Undisclosed Desires
Title: Undisclosed Desires
Author: creepylicious
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Rating: R
Summary: Over the course of seasons 4 and 5, Dean and Castiel gradually realize that their feelings toward each other have evolved. This story is about how they become first friends and then something more. It's very canon based and focuses on the development of their relationship while they're fighting the apocalypse.
Warning(s): sex, violence, spoilers up to season five
Author’s Notes: Title by Muse. Huge thanks to all my betas. This is kind of for nilyveth. Awesome ART by cybel . EDIT: PDF by kruel_angel.
Word Count: 22.833
Beta: asm_z , tygermine , melanth0
Disclaimer: Don’t know, don’t own, not real
I. Dean
~1~
Castiel does what he is told.
.
He doesn't know who his superiors are, exactly, but in the long run, it doesn't matter. Castiel does what he is told. So when they tell him to go to Hell and find Dean Winchester, he does.
Hell was exactly that: Hell. From the moment he created it, it was a twisted, perverted image of what God created. Of heaven.
He's seen Hell before, briefly, as Michael defeated Lucifer. Castiel was just a soldier then, as he is just a soldier now. He has never had nightmares. Angels don't dream, because they don't sleep. But if he could dream, Hell, that brief glimpse of Hell (darkness, blood, pain), would be his nightmare.
He wasn't alone. No angel could do this alone. But he was the first, and still too late. They lost the first seal, he lost brothers. They lost.
Battling, fighting, killing his way down, down, down.
And still too late.
The first contact of light on skin. He didn't know. Maybe he did, he just didn't think about it much at the moment. Maybe he wanted Dean to know, to forever remember that it was him who pulled him out. That it was Castiel's hand on his skin. A mark, a brand. A responsibility. His responsibility, he knew even then.
He didn't know how this broken beyond repair soul could save anyone. Not to mention the world. But it was not his place to ask these questions.
~2~
Castiel wouldn't say that Dean was a disappointment. In some fashion all humans are. That was the reason for the war. Human imperfection and love, perhaps. Castiel tries not to dwell on it. It was so long ago and Lucifer's reasons were always just that: Lucifer's reasons. Castiel didn't believe him then and he does not believe him now. Killing millions of people is not the answer. It could never be. Not in the world Castiel lives in. Not in a world where God is still good. Still merciful.
~+~
Those first encounters weren't very encouraging.
Castiel's voice made Dean bleed. Made him scream and Castiel didn't know why at first. Wasn't Dean chosen? Shouldn't he be able to hear, to listen, to understand? Apparently not. Just another obstacle for Castiel. Nothing he could not handle.
He needed time, needed time to find a vessel, needed time to think - time he did not have. The world was on the brink of war, again.
Jimmy understood. Jimmy knew, or maybe he just thought he knew. Castiel didn't know, nor did he care much. Jimmy was his vessel. Jimmy, like others, was chosen. He would fight, he would bleed, he would die if that was God's will. And Jimmy didn't question God's will like Castiel. He was faithful.
~3~
Castiel can't say he was not surprised, because he was. He appeared in front of a few people over thousands of years, but none of them were like Dean.
Dean didn't believe him.
“Who are you?” He looked like he was going to slit Castiel's throat, if Castiel would just give him the slightest chance. Dean was full of anger and hate and pain, but no fear. No fear whatsoever.
“Castiel.” It was his name. It was the only explanation needed.
“Yeah, I figured that much. I mean what are you?”
“I'm an Angel of the Lord.” He thought it should be clear. Who else, what else, could bring someone back from the pit of hell? Nothing. No one. Only an angel; just him.
“Get the hell out of here. There's no such thing.” Disrespect, disbelief, in every word. And anger. So much anger. Castiel didn't know why.
“This is your problem, Dean, you have no faith,” he had answered, because it was the truth. He could see it in Dean; like he could see in so many other human beings.
“Look, pal, I'm not buying what you're selling. So, who are you really?” Denial. Well, Castiel could deal with that. It was not the first time, after all.
“I told you.” What else was there to say?
“Right. And why would an angel rescue me from Hell?”
“Good things do happen, Dean.” That was not exactly a lie, but he still lied to Dean for the first time in this moment.
“Not in my experience.” It sounded like the absolute truth, delivered in the simplest of words.
“What's the matter?” he asked. He looked at Dean, tried to see beyond all that anger and mistrust. Just to see who he was talking to and then it hit him. “You don't think you deserve to be saved.” Not a question, because he knew.
“Why'd you do it?” It's not like he had expected an answer.
“Because God commanded it. Because we have work for you.” Of that he was sure. Maybe that was the only thing he was sure of, that and God's mercy.
~4~
The Rise of the Witnesses is something they didn't think about until it was too late. He couldn't be there to help anyway. He was somewhere else, fighting, losing. It seems like they are always losing the battles, like there is no way to win. He doesn't think about it too often; he doesn't have time to think about it. It's hard to keep track of all the seals Lilith might break. It's their fault, of course. It doesn't make things easier on him. And then there is Dean. That human, that fragile human being, that refuses to give up, that refuses to die, that refuses God and Castiel. He refuses everything.
Castiel isn't sure Dean knows that this is a dream. He suspects Dean doesn't know. It doesn't really matter anyway. Castiel is just here to make him understand how serious their situation is.
He is ready for Dean's accusations and anger. He doesn't expect anything else. After just one encounter with Dean, he thinks he knows. Everything needs time. Time he doesn't have. Time they don't have, but... Pointless thoughts.
He knew that Dean would hold him responsible for what was happening with the Witnesses. He knew, though not his fault, that it doesn't matter to Dean, because people he cared about were dying. People close enough to him to care about, to take an interest in.
He also knew that Dean would question the existence of God. Most humans do. It's only natural of them, he supposes.
“There's a God.” he answers, his voice firm. This is not a matter of believing for Castiel.
“I'm not convinced.'Cause if there's a God, what the hell is he waiting for, huh? Genocide? Monsters roaming the earth? The freaking apocalypse? At what point does he lift a damn finger and help the poor bastards that are stuck down here?” Dean demands, his voice rising with every word.
“The Lord works...” he begins, the phrase worked before, Dean interrupts him. Of course he does.
“If you say 'mysterious ways' so help me, I will kick your ass.” It makes him smile on the inside. “So Bobby was right about the Witnesses. This is some kind of a sign of the Apocalypse,” Dean wants to know. It's not really a question. He is pretty sure that it's the truth.
“It's why we're here. Big things afoot,” he answers. Dean gives him a look, leaning on the kitchen counter.
“I wanna know what kind of things.”
“I sincerely doubt it, but you need to know.” It's the truth, as well. They need Dean. Castiel doesn't know why, but it's not his place to ask these questions.
The story is told fast and he is only going for the facts. It would've been faster if Dean wouldn't interrupt him all the time. Humans are irritating, but Dean seems more so than others.
There is just something about Dean that irritates him. He can't explain it. He knows, he knows that it's unnecessary to threaten Dean. That it may even interfere with his orders, his superior's plans. He can't stop himself. He is angry; he lost brothers. He lost more brothers than he had in a long, long time. Add in the seals and battles, he just keeps losing.
“Our numbers are not unlimited. Six of my brothers died in the field this week. You think the armies of Heaven should just follow you around? There's a bigger picture here. You should show me respect. I dragged you out of Hell. I can throw you back in.” It's not a lie. He could do that. Any angel is capable of doing it.
Dean doesn't flinch, but he gives just a bit, just a few inches: his fingers slipping on the counter, his face turning away, his eyes... And Castiel leaves him there in the kitchen, in the dream.
~5~
It's not his idea. That's the only excuse he has. He is just following orders.
