Thy Fearful Symmetry - pt. 5
Title: Thy Fearful Symmetry
Word Count: ~9700
Warnings: sexual situations
masterpost | part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4
THY FEARFUL SYMMETRY
part 5
“Look,” Bobby says, and Dean can hear in his tone that he's going to try to be nice about something he's pissed as hell about. “Not that I don't like having you boys here, and you know you're as close to family as I've got, but if I don't get away from the lot of you someone's going to end up shot in the face.”
Bobby has a valid point. They've had no luck finding any more of Cas's grace, and it's been awhile since they've even been on a hunt. Ever since the night at The Boar Cas has been evasive and Dean's been wound up - he knows Sam can tell, but he sure as hell isn't going to talk about it and Sam hasn't been dumb enough to ask. He'd suggested they all go back to Bobby's, try to blow off some steam, but being cooped up there has just made everyone stir-crazy.
Bobby pulls the strap of a back over his shoulder. “So I'm going on a hunt. Routine haunting, nothing I can't handle. You're welcome to stay; I'll be back in a few days.”
“I'm coming with you,” Sam says, shooting up out of his seat. And Bobby's expression, he amends his demand with a quiet “Please.”
“I told you, boy, I can handle this on my own.”
“Bobby,” Sam says. His eyes widen, and he gives Bobby a significant look, glancing once to Dean and then back again. “Bobby.”
Bobby sighs. “Yeah, all right, you got a point there. You can come.”
“Hey.” Dean looks at his surrogate father indignantly. “And what the hell am I supposed to do while you two are gone?”
“Try learning not to be an asshole,” Bobby suggests. “And you can clean out your car. Fix her up. You said you've been meaning to do it for awhile anyway.”
Dean sighs, but doesn't protest further.
“Bye!” Sam says, waving cheerfully. “We'll see you in a few days. Don't forget to feed Hercules.” And then they're gone, leaving Dean and Cas alone.
“Guess Bobby has a point,” Dean says, looking away from Cas. “Baby could use some TLC.”
“I could help you,” Cas offers. “If you need it.”
“Uh. Sure,” Dean says, though almost immediately he regrets. “Bobby's right. Got a lot of shit that's wound up in the trunk. Might as well clean it out.”
They'd already pulled the guns out for maintenance when they'd gotten there, but there's the axe Cas used on the tree, some wooden stakes, a few cassettes Dean doesn't listen to much, books, and a bag of extra clothes.
Dean pulls out a bag from some fast food place and shoves it at Cas in disgust. “Fucking Sam,” he mutters. “Promised me he'd get that out at the next gas station.”
“It appears he forgot.”
“Thanks for the update, Cas.”
Cas doesn't respond, just grabs something else from the trunk.
They don't talk much; it's not dirty, and most of the stuff that's accumulated isn't junk - it's just a matter of deciding what they need and what they can leave behind. They've been at Bobby's so much recently it's come to feel more and more like home. Dean's got something like a home, he thinks, back with Ben and Lisa, but Bobby's place has come to feel like home, too. Leaving a few things there might cement that. They'd at least have to come back if they wanted to get them.
“Dean.” Cas frowns and Dean looks over at him, wondering what had given him pause. “Look at this.” Cas fishes out a wad of white tissue paper from the trunk. It's not something Dean recognizes. Cas unfolds it and there, laying soft and sheltered, is a small white feather.
Dean raises an eyebrow. “Is that... ?”
“Yes,” Cas breathes. He cradles it in both hands, holding it up between them. The feather starts to levitate, giving off a familiar glow. It's bright and golden, barely visible motes of celestial light twinkling like glitter in the air. Cas's eyes lock with Dean's and his mouth opens. Dean can't look away, and something clenches in his chest, releasing a flood of heat the makes his skin prickle. The feather floats up to Castiel's mouth, and his lips close around it. His tongue licks a circle around his mouth and the feather blinks out of existence, apparently re-assimilated into Cas.
