Hell Rises with Him, Part 3
Title: Hell Rises with Him
Pairings: Dean/Castiel, Dean/OFCs, mild Sam/Ruby
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: season 4
Warnings: DARK, AU, torture, slash, language, het, violence, bare backing, oral, mild non-con (kissing), character death, wing!fic, top!Dean, bottom!Cas
Word Count: 25,049
Note: This fic was written for the dc-dystopia reverse bang 2012.
Summary: When Castiel gripped Dean Winchester tight and raised him from perdition he had no idea that the once Righteous Man was no longer human, nor the effects that raising him thus would have.
Beta: asherahwolf
Artist: nanoks - Art Masterlist
The rampage that Dean went on this time ended very differently from his first angel induced killing spree (and he couldn't help but wonder what Castiel thought of all the carnage he caused in his name). While he started off killing random people, the sight of a church had sent him on a completely different path until he ended up here, at the Little Sisters of the Holy Faith nunnery.
"Did I ever mention that I love nuns?" Dean asked the woman he was currently straddling, her habit a pool of black and red all around them.
Her gurgling could just as easily have been a random effort to breathe through her lacerated throat as a reply, but Dean took it as the latter. "No? Well, I do. You all lock yourselves up in nunneries like this, professing to spend your days in worship and faith to your mighty lord, and yet you always act so surprised when you encounter a demon. It's almost as if you didn't truly believe that we exist. Care to explain that to me, Sister?"
Gurgling followed by a wheeze.
"No? Well that's okay because I think I know what it's all about. See I don't think that you really believe. No, you just like to pretend that you do so that you can act all high and mighty towards the rest of your fellow men."
Incredibly the nun managed to move enough to jerk her head and Dean laughed, delighted that his prey was still awake and aware enough to know what he was saying. "No? Then why are you all so surprised and stunned to see me, huh? What, you didn't think that I could walk on consecrated ground? Well, surprise! I had a powerful master, makes me all nice and powerful see, so something as pathetic as consecration can't keep me out, especially when the protections are as neglected as they are here. Guess that'll teach you to be sloppy. Or, well, I guess it won't, but it might teach others, if they can actually bring themselves to see the truth of what happened here anyway."
The knowledge that they wouldn't amused Dean greatly and he made a mental note to come back here in a few decades and see what had happened to the place. To see if the church had been arrogant enough to keep the property and continue to use it. If so then he'd just have to do it all over again. Poor him, the things he did for the greater good, or well bad, he supposed.
"Now, how would you like to become an angel, Sister?"
Between his desire to leave Castiel a message that the angel wouldn't soon forget and his remaining rage, Dean ignored the tugging sensation deep in his gut. His priorities had shifted too much for him to care much that one of his old plans was still playing itself out perfectly. He'd turned the nun over and cut away the back of her habit before he got the first inkling that perhaps his old plan wasn't going so perfectly after all and had instead veered off course while he hadn't been looking.
The tugging sensation wasn't going away. In fact it was growing steadily stronger and harder to control.
Eyes widening in shock, Dean dropped his knife and turned all of his concentration towards resisting the call. It wasn't working though and he scrambled off the dying nun towards the wall where he could grasp hold of some metalwork set into the stone foundations of the nunnery in a desperate attempt to keep himself from being pulled away. The effort was futile though and with a final tug, the magic tore him away through the ether of space to land him with a painful thud in the middle of a Devil's Trap. He didn't even need to open his eyes to know what he'd landed in as he could feel how it reached out towards his true self and tried to both restrain it and sap him of his strength.
"Jesus Christ."
The cry of rage that had been welling up within him died in Dean's throat at the sound of that voice. He knew that voice. With a snarl, he pushed himself to his feet and spun around, all in one fluid movement that he knew would be hard for human eyes to track.
"Bobby Singer," Dean said, keeping his eyes as black as they'd been throughout his rampage of the nunnery, knowing how much it would affect the two hunters before him. "And Sammy, how good to see you both again."
"Don't you dare call me that!" Sam spat, hands clenched into fists at his side. "Get out of my brother you no good bastard!"
"You no good bastard?" Dean repeated before he threw his head back and laughed. "Seriously, that's the best that you can come up with? I'm disappointed, Sammy, really I am."
The ratcheting of a shotgun barrel drew Dean's attention back towards the older hunter and he found himself looking down the business end of a weapon he knew to be loaded with salt rounds.
"You chose the wrong hunters to mess with," Bobby declared coldly.
"The wrong hunters or the wrong meat suit?" Dean inquired innocently, a quick scan of the room revealing something very interesting. "Or are you just pissed that your morning drinking session got interrupted by tweedle-dum over here?"
The pain of the salt round hit Dean in the same instant that he heard the gun go off and he was flung backwards only to crash into the far side of the Devil's Trap. He threw his head back in pain but managed to keep his cries contained and laughed instead.
"That the best you got?" Dean taunted.
"Get out of that meat suit, now!"
"Hm, let me think about that. No."
"Bobby, don't," Sam ordered, stepping forwards when the older hunter raised the gun again. "He's trying to make you lose control, don't let him get to you."
Dean watched Bobby's jaw clench as the man warred with himself before the older hunter gave a curt nod.
"You're right, sorry. I just hate seeing him like that, especially covered in all that blood."
"Oh believe me, so do I," Sam replied before his face hardened as his little brother turned to look at him again. "Whose blood is that?"
"What, this?" Dean inquired, wiggling his fingers before he began licking them clean. "Mm, purity. But then it should be."
Horror flooded Sam's face. "Children? You killed children?"
"Nope, well not today anyway, that was yesterday. Or was it the day before? I lose track. But no, this is as close to Holy blood as you can get with humans."
"A priest," Bobby sighed.
"Nuh uh, even better. Nuns, plural."
Bobby's cursing made Dean laugh and he looked towards his brother to flash him a grin but paused at what he saw there. Sure, there was anger and disgust on Sam's face, but there was something else there as well. Something which it took him a moment to work out but when he did, he laughed with glee, digging his fingers into his own wound and licking them clean once more, watching his little brother's eyes dilate as Sam watched him do it.
"You sick bastard," Bobby muttered.
"Me? I'm sick? I'm not the one lusting after my own brother's blood," Dean retorted, watching the hunter's head snap around.
"What?"
"Oh, hasn't Sammy told you about his new favorite drink?"
Sam snorted, though panic flickered through his eyes. "Yeah, go ahead and try and turn us against each other, demon. It won't work, we know all your tricks."
"What, you mean that demons lie?" Dean asked, shrugging before he winced in pain. "Sure we do... except when we don't. Sometimes the truth is just far too much fun to lie."
"Like we haven't heard that one before either," Bobby stated, putting down his shotgun and moving to pick a book up off his desk.
Now it was Dean's turn to panic. Before he'd been far too stunned to really think about exactly how screwed he was here, but now it was becoming abundantly clear to him just how precarious his position actually was. If they exorcised him then he'd not only be stuck in Hell for the next few centuries until Alastair finally tired of him, but he'd also never get to be in his own meat suit again.
"So you know about his demon girlfriend then? Or the fact that he's been drinking her blood?" The words elicited an expression of disgust from Bobby and it was enough for Dean to tell that the older hunter didn't know. "I see."