“Hello Dean. What were you dreaming about?” he asks. The bed under him feels soft and the sheets somehow scratchy. Everything feels different, sharper. He feels Dean's weight, feels how he shifts, feels everything and his body just goes with it.
“You get your freak on by watching other people sleep?”
The truth is yes. Angels don't dream. It's interesting. He doesn't know how it feels. He doesn't know the first thing about humans, even with this human body he is in, he has no idea. It doesn't really matter in the long run, he guesses, as he will be killed for sure sooner or later. Being by Dean's side and given what Dean does and how he acts, Castiel knows it’ll be the latter. “What do you want?”
“Listen to me, you have to stop it,” he answers. He knows of course that Dean can't, will not be able to, but that he will try nevertheless. It's what Dean does.
“Stop what?”
Maybe he should have answered, but it's not in his power to change anything. The things develop like they did before. Time is an endless circle.
It wasn't his order to stop any of this in the first place. It wasn't his order to help Dean. When he's honest with himself, he isn't really sure what his orders are.
Being by Dean's side?
~6~
There is something dark inside Sam. Castiel can see it, and he is sure Dean can see it, too. There is also something dark and sharp and ready to kill inside Dean. He tries to tame it with alcohol and women, but Castiel isn't too sure it works. Something broken, daring you to touch. It's like shards of glass; if you touch it, you'll bleed.
Castiel has never seen such darkness before, and he is only touching the surface. Metaphorically speaking, of course. He doesn't touch Dean. Not since the first contact of light on skin. Fire and human flesh.
This broken piece inside Dean is shaped like Mary, like John, like Sam. It’s a black silhouette of longing and loss and conflict, of feeling too much.
It seems to sometimes overshadow the rest of his being. His soul, that fragile thing torn to pieces and sewn together with something that will hopefully hold long enough for Dean to finish the plans Heaven has for him.
There is this obsession with saving everyone, especially his brother. Sam, Castiel is pretty sure, if his orders are anything to go by, is beyond any salvation anyone could offer. The only exception is maybe God, but Castiel doesn't know that for sure.
Castiel can see all this, but he can't touch. He tries to help Dean in an awkward way, because he doesn't know what to do with all of this. With everything that is Dean. A human being so different from them all and, yet, the same.
~7~
With Dean it's always a form of confrontation. Fighting for control, for the right thing. The problem, Castiel thinks, is that Dean doesn't see, can't see, the bigger picture here. He only sees lives and his driving force is to save as many as he can. Castiel knows what Dean's done. Castiel knows all of Dean's secrets.
“And is the witch dead?” he wants to know. This is important.
“No, but...” Sam says and is interrupted by his brother.
“We know who it is.”
“Apparently the witch knows who you are too.” Castiel is not impressed. He picks up the hex bag to show it to Dean. The meaning, he thinks, is pretty clear. “This was inside the wall of your room. If we hadn't found it, surely one or both of you would be dead. Do you know where the witch is now?” He really hopes they do. He hopes he doesn't have to let Uriel kill thousands of people. It wouldn't go over well with Dean. He is sure of that.
“We’re working on it,” Dean answers after exchanging a look with his brother. Castiel doesn't like to be in the same room with Sam. It makes him feel unclean. It's a strange feeling and he knows that it's the demon blood.
“That's unfortunate.”
“What do you care?” And there it is again, the confrontation. The fight. The invisible fist.
“The raising of Samhain is one of the 66 seals,” he answers.
“So this is about your buddy Lucifer.”
“Lucifer is no friend of ours.”
Castiel didn't want to bring Uriel with him, but they have their orders. He will obey, he always has. Always will.
“It’s just an expression.”
“Lucifer cannot rise. The breaking of the seal must be prevented at all costs.”
“Okay, great, well now that you’re here, why don’t you tell us where the witch is. We’ll gank her and everybody goes home.” He can see how Dean's brain works, how his heart works. It's a soft pull inside him that always, always makes him step a bit closer, lets him sit on the bed Dean is sleeping in. He doesn't do it on purpose. Sometimes he doesn't even realize that he's doing it in the first place.
“We are not omniscient. This witch is very powerful, she’s cloaked even our methods.”
“Okay, we already know who she is. So if we work together...” Sam says.
“Enough of this.” Uriel's voice rises above them, loud and forbidding.
“Okay, who are you and why should I care?” Dean wants to know.
“This is Uriel. He’s what you might call a specialist,” he answers.
“What kind of specialist? What are you gonna do?” Dean asks. Sam is quiet and Castiel is strangely glad for it. He doesn't need an escalation right here, right now.
“You- uh both of you, you need to leave this town immediately.”
“Why?” Dean's voice is sharp and suspicious. Castiel should have known he wouldn't go, just because an angel told him to.
“Because we’re about to destroy it.” The truth hurts his tongue. It burns at the back of it. He also knew that Dean wouldn't just let them, him, do it. Not without fighting. He maybe counted on it. A bit. “I’m sorry, but we have our orders,” he says.
“No, you can’t do this, you’re angels, I mean aren’t you supposed to...” It's surprising in an unpleasant way that this comes from Sam. From Sam who is unclean, tainted with demon blood. Sam who still has faith, who maybe always had more faith than his brother.
“You’re supposed to show mercy.”
“Says who?” Uriel asks. He knew it was a bad idea to bring Uriel with him.
“We have no choice.” And this is a lie.
“Of course you have a choice, I mean, come on. What? You’ve never questioned a crap order, huh? What are you both, just a couple of hammers?” Dean asks.
“Look, even if you can’t understand it, have faith. The plan is just.” He isn't sure about it, but he has to believe in it. He has to believe in something.
“How can you even say that?” How can Sam, Sam, tainted human that he is, even question that?
“Because it comes from heaven. That makes it just,” he answers, simply.
“Oh, it must be nice, to be so sure of yourselves.” Dean's voice is taunting him.
“Tell me something, Dean. When your father gave you an order, didn’t you obey?” he asks. It's a perfectly valid question and it's cruel and he knows it.
The truth is they do have orders, and the orders involve Dean’s decisions. He has faith in Dean. It's new to have faith in someone who isn't his superior or God. It's strange to have faith in a human, because humans don't even have faith in themselves.
~+~
Dean does what he wants and everything goes not according to plan, but he isn't angry, and he should be. He is strangely relieved.
He finds Dean later in the park, he doesn't even know why he seeks Dean out. He doesn't question it. Not now anyway.
“Let me guess. You’re here for the ‘I told you so’.”
“No,” he answers.
“Well, good ‘cause I’m really not that interested.”
“I am not here to judge you Dean,” he says. He is not here to judge Dean for this, although he thinks this was the right decision, even if they lost.
“Then why are you here?” Dean sounds tired.
“Our orders...” he begins.
“Yeah, you know, I’ve had about enough of these orders of yours...”
“Our orders were not to stop the summoning of Samhain, they were to do whatever you told us to do,” he says smoothly, ignoring Dean's interruption.
“Your orders were to follow my orders?” Dean asks in disbelief.
“It was a test, to see how you would perform under battlefield conditions, you might say.” It's strange to say that, because Dean always seems to perform under these conditions. His whole life has been a battlefield.
“It was a witch, not the Tet Offensive,” Dean answers. It makes him laugh, he can't help it. “So, I uh- failed your test, huh? I get it. But you know what? If you were to wave that magic time traveling wand of yours and we had to do it all over again, I’d make the same call. ‘Cause see, I don’t know what’s gonna happen when these seals are broken. Hell, I don’t even know what’s gonna happen tomorrow. But what I do know is, that this, here? These kids, the swings, the trees, all of it is still here because of my brother and me.”