The moment hangs between them. They should probably keep cleaning, Dean thinks. Or Cas should go inside for a nap, since he's probably feeling a little worn from ingesting the grace. Yes, he thinks, Cas should go inside. It's a one man job, anyway, and he can do it alone. Working on his baby has always been his thing, his alone, and even if Cas wants to help he doesn't really need to. The shirts they'd picked up for him are really thin; Dean can see his nipples. And not because he's looking - because Jesus, he tells himself, he's not looking - because they are quite clearly visible. The v-neck of the shirt dips down too far, too, Dean notices, and he has the sudden urge to push Cas away. He ignores it.
“I suppose that was the Augean Stables,” Cas says. Dean hopes that's the first thing he's said, because he wasn't really paying attention. “Not to suggest, of course, that your car - your baby - was in any way as filthy.”
“No, I uh.” Dean clears his throat. “I know.”
Cas stares at him. “Good.”
Sam and Bobby, Dean thinks, need to get back right the fuck now.
Dean spends the rest of the day fixing up his car, while Cas is doing whoever-the-fuck-knows-what inside the house. Probably thinking up ways to make him feel even more awkward, Dean thinks, which he realizes is petty, but after the Augean Impala incident things are about twenty times worse than they were. It's a probably a good thing Sam and Bobby left when they did, because Dean's pretty sure that Bobby was only half-kidding about shooting somebody.
They eat supper separately, and even though he hears him moving around the house, Dean doesn't see Cas until the next morning. He gets up at about nine, ambling into the kitchen to get coffee and some breakfast. Cas is already there, sitting at the table with the remains of what looks like an omelette on the plate in front of him. He looks up and sees Dean, and says “I made coffee if you want some.”
“Thanks,” Dean grunts. He pours himself a coffee, then takes a seat at the table. “You got some more eggs cooked somewhere?”
Cas gives him a dismissive look. “Make your own.”
Dean just drinks his coffee. It takes him a few seconds to realize that Cas is staring at him expectantly, but he feels the weight of the gaze and looks up. “What?” he asks.
“I think I've found something.” Cas unfolds some papers sitting on the table and passes them to Dean. It's an internet article about some town with a recent infestation of ravens. While it's pretty weird, Dean will admit, he's not sure what's so supernatural about it.
“So what?” he asks. He finishes his coffee. He's hungry; maybe Bobby has the stuff to make french toast.
Cas sighs, sounding like he's so put-upon, having to deal with a being so much less insightful than himself. Dean scowls and thinks about punching him. “Ravens, Dean.” It still doesn't click. “Birds? One of Hercules's labors was the flesh-eating Stymphalian birds?”
“Oh.” And yeah, okay, Dean can admit he was a little slow on the uptake for that one. “Right.” He nods. “So what, then? You want to go check it out?”
“I know we should wait for Sam and Bobby,” Cas continues, “But. If you're amenable, I'd like to go now. We don't know when they'll return and while I don't believe there's any sort of time limit set up, I think sooner would be better than later.”
Dean thinks it over for a minute. “Okay,” he says. “We can go.” It would probably be a good idea to teach Cas how to drive, he muses; maybe then he can take care of stuff like this on his own.
It's a long drive, all the way to the east coast, so as soon as Dean eats something they leave. They drop the kitten off with Jody Mills while they're gone, and then call Sam and Bobby to tell them they went out on a hunt while they were gone.
To stave off any potential awkwardness - because despite Dean's staunch position in favor of ignoring everything, things are still tense - Dean decides to give Cas a crash course in music. Their tastes line up almost perfectly, which Dean is ecstatic about and plans to rub in Sam's face the first chance he gets. His excitement is somewhat lessened, however, when he realizes that Castiel likes almost everything. They wind up playing Bob Dylan for most of the trip, and it doesn't take long before Cas knows the songs well enough to sing along.
They stop somewhere to sleep a couple hours after it gets dark. Dean needs to sleep and he's not letting Cas take the wheel until he passes a battery of tests Dean devises himself. The guy at the check-in desk doesn't pay much attention as they check in, focused instead on the game he's playing on his laptop. He gives them the key to their room and they head to bed.
That night, Dean dreams.
Cas is a tiger again, bigger this time than he's ever been before. Dean sits astride his back, holding fistfuls of the thick fur. Cas starts running. He goes so fast the scenery starts to blend together, and Dean doesn't know where they are, or where they're going. He leans down close, bent over Cas's shoulders, and feels it in his whole body when Castiel growls Dean.
