An UnKindness of Crows

[reticentric]

~Part Six~

After leaving Dean bewildered in the alley but certain that he would learn the truth for himself, Castiel set out to find Gordon. He climbed up the fire escape of a brick building until he reached the roof, staring out at the city with keen eyes. The thought of Gordon hurting Dean-especially after what he’d done to him and Anna-made him so livid that he was nearly trembling with it. Had he been an animal he was sure that he would be foaming at the mouth. He had taken pleasure in killing Meg and Nick but he had a feeling that Gordon would be his true masterpiece because he didn’t kill for fun or sport; he did it because he considered it a job.

A means to an end.

A way to earn quick cash while doing something he considered easy.

Gordon Walker was a psychopath-the very definition of the word. Castiel could remember turning his head as he gasped for air and looking into the other man’s eyes but seeing nothing. Just a hollow blankness as he tightened the rope like he was doing the most mundane thing possible and not robbing someone of their life.

They’ve already taken everything from me and yet they want more.

He balled his hands into fists so hard that his blunt nails dug into his skin, making tiny crescent shaped wounds that healed too quickly to bleed. He didn’t care what he had to do; there was no way they were getting Dean. Dean. Smart mouthed Dean with his laughing eyes and boyish charm. Dean, who’d looked upon him as he was now and yet not flinched, not wavered. He wasn’t going to let Gordon do to Dean what he’d done to him. He’d burn the world down before he let that happen.

As if it always knew the right time to make itself known, the black crow swooped out of the sky and perched on Castiel’s shoulder. He pecked at the collar of his coat and then took flight, soaring over the city with amber eyes, letting Castiel see what it saw. The only people that were out this late were law enforcement, late shift workers, club kids and men up to no good. And Castiel could see them all through his guide’s steely gaze as they worked and played and terrorized.

It found Gordon in a rusted mobile home out near the city dump, surrounded by old toilets and discarded furniture. A giant transformer was to the right and within walking distance, shielded behind a silver fence. He was sitting in a broken down recliner with the television playing Cops of all things cleaning one of the several guns he had laid out on the table in front of him.

Castiel wasted no time getting to his location. He ran, moved across the rooftops like a shadow until the only way he could keep going was to take to the streets. The crow cawed at him loudly from above, goading him on, showing him the proper location over and over again until he was standing just a few inches away.

He sighed deeply as sprinkles of rain began to fall and walked up to a window, peering in through the dirty glass. A memory flashed behind his eyes so vividly that it nearly dropped him to his knees, and he jerked to the side trying to force it away. But a tiny voice in his head said let it come, let it come because it would give him strength.

Gordon does most of the hitting, most of the punching and he’s very clinical about it. Face, chest, stomach, and ribs. His blows are strong enough to cause instant bruises but not break bones. He kicks Castiel when he’s down on the floor, watches him writhe in pain and then stomps on his back, leaves a dirty footprint in his crisp white shirt.

His friends are laughing and destroying Castiel’s things but all of Gordon’s focus is on him. And the entire time he doesn’t smile or show one ounce of emotion. He just hits. Hits until his knuckles are stained with Castiel’s blood and the man with the yellow sunglasses says it’s time for the main event. So Gordon yanks a thick rope out of his bag and wraps it around Castiel’s neck, tightens it so that the coarse material digs into his soft skin. Hauls him up, ties his hands behind his back and even lets Castiel lean on him a little while the others continue to taunt him.

In the end when Anna’s screams have stopped, Gordon’s breath in his ear is the last thing he ever hears.

Cracking his neck loudly, Castiel tapped on his window three times and waited. Gordon was up and leaning out of the door seconds later, gun clasped tightly in his hand. “Who are you? What are you doing outside of my home?”

Castiel watched him. “Gordon Walker. I haven’t decided what I wish to say to you yet. Usually I’m poetic in these moments but you instill so much rage inside of me that I am nearly at a loss for words.”

Gordon cocked a brow and stepped out onto the muddy ground. “Do I know you?”

He nodded slowly. “Yes. And you know a friend of mine, Dean Winchester.”

