiel. It tried to resist him, but Michael bore the fire of God, and the chains binding Castiel were broken, his Grace quickly beginning to recharge from the exposure to Father's Light.
Michael unlatched himself from Dean, rocketing back up to heaven right on time, just as promised, allowing Dean to awaken to the kiss of his mate.
*
Dean opened his eyes groggily. Surprised to find his mouth entwined with Cas', their tongues dancing as they battled for dominance. He pulled away reluctantly, and settled down on the floor as Cas stared at him. "Dean?" Cas asked, hesitant.
"Yeah, it's me." Dean replied, a happy, sleepy smile on his lips. The urgent, needing embrace Castiel wrapped him in told him that Michael had probably had a chat with Cas, and that his angel was upset. It didn't matter though, Dean was alive, Cas looked better already, and Michael had kept his word. "That reminds me," Dean said suddenly, breaking off their embrace, "Michael said he would give me some kind of weapon to help fight off Sachiel and other fallen angels."
"He did? But he couldn't, the weapons of Heaven are forbidden for use." Castiel's brow furrowed before a flash of gold caught his attention. A golden band, not unlike one humans used in marriage, rested on the third finger of Dean's right hand, one that hadn't been there before. "Where did you get that?" Castiel asked, alarmed.
"This?" Dean said, looking down at the ring, "I'm not really sure. I don't recall ever owning a ring like this, especially one that I would wear on this finger." He took the ring off and rolled it around in his palm, it was slightly heavy and warm.
"That's no ring Dean," Castiel said slowly, realization dawning on him. "That's an angel's Halo."