"Drinking demon blood," Sam snorted. "Next time at least try and go for something believable."
"Bobby may be many things, Sammy, but he's not blind. I know that he's seen the withdrawal effects that you've been experiencing, he's just not known what to make of them until now."
"Withdrawal effects?"
"Oh, didn't Ruby tell you? Demon blood's addictive."
"No it's not!"
Dean smiled in triumphant as he watched the realization and dismay settle across his brother's face and he heard Bobby's sharp intake of breath.
"Sam, ya idjit!"
"It's not like that!" Sam exclaimed, turning to face the older hunter, desperate.
"Not like what, Sam? It's demon blood, what else could it possibly be like?"
"It's going to help me kill Lilith and maybe save Dean."
The sound of his name made Dean's lips curl, the very idea of being saved as Sam meant it repulsive to him, but he bit his tongue, hoping the two would get into a heated argument and make a mistake. Unfortunately for him, the utterance of his name seemed to remind them of what was going on and Bobby glanced his way before turning a steely gaze back to Sam.
"We'll take about this later, idjit."
Sam's face told Dean that his brother had no intention for sticking around long enough for that to happen and he knew that Bobby had to see it too, but apparently his presence was enough to unite the two once more. Great, there went his one and only plan. Without even giving him a chance to say anything else, Bobby began to recite the exorcism and Dean snarled in rage, reaching down deep inside of himself for his powers. He could feel the magic building up slowly all around him, reaching out to him with sharp fingers, digging at his true self and he gritted his teeth against the pain. It took a few seconds, but slowly it dawned on him that while the magic was tearing at him, it didn't seem to actually be able to grab ahold of him. Cautiously he waited a few more seconds, thinking that perhaps it was just taking longer than usual to build up, but no, it still seemed completely incapable of grasping hold of him.
Dean laughed in relief and triumphant when he dug deeper and found the bond pulsing with power in time to the magic at the back of his mind. Apparently Castiel had done something when raising him that made him immune to exorcisms. Oh this was fantastic!
"Bobby, something's wrong," Sam said.
"Ya think?" Bobby demanded, snapping the book shut. "He must have sealed himself into Dean's meat suit."
"Nnn, wrong answer, Singer. Care to try again for two hundred?" Dean crowed.
"You might as well tell us what you did now, because we will find out," Sam stated.
"You wouldn't believe me if I did."
"Try me."
"Really? Fine, but don't say I didn't warn you," Dean replied, reaching up to start unbuttoning his shirt. He'd forgotten about it at first, but his completely intact tattoo should give them some food for thought. "Here, look." Their expressions were priceless and he laughed again.
"No, impossible," Bobby muttered. "It must have a small break in it somewhere."
"Or it wasn't properly redone after the hellhounds..." Sam began, trailing off in horrified realization.
"Yeah, let's talk about those hellhounds for a moment," Dean agreed. "Now, how do you think I got this meat suit back into its old shape, huh? Demons can't heal their hosts, remember?"
"You saying that you're not a demon?" Bobby demanded.
"Nope, I'm one hundred percent demonic and proud of it."
"Then how?" Sam asked, eyes wide.
"An angel pulled me from Hell and healed my meat suit so I could use it once more," Dean explained flippantly.
"A likely sto-" Bobby began.
"You're not my brother!" Sam roared.
"Are you sure?"
Instead of pain, his shoulder merely ached this time and therefore it wasn't until the light of the sun was suddenly eclipsed by dark clouds and rumbling thunder that Dean realized that Castiel had arrived.
"The Hell?" Sam muttered before the lights all blew out at once and the angel stood in the room. "Bobby, behind you!"
The warning came too late as the angel was suddenly beside the older hunter and all it took was two fingers to the forehead to make Bobby crumple to the ground, unconscious or dead Dean couldn't immediately tell. Castiel then glared down at the Devil's Trap and the floorboards split apart with a loud crack. He instantly teleported himself out of the trap, broken or not he didn't trust the damn thing to remain so. This was Bobby Singer's house after all and he'd seen stranger things happen within its walls. When he rematerialized, it was just in time to see Castiel take down his brother, the scorch mark on the angel's trench coat indicating that Sam had gotten at least one shot of his own in first.
Now that it was just the two of them, Dean had a chance to actually look at Castiel and what a sight it was that the angel made. Gone were every last one of the snow white feathers, as were almost all of the gray toned ones. All that remained now were a few of the darker gray feathers and the ebony ones which had multiplied drastically in number, covering almost the entirety of the angel's wings.
"Wow," Dean said, stepping over Bobby's prone form and approaching Castiel. "Your wings look amazing."
"They are abominable."
"Abominable? Dude, no, they're gorgeous!"
Without a second thought, Dean reached out and proprietarily sank his hand into the closest wing, drawing a strangled moan from the angel. Despite the color change, the feathers still felt as soft as ever and he wanted to feel them wrapped around him. Pleasant as it was, the image served to remind him of what had happened the last time they'd been together and his touch turned harsh, twisting the feathers brutally in his grasp. Castiel cried out and was forced down onto his knees in order to be able to twist in the right direction to relieve the strain on his wing.
Dean wasn't sure if the angel couldn't vanish as long as he had the wing in his grasp or whether Castiel was choosing to stay but he wasn't going to test it by letting go. Not until he had his answer anyway. "Why did you leave me the way that you did before?"
"I was afraid," Castiel replied, looking into his face without any sign of dishonesty.
"Afraid of what?"
"Falling."
"Falling? We were having sex, or would have if you'd not run off."
"Yes, sins of the flesh, it is one of the most effective ways for an angel to fall into darkness."
As if to prove a point, Castiel reached out to him across their bond and Dean reacted instinctively, sending his own darkness into it. What it encountered wasn't at all what he was expecting. Instead of the searing Light from before all he experienced was a mild burning sensation, that and a glorious almost liquid darkness unlike anything that he had felt before. It flowed all around him, timidly lapping at his true essence, almost as if seeking permission to do more and touch. Suspiciously he pounced on it, tearing at it the way Alastair had taught him to. Instead of resisting him as he'd expected Castiel to, the angel whimpered and did the psychic equivalent of rolling over and bearing his throat.
The angel's dark Grace opened up to Dean, allowing him to feed on it's power and make it his own. It flowed into him, strengthening and empowering him and he eased his grasp on the wing back into a pleasant touch, stroking the feathers he'd abused.
"Dean," Castiel whispered but it was loud enough for Dean to hear the lust in the angel's voice and he felt his own meat suit begin to respond to it.
"How do I know that you won't just run away again this time?"
"I will not, I promise."
"And what good is the word of angel?"
"Better than that of a demon."
The words carried an edge of fire and deviance that delighted Dean and he stepped closer, tugging the angel to it's feet and bringing their bodies close. "Yeah?"
"Yes."
Slowly the angel raised a hand and Dean allowed it, curious as to what Castiel was up to. Even when it moved to settle over his injured shoulder he couldn't detect any malice or deceit from the angel and so he didn't object. Then there was a pulse of power followed by the intimately familiar feeling of his own flesh knitting itself back together again. By the time Castiel was done, his wound was entirely gone, healed as if it had never been.
"Handy trick," Dean said.
"I find that I dislike seeing you injured," Castiel replied.