Gordon chuckled and replied, “Did Dean send you to do his dirty work? Give me a message or something? Well you tell Dean that all he had to do was give the pictures back and swear to be a good boy. He’s the one being a stubborn son of a bitch. It’s his fault if things are…going badly for him.”

“He doesn’t know I’m here. In truth I would have made my way here sooner or later however after I saw what you did to Dean, I had ample cause to make it sooner. And we both know even if he had returned the photos, your employer would have never believed he didn’t know more than he was actually saying.”

“Mm. Breaking his face a little was just a warning. Next time it’ll be his neck.”

“I’m afraid there won’t be a next time for you.”

“Am I supposed to be scared because you’re jacked up and crazy looking? Sorry to disappoint you but I’m not.”

“Nick Monroe was. Meg Masters was.”

Gordon’s face twitched. “Are you the one who killed them?”

Castiel smirked; finally a little emotion. “Yes but between you and me, they were already dead. It just took Death a while to cross their names off his list.”

Lifting his gun, Gordon aimed it at Castiel’s heart. “Who do you work for?”

“That is an interesting question. I’ve been contemplating the reasons for my resurrection and who could have possibly sanctioned it, but I still do not know the answer,” Castiel said shoving his hands into his pockets. “Worse case scenario? Lucifer. Perhaps he has sent me collect the wicked.”

“Who are you?” Gordon asked his patience thinning.

Castiel sighed. “My name is Castiel Novak, and six months ago you murdered me.”

Gordon frowned at him, the wheels in his head turning. He tilted his head to the side and licked his dry lips. “Novak. The reporter? Well, I’ll be damned. Never would have expected someone like you to be working some type of black magic.” He laughed lowly. “You’ve wasted it though. The dead don’t scare me, never have.”

His blasé attitude made a spike of anger split Castiel’s insides and for a moment he felt like he was back in his apartment begging for his life. At least the others had pleaded and apologized with empty words but obviously this man didn’t care one way or another. He would rip a path of destruction on whomever he was sent after.

And so he deserves it most of all.

“I will indulge my sorrows, and give way to all the pangs and fury of despair,” Castiel quoted softly. “Joseph Addison.”

Gordon, sensing that the conversation was over, took a step back and fired. The bullet hit Castiel directly in his heart and he staggered but didn’t go down. So Gordon shot again. And again and again until his pistol was clicking empty and Castiel was laughing as the bullet holes mended. He lunged at Gordon without warning and slammed him against the metal of his mobile home, making his skull hit it with a sick crack. Castiel then drove his knee up into Gordon’s stomach with enough force to double the man over and send him into a coughing fit.

However Gordon wasn’t a pretty boy or a sex crazed young woman and he had no problems fighting back, pushing himself beyond his limits. He grabbed the lapels of Castiel’s coat and head butted him before punching him in the face and shoving him towards an old bathtub someone had thrown away. Castiel tripped over a loose root and fell across it, grunting when Gordon kicked him in the face so that he was sprawled on the ground.

Gordon straddled his legs next and hit him repeatedly, and even though there was a minute amount of pain Castiel started laughing again. A low throaty sound that vibrated throughout his body.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Gordon asked panting.

“I am but the monster you made me.” Without warning his hand latched around Gordon’s neck and squeezed, choking off his air. Grunting, he tossed the other man off of him violently into the chain link fence.

By now the rain was coming down steadily drenching them both. Gordon shook off the fuzziness in his head and reached behind him, pulling out a knife with a jagged blade. He glared at Castiel and tried to circle him, slashing at him when he got to close. Elbowing Castiel against his temple and ducking a blow to his nose, he drove the knife in deep into his chest and twisted.

Castiel huffed and delivered a swift uppercut to Gordon’s chin, knocking him off balance and over a tree stump. He slowly tugged out the knife and tossed it to the ground, ignoring the twinge to grip the back of Gordon’s shirt and drag him closer to the transformer. Hefting him up, he stared into his dead eyes. “We could do this all night,” He said grinning.

Gordon grunted at him. “This won’t bring your sister back. In fact, I’m sure I’ll see you in hell later.”

“Maybe.” Pause. “Where is my briefcase? I was told you took it from my apartment after disposing of me. Who has it?”

“Alastair. Good luck getting to it and him.”