They leap up into the sky, and the clouds part for them as Cas runs further and further away from the ground. Dean's lungs tighten in the thin air, and he breathes close to Cas's skin, feeling the fur ghost across his lips every time he inhales.
The stars sing; Dean can't understand the song, but he can feel it, the music working its way down into his bones. Cas opens his mouth and starts to sing, too. Flames lick at them but it doesn't burn; the pain of hearing the song, of hearing something so alien to human ears, is excruciating, but the pain is good, it's real, and even if he's ashamed of it Dean feels like crying. He pulls hard at Castiel's fur, so hard he's surprised it doesn't come off in his hands, and the star-song starts to melt into something closer to pleasure. Dean screams, long and loud, and waits, waits, waits for the wave to crest over him, for the spiral of heat curling up from his core to burst out, but it never happens. Castiel growls so loudly Dean thinks it might shatter the heavens, and all the stars blink out as one, and then Dean starts to fall, down into the endless darkness of space.
And then he wakes up.
He groans, feeling so frustrated he wants to shoot something. He looks over, but Cas isn't in the next bed. The light in the bathroom's on, though, the door open a crack. Dean breathes and falls back onto his pillow, feeling relieved. He can just go back to sleep. He can go back to sleep, and not dream, and forget all about fucking Castiel and his stupid fucking tiger body.
Until he hears a choked-off moan come from the bathroom. The sound's one of pleasure, and suddenly Dean realizes what Cas is doing, what he's doing to himself, and thinks that maybe Cas was just as affected by the dream as he was. He squeezes his eyes shut, though, and turns over, pressing his erection into the mattress. When Cas leaves the bathroom he pretends to be asleep.
The next morning, they get up and neither mentions the dream. They get ready, check-out, and then get back on the road. It's a peaceful few hours of driving, if silent besides the music they always have playing.
It's pretty obvious when they arrive, because a flurry of ravens come to meet them. As far as they can see, when they pull into town, are ravens. On every building, on every traffic light, there are ravens.
“A conspiracy of ravens,” Cas says, looking thoughtfully out the window.
“What do you mean?” Dean asks, glancing over to Cas. He frowns, wondering how the hell the birds could be up to anything. “A conspiracy? What are they planning, to shit on everyone's cars?”
“No,” Cas says, impatiently, in a voice indicative of long suffering. “A conspiracy of ravens. Like a murder of crows. Or a flock of sheep.”
“Oh. It's just what you call a group of them.” Dean nods, and pulls into the parking lot of a small restaurant. “This place okay?” he asks. Cas nods. “Figured we could get some food, then do some investigating or something.” He gets out and shuts the car door. “Not sure what we're supposed to investigate, though, since other than the ravens there doesn't seem to be much here.”
Cas holds the door to the restaurant, Carlisle's, open and Dean walks in. “The ravens in and of themselves are suspicious,” Cas says, following. A young, pretty hostess leads them to a booth and they take a seat. “We only need to figure out why they're here.”
“Hi,” the waitress says, “I'm Jennie and I'll be taking care of you boys today.”
Dean gives her his brightest smile. “Hi there, Jennie.” He gestures out the window. “What's up with all these damn birds?” he asks. “Nearly hit a whole group of them on the drive here.”
Jennie just shrugs. “No idea. They've been here for about a week. They don't cause any trouble, though, they're just... there.” She gives him an apologetic smile. “Now, what can I get you to drink?”
They give her their order and she walks off. Dean flips open his menu. “So where do you think your grace is?” he asks. “Gotta have something to do with the ravens, right?”
“I imagine so. But since I can't sense it, I have no idea where to start looking.”
Dean just nods. “That's what I thought.”
Neither one speaks again until the waitress comes back to take their order. The ravens outside seem harmless; they're not really doing anything but sitting. Sometimes one flies off somewhere, and sometimes another one will land, but other than that it's like they're in some sort of stasis.
Just waiting.
“I don't like it,” Dean says. “Fucking conspiracy is right, Cas. Those birds are up to something.”
Cas sighs. “Dean. I believe they're just regular ravens.”
“And you'd be right, sir.”