From anyone else it would have sounded like a stupid line, but Dean could detect nothing but truth in the angel's words and this close to it's Grace he didn't think that it could lie to him. The lust and desire he felt also indicated that the angel did want him sexually as well. Not one to deny himself, he grabbed Castiel's tie and used it to pull him close so he could kiss him.
It was a biting kiss and Dean didn't let up until he tasted blood, only pulling back to see the angel's lips like that. "I don't bottom," he reiterated.
"I know."
The submission the words implied exhilarated Dean and he grabbed Castiel, teleporting them back to the mansion he'd taken possession of. The muffled cry upon their arrival drew the angel's attention and he watched Castiel's face closely for any sign of dismay or sympathy as the angel took in Roy's bound and gagged form but found none. Pleased, he grasped two handfuls of Castiel's shirt and ripped it apart, sending buttons scattering across the hardwood floor.
"We've got to get you a better outfit," Dean said, licking his lips at the sight that greeted him. He'd known the angel was hot.
"Why?"
"'Cause your clothes are crap. Besides, you'd look better in black, it would match your hair and wings."
With that Dean pushed Castiel back towards the bed, stripping the angel as they went. It took Castiel a little longer than he'd have liked, but eventually the angel realized that the process would go faster if he participated. All of the smooth, creamy skin being bared quickly distracted him and he couldn't help but wonder what it would look like covered in crimson or how easily his knife would part it. Given the angel's apparent indestructibility, he'd probably be able to find out, but that was for later. First he just wanted to fuck Castiel, finally claiming the angel as his own.
"Dean," Castiel moaned, eyes and fingers all but reverent as the angel got his shirt off and saw him for the first time.
The sound of his name spoken like that in the rough, gravelly voice elicited a growl from Dean and he gave the angel a final shove, sending him sprawling on the bed. He quickly stripped the rest of his clothing, freeing his leaking cock, before crawling on top of his prize.
"Mine," Dean proclaimed.
"Yours."
"And don't you even think about coming until I say you can, you hear me?"
Castiel moaned, eyes going dark with lust but he nodded. "Yes, Dean."
The willing submission of a creature he knew to be stronger and more powerful than him made Dean nearly delirious with lust and he dove into the angel's mind even as he finally lowered himself onto Castiel's body. He rolled his hips, rubbing their cocks together and bit his way into his partner's mouth and the angel mewled against him, hands coming up to clutch at him while Castiel's wings trashed wildly beneath them. He plunged right into the angel's Grace without waiting for permission and it was like submerging himself into an ocean of nearly uncontrolled lust and desire, held back only by a thin but unbelievably strong thread. A brief touch to it and a sense of obedience, devotion, worship, adoration, love washed over him, so strong that he reared back from it instinctively.
Castiel made the most beautifully strangled sound that he'd ever heard, but then Dean was moaning himself as the angel found one of his hotspots and mercilessly exploited it once he realized what he'd found. For a virgin Castiel was surprisingly intuitive, not that he was complaining as the angel's ministrations felt simply divine.
"Dean, Dean, Dean," Castiel breathed. "Dean, please, I need- I want-"
"No, not until I say you can," Dean ordered. "You got that, Cas? You can't come until I'm fucking you."
The resulting keening sound went straight to Dean's cock and he realized that if he didn't start now, he was going to be the one that wasn't going to make it this time.
"Yes, Dean."
Dean purred at the words, raising two fingers to the angel's mouth. "Suck on them and get them good and wet, you're gonna need it."
The speed and thoroughness of Castiel's response had Dean fighting off his orgasm as he couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to have the angel's mouth on his cock. He wasn't going to last at this rate, not with the way Castiel was writhing beneath him. His prep was rough and would hardly have been adequate if his partner were human. Luckily for him the angel wasn't and Castiel easily lifted his leg when he pushed on it so he could see the angel as he claimed it. He paused briefly once he'd pushed the head of his cock in, waiting just long enough to ensure that he wouldn't come before he slammed himself home with one, hard thrust.
Castiel cried out, back arching beautifully, but Dean missed it as his own eyes fell shut at the virgin tight heat all around him. The angel felt even more wonderful than he'd dared hope and he began fucking him immediately, savoring the small whimpers and moans his every move elicited.
"Dean, Dean, Dean," Castiel breathed, reaching for him both physically and psychically.
Dean gave into both, leaning down for a dominating kiss that practically folded the angel in half to achieve. The bond meanwhile was pulsing with their emotions as they spiraled higher and higher and he sank into it, grasping at Castiel's power and feeding on it. The angel gave it willingly, letting him both dominate and possess his body and Grace. He growled, breaking free from the kiss to bite at his partner's neck, drawing blood. The iron exploded across his taste buds and his angel cried out, arching beneath him as he nailed his prostate over and over again.
Almost there himself, Dean dug his hands into Castiel's wings, tugging at the feathers before he whispered in his ear. "Come for me."
With a cry, Castiel did as ordered, clenching down even harder on Dean. Between that and the ecstasy from the bond, he came as well, spilling deep within his angel before collapsing onto Castiel. The last thing he felt before drifting off on the best haze of satiation he'd ever felt were the arms and wings of his angel closing around him.
When Dean woke his body ached in all the right places and his bed was empty.
It took him a few moments to realize that, yes, he really was alone and that Castiel had once again vanished, but when he did, Dean flew into a rage worse than either of the first two. He trashed the furniture in the room before turning his focus towards the hunter he'd captured three days ago and had planned to take his time with once he'd quenched his initial desire for destruction and chaos that the angel's previous departure had caused.
This time he had no such restraint and Dean tore into Roy with a vengeance, not caring that the human wouldn't even last another hour. He'd been so sure that he had the angel- had made it his- that his fury knew no bounds to discover that he'd been wrong. He'd even thought that- No! He wasn't going to waste another minute on the thought, not when he'd so clearly been wrong.
The flutter of wings behind him was enough to boil his rage right over and Dean turned around and launched himself at the angel with vicious snarl. He slashed at a wing with the knife he held and grabbed Castiel's hair with his other hand. The angel cried out in pain but went down without a struggle, stopping his attack dead in its tracks. Castiel was infinitely more powerful than him and yet the angel just lay there, wing bleeding and head held awkwardly due to the grasp he had on it's hair.
"Where were you?" Dean demanded, breathing hard and rage still close to the surface, just waiting for an excuse to be unleashed.
"Out, shopping."
"Shopping?"
"You said you wanted me to wear different clothing."
"You went to get new clothes because I told you to?"
"Yes."
It was the truth and Dean released Castiel and stepped back. "Huh."
Now that he took the time to actually look at the angel, Dean saw that, yes, Castiel was wearing new clothes. Instead of the cheap suit from before and tan trench coat, the angel was now dressed in an almost-tailored-it-fit-so-well black suit with a matching, upscale trench coat. Although it all fit far better than his initial outfit, he couldn't help but laugh.
"You go shopping for new clothes and you get yourself another suit?"
The irony made Dean snort in disbelief and with it the last of his anger evaporated. Of course the angel had gotten himself another suit, why would Castiel have gotten anything else? It wasn't like the angel had been on Earth long enough to have any sense of style and it was probably just a coincidence that this suit fit him so much better than the old one. For all he knew this had been the only one that the store had which was available in black, which had pretty much been the only criteria that he'd given Castiel when he'd ripped off the angel's old outfit.
