[Fic] Just like a Woman - Chapter 5
The bar was a dive, but it was the only bar in whatever backwater town they'd found themselves in, and as long as it served alcohol and had a pool table, Dean wasn't fussed.
Leaning over the pool table, Dean brushed his hair over one shoulder before setting up for his shot. Well aware that his push up bra and tight jeans were drawing a lot of attention. It certainly was a perk of being of being a banging hot female, hustling pool was a hell of a lot easier when the men were too distracted by your assets to notice that they were being played for fools, and losing money faster than a drunk in a casino.
It was quite disconcerting though how easy he was finding playing the seductive minx role, not that he wasn't enjoying it, but he definitely wasn't going to admit that to anyone ever.
This was just that he needed, a chance to let his hair down, kick back, relax, and not worry about his fucked up situation, or the looming apocalypse. He hadn't even spared a single thought towards his growing attraction towards Castiel.
Okay that was a lie. The guy with the piercing blue eyes who'd bought him a drink at the bar, and had made a suggestive comment, had Dean almost taking him up on his offer, until he realised that the warm buzz of alcohol and the blue eyes really weren't a great substitute for Castiel, and that made him realise that he was thinking about jumping the angel again. Which was all kinds of wrong, and he really didn't need to be thinking about that at all.
So he politely took his drink and returned to the pool table. Having fun and conning horn dogs out of their money was all he needed to be thinking about.
It was perhaps the fact that he was concentrating so hard on enjoying himself, and definitely not thinking about Castiel, that he didn't notice when things started to go horribly wrong. If he had sooner, then he supposed he wouldn't have gotten himself into this situation.
He was a world class idiot.
The amount he'd drunk should have only been enough to get him comfortably buzzed. That should have been the first sign.
He however, had put the slurred speech and the lethargic dizziness down to his body mass not being as big now he was female.
The fact that two guys he'd given the brush off to earlier, had kept a close eye on him all night, should have been the second sign.
He'd put it down to them being horny idiots.
The third sign, well he had to congratulate himself slightly for getting that one, was that, on his way to the rest-room, the two previously labelled horny idiots had grabbed him and pulled him through a door leading to the alleyway running behind the bar.
Put the first and second sign together with the third, and yep, classic date rape. Dean berated himself mentally for not working it out sooner, before sucker punching one of the guys and kneeing the other in the balls. Then he took off running.
The drugs were working quickly though and Dean kept losing his footing, his vision blurring. There was no way he'd be able to fend them off again in this state.
Pressing himself against a wall Dean fumbled for his phone. Calling Sam was out of the question. Dean still had some pride left intact and he wasn't about to let Sam know that his over protectiveness had been well placed. Besides, there was no way Sam would be able to get to him in time; by the time he got there Dean was pretty sure he'd have been moved elsewhere. Out of the way in an isolated location, where the men could do what they liked with him, without fear of interruption.
He could hear the guys getting closer, and he could feel himself succumbing to the drugs. It took all his effort to focus in on the phone and hit the speed dial.
"Cas. Help me."
Whatever Castiel's reply was, was cut off as the phone slipped out of Dean's hand, breaking on impact with the ground, seconds before Dean followed suit his body crumpling to the asphalt. The lingering moisture from the day's earlier rainfall soaking into his clothes, and the harsh ground tearing up his exposed skin.
Dean struggled to remain conscious, he had to stay awake, had to fight it, had to be able to fight them. Panic gripped him tighter as the dizziness spun him into a dark oblivion and he realised that he hadn't told Castiel where he was.
-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-
Castiel stared at the phone in his hand. Dean needed his help and yet he had no way of knowing where Dean was. Why hadn't he been with Sam?
The strange feeling of fear coursed through his borrowed veins, and hammered against his borrowed chest. Dean was in trouble and he had no way of helping him.
Or maybe, just maybe.
Castiel went to press down the number 2 key on his phone. Surely Sam would know where Dean was, and despite the fact that Dean was against showing Sam that he was any weaker in his new form. He needed help, and Sam was the only person who could help Castiel locate him.
Just as he was about to hit dial his phone chirped to life, a text message lighting up the screen.
warehouse 7. Ridgeway. Iowa. - a friend
Castiel stared at the message. Sam and Dean where the only people who had his number, and they and Bobby were the only people that he could count on as friends any more.
Dean was in trouble though, and this message had come just as he was trying to find out where exactly Dean was.
It may be a trap, it may not be connected to Dean at all. But it was all he had to go on, and within moments he was in flight, and outside the doors to the abandoned warehouse.
“Tie her down.”
“She's completely out of it. I don't think we're going to have any more problems with her.”