“Thank you. I’d love to hurt you repeatedly-pay you back for what you did to me. To Anna. To Dean and the countless others. But your time has come. You don’t deserve one more breath.”

Kicking open the protective gate, Castiel shoved Gordon with all of his might into the mass of electrical wires and tubes. He hit them with a harsh thud and immediately started to shudder fiercely as massive volt after massive volt traveled through his body, burning the flesh from his bones and searing out his eyes, turning him into a bloody burning mess.

The smell was horrific-like burning tires-but Castiel continued to watch him fry with a rather blank expression. And yet inside he was happy or at least…sated. Another one down.

Exhaling, he turned his face up to the sky and let the rain wash away his sins. Gordon’s smoking body dropped to the ground and he tilted his head at the symbol charred into the grass. The crow landed on his shoulder and flapped its’ wings, apparently pleased at another one of its greeting cards being left.

Stroking its’ soft feathers, Castiel decided it was time to go.

~*~

At the current rate that he was going, Dean knew he wouldn’t be getting a lick of sleep tonight. It was already ticking towards three-thirty and he was on his second cup of coffee. He was actually just sitting in front of his open laptop with the Google logo showing, trying to push down the anxious tension in his stomach so that he could type in two words; Castiel Novak. A part of him was terrified of what he would find out but the other part wanted to know so badly. Not to mention as a P.I. it was sort of his job to get to the truth of matters.

Sighing deeply, he cracked his knuckles and typed in Cas’ full name, hitting enter quickly before he lost his nerve. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected to pop up first; escaped mental patient roams the city or also known as the superhero Clown Man. He definitely wasn’t anticipating a bold headline with the words brutally murdered in the title.

Aspiring Reporter Brutally Murdered

“What the fuck?” He said aloud and clicked on the link. “Castiel Novak along with his sister Anna were found murdered early Tuesday morning in Novak’s quaint fourth story apartment building. It appeared to be a robbery gone wrong in which the assailants proceeded to beat and torture Novak and his sister before…fuck.” He was forced to stop for a moment or risk vomiting on the carpet. “…before killing both. Reports confirm that Mr. Novak was found hanging from the ceiling while his sister’s apparent cause of death was strangulation. The police do not have any leads but are looking at several people of interest. This tragedy comes as a shock to the Novaks’ Uncle-CEO of Alder Pharmaceuticals-Zachariah Adler.”

Dean slouched back to the couch and slid a hand over his eyes, his breath coming out shaky and shallow. There was no way this was true. It had to be some kinda fucked up prank or something because if not then Cas was pretty damn alive for a dead person. And yet…

“He got shot and there was no wound, and he just walked off.” Groaning, he turned back to his computer and exited the page for another which brandished a picture. Of course he recognized the big blue eyes of the dark haired man; he would know those eyes anywhere.

Dean stared at the photo, at what Castiel looked like when he wasn’t all made up. He was gorgeous for lack of a better word. Studious. Intense. The kinda guy Dean would probably annoy until he agreed to go out with him and then take much pleasure in eventually getting to defile him. To muss him up until everyone knew he belonged to Dean.

Why someone would wanna hide a face like that he had no idea, but he was damn sure going to find out. He had his phone out and calling Henriksen seconds later.

A groggy voice answered a few rings after. “Henriksen.”

“Hey man, it’s Dean.” He nibbled on his bottom lip. “I know it’s early and that I probably woke you and Nancy up, but this is important. I need some information on Castiel Novak.”

Henriksen cleared his throat. “Dean, it’s almost three in the morning. What the hell are you talking about?”

“C’mon dude, Castiel Novak. Name ring a bell?”

“Yeah. Castiel Novak is dead. He was killed about six months ago with his older sister. Why?”

“Did you work the case?”

“Not exactly. The whole department had a hand in questioning people and running mug shots when Novak’s Uncle put in a call to the mayor, but it wasn’t my case. Why?”

“And you didn’t get any leads? Were any other apartments in the area hit?”

“Several. An elderly woman was beaten and they killed her cat. Why, Dean?”

“I-nothing I just ran across the name and wanted to know more is all.”

“Uh-huh. Excuse me if I don’t believe that for a minute seeing as how you woke me saying it was all important.”