“You misunderstand me Dean, I’m not like you think. I was praying that you would choose to save the town.” He doesn't even know why he says it, maybe because Dean needs to hear it. Maybe because he needs Dean to hear it.
“You were?” Dean sounds surprised and Castiel can't blame him for it. He looks over the playground the kids, the trees, the sky.
“These people, they’re all my father’s creations. They’re works of art. And yet, even though you stopped Samhain, the seal was broken. And we are one step closer to Hell on earth, for all creation. And that’s not an expression, Dean. It’s literal. You, of all people, should appreciate what that means. Can I tell you something if you promise not to tell another soul?”
“Okay,” Dean answers, wry amusement in his voice. Castiel thinks he likes hearing it.
“I’m not a hammer as you say, I have questions. I have doubts. I don’t know what is right and what is wrong anymore, whether you passed or failed here. But in the coming months you will have more decisions to make. I don’t envy the weight that’s on your shoulders, Dean. I truly don’t.” He looks at Dean then and when Dean looks away again he leaves him there in the park, with the kids and trees and swings he saved.
He never told that to anyone and he is not sure if it was wise to tell Dean, but if anyone, Dean would understand. Dean's father was as demanding as his own after all.
~Interlude~
The first time Dean calls him 'Cas', it's to make sure he understands that Dean isn't afraid or that he will yield to Castiel's authority. In fact, Castiel thinks it's because Dean wants to make sure Castiel knows that there is no authority. That Castiel can't make him do anything he doesn't want to do.
That no one can.
~8~
There is this feeling inside him he can't really define. It is there like an old wound. Making his guts twist in an unpleasant way he can't really describe.
It takes him a while to realize that it always occurs when Dean is talking to Anna. It seems Anna is the only other angel Dean can stand to have around him. And he guesses she is pretty, appealing to the human eye. He isn't sure his own form, this body he borrowed from Jimmy, is what humans would consider good looking. It wasn't his main concern when he took it.
He doesn't know why he watches, silently, invisible. Maybe because he is here to watch over Dean, maybe... Maybe it's something else he doesn't want to think about too deeply.
~+~
He has orders and he needs to follow them. There is nothing else, is there? The only other option is rebellion and he can't do that, or falling from grace and he can't imagine what he would do as a human being. It's out of the question to even think about it.
~9~
“What the hell?”
“Guess again,” Castiel says. He kind of likes the way humans speak. He is still not familiar with all of it, but he is getting there. Being around Dean certainly helps.
“What just happened?”
“You and Sam just saved a seal. We captured Alastair. Dean, this was a victory.” Can't Dean see that? Isn't it obvious? Maybe they can win after all.
“Well, no thanks to you,” Dean bites out. Castiel wants to shakes his head, or shake Dean.
“What makes you say that?” he asks, because why, why does Dean always do that? How can he make Castiel feel like this?
“You were here the whole time?” It's not really a question.
“Enough of it,” he admits.
“Thanks for your help with the rock-salt.”
“That script on the funeral home… we couldn't penetrate it,” he answers. He thinks Dean should know that. He uses sigils to get rid of demons, to prevent them from entering homes, circles. Isn't it only natural that there are some that prevent angels to do the same? Besides, he has seen Anna use the angel banishing sigil. He should have known.
“That was angel proof...”
“Why did you think I recruited you and Sam in the first place?”
“You recruited us?” Dean asks.
“That wasn't your friend Bobby who called, Dean. It wasn't Bobby who told Sam about the seal...” he answers.
“That was you.” Not a question either. He nods. “If you want our help, why the hell didn't you just ask?”
“Because whatever I ask, you seem to do the exact opposite,” he answers. Maybe if he were human it would anger him, but right now this habit of Dean's is just irritating and hindering.
“So what now? The people in this town, they just gonna start dying again?” Dean ignores Castiel’s words completely. He knew it would turn out like this. Dean just doesn't want to like him. He blames all the stuff that happens on Castiel, as if it's Castiel's fault. It's not. It's Dean's in some way, but Castiel can't tell him that. Not now, maybe never.
“Yes.”
“These are good people, don't you think you can make a few exceptions?”
“To everything there is a season,” he answers. It's true, but to Dean it must sound like a platitude.
“You made an exception for me,” Dean says. There is something in his voice. Something he can't...maybe if it was someone else he would say it was a plea. But this is Dean, so he dismisses that thought as soon as it occurs.
“You're different.” He isn't sure what he means exactly anymore. Dean is different, but he isn't sure it's only because he is Dean or because Castiel likes him. It's unnerving not to know these things. Everything seemed so clear before he met Dean.
~10~
“Dean, you are our best hope.” It hurts to say it. It really does.
“No. No way. You can't ask me to do this, Cas. Not this,” Dean answers and it hurts to look at Dean, so he avoids it. It hurts to think about it, so he lets Uriel do it for him.
There is this thing that feels like a lion eating away at his liver. It feels like dying might feel in degrees. Slow and painful and all too human and he wants it to stop.
“What's going on, Cas? Since when does Uriel put a leash on you?”
“My superiors have begun to question my sympathies,” he answers truthfully.
“Your sympathies?”
“I was getting too close to the humans in my charge. You. Your brother. They feel I've begun to express emotions. The doorways to doubt. This can impair my judgement.”
“So they knock you down the ladder and they put Uriel in charge?”
“He is a proud and able instrument of God,” Castiel answers.
“The demotion, doesn't it get your loincloth in a twist?”
“It is what it is.”
“Well, tell Uriel, or whoever...you do not want me doing this, trust me,” Dean says. He sounds determined and broken. It's something only humans can do. Sound like that, be like that, feel like that.
“Want it, no. But I have been told we need it.” And he knows, deep down, he knows it isn't right, it can't ever be right to ask something like this. He pushes this thought aside as well.
“Cas, the things that I did, what I became...you ask me to open that door and walk through it, you will not like what walks back out.” There it is again. That pet-name. Something he wouldn't...something no one ever did before.
“You know what we're all fighting for. And dying for. What Pamela lost her life for. You know what will happen if we fail. For what it's worth, I would give anything not to have you do this.” It's true, but he has orders and they need to know all that Alastair knows. They need to know and Dean can make him talk.
“I'll need a few things,” he says, closing his eyes.
Castiel doesn't want to look at him, doesn't want to see the additional silhouette that is shaped like him in the darkness of what became of Dean's soul. He doesn't want to, but he looks anyway. Dean deserves that.
It smells like blood, sharp and unpleasant, that he can smell through thick doors. The smell of pain and agony and lost hope (the latter from Dean). It makes his skin crawl in a way it didn't used to do before. He can't turn it off, the smell, the misery, the cries of pain.
“Why are you letting Dean do this?” Anna asks.
“He's doing God's work.”
“Torturing? That's God's work? Stop him, Cas, please. Before you ruin the one real weapon you have,” she says, and why does everybody think they can call him by this pet-name? Why does it irritate him when it's not Dean doing it?
“Who are we to question the will of God?”
“Unless this isn't His will,” she answers.
“Then where do the orders come from?”
“I don't know. One of our superiors, maybe, but not Him,” she says. He knows she believes it. Her God is not his. Her God is what his God used to be. Her God is still merciful. Still love and light and life. His God is something else. And that's maybe why he wants so badly to believe her.
He wants her to tell him what to do because he doesn't know what to do. He doesn't know, and she has been here before. Was standing on the edge of a cliff and she jumped. She was brave, unlike him. He isn't brave. He is just...a soldier, he thinks, and even in his own head it sounds wrong. He is a solider of God.
But what if God is dead? What if they are right? All these humans who don't believe, who don't have any faith left? And can he blame them? He doesn't think he can.