They both look up, startled, to see an old man standing beside their booth, smiling. His voice is odd, with inflection that doesn't quite fit, and a weird overlay - like two people are talking at once. His eyes are two different colors; one a dewy brown and the other a pale, sky blue. A well-groomed gray beard covers his chin, and he's wearing a navy trenchcoat over a neat pinstriped suit.
“Excuse me?” Dean says, one eyebrow raised. There's a knife in his boot and he's ready to reach down and grab it if he needs to.
The man smiles, his hands clasped together in front of him. “Ravens,” he says. He nods out the window. “They're just regular ravens.”
“Of course,” Cas says, cautiously. “What else would they be?”
The man laughs, and his smile turns a little patronizing. “Young man,” he says. “Do you not recognize us?”
Cas blinks a few times and stares at the man for a long, silent moment. Then something clicks into place and his expression turns to something close to alarm. “Oh,” he says finally. He nods demurely. “I hope we're not intruding here.”
“Oh no, don't worry about that. We're here for the same reason you are. Drawn to something... ancient. And powerful.” The man pulls out a black raven's feather from inside his coat. He holds it by the quill and presents it to Castiel. “And I believe it belongs to you.”
“You would just return it to me. Freely.” Cas sounds a little wary, and Dean still has no idea what's going on. He holds his tongue, though, because as long as Cas doesn't act like the guy is dangerous he should probably just sit tight and shut up.
“Accept it, Castiel.” The man's tone is firm and brooks no argument. Cas stares for a moment longer before reaching out and taking the feather. It bursts outward, and Cas blinks as the dust falls onto the table. “There.” He gives Castiel a friendly pat on the shoulder. “It is yours again.”
The man nods to Cas, then to Dean, and walks to the door. He grabs his hat from the rack and then leaves the restaurant. Dean watches the window for a few seconds, but he never sees the man walk by. “Uh.” He looks at Cas. “What the hell was that?”
“These ravens are messengers,” he says. “And the man we just spoke to was not a man.”
Dean snorts. “Yeah, Cas. I got that.” Jennie comes then, with their burgers.
“Enjoy your lunch, Dean,” Cas says. “I think we're done here.”
“So that's it,” Dean says. He takes a large bite of his burger and chews. “We're just done.”
“I have my grace now,” Cas says. He shrugs, looking uncomfortable. “That's all we needed.”
“Yeah, but.” Dean gestures a little helplessly towards the window. There are still a fuckload of ravens everywhere. “What about the birds?”
“That man who spoke to me,” Cas explains. He pushes his plate away from him and folds his hands on the table. “That was Hugin and Munin, the messengers of Odin.”
“Odin,” Dean repeats.
“That's right.” Cas takes a bite of his burger and chews, almost daintily. He swallows. “They normally appear as ravens, perched on his shoulder.”
“And the other ten dozen of those little fuckers are... ?”
“I imagine they are heralds of some kind. Odin is the god of ravens. Valkyries are also associated with ravens. Perhaps the god has business here.” He bites a fry in half. “My grace was here, after all.”
“Okay, sure, but why would he be interested in that? Is an angel's grace really that powerful?”
“There are... certain uses for it,” Cas says. “And it's valuable - though perhaps not so much so in such a diluted form.”
That’s all there is to it, really. They have the grace, the ravens are harmless, and they’re in fucking West Virginia. So Dean just eats his burger.
After they eat and pay, they go to find someplace to stay the night. They pass a group of attractive, scary-looking women that Cas tells Dean are probably valkyries. There’s probably something going on that they don’t know about - or at least Dean doesn’t know about - but nobody seems to be eating human flesh, and besides the ravens there’s not even anything weird. Not much Dean can do in the face of that.
“Shouldn’t we just head back to Bobby’s?” Cas asks. They’re in the lobby of a little hotel just off the highway, and even though it’s not late yet they’d still have to find someplace to stay later that night, so it just makes sense to spend the night in town.
“It’s like fifteen hours back,” Dean snaps. “We’ll just stay here for the night and start early tomorrow morning.”
They check in - one room, two queens - and then sit down on their respective beds. Dean turns on the television. There’s not much on, and Dean flips through a couple of channels aimlessly.
“I don’t want to stay here all night,” Cas says. “There’s an entire town here. I think I can find something to do.”