“Hey at least I’m not asking about Walker. That’s something right?”

“I suppose so. Though knowing what I know about you, it’s not much. I’m sure you’re working some type of angle.”

“Just one last question and I’ll let you go back to sleep. What apartment did this happen in?”

“Dean…”

“Humor me okay? Please.”

Maybe it was the please that did it but Henriksen caved and gave Dean an address after telling him to try to stay out of trouble. However it was something that he always said-like a running mantra that threaded itself through their friendship. Dean appreciated it just the same.

Half an hour later Dean was sitting outside the address given to him, staring up at the half burned building surrounded by yellow caution tape and orange barriers. While the fourth floor had the most damage and the city offered to fix up the apartments of the other tenants, everyone eventually moved out as fast as they could which made perfect sense to him. Apparently the place was going to be condemned as soon as someone got around to it but it wasn’t a top priority. Not like fixing pot holes or building another Starbucks.

What am I doing here? This is so fucken stupid. What the hell am I expecting to find anyway? Dean thought to himself with a deep scowl. He felt like an idiot but a nagging in the back of his brain wouldn’t let him start the engine and go home. It was pushing him forward and he soon found himself getting out of the car and slowly walking up to the front glass doors now covered in dust and spray paint.

His tongue poked out the corner of his mouth as he picked the lock and straightened once it clicked back, turning on his flashlight. “Here goes nothing.”

The inside of the lobby was probably nice back in the day but now the paint was yellowing and peeling with graffiti scribbles proclaiming Brady ♥ Crowley on the walls. He snorted and moved over to the address panel; his fingertips brushing through the grime until he could make out a few of the faded names. His heart was thudding so hard against his rib cage when he spied Castiel’s name that he was sure he was about to have a heart attack. He felt like he’d stepped into another dimension or some stuck point in time, like an old photograph come to life.

He didn’t even realize he was moving until the lobby turned to stairwell and stairwell turned to hallway. The fourth floor wasn’t destroyed but it was damn near close. The smell of wet ashes and moldy wood made his nose burn but he slowly trekked forward, stepping over charred tables and left behind shredded clothes. It wasn’t until he saw the one eyed teddy bear sitting in the corner glaring at him that he felt a chill roll down his spine.

He glanced around and told himself the creaks were nothing but the foundation settling and that he most certainty did not hear a meow from a ghost cat.

“Shit,” He said. “I can do this.”

Dean surveyed the numbers on the doors; his throat closing over when found the one he was looking for. He was struck by the violent urge to cough but pushed it down and turned the knob, finding it unlocked. He could turn around. He could hurry back to his car and pretend all of this was a bad dream. Let Sam set him up with some guy or girl from his office, marry them and buy a house down the street from his parents. He didn’t need the truth.

Who am I kidding? I’ll think about this until I’m ninety if I don’t get to the bottom of everything.

Taking a deep breath, Dean pushed the door open with his fingertips and stepped inside. The living room was smashed up and scorched but there were remnants of furniture that hadn’t been burned. It was odd and really made no sense; the path the fire seemed to have taken that is. Why were some parts completely destroyed and others only dirty?

He frowned and crept down the hall towards the bedroom where a soft golden glow was spilling out of the doorway. He turned off his flashlight and wedged it into the pocket of his jacket, his eyes glued to the pale figure sitting on the edge of the bed. “Ca-Cas?”

Castiel did not turn around. “I knew you would find me. I wasn’t sure you would come but I knew you would discover the truth.”

Dean sighed and licked his lips. “The truth? I have no idea what the fuck the truth is, man. What the hell is going on?”

“I think you already know the answer to that, Dean,” He said grimly. “Surely you read all about me before coming here otherwise you wouldn’t have known where to come.”

“I Googled you.” Dean moved closer, his eyes taking in all of the drawings on the floor and tacked to the walls. He saw his face several times; laughing, in profile, sleeping-creepy-and normal as well as a few of a pretty girl with wide innocent eyes. “You’ve gotta level with me here, dude. That article said you were dead but c’mon. I mean you’re here. Is it some kinda witness protection thing?”

“No. Six months ago my sister and I were murdered,” He replied softly. “And then one night I woke up in my coffin.”