~Interlude~
“Are you all right?” he asks. He thinks he hates hospitals. They smell like death. He stayed at Dean's side for hours. He didn't need to, but he wanted to, without knowing why.
“No thanks to you,” Dean says sharply. Castiel can't blame him for it.
“You need to be more careful.”
“You need to learn how to manage a damn devil's trap,” Dean bites back.
Something deep inside him is shaking, like a small child, crying for help, Castiel thinks.
“That's not what I mean. Uriel is dead.” He doesn't tell Dean that Anna did it. What does it matter?
“Was it the demons?”
“It was disobedience. He was working against us.” Maybe he wants Dean to know after all.
“Is it true? Did I break the first seal? Did I start all this?” Dean asks out of the blue.
“Yes. When we discovered Lilith's plan for you, we laid siege to Hell and we fought our way to get to you before you...” There is no point in lying now.
“Jump-started the apocalypse.”
“And we were too late,” he answers. He tried so hard, he tried so very hard, to be in time.
“Why didn't you just leave me there, then?” Dean asks, and Castiel knows he thinks he deserves it. Deserves to go to Hell and stay there for the rest of eternity.
“It's not blame that falls on you, Dean, it's fate. The righteous man who begins it is the only one who can finish it. You have to stop it.”
“Lucifer? The apocalypse? What does that mean? Hey! Don't you go disappearing on me, you son of a bitch. What does that mean?” he asks, pissed off.
“I don't know.” He doesn't. He wishes he did, but he doesn't.
“Bull.”
“I don't. Dean, they don't tell me much. I know our fate rests with you.” He thinks maybe it's too much to ask from one person.
“Well, then you guys are screwed. I can't do it, Cas. It's too big. Alastair was right. I'm not all here. I'm not strong enough. Well, I guess I'm not the man either of our dads wanted me to be. Find someone else. It's not me,” he answers, turning his head away so that Castiel doesn't see him cry.
His fingers itch. He wants to help. He wants to be what Dean needs now. He wants to touch. He reaches over and lays his hand on the sheets, inches away from Dean's body. Not touching, just feeling the body heat, the soft tremors of Dean's body as he cries. And then a finger touches his, soft and hesitant. He doesn't dare look down, staring ahead at the blank white wall. He wants to say something, but doesn't dare.
It feels like first contact. Different than light on soul, or light on flesh, this feels like more. He just can't say what it is exactly.
A beginning or just a fleeting ending, he isn't sure. He rests his finger against Dean's in silence until Dean falls asleep.
~11~
Castiel is pretty sure that he isn't what Dean is praying for, but Castiel is the only one who cares enough to be there. To show up at the parking lot of a cheap motel to answer Dean's prayer. That thing that Dean thinks is a prayer and maybe it is, is heartfelt and true.
“Prayer is a sign of faith. This is a good thing, Dean.”
“So does that mean you'll help me?” he asks, and he sounds hopeful.
“I'm not sure what I can do.” He knows, of course, what Dean wants him to do.
“Drag Sam out of here...now. Before Lilith shows up,” Dean answers. His tone indicates that Castiel should have known that.
“It's a prophecy. I can't interfere.” Even as he says it he knows it's the wrong thing. With Dean he never knows what the wrong thing might be. He can't look at Dean, can't stand his proximity, just can't. He can see their breath mingle, human and angel in a human's body. They aren't that different when it comes to the simple needs, he thinks.
“You have tested me and thrown me every which way. And I have never asked for anything. Not a damn thing. But now I'm asking. I need your help. Please.”
“What you're asking, it's... not within my power to do.” He isn't lying here. He tries not to lie to Dean. They are on shaky ground. Their friendship, if he can call it that, is on very thin ice. One wrong step and it all comes crashing down around him. Around them.
“Why? 'Cause it's 'divine prophecy'?” he demands to know.
“Yes.”
“So, what... We're just supposed to sit around and, and wait for it to happen?”
“I'm sorry,” he answers. He really is sorry.
“Screw you. You and your mission. Your God. If you don't help me now, then when the time comes and you need me...don't bother knocking,” Dean says, angrily, and starts walking away. Castiel can't let this happen and he is well aware that he is not doing this for the greater good. He is doing this for himself.
“Dean.” The first one is just above a whisper. He isn't sure Dean heard him. “Dean!”
“What?” he asks sharply, but he stops and looks around at Castiel.
“You must understand why I can't intercede. Prophets are very special. They're protected.” It's not against his orders to let Dean know that.
“I get that,” he snaps.
“If anything threatens a prophet, anything at all, an archangel will appear to destroy that threat. Archangels are fierce. They're absolute. They're heaven's most terrifying weapon.”
“And these archangels, they're tied to prophets?” he asks, coming closer. Every step makes something deep inside his guts tingle. He doesn't think about it. It's not the time for this anyway.
“Yes."
“So if a prophet was in the same room as a demon...”
“Then the most fearsome wrath of heaven would rain down on that demon. Just so you understand... why I can't help.”
“Thanks, Cas,” Dean says, and Castiel can't explain why it sounds so different from Dean's lips than any others.
“Good luck.”
~12~
There are things that Castiel knows and he thinks Dean needs to know as well.
He takes maybe three breaths to admire what is inside Dean's head when he isn't thinking about his life.
“We need to talk,” he says.
“I'm dreaming, aren't I?” Dean asks.
“It's not safe here. Some place more private,” Castiel says, ignoring Dean's question. He doesn't want to be here. Doesn't want to stay in Dean's head with all these thoughts.
“More private? We're inside my head.”
“Exactly. Someone could be listening.” He doesn't know why he has to say it. He is here, so of course anyone else could be too. Any angel who wanted.
“Cas, what's wrong?”
“Meet me here,” he answers, slipping Dean a piece of paper. Their fingers brush softly for a brief moment and it makes him want...something in a way he knows he shouldn't. “Go now.”
~Interlude~
There is light, because there is always light and pain. And he knows on some level of his higher being that he doesn't deserve this. Not this. It's true he was considering disobedience, but he didn't, not really and maybe he also helped Dean where he wasn't allowed. Went against his orders for a human, for a tool in a greater scheme. And this is his punishment. Pulled out of Jimmy's body and back here into the light and the pain. Endless pain like circles and waves. Steady and eternal and never-ending. There are voices whispering to him like feathers, soft, listing all his crimes in great detail. He has no chance to defend himself, the pain makes him blind, makes him deaf, makes him unable to think. The only constant is the light and with it comes the pain. A steady rhythm he can't control or fight.
“All of this for a human...” the voices whisper. They sound disapproving, like a father of a disobedient child.
The voices don't tell him if he ever can go back. Back to Earth, back to his mission, back to Dean. He doesn't think he will be able to, he doesn't think they'll let him. He had his chance and he blew it, as Dean would say. There is something that feels hot at these words, these thoughts, inside him. It makes him want to laugh. He doesn't. The pain is too great, too all-consuming. If he were human, he maybe would've passed out by now, but he is not human. He can't pass out from it. The only salvation is death. And in his weaker moments, he prays for it.
~13~
He didn't think they would send him back again. Maybe they only did it because their numbers aren't unlimited, he doesn't know.
When he arrives in the warehouse he is confronted with death and chaos. But it seems he is always confronted with death and blood when he's with Dean.
His vessel is dying and he could choose another one, but he has grown attached to this one, so he saves Jimmy. It's an act of mercy.
“Cas, hold up.”
Castiel turns and looks at him. Dean, the human he risked so much for.
“What were you gonna tell me?”