“And how are you going to get there?” Dean asks. “You’re not taking the car.”
“I can walk.”
“No offense,” Dean says, sitting up and muting the tv, “but there’s a highway right there. It’s kind of in the way.”
“Then come with me.” Cas turns the power to the tv off and opens the door. “Now.”
Dean’s first instinct is to fight. He doesn’t really want to go anywhere, there’s probably nothing to do, and they have to go out to get supper later, anyway. But Cas is standing there, determined, and letting him out by himself might actually be worse. Dean sighs. “Fine,” he says. He grabs the car keys. “Let’s get this over with.”
Where Cas wants to go, apparently, is a bookstore. It’s one of those giant chain stores, with a little coffee shop and lots of shit besides books. They look through the religious section - which Cas seems to enjoy browsing with disdain - and then head to the music section. There are only CDs, which Cas seems disappointed by, but he does pick out two or three he wants. One of them is some opera Dean hadn’t ever heard of, but Cas seems pleased so he tries to feign a modicum of interest. It doesn’t work.
Castiel is perfectly content to browse for hours, but after about forty-five minutes Dean’s antsy. “Come on, Cas,” he says, “let’s go.”
“In a minute, Dean. Be patient.”
He asks again thirty minutes later. “Cas. Seriously, man, let’s go. You must have looked at the entire store already.”
Cas looks up from what appears to be a hardcover collection of Garfield cartoons. He has his smiting face on. “Dean,” he says. “Go away.”
So Dean wanders off. He grabs a book and finds a chair, and waits for Castiel to finish whatever the hell it is he’s doing.
They finally leave, and Cas has three new CDs and a collection of philosophical essays about some weird ideology Dean had never heard of. He’d forgone the Garfield collection, though, and picked up the book Dean had been looking at instead. It makes Dean feel weird, because he knows it’s a gift, even if technically it’s neither of their money.
After the bookstore they go grab some cheap take-out and go back to their room. It’s a pretty quiet night, boring, though they end up watching some old movies that come on until about midnight.
There’s still something not quite comfortable about being alone with Castiel, but to Dean’s surprise, it’s nice.
They go to bed, but there aren’t any dreams. Dean tries to pretend he’s not a little disappointed.
The drive back is much less pleasant. About four or five hours in the air conditioning stops working, and even though it’s not high summer, it’s still warmer than is really comfortable. Things have been tense since they were in The Boar, though if Dean’s being honest things were weird even before that. They’re both irritable and it doesn’t take long before they start snapping. That, combined with the heat, brings whatever is bubbling under the surface up to a rolling boil.
“It’s so fucking hot,” Dean says, fanning himself with his hand. Cas gives him a sharp, exasperated look. Dean has been complaining for a little over an hour and even though he knows it’s driving Cas up the wall, he can’t help himself.
“Complaining about it isn’t going to make it any cooler.”
“Jesus,” Dean says, “I know that. Just finish pumping the fucking gas and let’s go. At least we’ve got some water now.”
Cas rolls his eyes but doesn’t press the point any further. It takes another minute for the car to fill up, and then they’re back on the road. It’s still hot, the seats warmed from the sun. The denim jeans they wear stick to their bodies, and Dean groans again, shaking his head from side to side.
“Do you want to pull over and let me drive?”
“No,” Dean says, sounding a little peeved, “I’m fine. And you still don’t know how to drive, anyway.”
“You don’t sound fine.”
“Well maybe you should check your ears, then, because I said I’m fucking fine.”
“If you’re ‘fine’ then,” Cas says, snappishly, making air quotes around the word fine, “stop complaining. It’s becoming as unbearable as the heat.”
“Oh, well, I’m sorry that I’m harshing your buzz, princess, but if it’s fucking hot then I’m going to say something about it!”
“Stop being an asshole!”
“Goddamn it, Cas, stop fucking complaining about me complaining.”
“Pull over.”
Dean doesn’t look at him. “No.”
“Dean. Pull the car. Over.”
“I said no.”
Cas grabs the wheel and turns it hard to the right.
“What the fuck,” Dean says, slowing the car and pulling off to the shoulder. They both get out. “Cas, you can’t just do that, you dumb bastard. You want to get us killed?”