The anger that had vanished at discovering that Castiel had only left to follow what the angel had viewed as an order of his returned as Dean took in the wreckage of the room. It had been such a nice one too, richly furnished and sure to last him a while due to the mansion's isolation. Well, he supposed that there were other rooms he could occupy, but this one had been his favorite.
"I have done something wrong," Castiel stated.
"Yeah, you did something wrong," Dean confirmed, turning to look at the angel who'd risen to his knees.
The sight sent a flash of arousal through him and Dean licked his lips, catching the way Castiel's eyes followed the movement and darkened with lust. Well at least he hadn't been wrong about everything at least.
"Sorry."
"You don't even know what you're sorry for."
"I upset and angered you."
Was the angel purposefully trying to arouse him? Dean was pretty sure that he wasn't, but that was most definitely the effect that it's submission was having on him. The thought of Castiel always being so pliant and eager to please...
"You left my bed without permission. You will never do that again, do you understand me, Cas?"
"Even if there is danger?"
"Unless there is danger. Got it?"
"Yes," Castiel replied instantly, then hesitated.
"What?"
"You called me Cas. Why?"
"The el at the end of your name means God, right?"
"Yes."
"Well you're hardly of God anymore now and Casti just sounds stupid. Besides, I like Cas."
"Then Cas I shall be."
Dean was just about to take the angel right where Castiel knelt when a broken sound behind him abruptly reminded him of Roy. With a string of curses he teleported himself before his prey. He'd really gone to town on him, not even making a pretense of using any skill whatsoever, instead just tearing into the hunter like some wild animal. As a result there was absolutely nothing that he could do to even stem the flow of blood and Roy would be dead in a matter of minutes and he'd had such plans for the hunter too!
"God dammit!" Dean spat, kicking a chair leg into the far wall with enough force to embed it into the plaster. "Now see what you made me do? I was gonna take days with him."
Instead of replying, Castiel merely stepped forward, raising two fingers to Roy's forehead. Instantly the hunter's bleeding lessened and then Dean saw Roy's skin begin to knit itself back together even as the bones he'd broken disappeared back into the hunter's body where they belonged. The whole thing took less than a minute and then his prey was in one piece again, pristine. He could only stare at Roy, speechless as his onetime friend gasped behind his gag and stared out with wide eyes, frantic.
"You can still heal others," Dean finally stated, turning his attention back to his angel.
"Yes."
"I thought the fallen lost that power."
"No, that is a common misconception. As I have not pulled my Grace out, I still possess it and all of the powers I had before."
"How often can you do that?"
"I do not understand."
"If I took him apart again, could you heal him once more?"
"Yes."
"How often?"
"As often as you want me to."
"Just like that?"
"Yes."
It was an intoxicating thought, the realization that Castiel could make humans on Earth act essentially as a trapped soul in Hell would, constantly regenerating regardless of the torture he inflicted upon them. And just like that Dean had the one thing that he had missed the most about Hell at his disposal. His excitement grew as he thought of all the things that he could now accomplish which he'd been forced to set aside. Hardening, he turned his full attention on the angel and noticed two things at once. First, only two gray feathers remained in Castiel's wings, all of the others were now the beautiful ebony that he so loved, and second, the cut he'd inflicted earlier was still there, bleeding sluggishly.
"You haven't healed yourself."
"I did not think you would want me to."
Anticipation sliced through Dean as his suspicions from earlier rose up within him once more. "Do it."
Even as the angel complied, Dean stepped closer, all but bringing their bodies together and smiled at the enticing little sound that escape Castiel. He reached out and grasped his angel's chin, tilting his head back so that their eyes met even as he plunged deep into Castiel's Grace. As before, his angel opened up to him instantly and he was immediately surrounded by his dark Grace. There was absolutely no burning sensation now or any other trace of Light left over from before. Instead there was only darkness. Glorious, brilliant, radiating darkness alight with a dark flame all its own, but darkness nonetheless and he reveled in it, feeding on it as he had before.
Once he'd taken his fill, Dean dived deeper, seeking out the thread he'd felt last night that had kept Castiel's desires in check even at the height of their passion. The thread was far closer to the surface than he'd thought it would be and when he looked closer he found that it had actually attached itself to their bond, further confirming his suspicions. Bracing himself, he touched it once more and was again flooded with the obedience, devotion, worship, adoration, love from before, only this time he was able to see more and he drew in a sharp breath at what he found.
Dean purred and allowed his angel to feel how pleased and proud he was of him, relishing in how Castiel reacted, treasuring all he gave him and desiring more but not demanding it. He brought himself back to the present and simply gazed into those blue eyes for a few seconds as dark pleasure and satisfaction filled him along with a stunned shock.
"I'm your new God, aren't I?"
"Yes, Dean."
Epilogue:
Castiel knew that he should not have been the one to raise the Righteous Man. As merely a malakhim he should have been nothing more than a common foot soldier, opening the way for the seraph or archangel to fly down and claim the Righteous Man's soul back from the demon that had dared to take it as it's own.
Now he was glad that nothing had gone according to plan.
As Castiel stood back and watched Dean Winchester oh so skillfully take apart yet another hunter, he could feel nothing but satisfaction, lust and the first stirrings of what he strongly suspected to be bloodlust rising within his dark Grace. It was not what he should have done or what he should have felt, but he found that he no longer cared for such things. No, all he cared about was pleasing the demon who had become his whole existence. It was why he had sought to understand the desire and drive Dean had to torture and maim humans, often until his demon abandoned them to attack him in a wholly different and most welcome manner.
Before their first time, Castiel had never before engaged in a sexual encounter of any sort. Therefore Dean's initial kiss had been a revelation for which he had been ill prepared and it shamed him now to think of how he had fled, both then and their next time, abandoning his demon without permission. He suspected that the intercourse they engaged in at the close of- or occasionally during- a day's torture session had sped up the process of his appreciation for his demon's skill, but it was not the only reason therefore. If it had been then he would merely have yearned for the end of each session, never coming to see the skill for the art that it truly was.
Instead Castiel had come to find himself anticipating each and every cut for the act itself and the beautiful crimson fluid that would spill forth from the split skin. He was coming to relish the moments when Dean would need him to heal his prey as it allowed him to become intimately acquainted with his demon's work. The thought made him begin to harden as he recalled Dean's reaction the first time that he had thought to not remove the pain such a healing could impart on the soul he performed it on. His demon had taken him then and there, right beside the rack with Dean still covered in the hunter's blood like a human canvas for some primal painting.
It might not have been what was Intended, but Castiel found that he no longer cared about that, nor about anything else of his Father's. No, the only thing that mattered to him anymore was the demon to which he was bonded and who both fed from him and strengthened him at the same time, tying them together in a powerful psychic connection.
Castiel would do whatever Dean wanted him to and protect him from all those who would seek to hurt his new master.
A.N.: First I'd like to thank nanoks for her wonderful art. The original image that I chose (shown in part 1) just grabbed hold of my muse and wouldn't let go, right from the very beginning. The rest of the art was all extra and I love it, thanks hon!
Secondly I hope that everyone else enjoys this fic as much as I did while writing it. Dark!demon!Dean was surprisingly fun to write, twisted as he is :)
And don't for get to check out nanoks art masterlist if you haven't already!