“I learned my lesson while I was away, Dean,” he says and doesn't think of all the light and wave after wave of pain. “I serve heaven, I don't serve man and I certainly don't serve you.” Something inside him feels broken like tiny pieces of glass but he chooses to ignore it.
part two
Author: creepylicious
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Rating: R
Summary: Over the course of seasons 4 and 5, Dean and Castiel gradually realize that their feelings toward each other have evolved. This story is about how they become first friends and then something more. It's very canon based and focuses on the development of their relationship while they're fighting the apocalypse.
Warning(s): sex, violence, spoilers up to season five
Author’s Notes: Title by Muse. Huge thanks to all my betas. This is kind of for nilyveth. Awesome ART by cybel . EDIT: PDF by kruel_angel.
Word Count: 22.833
Beta: asm_z , tygermine , melanth0
Disclaimer: Don’t know, don’t own, not real
I. Dean
~1~
Castiel does what he is told.
.
He doesn't know who his superiors are, exactly, but in the long run, it doesn't matter. Castiel does what he is told. So when they tell him to go to Hell and find Dean Winchester, he does.
Hell was exactly that: Hell. From the moment he created it, it was a twisted, perverted image of what God created. Of heaven.
He's seen Hell before, briefly, as Michael defeated Lucifer. Castiel was just a soldier then, as he is just a soldier now. He has never had nightmares. Angels don't dream, because they don't sleep. But if he could dream, Hell, that brief glimpse of Hell (darkness, blood, pain), would be his nightmare.
He wasn't alone. No angel could do this alone. But he was the first, and still too late. They lost the first seal, he lost brothers. They lost.
Battling, fighting, killing his way down, down, down.
And still too late.
The first contact of light on skin. He didn't know. Maybe he did, he just didn't think about it much at the moment. Maybe he wanted Dean to know, to forever remember that it was him who pulled him out. That it was Castiel's hand on his skin. A mark, a brand. A responsibility. His responsibility, he knew even then.
He didn't know how this broken beyond repair soul could save anyone. Not to mention the world. But it was not his place to ask these questions.
~2~
Castiel wouldn't say that Dean was a disappointment. In some fashion all humans are. That was the reason for the war. Human imperfection and love, perhaps. Castiel tries not to dwell on it. It was so long ago and Lucifer's reasons were always just that: Lucifer's reasons. Castiel didn't believe him then and he does not believe him now. Killing millions of people is not the answer. It could never be. Not in the world Castiel lives in. Not in a world where God is still good. Still merciful.
~+~
Those first encounters weren't very encouraging.
Castiel's voice made Dean bleed. Made him scream and Castiel didn't know why at first. Wasn't Dean chosen? Shouldn't he be able to hear, to listen, to understand? Apparently not. Just another obstacle for Castiel. Nothing he could not handle.
He needed time, needed time to find a vessel, needed time to think - time he did not have. The world was on the brink of war, again.
Jimmy understood. Jimmy knew, or maybe he just thought he knew. Castiel didn't know, nor did he care much. Jimmy was his vessel. Jimmy, like others, was chosen. He would fight, he would bleed, he would die if that was God's will. And Jimmy didn't question God's will like Castiel. He was faithful.
~3~
Castiel can't say he was not surprised, because he was. He appeared in front of a few people over thousands of years, but none of them were like Dean.
Dean didn't believe him.
“Who are you?” He looked like he was going to slit Castiel's throat, if Castiel would just give him the slightest chance. Dean was full of anger and hate and pain, but no fear. No fear whatsoever.
“Castiel.” It was his name. It was the only explanation needed.
“Yeah, I figured that much. I mean what are you?”
“I'm an Angel of the Lord.” He thought it should be clear. Who else, what else, could bring someone back from the pit of hell? Nothing. No one. Only an angel; just him.
“Get the hell out of here. There's no such thing.” Disrespect, disbelief, in every word. And anger. So much anger. Castiel didn't know why.
“This is your problem, Dean, you have no faith,” he had answered, because it was the truth. He could see it in Dean; like he could see in so many other human beings.
“Look, pal, I'm not buying what you're selling. So, who are you really?” Denial. Well, Castiel could deal with that. It was not the first time, after all.
“I told you.” What else was there to say?
“Right. And why would an angel rescue me from Hell?”
“Good things do happen, Dean.” That was not exactly a lie, but he still lied to Dean for the first time in this moment.
“Not in my experience.” It sounded like the absolute truth, delivered in the simplest of words.
“What's the matter?” he asked. He looked at Dean, tried to see beyond all that anger and mistrust. Just to see who he was talking to and then it hit him. “You don't think you deserve to be saved.” Not a question, because he knew.
“Why'd you do it?” It's not like he had expected an answer.
“Because God commanded it. Because we have work for you.” Of that he was sure. Maybe that was the only thing he was sure of, that and God's mercy.
~4~
The Rise of the Witnesses is something they didn't think about until it was too late. He couldn't be there to help anyway. He was somewhere else, fighting, losing. It seems like they are always losing the battles, like there is no way to win. He doesn't think about it too often; he doesn't have time to think about it. It's hard to keep track of all the seals Lilith might break. It's their fault, of course. It doesn't make things easier on him. And then there is Dean. That human, that fragile human being, that refuses to give up, that refuses to die, that refuses God and Castiel. He refuses everything.
Castiel isn't sure Dean knows that this is a dream. He suspects Dean doesn't know. It doesn't really matter anyway. Castiel is just here to make him understand how serious their situation is.
He is ready for Dean's accusations and anger. He doesn't expect anything else. After just one encounter with Dean, he thinks he knows. Everything needs time. Time he doesn't have. Time they don't have, but... Pointless thoughts.
He knew that Dean would hold him responsible for what was happening with the Witnesses. He knew, though not his fault, that it doesn't matter to Dean, because people he cared about were dying. People close enough to him to care about, to take an interest in.
He also knew that Dean would question the existence of God. Most humans do. It's only natural of them, he supposes.
“There's a God.” he answers, his voice firm. This is not a matter of believing for Castiel.
“I'm not convinced.'Cause if there's a God, what the hell is he waiting for, huh? Genocide? Monsters roaming the earth? The freaking apocalypse? At what point does he lift a damn finger and help the poor bastards that are stuck down here?” Dean demands, his voice rising with every word.
“The Lord works...” he begins, the phrase worked before, Dean interrupts him. Of course he does.
“If you say 'mysterious ways' so help me, I will kick your ass.” It makes him smile on the inside. “So Bobby was right about the Witnesses. This is some kind of a sign of the Apocalypse,” Dean wants to know. It's not really a question. He is pretty sure that it's the truth.
“It's why we're here. Big things afoot,” he answers. Dean gives him a look, leaning on the kitchen counter.
“I wanna know what kind of things.”
“I sincerely doubt it, but you need to know.” It's the truth, as well. They need Dean. Castiel doesn't know why, but it's not his place to ask these questions.
The story is told fast and he is only going for the facts. It would've been faster if Dean wouldn't interrupt him all the time. Humans are irritating, but Dean seems more so than others.
There is just something about Dean that irritates him. He can't explain it. He knows, he knows that it's unnecessary to threaten Dean. That it may even interfere with his orders, his superior's plans. He can't stop himself. He is angry; he lost brothers. He lost more brothers than he had in a long, long time. Add in the seals and battles, he just keeps losing.
“Our numbers are not unlimited. Six of my brothers died in the field this week. You think the armies of Heaven should just follow you around? There's a bigger picture here. You should show me respect. I dragged you out of Hell. I can throw you back in.” It's not a lie. He could do that. Any angel is capable of doing it.
Dean doesn't flinch, but he gives just a bit, just a few inches: his fingers slipping on the counter, his face turning away, his eyes... And Castiel leaves him there in the kitchen, in the dream.
~5~
It's not his idea. That's the only excuse he has. He is just following orders.