“If you’re not going to stop complaining, then get in the back and go to sleep. And I’ll drive.”
“I told you. I’m not letting you drive my baby.”
“Driving isn’t that difficult, I’m sure. I understand the basics already. And it’s just a car, Dean.”
“Yeah, it’s just a car, and it’s mine, Cas; it’s a fucking awesome piece of machinery.”
Cas pushes him on the shoulder, hard. Dean stumbles back, towards the road. Once he regains his footing he storms back over to Cas and shoots his fist out, landing in the middle of Cas’s chest. Cas growls and punches back, knocking against Dean’s jaw.
“You... stupid fucker,” Dean says, dodging out of the way of another blow. “I’m the one being an asshole? I’m not the one who’s picking a goddamn fight!”
“You drove me to it,” Cas answers, his voice even deeper than it usually is. He’s light on his feet and fast, and even though Dean’s sure he’s been in more fist fights, he’s not entirely certain he can end this without any serious injury. Cas seems serious - apparently, he’d been more pissed off than Dean had realized.
“Well you sure are handling your anger well, fuck you very much.” He hits Cas in the stomach and Cas wheezes, losing his breath.
That is enough to drive him to some deep inner well of strength, apparently, because the next thing Dean knows, Cas has a fistful of his shirt and is pressing him up against the driver’s side door of the impala. Their bodies are pressed tight together, barely any space between them, and Dean swallows hard. “You,” Cas says, pulling his face towards him so they’re practically nose to nose, “are fucking impossible.” And then - and holy shit, Dean really should have expected it - Cas kisses him.
Or maybe it would be more accurate to say that he launches a full out assault on his mouth, because it’s not sweet or gentle, it’s rough and hard and so, so angry. Their teeth hit against each other, and then Cas bites Dean’s bottom lip hard, pulling on it and then letting it go, running his tongue along the indentations left by his teeth. He still has a tight hold on Dean and he pulls him even closer, and Dean can feel the hard line of his body, and the hard line of his cock in his jeans.
Cas is a motherfucking pro at this kissing thing - and when did that happen, Dean wonders. Or maybe he’s just like the hulk, except that you really, really, really would like him when he’s angry. He fucks into Dean’s mouth with a wet, purposeful tongue, and Dean lets out a strangled sound of protest that even to his ears comes out more like a whimper. Okay, yeah, he might be enjoying it more than he wants to admit. It’s fucking hot to have Cas go all caveman on him, even if a big part of Dean is telling him to wrest back control. It doesn’t seem like that would go over well with Cas anyway.
Suddenly, and without any warning - because shit, Dean had just really started to get into it, too - Cas pulls away. “Impossible,” he says again, his mouth red and shiny with spit. It’s a good look for him. He takes a step away. “If there wasn’t a truck coming I’d be fucking you on the hood of your car.” He lets that sink in for a second, then snatches the keys out of Dean’s pocket.
“So what,” Dean says, feeling a little dumb-founded and maybe a lot aroused. He decides just to let the infraction with the keys go; Cas probably won’t give them back, anyway. “We go on our first hunt, just the two of us, and all we have to fucking tell Sam is that you wanted to take me in a manly fashion?”
Cas doesn’t look at him. “Just get in the damn car.”
The Cretan bull turns out to be a chimera. They manage to kill it, but Sam gets his arm broken in the process. Bobby reminds them that they’re all idjits, but drives them all to the hospital anyway and then lets them come back to his house to crash. Dean calls Lisa twice that week, but never gets around to mentioning what happened with Cas.
As soon as Sam’s recovered they’re off hunting again, and after taking care of a haunting they run into a crazy alchemist. He’s got five little homunculi running around, which turn out to be the mares of Diomedes. The bastards go after Dean, and they’re surprisingly strong for how small they are, but Sam and Cas run in guns blazing and destroy the things. That piece of grace is in a medallion the alchemist had; they snatch it and leave the crazy old bastard to deal with his mess on his own.
The belt of Hippolyta they get from actual fucking Amazons. This hunt's a little more complicated, with murders and dismembered corpses, and without Cas it probably would have taken a lot longer to figure out what was going on. But they got the grace - which was in an actual belt, too - even if the Amazons got away.