Pairings: Dean/Castiel, Dean/OFCs, mild Sam/Ruby
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: season 4
Warnings: DARK, AU, torture, slash, language, het, violence, bare backing, oral, mild non-con (kissing), character death, wing!fic, top!Dean, bottom!Cas
Word Count: 25,049
Note: This fic was written for the dc-dystopia reverse bang 2012.
Summary: When Castiel gripped Dean Winchester tight and raised him from perdition he had no idea that the once Righteous Man was no longer human, nor the effects that raising him thus would have.
Beta: asherahwolf
Artist: nanoks - Art Masterlist
The rampage that Dean went on this time ended very differently from his first angel induced killing spree (and he couldn't help but wonder what Castiel thought of all the carnage he caused in his name). While he started off killing random people, the sight of a church had sent him on a completely different path until he ended up here, at the Little Sisters of the Holy Faith nunnery.
"Did I ever mention that I love nuns?" Dean asked the woman he was currently straddling, her habit a pool of black and red all around them.
Her gurgling could just as easily have been a random effort to breathe through her lacerated throat as a reply, but Dean took it as the latter. "No? Well, I do. You all lock yourselves up in nunneries like this, professing to spend your days in worship and faith to your mighty lord, and yet you always act so surprised when you encounter a demon. It's almost as if you didn't truly believe that we exist. Care to explain that to me, Sister?"
Gurgling followed by a wheeze.
"No? Well that's okay because I think I know what it's all about. See I don't think that you really believe. No, you just like to pretend that you do so that you can act all high and mighty towards the rest of your fellow men."
Incredibly the nun managed to move enough to jerk her head and Dean laughed, delighted that his prey was still awake and aware enough to know what he was saying. "No? Then why are you all so surprised and stunned to see me, huh? What, you didn't think that I could walk on consecrated ground? Well, surprise! I had a powerful master, makes me all nice and powerful see, so something as pathetic as consecration can't keep me out, especially when the protections are as neglected as they are here. Guess that'll teach you to be sloppy. Or, well, I guess it won't, but it might teach others, if they can actually bring themselves to see the truth of what happened here anyway."
The knowledge that they wouldn't amused Dean greatly and he made a mental note to come back here in a few decades and see what had happened to the place. To see if the church had been arrogant enough to keep the property and continue to use it. If so then he'd just have to do it all over again. Poor him, the things he did for the greater good, or well bad, he supposed.
"Now, how would you like to become an angel, Sister?"
Between his desire to leave Castiel a message that the angel wouldn't soon forget and his remaining rage, Dean ignored the tugging sensation deep in his gut. His priorities had shifted too much for him to care much that one of his old plans was still playing itself out perfectly. He'd turned the nun over and cut away the back of her habit before he got the first inkling that perhaps his old plan wasn't going so perfectly after all and had instead veered off course while he hadn't been looking.
The tugging sensation wasn't going away. In fact it was growing steadily stronger and harder to control.
Eyes widening in shock, Dean dropped his knife and turned all of his concentration towards resisting the call. It wasn't working though and he scrambled off the dying nun towards the wall where he could grasp hold of some metalwork set into the stone foundations of the nunnery in a desperate attempt to keep himself from being pulled away. The effort was futile though and with a final tug, the magic tore him away through the ether of space to land him with a painful thud in the middle of a Devil's Trap. He didn't even need to open his eyes to know what he'd landed in as he could feel how it reached out towards his true self and tried to both restrain it and sap him of his strength.
"Jesus Christ."
The cry of rage that had been welling up within him died in Dean's throat at the sound of that voice. He knew that voice. With a snarl, he pushed himself to his feet and spun around, all in one fluid movement that he knew would be hard for human eyes to track.
"Bobby Singer," Dean said, keeping his eyes as black as they'd been throughout his rampage of the nunnery, knowing how much it would affect the two hunters before him. "And Sammy, how good to see you both again."
"Don't you dare call me that!" Sam spat, hands clenched into fists at his side. "Get out of my brother you no good bastard!"
"You no good bastard?" Dean repeated before he threw his head back and laughed. "Seriously, that's the best that you can come up with? I'm disappointed, Sammy, really I am."
The ratcheting of a shotgun barrel drew Dean's attention back towards the older hunter and he found himself looking down the business end of a weapon he knew to be loaded with salt rounds.
"You chose the wrong hunters to mess with," Bobby declared coldly.
"The wrong hunters or the wrong meat suit?" Dean inquired innocently, a quick scan of the room revealing something very interesting. "Or are you just pissed that your morning drinking session got interrupted by tweedle-dum over here?"
The pain of the salt round hit Dean in the same instant that he heard the gun go off and he was flung backwards only to crash into the far side of the Devil's Trap. He threw his head back in pain but managed to keep his cries contained and laughed instead.
"That the best you got?" Dean taunted.
"Get out of that meat suit, now!"
"Hm, let me think about that. No."
"Bobby, don't," Sam ordered, stepping forwards when the older hunter raised the gun again. "He's trying to make you lose control, don't let him get to you."
Dean watched Bobby's jaw clench as the man warred with himself before the older hunter gave a curt nod.
"You're right, sorry. I just hate seeing him like that, especially covered in all that blood."
"Oh believe me, so do I," Sam replied before his face hardened as his little brother turned to look at him again. "Whose blood is that?"
"What, this?" Dean inquired, wiggling his fingers before he began licking them clean. "Mm, purity. But then it should be."
Horror flooded Sam's face. "Children? You killed children?"
"Nope, well not today anyway, that was yesterday. Or was it the day before? I lose track. But no, this is as close to Holy blood as you can get with humans."
"A priest," Bobby sighed.
"Nuh uh, even better. Nuns, plural."
Bobby's cursing made Dean laugh and he looked towards his brother to flash him a grin but paused at what he saw there. Sure, there was anger and disgust on Sam's face, but there was something else there as well. Something which it took him a moment to work out but when he did, he laughed with glee, digging his fingers into his own wound and licking them clean once more, watching his little brother's eyes dilate as Sam watched him do it.
"You sick bastard," Bobby muttered.
"Me? I'm sick? I'm not the one lusting after my own brother's blood," Dean retorted, watching the hunter's head snap around.
"What?"
"Oh, hasn't Sammy told you about his new favorite drink?"
Sam snorted, though panic flickered through his eyes. "Yeah, go ahead and try and turn us against each other, demon. It won't work, we know all your tricks."
"What, you mean that demons lie?" Dean asked, shrugging before he winced in pain. "Sure we do... except when we don't. Sometimes the truth is just far too much fun to lie."
"Like we haven't heard that one before either," Bobby stated, putting down his shotgun and moving to pick a book up off his desk.
Now it was Dean's turn to panic. Before he'd been far too stunned to really think about exactly how screwed he was here, but now it was becoming abundantly clear to him just how precarious his position actually was. If they exorcised him then he'd not only be stuck in Hell for the next few centuries until Alastair finally tired of him, but he'd also never get to be in his own meat suit again.
"So you know about his demon girlfriend then? Or the fact that he's been drinking her blood?" The words elicited an expression of disgust from Bobby and it was enough for Dean to tell that the older hunter didn't know. "I see."
"Drinking demon blood," Sam snorted. "Next time at least try and go for something believable."