“Please tell me you’re not a zombie.” Dean narrowed his brows. “Just so you know I have my gun on me and I’ll shoot you between the eyes if you try to take a bite.”

Castiel laughed and faced him. “While you do look absolutely delicious, I can promise you that I am not a zombie. I am not certain what I am to be honest. I just know that I have a job to do…”

Dean hazarded a step closer and closer until he was sitting beside the other man. He watched him quietly for a moment; his trench coat and suit jacket were discarded on a chair but he still looked as rumpled as ever if somewhat smaller. “So you really died?”

He nodded. “I did.” Pause. “Are you frightened?”

“I…” Dean dragged a hand over his dark blonde hair. “I’m confused mostly. How did you get back? Was it-was it God?”

“I don’t know though I doubt it.” He motioned to the open window where a crow sat pecking at the frame. “He is my guide however. He led me here and helped me remember what happened to me. And now he finds those that deserved to be punished so that I can take my revenge.”

“Jesus, Cas.” Dean was dumbfounded. Things like this didn’t happen in real life or if they did they didn’t happen to him. “Figures the first time I’m irrationally into a guy he’s-he’s not even exactly human.”

“I’m human, Dean.” Castiel turned his hands palm up. “I feel. Until I met you it was rage and anger and sorrow for what I had lost. You make me feel warm.”

The side of his mouth twitched as if to smile. “Fuck you’re sappy. Okay so…a bird brought you back to life so that you could beat the shit out of the people who killed you.” A light bulb clicked on in his head. “Dude, did you kill that guy Nick and Meg?”

Castiel nodded. “Nick Monroe was one of the people who helped kill me. He raped and strangled my sister while I was forced to watch. And Meg took great pleasure in tormenting me the entire time. I have no regrets and they deserved no mercy.”

Dean rubbed a hand over his chin as he tried to digest the information. “I’m sorry for what they did to you. I-fuck-I don’t know if killing them was the right way to go but hell, you came back from the dead so you can do whatever you want.”

“They were horrible people. I was not their first victim and I doubt I was their last. You don’t know how it feels to watch everything you hold dear crumble to dust before your eyes. To watch someone you love be beaten and taken against their will, and not be able to do anything. I died with such wrath in my soul because they threw us away like we were trash.” His voice was low, almost faraway. “It kept creeping inside while I was in paradise. Perhaps that is why I was sent back. Unfinished business.”

“You were in Heaven?”

“Yes.”

“What’s that like?”

“Calm. Beautiful. With a soul as lovely as yours I have no doubt that you will be there someday.”

“Hopefully not too soon. Alright I have a few questions if that is okay?”

“Of course.” Castiel stared at him. “You may ask me anything.”

Dean gazed around at the candles under the pretense of gathering his thoughts. In truth he was just telling himself over and over to stay calm. “They uh, they said it was a robbery gone wrong. Is that true?”

The other man lowered his sad blue eyes. “No. At the time I thought it could have been but now I know it wasn’t. It was a hit.”

Dean frowned. “From who? Who else was involved?”

Castiel loosened his tie. “Nick Monroe. Meg Masters. A man named Azazel and…Gordon Walker.”

A roaring filled Dean’s ears and he could sense a headache coming on. “And the one thing they all have in common is that son of a bitch Alastair. Shit, so I didn’t tell you this when you came to my apartment but someone shot at Sam and me earlier today. I know it was Walker. Should I getting ready for a real fight?”

“Gordon will not be bothering anyone ever again.” Castiel’s expression was blank but Dean cottoned on quickly.

He nibbled at his bottom lip. “I know it’s bad but can’t say I’m too broken up over that. Cas, why would Alastair want you dead?”

“I suspect it had something to do with the last article I was working on. It was going to make my career and destroy quite a few careers in the process. I’d discovered forged documents concerning the disposal of toxic waste and chemicals from the largest laboratory in the city. There were signatures from the head of the removal center that didn’t always match. They were heavily buried but I’ve always been very dedicated to finding out the truth,” Castiel explained slowly. “After more digging I discovered waste that said it had been destroyed had in fact hadn’t and was being buried all over. The city dump, a few fields on the outskirts of town, even that old playground that was shut down because it was unsafe.”