There aren't any cattle involved in the next labor, fortunately, though there is somebody who's a damn close equivalent to Geryon. It's a witch, a crazy old fucker who's made it his habit to collect supernatural oddities. The latest in his collection is a piece of Castiel's grace, crystallized in a piece of quartz. He's smart enough to figure out that it's something big, something rare and valuable; it doesn't take him long to get a good idea of what it is exactly he's got. That's not enough, though, and instead of being content with just a piece of angelic grace he decides he wants his own fallen angel to go along with it. He sets a trap for Cas, but he uses the reserves on his old angel batteries and zaps away. Sam and Dean rush in to crash Geryon's party - which is what Dean insists on calling him, though actually they find out his name is Erik - and find the guy in some kind of crazy witch rage, screaming about his precious collection. His house is creepy as fuck, like some supernatural museum. He's got a jackalope head, locks of hair from a few extremely powerful witches, and the claw of a dragon. And that's just in the first room. He gets away, but not before they break open the crystal and get Cas's grace. So even if Dean didn't get to gank a witch, he still considers it a win.
The next labor is even better. It turns out to the apple pie of the Hesperides, and they have to deal with a haunted bakery. It's actually pretty awesome. Apparently the owner of the bakery had some great, bitter rivalry with an old friend of hers over whose pies where better. The owner - Anita Lassiter - had won some contest, and then her friend had died in a mysterious baking accident. It turns out to be true, as screwy as the story is, but Mrs. Cumberland comes back as a ghost bent on revenge. They find the grace in a pie, and actual apple pie, and Cas claims he has to eat it all by himself. Dean's okay with that, though, because Anita's so grateful she gives them all the pies she has in the store. For free.
"You got paid in pie," Bobby says, looking at his kitchen table, which is positively overrun with baked goods.
"Hey," Dean says, his cheeks bulging with half-eaten pie, "most people don't pay us at all, so I say we take what we can get."
Sam stares at him with an expression of disbelief on his face, like he can't quite believe one man can fit that much in his mouth at one time. "You do seem to be taking all of it."
Dean swallows. "Sorry, man, you want a slice?" Sam laughs and shakes his head, but Bobby accepts. "Goddamn," Dean says. "This is good pie."
xxx
"Hey, Cas." Sam turns his laptop so Cas can see the screen. "This look like it could be the final task? It's a haunted animal hospital."
"Dogs," Dean says loudly from the living room. "Gotta be it, right? We're down to Cerberus."
"Dean's right," Cas says. "Thank you, Sam. This may be it; the last piece of grace I need to complete Demeter's labors."
Sam gives him a quick smile. "Let's just hope Dean doesn't break another vase."
"Hey! I heard that, bitch."
Sam rolls his eyes. "Jerk."
Even though it's just a simple haunting, it feels pretty momentous. Bobby gives Cas a gruff "Good luck," when they leave, and even Hercules seems friendlier than usual, rubbing against Cas's legs as they walk out the door.
They drive out to the animal hospital. It's a pretty easy job; the woman Bobby had talked to on the phone - because apparently he also runs some sort of Ghostfacers type website to field potential hunts, except his of course is actually legit - had realized it was a ghost and hired them, so there was no need to break out the fake I.D.s or come up with a cover story. They get there and find three ghosts: two dogs and an old man who'd once been a dog groomer. Easy enough to take care of, but once the ghosts are gone, there isn't any sign of Castiel's grace.
"I don't understand," he whispers to Dean. "There's nothing here."
"You just can't sense it, right?" Dean glances over at Sam and the young veterinary tech, making sure she can't overhear. "We just have to find it."
"No." Cas grabs his arm. "Dean, it's not here."
"Oh." Dean clears his throat and pulls his arm out of Cas's grip. He pats his friend on the shoulder. "Well don't worry. We've been at dead ends before; we'll find it."
Cas doesn't seem convinced, but he doesn't press the issue, just nodding and turning back to Sam.
It turned out that in addition to getting paid for the work they'd done, Sam had gotten a date. He and Valerie the vet tech - who is a buxom, blue-eyed beauty nearly as tall as Dean - are going out to the bar nearby. She invites Dean and Cas to come along, too, and after locking up she and Sam climb into her car and tell them to meet them there.