"Bobby may be many things, Sammy, but he's not blind. I know that he's seen the withdrawal effects that you've been experiencing, he's just not known what to make of them until now."
"Withdrawal effects?"
"Oh, didn't Ruby tell you? Demon blood's addictive."
"No it's not!"
Dean smiled in triumphant as he watched the realization and dismay settle across his brother's face and he heard Bobby's sharp intake of breath.
"Sam, ya idjit!"
"It's not like that!" Sam exclaimed, turning to face the older hunter, desperate.
"Not like what, Sam? It's demon blood, what else could it possibly be like?"
"It's going to help me kill Lilith and maybe save Dean."
The sound of his name made Dean's lips curl, the very idea of being saved as Sam meant it repulsive to him, but he bit his tongue, hoping the two would get into a heated argument and make a mistake. Unfortunately for him, the utterance of his name seemed to remind them of what was going on and Bobby glanced his way before turning a steely gaze back to Sam.
"We'll take about this later, idjit."
Sam's face told Dean that his brother had no intention for sticking around long enough for that to happen and he knew that Bobby had to see it too, but apparently his presence was enough to unite the two once more. Great, there went his one and only plan. Without even giving him a chance to say anything else, Bobby began to recite the exorcism and Dean snarled in rage, reaching down deep inside of himself for his powers. He could feel the magic building up slowly all around him, reaching out to him with sharp fingers, digging at his true self and he gritted his teeth against the pain. It took a few seconds, but slowly it dawned on him that while the magic was tearing at him, it didn't seem to actually be able to grab ahold of him. Cautiously he waited a few more seconds, thinking that perhaps it was just taking longer than usual to build up, but no, it still seemed completely incapable of grasping hold of him.
Dean laughed in relief and triumphant when he dug deeper and found the bond pulsing with power in time to the magic at the back of his mind. Apparently Castiel had done something when raising him that made him immune to exorcisms. Oh this was fantastic!
"Bobby, something's wrong," Sam said.
"Ya think?" Bobby demanded, snapping the book shut. "He must have sealed himself into Dean's meat suit."
"Nnn, wrong answer, Singer. Care to try again for two hundred?" Dean crowed.
"You might as well tell us what you did now, because we will find out," Sam stated.
"You wouldn't believe me if I did."
"Try me."
"Really? Fine, but don't say I didn't warn you," Dean replied, reaching up to start unbuttoning his shirt. He'd forgotten about it at first, but his completely intact tattoo should give them some food for thought. "Here, look." Their expressions were priceless and he laughed again.
"No, impossible," Bobby muttered. "It must have a small break in it somewhere."
"Or it wasn't properly redone after the hellhounds..." Sam began, trailing off in horrified realization.
"Yeah, let's talk about those hellhounds for a moment," Dean agreed. "Now, how do you think I got this meat suit back into its old shape, huh? Demons can't heal their hosts, remember?"
"You saying that you're not a demon?" Bobby demanded.
"Nope, I'm one hundred percent demonic and proud of it."
"Then how?" Sam asked, eyes wide.
"An angel pulled me from Hell and healed my meat suit so I could use it once more," Dean explained flippantly.
"A likely sto-" Bobby began.
"You're not my brother!" Sam roared.
"Are you sure?"
Instead of pain, his shoulder merely ached this time and therefore it wasn't until the light of the sun was suddenly eclipsed by dark clouds and rumbling thunder that Dean realized that Castiel had arrived.
"The Hell?" Sam muttered before the lights all blew out at once and the angel stood in the room. "Bobby, behind you!"
The warning came too late as the angel was suddenly beside the older hunter and all it took was two fingers to the forehead to make Bobby crumple to the ground, unconscious or dead Dean couldn't immediately tell. Castiel then glared down at the Devil's Trap and the floorboards split apart with a loud crack. He instantly teleported himself out of the trap, broken or not he didn't trust the damn thing to remain so. This was Bobby Singer's house after all and he'd seen stranger things happen within its walls. When he rematerialized, it was just in time to see Castiel take down his brother, the scorch mark on the angel's trench coat indicating that Sam had gotten at least one shot of his own in first.
Now that it was just the two of them, Dean had a chance to actually look at Castiel and what a sight it was that the angel made. Gone were every last one of the snow white feathers, as were almost all of the gray toned ones. All that remained now were a few of the darker gray feathers and the ebony ones which had multiplied drastically in number, covering almost the entirety of the angel's wings.
"Wow," Dean said, stepping over Bobby's prone form and approaching Castiel. "Your wings look amazing."
"They are abominable."
"Abominable? Dude, no, they're gorgeous!"
Without a second thought, Dean reached out and proprietarily sank his hand into the closest wing, drawing a strangled moan from the angel. Despite the color change, the feathers still felt as soft as ever and he wanted to feel them wrapped around him. Pleasant as it was, the image served to remind him of what had happened the last time they'd been together and his touch turned harsh, twisting the feathers brutally in his grasp. Castiel cried out and was forced down onto his knees in order to be able to twist in the right direction to relieve the strain on his wing.
Dean wasn't sure if the angel couldn't vanish as long as he had the wing in his grasp or whether Castiel was choosing to stay but he wasn't going to test it by letting go. Not until he had his answer anyway. "Why did you leave me the way that you did before?"
"I was afraid," Castiel replied, looking into his face without any sign of dishonesty.
"Afraid of what?"
"Falling."
"Falling? We were having sex, or would have if you'd not run off."
"Yes, sins of the flesh, it is one of the most effective ways for an angel to fall into darkness."
As if to prove a point, Castiel reached out to him across their bond and Dean reacted instinctively, sending his own darkness into it. What it encountered wasn't at all what he was expecting. Instead of the searing Light from before all he experienced was a mild burning sensation, that and a glorious almost liquid darkness unlike anything that he had felt before. It flowed all around him, timidly lapping at his true essence, almost as if seeking permission to do more and touch. Suspiciously he pounced on it, tearing at it the way Alastair had taught him to. Instead of resisting him as he'd expected Castiel to, the angel whimpered and did the psychic equivalent of rolling over and bearing his throat.
The angel's dark Grace opened up to Dean, allowing him to feed on it's power and make it his own. It flowed into him, strengthening and empowering him and he eased his grasp on the wing back into a pleasant touch, stroking the feathers he'd abused.
"Dean," Castiel whispered but it was loud enough for Dean to hear the lust in the angel's voice and he felt his own meat suit begin to respond to it.
"How do I know that you won't just run away again this time?"
"I will not, I promise."
"And what good is the word of angel?"
"Better than that of a demon."
The words carried an edge of fire and deviance that delighted Dean and he stepped closer, tugging the angel to it's feet and bringing their bodies close. "Yeah?"
"Yes."
Slowly the angel raised a hand and Dean allowed it, curious as to what Castiel was up to. Even when it moved to settle over his injured shoulder he couldn't detect any malice or deceit from the angel and so he didn't object. Then there was a pulse of power followed by the intimately familiar feeling of his own flesh knitting itself back together again. By the time Castiel was done, his wound was entirely gone, healed as if it had never been.
"Handy trick," Dean said.
"I find that I dislike seeing you injured," Castiel replied.