Castiel could hear a muffled argument coming from inside the warehouse. This friend had given him the right location then.
“You're not the one with the broken nose. Now tie the bitch down.”
The two men fell back in shock as the warehouse door blew off its hinges, sending debris flying.
“What the fuck!” The smaller of the men shouted to the other one, grabbing at his boot for his knife.
Castiel stalked through the hole where the door had been, the air around him crackling with pure rage.
The smaller of the men launched himself at Castiel, knife raised ready for impact. In one fluid motion Castiel grabbed his arm breaking it with a loud snap. The clang of metal hitting concrete mixed in with the agonised cries of the assailant as he collapsed to the ground hugging his arm to his chest.
Stepping over the writhing man, Castiel shifted his focus onto the other man, who was clearly torn between fight or flight. They really hadn't bargained on an angry tax accountant storming in to interrupt their evening’s entertainment.
Foolishly for the man, his instinct to fight won out, and reaching into the waistband of his jeans he pulled out a gun, taking aim he fired a shot into Castiel's shoulder, his face draining of colour as Castiel didn't even flinch.
With a quick flick of his fingers Castiel robbed the man of his gun, and before he could even blink, Castiel's fist connected with his jaw, knocking him out cold.
Having dealt with the two attackers Castiel made his way over to the prone form of Dean. He was covered in cuts and bruises, and the ratty mattress he was lying on was flecked with his blood.
Castiel may have got to Dean before the men could carry out the main evening’s entertainment, but they'd obviously gotten to work on Dean.
Crouching down, Castiel scooped Dean up in to his arms, and in the blink of an eye got them out of the warehouse.
-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-
Dean lay in bed his eyes scrunched shut tightly. Every inch of him ached, and he was experiencing the mother of all hangovers. What the hell had he done last night?
The memory hit him like a ton of bricks, causing his stomach to lurch. Before he could register what he was doing he rolled over and emptied his stomach contents, thankfully into a handily placed waste paper bin.
Dean stayed doubled over, vomiting into the bin until he had nothing left to empty and he choked on dry heaves. His body convulsing as the need to bring up more won against the simple fact that there was nothing more to bring up.
Closing his eyes, Dean pushed the bin away as his body finally settled down, and he felt a cold wet sensation as a glass of water was gently pushed into his hand.
Dean hadn't even realised that there was anyone else in the room with him, and a surge of panic shot through his body, the glass slipping out of his grip.
“You're safe now, Dean.”
Castiel's low and steady voice calmed Dean down almost instantly, a calm feeling washing over him.
“You saved me.” Dean rasped as he looked at Castiel through his tangled mass of hair, his throat raw from retching.
Castiel nodded, his face grave, but the lines of worry smoothing out as he watched Dean's breathing even out.
“Did they,” Dean faltered, “did those fuckers... what did they do to me?”
“I got to you before they could do more than roughing you up a little, they did not have the chance to do what I am sure they had planned.”
Dean's body seemed to relax a little at Castiel's words, relief flooding over him.
Handing Dean another glass of water, Castiel watched him carefully, seeing flashes of pain creasing Dean's face as he swallowed down the cold liquid.
“Where are we?” Dean asked after emptying the glass.
“The same motel as Sam, he's aware that you are here, but I thought that you'd prefer it if you were in a different room.”
“Does he know?”
“He is under the impression that you drank too much last night and simply didn't want to disturb him. I thought I would leave it up to you, as to whether you wanted him to know.”
Dean slumped back in the bed, a warm feeling gripping him tight at Castiel's thoughtfulness.
“I'm so stupid, Cas,” Dean admitted his eyes heavy with exhaustion. “I was so set on going out and enjoying myself, to forget about this crap, and show that I was perfectly capable on my own, that I let my guard down. What if they'd been demons, what if you hadn't have got to me? I'd be dead right now.”
“You are not stupid, Dean, and you would not be dead. You are much stronger than you want to believe.” Castiel reached out a hand, in a rather human motion brushing hair out of Dean's face. “You are still Dean Winchester.”
Catching Castiel's hand, Dean leant forward, his lips connecting with Castiel's. It was a soft, closed mouthed kiss. He may have just woken up from being drugged, but he still had the sense of mind not to submit Castiel to an opened mouth kiss.
But this was wrong, he shouldn't be doing this. The kiss was over as soon as it began, a blush creeping over Dean's face. This really wasn't the time to be making a fumbled pass at Castiel.
“Sorry got caught up in the moment.” Dean excused before making a fumbled attempt at getting out of bed, de ja vu sweeping over him as once again in the space of twenty four hours, he found himself caught in Castiel's arms.