Dean grinned at him. “You’re sexy when you talk like that. What put you onto this anyway?”

Smiling, he blushed. “People started getting sick from the toxins seeping into the ground. I began to look into it and started connecting the many, many dots I found.”

“But why would Alastair care about toxic dumping? Doesn’t seem to be his area.”

“I’ve wondered that but I suppose a man with his talents would have no trouble-if paid accordingly-say getting rid of the evidence. Perhaps even intimidating a lowly employee to falsify records.”

“So he found out and he had his goons kill you. That sucks.”

“Indeed. Though only three people knew the truth. Alastair and myself were two of them.”

“Who was the third? Your sister?”

“No. I’d never told her what I was working on, just that it would win me a Pulitzer.”

“Okay so who was the third person?”

“Zachariah Adler.”

Dean blinked in confusion. “But he’s your Uncle. I mean that’s what I’ve heard.”

Castiel snorted. “He is. He is my mother’s step-brother. Her father died when she was very young and so a few years later, her mother married Zachariah’s father. He is a very power hungry man. He likes to be the center of attention. All of the hazardous material came from his lab and I am sure he got wind of me sticking my nose in his business.”

The other man exhaled shakily. “You think Zach paid Alastair to kill you? Fuck, talk about a dysfunctional family. Is that why you lied when I asked if you knew Lilith or why she was talking to Alastair?”

He fiddled with an unraveling thread on his shirt and said, “Yes. I did not want you to investigate their dealings because I knew what Alastair was capable of. I didn’t want anything to happen to you.”

Touched, Dean gave his shoulder a squeeze. “Thanks. So what happens now?”

Castiel shrugged. “I finish what I started. Azazel and Alastair will die and I will release my notes and article to the public once I get my briefcase back. I-I would be honored if you could see to that for me.”

“Of course, Cas. Whatever you need.” Dean suddenly felt very tired. “What happens after you’ve taken care of those two bastards? Celebrate with a few beers and wash your face?”

Biting down onto his bottom lip, he cleared his throat. “I go back.”

Dean knew what that meant though he wanted to pretend otherwise. He wanted to look dumb and ask for an explanation, but instead he just stood and walked over to the window. It wasn’t like this situation could end in any other way besides the two of them not together. Cas was-well he was dead and Dean wasn’t and nothing made sense. Yet he still felt a sense of betrayal. “I take it you’ve always known you’d skip back to fairy land when you were done killin’ the dragons? You never had any intention of sticking around for that coffee, did you?”

“Yes, Dean, I did. I do,” He said adamantly. “You don’t know how many times I have wished that I could have met you before. Maybe it would have saved my life. Or maybe it would have been you here that night instead of Anna, and I’d cutting a path of destruction a mile wide to avenge you. I know it’s only been a short time but you’ve helped give me a sort of peace I couldn’t find even in death.”

“Fuck,” Dean cursed. “Man that’s some heavy shit to lay on someone. Especially since you’re gonna be ridin’ off into the sunset and I’m gonna be here thinkin’ about what could have been.”

Staring at him, Castiel stepped forward and pressed their foreheads together. It was a simple gesture but Dean’s eyes closed in repose and he sighed; he could feel the other man’s cool breath against his cheek. “I don’t want to go. I want to stay with you. I want to discover what we could possibly be to each other.”

Going with the urge he felt, Dean slipped his arm around Castiel’s waist and pulled him closer. He liked the way the other man melted against him, his fingers curling into the material of Dean’s t-shirt. Dean pretty much considered himself the King of bad ideas and some of the things he’d done in his past were a testament to that. Though as he tipped up Castiel’s face and brushed their lips together, he decided that for once he was actually doing something good albeit selfish. What else could it really be but selfish?

Castiel didn’t hesitate however to return the kiss. He slanted his mouth over Dean’s and swept his tongue into his mouth tasting apples and whiskey. Dean sighed softly and buried his hand in Castiel’s soft hair; sucked on his bottom lip before biting into it and soothing it with a gentle lick. Their tongues caressed slickly over and over, and in seconds it was heated and they were both panting but reluctant to come up for air. Reluctant to stop touching, reluctant to squash the roaring desire that had been building from day one.