From anyone else it would have sounded like a stupid line, but Dean could detect nothing but truth in the angel's words and this close to it's Grace he didn't think that it could lie to him. The lust and desire he felt also indicated that the angel did want him sexually as well. Not one to deny himself, he grabbed Castiel's tie and used it to pull him close so he could kiss him.
It was a biting kiss and Dean didn't let up until he tasted blood, only pulling back to see the angel's lips like that. "I don't bottom," he reiterated.
"I know."
The submission the words implied exhilarated Dean and he grabbed Castiel, teleporting them back to the mansion he'd taken possession of. The muffled cry upon their arrival drew the angel's attention and he watched Castiel's face closely for any sign of dismay or sympathy as the angel took in Roy's bound and gagged form but found none. Pleased, he grasped two handfuls of Castiel's shirt and ripped it apart, sending buttons scattering across the hardwood floor.
"We've got to get you a better outfit," Dean said, licking his lips at the sight that greeted him. He'd known the angel was hot.
"Why?"
"'Cause your clothes are crap. Besides, you'd look better in black, it would match your hair and wings."
With that Dean pushed Castiel back towards the bed, stripping the angel as they went. It took Castiel a little longer than he'd have liked, but eventually the angel realized that the process would go faster if he participated. All of the smooth, creamy skin being bared quickly distracted him and he couldn't help but wonder what it would look like covered in crimson or how easily his knife would part it. Given the angel's apparent indestructibility, he'd probably be able to find out, but that was for later. First he just wanted to fuck Castiel, finally claiming the angel as his own.
"Dean," Castiel moaned, eyes and fingers all but reverent as the angel got his shirt off and saw him for the first time.
The sound of his name spoken like that in the rough, gravelly voice elicited a growl from Dean and he gave the angel a final shove, sending him sprawling on the bed. He quickly stripped the rest of his clothing, freeing his leaking cock, before crawling on top of his prize.
"Mine," Dean proclaimed.
"Yours."
"And don't you even think about coming until I say you can, you hear me?"
Castiel moaned, eyes going dark with lust but he nodded. "Yes, Dean."
The willing submission of a creature he knew to be stronger and more powerful than him made Dean nearly delirious with lust and he dove into the angel's mind even as he finally lowered himself onto Castiel's body. He rolled his hips, rubbing their cocks together and bit his way into his partner's mouth and the angel mewled against him, hands coming up to clutch at him while Castiel's wings trashed wildly beneath them. He plunged right into the angel's Grace without waiting for permission and it was like submerging himself into an ocean of nearly uncontrolled lust and desire, held back only by a thin but unbelievably strong thread. A brief touch to it and a sense of obedience, devotion, worship, adoration, love washed over him, so strong that he reared back from it instinctively.
Castiel made the most beautifully strangled sound that he'd ever heard, but then Dean was moaning himself as the angel found one of his hotspots and mercilessly exploited it once he realized what he'd found. For a virgin Castiel was surprisingly intuitive, not that he was complaining as the angel's ministrations felt simply divine.
"Dean, Dean, Dean," Castiel breathed. "Dean, please, I need- I want-"
"No, not until I say you can," Dean ordered. "You got that, Cas? You can't come until I'm fucking you."
The resulting keening sound went straight to Dean's cock and he realized that if he didn't start now, he was going to be the one that wasn't going to make it this time.
"Yes, Dean."
Dean purred at the words, raising two fingers to the angel's mouth. "Suck on them and get them good and wet, you're gonna need it."
The speed and thoroughness of Castiel's response had Dean fighting off his orgasm as he couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to have the angel's mouth on his cock. He wasn't going to last at this rate, not with the way Castiel was writhing beneath him. His prep was rough and would hardly have been adequate if his partner were human. Luckily for him the angel wasn't and Castiel easily lifted his leg when he pushed on it so he could see the angel as he claimed it. He paused briefly once he'd pushed the head of his cock in, waiting just long enough to ensure that he wouldn't come before he slammed himself home with one, hard thrust.
Castiel cried out, back arching beautifully, but Dean missed it as his own eyes fell shut at the virgin tight heat all around him. The angel felt even more wonderful than he'd dared hope and he began fucking him immediately, savoring the small whimpers and moans his every move elicited.
"Dean, Dean, Dean," Castiel breathed, reaching for him both physically and psychically.
Dean gave into both, leaning down for a dominating kiss that practically folded the angel in half to achieve. The bond meanwhile was pulsing with their emotions as they spiraled higher and higher and he sank into it, grasping at Castiel's power and feeding on it. The angel gave it willingly, letting him both dominate and possess his body and Grace. He growled, breaking free from the kiss to bite at his partner's neck, drawing blood. The iron exploded across his taste buds and his angel cried out, arching beneath him as he nailed his prostate over and over again.
Almost there himself, Dean dug his hands into Castiel's wings, tugging at the feathers before he whispered in his ear. "Come for me."
With a cry, Castiel did as ordered, clenching down even harder on Dean. Between that and the ecstasy from the bond, he came as well, spilling deep within his angel before collapsing onto Castiel. The last thing he felt before drifting off on the best haze of satiation he'd ever felt were the arms and wings of his angel closing around him.
When Dean woke his body ached in all the right places and his bed was empty.
It took him a few moments to realize that, yes, he really was alone and that Castiel had once again vanished, but when he did, Dean flew into a rage worse than either of the first two. He trashed the furniture in the room before turning his focus towards the hunter he'd captured three days ago and had planned to take his time with once he'd quenched his initial desire for destruction and chaos that the angel's previous departure had caused.
This time he had no such restraint and Dean tore into Roy with a vengeance, not caring that the human wouldn't even last another hour. He'd been so sure that he had the angel- had made it his- that his fury knew no bounds to discover that he'd been wrong. He'd even thought that- No! He wasn't going to waste another minute on the thought, not when he'd so clearly been wrong.
The flutter of wings behind him was enough to boil his rage right over and Dean turned around and launched himself at the angel with vicious snarl. He slashed at a wing with the knife he held and grabbed Castiel's hair with his other hand. The angel cried out in pain but went down without a struggle, stopping his attack dead in its tracks. Castiel was infinitely more powerful than him and yet the angel just lay there, wing bleeding and head held awkwardly due to the grasp he had on it's hair.
"Where were you?" Dean demanded, breathing hard and rage still close to the surface, just waiting for an excuse to be unleashed.
"Out, shopping."
"Shopping?"
"You said you wanted me to wear different clothing."
"You went to get new clothes because I told you to?"
"Yes."
It was the truth and Dean released Castiel and stepped back. "Huh."
Now that he took the time to actually look at the angel, Dean saw that, yes, Castiel was wearing new clothes. Instead of the cheap suit from before and tan trench coat, the angel was now dressed in an almost-tailored-it-fit-so-well black suit with a matching, upscale trench coat. Although it all fit far better than his initial outfit, he couldn't help but laugh.
"You go shopping for new clothes and you get yourself another suit?"
The irony made Dean snort in disbelief and with it the last of his anger evaporated. Of course the angel had gotten himself another suit, why would Castiel have gotten anything else? It wasn't like the angel had been on Earth long enough to have any sense of style and it was probably just a coincidence that this suit fit him so much better than the old one. For all he knew this had been the only one that the store had which was available in black, which had pretty much been the only criteria that he'd given Castiel when he'd ripped off the angel's old outfit.