“Hello Dean. What were you dreaming about?” he asks. The bed under him feels soft and the sheets somehow scratchy. Everything feels different, sharper. He feels Dean's weight, feels how he shifts, feels everything and his body just goes with it.
“You get your freak on by watching other people sleep?”
The truth is yes. Angels don't dream. It's interesting. He doesn't know how it feels. He doesn't know the first thing about humans, even with this human body he is in, he has no idea. It doesn't really matter in the long run, he guesses, as he will be killed for sure sooner or later. Being by Dean's side and given what Dean does and how he acts, Castiel knows it’ll be the latter. “What do you want?”
“Listen to me, you have to stop it,” he answers. He knows of course that Dean can't, will not be able to, but that he will try nevertheless. It's what Dean does.
“Stop what?”
Maybe he should have answered, but it's not in his power to change anything. The things develop like they did before. Time is an endless circle.
It wasn't his order to stop any of this in the first place. It wasn't his order to help Dean. When he's honest with himself, he isn't really sure what his orders are.
Being by Dean's side?
~6~
There is something dark inside Sam. Castiel can see it, and he is sure Dean can see it, too. There is also something dark and sharp and ready to kill inside Dean. He tries to tame it with alcohol and women, but Castiel isn't too sure it works. Something broken, daring you to touch. It's like shards of glass; if you touch it, you'll bleed.
Castiel has never seen such darkness before, and he is only touching the surface. Metaphorically speaking, of course. He doesn't touch Dean. Not since the first contact of light on skin. Fire and human flesh.
This broken piece inside Dean is shaped like Mary, like John, like Sam. It’s a black silhouette of longing and loss and conflict, of feeling too much.
It seems to sometimes overshadow the rest of his being. His soul, that fragile thing torn to pieces and sewn together with something that will hopefully hold long enough for Dean to finish the plans Heaven has for him.
There is this obsession with saving everyone, especially his brother. Sam, Castiel is pretty sure, if his orders are anything to go by, is beyond any salvation anyone could offer. The only exception is maybe God, but Castiel doesn't know that for sure.
Castiel can see all this, but he can't touch. He tries to help Dean in an awkward way, because he doesn't know what to do with all of this. With everything that is Dean. A human being so different from them all and, yet, the same.
~7~
With Dean it's always a form of confrontation. Fighting for control, for the right thing. The problem, Castiel thinks, is that Dean doesn't see, can't see, the bigger picture here. He only sees lives and his driving force is to save as many as he can. Castiel knows what Dean's done. Castiel knows all of Dean's secrets.
“And is the witch dead?” he wants to know. This is important.
“No, but...” Sam says and is interrupted by his brother.
“We know who it is.”
“Apparently the witch knows who you are too.” Castiel is not impressed. He picks up the hex bag to show it to Dean. The meaning, he thinks, is pretty clear. “This was inside the wall of your room. If we hadn't found it, surely one or both of you would be dead. Do you know where the witch is now?” He really hopes they do. He hopes he doesn't have to let Uriel kill thousands of people. It wouldn't go over well with Dean. He is sure of that.
“We’re working on it,” Dean answers after exchanging a look with his brother. Castiel doesn't like to be in the same room with Sam. It makes him feel unclean. It's a strange feeling and he knows that it's the demon blood.
“That's unfortunate.”
“What do you care?” And there it is again, the confrontation. The fight. The invisible fist.
“The raising of Samhain is one of the 66 seals,” he answers.
“So this is about your buddy Lucifer.”
“Lucifer is no friend of ours.”
Castiel didn't want to bring Uriel with him, but they have their orders. He will obey, he always has. Always will.
“It’s just an expression.”
“Lucifer cannot rise. The breaking of the seal must be prevented at all costs.”
“Okay, great, well now that you’re here, why don’t you tell us where the witch is. We’ll gank her and everybody goes home.” He can see how Dean's brain works, how his heart works. It's a soft pull inside him that always, always makes him step a bit closer, lets him sit on the bed Dean is sleeping in. He doesn't do it on purpose. Sometimes he doesn't even realize that he's doing it in the first place.
“We are not omniscient. This witch is very powerful, she’s cloaked even our methods.”
“Okay, we already know who she is. So if we work together...” Sam says.
“Enough of this.” Uriel's voice rises above them, loud and forbidding.
“Okay, who are you and why should I care?” Dean wants to know.
“This is Uriel. He’s what you might call a specialist,” he answers.
“What kind of specialist? What are you gonna do?” Dean asks. Sam is quiet and Castiel is strangely glad for it. He doesn't need an escalation right here, right now.
“You- uh both of you, you need to leave this town immediately.”
“Why?” Dean's voice is sharp and suspicious. Castiel should have known he wouldn't go, just because an angel told him to.
“Because we’re about to destroy it.” The truth hurts his tongue. It burns at the back of it. He also knew that Dean wouldn't just let them, him, do it. Not without fighting. He maybe counted on it. A bit. “I’m sorry, but we have our orders,” he says.
“No, you can’t do this, you’re angels, I mean aren’t you supposed to...” It's surprising in an unpleasant way that this comes from Sam. From Sam who is unclean, tainted with demon blood. Sam who still has faith, who maybe always had more faith than his brother.
“You’re supposed to show mercy.”
“Says who?” Uriel asks. He knew it was a bad idea to bring Uriel with him.
“We have no choice.” And this is a lie.
“Of course you have a choice, I mean, come on. What? You’ve never questioned a crap order, huh? What are you both, just a couple of hammers?” Dean asks.
“Look, even if you can’t understand it, have faith. The plan is just.” He isn't sure about it, but he has to believe in it. He has to believe in something.
“How can you even say that?” How can Sam, Sam, tainted human that he is, even question that?
“Because it comes from heaven. That makes it just,” he answers, simply.
“Oh, it must be nice, to be so sure of yourselves.” Dean's voice is taunting him.
“Tell me something, Dean. When your father gave you an order, didn’t you obey?” he asks. It's a perfectly valid question and it's cruel and he knows it.
The truth is they do have orders, and the orders involve Dean’s decisions. He has faith in Dean. It's new to have faith in someone who isn't his superior or God. It's strange to have faith in a human, because humans don't even have faith in themselves.
~+~
Dean does what he wants and everything goes not according to plan, but he isn't angry, and he should be. He is strangely relieved.
He finds Dean later in the park, he doesn't even know why he seeks Dean out. He doesn't question it. Not now anyway.
“Let me guess. You’re here for the ‘I told you so’.”
“No,” he answers.
“Well, good ‘cause I’m really not that interested.”
“I am not here to judge you Dean,” he says. He is not here to judge Dean for this, although he thinks this was the right decision, even if they lost.
“Then why are you here?” Dean sounds tired.
“Our orders...” he begins.
“Yeah, you know, I’ve had about enough of these orders of yours...”
“Our orders were not to stop the summoning of Samhain, they were to do whatever you told us to do,” he says smoothly, ignoring Dean's interruption.
“Your orders were to follow my orders?” Dean asks in disbelief.
“It was a test, to see how you would perform under battlefield conditions, you might say.” It's strange to say that, because Dean always seems to perform under these conditions. His whole life has been a battlefield.
“It was a witch, not the Tet Offensive,” Dean answers. It makes him laugh, he can't help it. “So, I uh- failed your test, huh? I get it. But you know what? If you were to wave that magic time traveling wand of yours and we had to do it all over again, I’d make the same call. ‘Cause see, I don’t know what’s gonna happen when these seals are broken. Hell, I don’t even know what’s gonna happen tomorrow. But what I do know is, that this, here? These kids, the swings, the trees, all of it is still here because of my brother and me.”