Dean broke first but kept his lips on Castiel’s skin, choosing to nibble at the flesh under his jaw. The other man shivered and he smirked, licking a soft line over rough stubble. He jerked them around and pushed Castiel against the wall, sliding his right hand down, letting his knuckles brush gently against the seam in his pants. “If we had sex would it be considered necrophilia?”

Castiel laughed and squirmed, his hips moving instinctively towards Dean’s touch. “If I let you take me to bed right now I’ll never want to finish why I’m here.”

That sounded okay to Dean. “Mm and then you wouldn’t ever leave,” He murmured, attempting to suck a red mark into pale skin.

“True. But I-I…” Castiel shuddered as Dean lapped at his pulse point. “That is very distracting.”

“That’s the point.” Smiling, Dean leaned back and smoothed his thumb over Castiel’s kiss red bottom lip. He wanted to see him without the paint. He wanted to see him bare; laughing and smiling and wrapped up in his arms until he forgot all about his fucked up mission but unfortunately that wasn’t doable. “It’s okay Cas, I get it. You gotta do what you gotta do.” He kissed him again lightly and then stepped away. “I um, I gotta go. Come see me before you leave.”

“Yes.” Castiel watched him sadly. “I’m sorry Dean. I wish things could have gone differently.”

Dean stared at him for several moments as his thoughts crashed together in his mind like violent waves. He was having trouble comprehending-slicing together-all of the ragged puzzle pieces of information that he’d received but he got the gist of it. He got that Castiel would finish fucking up the people who’d hurt him and then leave. He decided it shouldn’t squeeze his heart as hard as it was but he didn’t know how to make it stop. For some reason never seeing Castiel again just didn’t seem right.

But then nothing about this jacked up situation was right.

Exhaling deeply, Dean turned and left the apartment quickly before he said fuck it all, stripped Castiel naked and gave him several reasons to stay. A part of him still figured he was going to wake up any minute now in that warehouse with a giant lump on his head and Ruby standing over him laughing like the bitch she was. In a way it was all her fault-if she hadn’t left him tied up he would have never met Castiel in the first place. Would have never had to feel the pain of losing him before he even really had him.

Fuck, he thought to himself absently as the early morning air tickled his cheeks once he was outside. I sound like a fuckin’ girl.

He was about to look up towards Castiel’s window when his cell phone ringing pulled his attention elsewhere. Fishing it out of his pocket, he read Sam’s name on the caller id and flipped it open. “You’re callin’ me mighty early man. You and Jess have a fight or something?”

“Hello Dean-o.”

That was definitely not Sam’s voice. “Who is this? And what are you doing with my brother’s phone?”

“Oh you know me, Dean. Well not personally but we’re about to change all that. Names Azazel,” The unfamiliar voice on the other end crooned. “Now I can imagine you’re a bit confused and maybe even getting a little upset about the nature of this call, so I’ll cut right to the case. You and I…we need to have a talk…man to man.”

“I got nothing to say to you.” Dean’s jaw clenched tightly.

Azazel chuckled. “I don’t think that’s true. You see I’ve got little Sammy here with me and his safety kinda depends on you willing to talk. So this is what’s gonna happen. By now a black car should be pulling up to your location and if not, just wait a few minutes. When it’s there I want you to get in the back and just enjoy the ride.”

“You hurt my brother and I’ll kill you, you stupid son of a bitch!” Dean growled. “Do you hear me?”

“Just get in the car, Dean.” The other man sighed as if bored. “Sammy’s wellbeing is in your hands. Call the cops and I put a bullet between his puppy dog eyes.”

The line went dead and Dean barely resisted the urge to toss his phone into the street. He was so furious that he was shaking, near chewing a hole through his bottom lip. However just as Azazel said, a black car rounded the corner and slowed before him, the windows tinted and the plates unmarked. The back door opened soundlessly and he peeped inside, frowning at the burly looking man behind the driver side chair.

No one said anything though or attempted to force him into the vehicle and he huffed as he crawled inside. “Took you guys long enough. Gonna make me late for my own prom? Now which one of you has my corsage?”

His answer was a swift blow to the back of his head.

Part Seven