The anger that had vanished at discovering that Castiel had only left to follow what the angel had viewed as an order of his returned as Dean took in the wreckage of the room. It had been such a nice one too, richly furnished and sure to last him a while due to the mansion's isolation. Well, he supposed that there were other rooms he could occupy, but this one had been his favorite.
"I have done something wrong," Castiel stated.
"Yeah, you did something wrong," Dean confirmed, turning to look at the angel who'd risen to his knees.
The sight sent a flash of arousal through him and Dean licked his lips, catching the way Castiel's eyes followed the movement and darkened with lust. Well at least he hadn't been wrong about everything at least.
"Sorry."
"You don't even know what you're sorry for."
"I upset and angered you."
Was the angel purposefully trying to arouse him? Dean was pretty sure that he wasn't, but that was most definitely the effect that it's submission was having on him. The thought of Castiel always being so pliant and eager to please...
"You left my bed without permission. You will never do that again, do you understand me, Cas?"
"Even if there is danger?"
"Unless there is danger. Got it?"
"Yes," Castiel replied instantly, then hesitated.
"What?"
"You called me Cas. Why?"
"The el at the end of your name means God, right?"
"Yes."
"Well you're hardly of God anymore now and Casti just sounds stupid. Besides, I like Cas."
"Then Cas I shall be."
Dean was just about to take the angel right where Castiel knelt when a broken sound behind him abruptly reminded him of Roy. With a string of curses he teleported himself before his prey. He'd really gone to town on him, not even making a pretense of using any skill whatsoever, instead just tearing into the hunter like some wild animal. As a result there was absolutely nothing that he could do to even stem the flow of blood and Roy would be dead in a matter of minutes and he'd had such plans for the hunter too!
"God dammit!" Dean spat, kicking a chair leg into the far wall with enough force to embed it into the plaster. "Now see what you made me do? I was gonna take days with him."
Instead of replying, Castiel merely stepped forward, raising two fingers to Roy's forehead. Instantly the hunter's bleeding lessened and then Dean saw Roy's skin begin to knit itself back together even as the bones he'd broken disappeared back into the hunter's body where they belonged. The whole thing took less than a minute and then his prey was in one piece again, pristine. He could only stare at Roy, speechless as his onetime friend gasped behind his gag and stared out with wide eyes, frantic.
"You can still heal others," Dean finally stated, turning his attention back to his angel.
"Yes."
"I thought the fallen lost that power."
"No, that is a common misconception. As I have not pulled my Grace out, I still possess it and all of the powers I had before."
"How often can you do that?"
"I do not understand."
"If I took him apart again, could you heal him once more?"
"Yes."
"How often?"
"As often as you want me to."
"Just like that?"
"Yes."
It was an intoxicating thought, the realization that Castiel could make humans on Earth act essentially as a trapped soul in Hell would, constantly regenerating regardless of the torture he inflicted upon them. And just like that Dean had the one thing that he had missed the most about Hell at his disposal. His excitement grew as he thought of all the things that he could now accomplish which he'd been forced to set aside. Hardening, he turned his full attention on the angel and noticed two things at once. First, only two gray feathers remained in Castiel's wings, all of the others were now the beautiful ebony that he so loved, and second, the cut he'd inflicted earlier was still there, bleeding sluggishly.
"You haven't healed yourself."
"I did not think you would want me to."
Anticipation sliced through Dean as his suspicions from earlier rose up within him once more. "Do it."
Even as the angel complied, Dean stepped closer, all but bringing their bodies together and smiled at the enticing little sound that escape Castiel. He reached out and grasped his angel's chin, tilting his head back so that their eyes met even as he plunged deep into Castiel's Grace. As before, his angel opened up to him instantly and he was immediately surrounded by his dark Grace. There was absolutely no burning sensation now or any other trace of Light left over from before. Instead there was only darkness. Glorious, brilliant, radiating darkness alight with a dark flame all its own, but darkness nonetheless and he reveled in it, feeding on it as he had before.
Once he'd taken his fill, Dean dived deeper, seeking out the thread he'd felt last night that had kept Castiel's desires in check even at the height of their passion. The thread was far closer to the surface than he'd thought it would be and when he looked closer he found that it had actually attached itself to their bond, further confirming his suspicions. Bracing himself, he touched it once more and was again flooded with the obedience, devotion, worship, adoration, love from before, only this time he was able to see more and he drew in a sharp breath at what he found.
Dean purred and allowed his angel to feel how pleased and proud he was of him, relishing in how Castiel reacted, treasuring all he gave him and desiring more but not demanding it. He brought himself back to the present and simply gazed into those blue eyes for a few seconds as dark pleasure and satisfaction filled him along with a stunned shock.
"I'm your new God, aren't I?"
"Yes, Dean."
Epilogue:
Castiel knew that he should not have been the one to raise the Righteous Man. As merely a malakhim he should have been nothing more than a common foot soldier, opening the way for the seraph or archangel to fly down and claim the Righteous Man's soul back from the demon that had dared to take it as it's own.
Now he was glad that nothing had gone according to plan.
As Castiel stood back and watched Dean Winchester oh so skillfully take apart yet another hunter, he could feel nothing but satisfaction, lust and the first stirrings of what he strongly suspected to be bloodlust rising within his dark Grace. It was not what he should have done or what he should have felt, but he found that he no longer cared for such things. No, all he cared about was pleasing the demon who had become his whole existence. It was why he had sought to understand the desire and drive Dean had to torture and maim humans, often until his demon abandoned them to attack him in a wholly different and most welcome manner.
Before their first time, Castiel had never before engaged in a sexual encounter of any sort. Therefore Dean's initial kiss had been a revelation for which he had been ill prepared and it shamed him now to think of how he had fled, both then and their next time, abandoning his demon without permission. He suspected that the intercourse they engaged in at the close of- or occasionally during- a day's torture session had sped up the process of his appreciation for his demon's skill, but it was not the only reason therefore. If it had been then he would merely have yearned for the end of each session, never coming to see the skill for the art that it truly was.
Instead Castiel had come to find himself anticipating each and every cut for the act itself and the beautiful crimson fluid that would spill forth from the split skin. He was coming to relish the moments when Dean would need him to heal his prey as it allowed him to become intimately acquainted with his demon's work. The thought made him begin to harden as he recalled Dean's reaction the first time that he had thought to not remove the pain such a healing could impart on the soul he performed it on. His demon had taken him then and there, right beside the rack with Dean still covered in the hunter's blood like a human canvas for some primal painting.
It might not have been what was Intended, but Castiel found that he no longer cared about that, nor about anything else of his Father's. No, the only thing that mattered to him anymore was the demon to which he was bonded and who both fed from him and strengthened him at the same time, tying them together in a powerful psychic connection.
Castiel would do whatever Dean wanted him to and protect him from all those who would seek to hurt his new master.
A.N.: First I'd like to thank nanoks for her wonderful art. The original image that I chose (shown in part 1) just grabbed hold of my muse and wouldn't let go, right from the very beginning. The rest of the art was all extra and I love it, thanks hon!
Secondly I hope that everyone else enjoys this fic as much as I did while writing it. Dark!demon!Dean was surprisingly fun to write, twisted as he is :)
And don't for get to check out nanoks art masterlist if you haven't already!