“You misunderstand me Dean, I’m not like you think. I was praying that you would choose to save the town.” He doesn't even know why he says it, maybe because Dean needs to hear it. Maybe because he needs Dean to hear it.
“You were?” Dean sounds surprised and Castiel can't blame him for it. He looks over the playground the kids, the trees, the sky.
“These people, they’re all my father’s creations. They’re works of art. And yet, even though you stopped Samhain, the seal was broken. And we are one step closer to Hell on earth, for all creation. And that’s not an expression, Dean. It’s literal. You, of all people, should appreciate what that means. Can I tell you something if you promise not to tell another soul?”
“Okay,” Dean answers, wry amusement in his voice. Castiel thinks he likes hearing it.
“I’m not a hammer as you say, I have questions. I have doubts. I don’t know what is right and what is wrong anymore, whether you passed or failed here. But in the coming months you will have more decisions to make. I don’t envy the weight that’s on your shoulders, Dean. I truly don’t.” He looks at Dean then and when Dean looks away again he leaves him there in the park, with the kids and trees and swings he saved.
He never told that to anyone and he is not sure if it was wise to tell Dean, but if anyone, Dean would understand. Dean's father was as demanding as his own after all.
~Interlude~
The first time Dean calls him 'Cas', it's to make sure he understands that Dean isn't afraid or that he will yield to Castiel's authority. In fact, Castiel thinks it's because Dean wants to make sure Castiel knows that there is no authority. That Castiel can't make him do anything he doesn't want to do.
That no one can.
~8~
There is this feeling inside him he can't really define. It is there like an old wound. Making his guts twist in an unpleasant way he can't really describe.
It takes him a while to realize that it always occurs when Dean is talking to Anna. It seems Anna is the only other angel Dean can stand to have around him. And he guesses she is pretty, appealing to the human eye. He isn't sure his own form, this body he borrowed from Jimmy, is what humans would consider good looking. It wasn't his main concern when he took it.
He doesn't know why he watches, silently, invisible. Maybe because he is here to watch over Dean, maybe... Maybe it's something else he doesn't want to think about too deeply.
~+~
He has orders and he needs to follow them. There is nothing else, is there? The only other option is rebellion and he can't do that, or falling from grace and he can't imagine what he would do as a human being. It's out of the question to even think about it.
~9~
“What the hell?”
“Guess again,” Castiel says. He kind of likes the way humans speak. He is still not familiar with all of it, but he is getting there. Being around Dean certainly helps.
“What just happened?”
“You and Sam just saved a seal. We captured Alastair. Dean, this was a victory.” Can't Dean see that? Isn't it obvious? Maybe they can win after all.
“Well, no thanks to you,” Dean bites out. Castiel wants to shakes his head, or shake Dean.
“What makes you say that?” he asks, because why, why does Dean always do that? How can he make Castiel feel like this?
“You were here the whole time?” It's not really a question.
“Enough of it,” he admits.
“Thanks for your help with the rock-salt.”
“That script on the funeral home… we couldn't penetrate it,” he answers. He thinks Dean should know that. He uses sigils to get rid of demons, to prevent them from entering homes, circles. Isn't it only natural that there are some that prevent angels to do the same? Besides, he has seen Anna use the angel banishing sigil. He should have known.
“That was angel proof...”
“Why did you think I recruited you and Sam in the first place?”
“You recruited us?” Dean asks.
“That wasn't your friend Bobby who called, Dean. It wasn't Bobby who told Sam about the seal...” he answers.
“That was you.” Not a question either. He nods. “If you want our help, why the hell didn't you just ask?”
“Because whatever I ask, you seem to do the exact opposite,” he answers. Maybe if he were human it would anger him, but right now this habit of Dean's is just irritating and hindering.
“So what now? The people in this town, they just gonna start dying again?” Dean ignores Castiel’s words completely. He knew it would turn out like this. Dean just doesn't want to like him. He blames all the stuff that happens on Castiel, as if it's Castiel's fault. It's not. It's Dean's in some way, but Castiel can't tell him that. Not now, maybe never.
“Yes.”
“These are good people, don't you think you can make a few exceptions?”
“To everything there is a season,” he answers. It's true, but to Dean it must sound like a platitude.
“You made an exception for me,” Dean says. There is something in his voice. Something he can't...maybe if it was someone else he would say it was a plea. But this is Dean, so he dismisses that thought as soon as it occurs.
“You're different.” He isn't sure what he means exactly anymore. Dean is different, but he isn't sure it's only because he is Dean or because Castiel likes him. It's unnerving not to know these things. Everything seemed so clear before he met Dean.
~10~
“Dean, you are our best hope.” It hurts to say it. It really does.
“No. No way. You can't ask me to do this, Cas. Not this,” Dean answers and it hurts to look at Dean, so he avoids it. It hurts to think about it, so he lets Uriel do it for him.
There is this thing that feels like a lion eating away at his liver. It feels like dying might feel in degrees. Slow and painful and all too human and he wants it to stop.
“What's going on, Cas? Since when does Uriel put a leash on you?”
“My superiors have begun to question my sympathies,” he answers truthfully.
“Your sympathies?”
“I was getting too close to the humans in my charge. You. Your brother. They feel I've begun to express emotions. The doorways to doubt. This can impair my judgement.”
“So they knock you down the ladder and they put Uriel in charge?”
“He is a proud and able instrument of God,” Castiel answers.
“The demotion, doesn't it get your loincloth in a twist?”
“It is what it is.”
“Well, tell Uriel, or whoever...you do not want me doing this, trust me,” Dean says. He sounds determined and broken. It's something only humans can do. Sound like that, be like that, feel like that.
“Want it, no. But I have been told we need it.” And he knows, deep down, he knows it isn't right, it can't ever be right to ask something like this. He pushes this thought aside as well.
“Cas, the things that I did, what I became...you ask me to open that door and walk through it, you will not like what walks back out.” There it is again. That pet-name. Something he wouldn't...something no one ever did before.
“You know what we're all fighting for. And dying for. What Pamela lost her life for. You know what will happen if we fail. For what it's worth, I would give anything not to have you do this.” It's true, but he has orders and they need to know all that Alastair knows. They need to know and Dean can make him talk.
“I'll need a few things,” he says, closing his eyes.
Castiel doesn't want to look at him, doesn't want to see the additional silhouette that is shaped like him in the darkness of what became of Dean's soul. He doesn't want to, but he looks anyway. Dean deserves that.
It smells like blood, sharp and unpleasant, that he can smell through thick doors. The smell of pain and agony and lost hope (the latter from Dean). It makes his skin crawl in a way it didn't used to do before. He can't turn it off, the smell, the misery, the cries of pain.
“Why are you letting Dean do this?” Anna asks.
“He's doing God's work.”
“Torturing? That's God's work? Stop him, Cas, please. Before you ruin the one real weapon you have,” she says, and why does everybody think they can call him by this pet-name? Why does it irritate him when it's not Dean doing it?
“Who are we to question the will of God?”
“Unless this isn't His will,” she answers.
“Then where do the orders come from?”
“I don't know. One of our superiors, maybe, but not Him,” she says. He knows she believes it. Her God is not his. Her God is what his God used to be. Her God is still merciful. Still love and light and life. His God is something else. And that's maybe why he wants so badly to believe her.
He wants her to tell him what to do because he doesn't know what to do. He doesn't know, and she has been here before. Was standing on the edge of a cliff and she jumped. She was brave, unlike him. He isn't brave. He is just...a soldier, he thinks, and even in his own head it sounds wrong. He is a solider of God.
But what if God is dead? What if they are right? All these humans who don't believe, who don't have any faith left? And can he blame them? He doesn't think he can.