Castiel steadied Dean and looked him straight in the eyes, “you do not need to apologise Dean.”
“Yeah I do.” Dean said, “I'm not thinking straight, it was wrong of me.”
Dean made his way unsteadily to the bathroom, his face draining of colour as he took in the injuries those assholes had dealt out to him.
“Do me a favour, Cas, just forget it happened, and go let Sam know we're leaving in half an hour. Tell him he can drive, that'll make him happy.”
“Dean…” Castiel started.
“I'm serious Cas,” Dean interrupted, looking at his angel with pleading eyes, “please.”
Castiel nodded solemnly before disappearing in the beat of a wing.
Dean gripped the cracked porcelain of the sink, his knuckles turning white under the force of his grip. He really didn't know how much more he could take of this. Everything was fucked up.
Slowly he peeled off his clothing, the stench of blood and vomit clinging to them, before dropping them in the bin. As he washed his face off, he noticed a pile of clean clothes sat on top of the toilet, and his toothbrush and toothpaste sat on the side of the sink. Castiel really had thought of everything.
-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-
Dean had given Sam a resounding look of 'don't ask I'm not going to tell' as soon as they met up to drive back to Bobby's. But it didn't stop Sam from giving him searching looks the entire way back.
They'd lasted for an hour of insufferable silence that was only broken by Sam's frequent sighs, and attempts to start talking, before Dean whacked in the best of AC/DC and slouched down further in his seat.
He wasn't in the mood to talk, he didn't want to tell Sam that he'd almost been the victim of a date rape, and he most certainly did not want to talk about what was up with Castiel. Sam had tried that thread of conversation twenty minutes into the journey only to be shot down spectacularly.
Dean didn't care if he was acting like a petulant child, he was exhausted, beat up and he was still a goddamn woman, not to mention the fact that the apocalypse hadn't suddenly just gone away.
He drifted in and out of sleep during the journey, which was the best excuse not to have to talk, despite the fact that when he was asleep, he'd be plagued with nightmares, and disturbingly erotic dreams about Castiel.
They were about an hour away from Bobby's when Sam decided enough was enough, and Dean was going to talk, no excuses. Ejecting the tape, Sam cut off the music, startling Dean awake.
“Are we going to talk about what happened?” Sam looked at Dean, his hands gripped tightly on the steering wheel.
“There's nothing to talk about.”
“Really Dean, because you went out last night, and didn't come back. I get woken up at dawn by Castiel telling me that you got drunk and are sleeping it off in another room. Then he comes back looking like a kicked puppy to tell me that you want us to leave in a half hour, before disappearing, then I see you, and the condition you're in isn't just from getting a little drunk.”
Sam eyed Dean again, “Cas' attitude I can write off. He's always been weird. But what I can't just dismiss is how beaten up you are.”
“I got drunk and got into a fight okay. That's it.” Grabbing the tape, Dean pushed it back into the tape deck, and shifted his body to look out of the window. Conversation closed.
When they arrived back at Bobby's, Dean made his way straight to the fridge, not even a hello to Bobby, or even any sign that he'd noticed him.
Bobby shot a concerned look at Sam, who just shrugged his shoulders, as they both watched Dean open a bottle of beer and practically down it in one.
“Anyone care to explain what's going on here?” Bobby asked, his eyes fixed firmly on Dean.
“Sam here thinks that I'm not man enough to do anything on my own.”
“Dean, I didn't say that.” Sam tried.
Dean scoffed, “What, so you aren’t saying that you didn't want me to do the hunt on my own, and you didn't think I should go out on my own?”
Dean finished his beer and reached for another one, “Well looks like you were right weren't you, Sam? I got my ass kicked before I sent that ghost bitch packing, and I couldn't even go out to a bar without getting beaten up.”
Dean stalked past Sam and Bobby, stopping at the door to swig his beer, “must feel so good to be right all the time mustn't it?”
Dean left the house slamming the door behind him, Sam made to follow.
“Leave him boy, no good is going to come out of going after him, not in the state he's in.”
Sam looked torn, but sat down at the kitchen table, a deflated look on his face. “I don't understand it Bobby, I was just looking out for him, I didn't mean anything by it.”
“Think about it Sam.” Bobby said as he rolled himself over to the table, “Dean's been looking after you all his life, he's been playing the older brother role forever. He may look different, but nothing's changed, not really. He's still your older brother, female bits or not.”
“I screwed up, didn't I?”
“You didn't screw up, you just tried to do what you thought was natural. You're both as stubborn as each other. Dean just needs to calm down and realise that you didn't mean anything by it.”
Chapter 6