~Interlude~
“Are you all right?” he asks. He thinks he hates hospitals. They smell like death. He stayed at Dean's side for hours. He didn't need to, but he wanted to, without knowing why.
“No thanks to you,” Dean says sharply. Castiel can't blame him for it.
“You need to be more careful.”
“You need to learn how to manage a damn devil's trap,” Dean bites back.
Something deep inside him is shaking, like a small child, crying for help, Castiel thinks.
“That's not what I mean. Uriel is dead.” He doesn't tell Dean that Anna did it. What does it matter?
“Was it the demons?”
“It was disobedience. He was working against us.” Maybe he wants Dean to know after all.
“Is it true? Did I break the first seal? Did I start all this?” Dean asks out of the blue.
“Yes. When we discovered Lilith's plan for you, we laid siege to Hell and we fought our way to get to you before you...” There is no point in lying now.
“Jump-started the apocalypse.”
“And we were too late,” he answers. He tried so hard, he tried so very hard, to be in time.
“Why didn't you just leave me there, then?” Dean asks, and Castiel knows he thinks he deserves it. Deserves to go to Hell and stay there for the rest of eternity.
“It's not blame that falls on you, Dean, it's fate. The righteous man who begins it is the only one who can finish it. You have to stop it.”
“Lucifer? The apocalypse? What does that mean? Hey! Don't you go disappearing on me, you son of a bitch. What does that mean?” he asks, pissed off.
“I don't know.” He doesn't. He wishes he did, but he doesn't.
“Bull.”
“I don't. Dean, they don't tell me much. I know our fate rests with you.” He thinks maybe it's too much to ask from one person.
“Well, then you guys are screwed. I can't do it, Cas. It's too big. Alastair was right. I'm not all here. I'm not strong enough. Well, I guess I'm not the man either of our dads wanted me to be. Find someone else. It's not me,” he answers, turning his head away so that Castiel doesn't see him cry.
His fingers itch. He wants to help. He wants to be what Dean needs now. He wants to touch. He reaches over and lays his hand on the sheets, inches away from Dean's body. Not touching, just feeling the body heat, the soft tremors of Dean's body as he cries. And then a finger touches his, soft and hesitant. He doesn't dare look down, staring ahead at the blank white wall. He wants to say something, but doesn't dare.
It feels like first contact. Different than light on soul, or light on flesh, this feels like more. He just can't say what it is exactly.
A beginning or just a fleeting ending, he isn't sure. He rests his finger against Dean's in silence until Dean falls asleep.
~11~
Castiel is pretty sure that he isn't what Dean is praying for, but Castiel is the only one who cares enough to be there. To show up at the parking lot of a cheap motel to answer Dean's prayer. That thing that Dean thinks is a prayer and maybe it is, is heartfelt and true.
“Prayer is a sign of faith. This is a good thing, Dean.”
“So does that mean you'll help me?” he asks, and he sounds hopeful.
“I'm not sure what I can do.” He knows, of course, what Dean wants him to do.
“Drag Sam out of here...now. Before Lilith shows up,” Dean answers. His tone indicates that Castiel should have known that.
“It's a prophecy. I can't interfere.” Even as he says it he knows it's the wrong thing. With Dean he never knows what the wrong thing might be. He can't look at Dean, can't stand his proximity, just can't. He can see their breath mingle, human and angel in a human's body. They aren't that different when it comes to the simple needs, he thinks.
“You have tested me and thrown me every which way. And I have never asked for anything. Not a damn thing. But now I'm asking. I need your help. Please.”
“What you're asking, it's... not within my power to do.” He isn't lying here. He tries not to lie to Dean. They are on shaky ground. Their friendship, if he can call it that, is on very thin ice. One wrong step and it all comes crashing down around him. Around them.
“Why? 'Cause it's 'divine prophecy'?” he demands to know.
“Yes.”
“So, what... We're just supposed to sit around and, and wait for it to happen?”
“I'm sorry,” he answers. He really is sorry.
“Screw you. You and your mission. Your God. If you don't help me now, then when the time comes and you need me...don't bother knocking,” Dean says, angrily, and starts walking away. Castiel can't let this happen and he is well aware that he is not doing this for the greater good. He is doing this for himself.
“Dean.” The first one is just above a whisper. He isn't sure Dean heard him. “Dean!”
“What?” he asks sharply, but he stops and looks around at Castiel.
“You must understand why I can't intercede. Prophets are very special. They're protected.” It's not against his orders to let Dean know that.
“I get that,” he snaps.
“If anything threatens a prophet, anything at all, an archangel will appear to destroy that threat. Archangels are fierce. They're absolute. They're heaven's most terrifying weapon.”
“And these archangels, they're tied to prophets?” he asks, coming closer. Every step makes something deep inside his guts tingle. He doesn't think about it. It's not the time for this anyway.
“Yes."
“So if a prophet was in the same room as a demon...”
“Then the most fearsome wrath of heaven would rain down on that demon. Just so you understand... why I can't help.”
“Thanks, Cas,” Dean says, and Castiel can't explain why it sounds so different from Dean's lips than any others.
“Good luck.”
~12~
There are things that Castiel knows and he thinks Dean needs to know as well.
He takes maybe three breaths to admire what is inside Dean's head when he isn't thinking about his life.
“We need to talk,” he says.
“I'm dreaming, aren't I?” Dean asks.
“It's not safe here. Some place more private,” Castiel says, ignoring Dean's question. He doesn't want to be here. Doesn't want to stay in Dean's head with all these thoughts.
“More private? We're inside my head.”
“Exactly. Someone could be listening.” He doesn't know why he has to say it. He is here, so of course anyone else could be too. Any angel who wanted.
“Cas, what's wrong?”
“Meet me here,” he answers, slipping Dean a piece of paper. Their fingers brush softly for a brief moment and it makes him want...something in a way he knows he shouldn't. “Go now.”
~Interlude~
There is light, because there is always light and pain. And he knows on some level of his higher being that he doesn't deserve this. Not this. It's true he was considering disobedience, but he didn't, not really and maybe he also helped Dean where he wasn't allowed. Went against his orders for a human, for a tool in a greater scheme. And this is his punishment. Pulled out of Jimmy's body and back here into the light and the pain. Endless pain like circles and waves. Steady and eternal and never-ending. There are voices whispering to him like feathers, soft, listing all his crimes in great detail. He has no chance to defend himself, the pain makes him blind, makes him deaf, makes him unable to think. The only constant is the light and with it comes the pain. A steady rhythm he can't control or fight.
“All of this for a human...” the voices whisper. They sound disapproving, like a father of a disobedient child.
The voices don't tell him if he ever can go back. Back to Earth, back to his mission, back to Dean. He doesn't think he will be able to, he doesn't think they'll let him. He had his chance and he blew it, as Dean would say. There is something that feels hot at these words, these thoughts, inside him. It makes him want to laugh. He doesn't. The pain is too great, too all-consuming. If he were human, he maybe would've passed out by now, but he is not human. He can't pass out from it. The only salvation is death. And in his weaker moments, he prays for it.
~13~
He didn't think they would send him back again. Maybe they only did it because their numbers aren't unlimited, he doesn't know.
When he arrives in the warehouse he is confronted with death and chaos. But it seems he is always confronted with death and blood when he's with Dean.
His vessel is dying and he could choose another one, but he has grown attached to this one, so he saves Jimmy. It's an act of mercy.
“Cas, hold up.”
Castiel turns and looks at him. Dean, the human he risked so much for.
“What were you gonna tell me?”
“I learned my lesson while I was away, Dean,” he says and doesn't think of all the light and wave after wave of pain. “I serve heaven, I don't serve man and I certainly don't serve you.” Something inside him feels broken like tiny pieces of glass but he chooses to ignore it.
part two