"She's hot," Dean says, pulling out. "Score one for Sammy."
"I don't like bars much," Cas says, the expression on his face sour.
Dean laughs. "You'll like them better if you don't get drunk off your ass every time you go. Just watch me and try not to drink more than I do."
They have a good time and it's obvious that Valerie is really into Sam. He's flirting, and he keeps touching her arm. She laughs and flirts back and by the time Cas has decided he's ready to go, it's pretty obvious that one of them's taking the other home. Dean glances at Cas, in the front seat of the Impala next to him. He probably won't get as lucky.
They find what looks like a little bed and breakfast near a lack. It's surprisingly scenic and after they check in - two rooms this time, because they only have single beds and even if Dean's okay with admitting that Cas is really goddamn pretty, he's not sure he wants everyone else to know that - Dean calls Sam and gives him the address. Sam's voice is slurred with alcohol, and Dean can hear Valerie in the background, murmuring something that Dean never wanted to know his little brother was going to do with someone.
There's a moment, when Dean thinks Cas might break their silent agreement not to talk about what happened. They're standing outside the door to Cas's room, and he opens the door, then glances back at Dean. Dean waits.
"Goodnight," Cas says, his voice heavy. He gives Dean a tight smile and then he steps in and quickly shuts the door.
"Goddamnit," Dean curses, hitting his fist against the wall. A picture of one of those babies dressed as flowers rattles and he sighs. Might as well get some sleep, he thinks. He goes to his own room across the hall. It's decorated in some sort of kitschy nautical style, everything blue and white, a decorative anchor hanging on the wall at the head of the bed and a little wooden boat filled with towels and soaps sitting on the counter in the bathroom.
Dean pulls off his boots and settles back on the big, cushy bed. The comforter is downy and soft, and there are at least six pillows of various sizes. There's a wicker armoire against the opposite wall, and Dean opens it. His expectations are confirmed; there's a television and a DVD player, with a couple of DVDs laying on top of it. The proprietor apparently picked a movie from nearly every genre, because there's "When Harry Met Sally," "The Dirty Dozen," the 2008 Star Trek movie, and Stephen King's "It." Dean snorts at the last one, because with all the shit they've seen he still can't believe Sam's afraid of clowns.
He picks one and puts it on, then falls asleep to the low hum of the television.
It's about three or four in the morning when he wakes up to an eerie green light streaming in his window.
"What the fuck is this," he grumbles, sitting up slow. He'd fallen asleep in his clothes and probably in a weird position from the ache in his back. He yawns and stretches as he stands and heads to the window.
It only takes one glance, but as soon as he makes sens of what he sees he's awake. It's Cas, down by the edge of the lack, surrounded by three pale figures in long, flowing dresses. Their hair is black, and so long it nearly touches the ground. And they're all glowing.
"Cas!" The window won't open, and Cas can't hear him. He jams his feet into his shoes and runs, bolting into the hallway and down the stairs. The front door's locked, but he undoes it quickly and starts as fast as he can toward the lake.
"Cas!" he calls. "Cas, are you okay?"
"Stay back, Dean," Cas says. The three women have him surrounded on three sides, and the lake's at his back. Dean isn't sure what exactly he plans on doing, because without back-up it really looks like Cas is in serious trouble.
"No way," Dean says. He's at the edge of the circle, only about ten fee from the women. Now that he can see them, he can tell what the women really are.
Banshees.
"Shit," he says, a cold feeling washing over him. He knows what banshees do; they foretell death. Death. And if three of them are there for Cas? Dean doesn't know what it means, but he knows it can't be good.
"Dean." Cas looks pale, and his voice is hoarse. The green glow is getting brighter, and the banshees lift up their arms, pointed up towards the sky right above Cas. "Dean it's all right. It's all right." He swallows and looks up. There's something forming where the banshees hands are pointing. It's a cloud, a white, smoky mass littered with flecks of gold. Something in it shimmers, iridescent, and Cas's mouth opens, staring up at the bright swirl above me. "This," he says, "is Cerberus. This is the last labor. And that..." He points upwards, to where the mass of milky haze has started to rotate. "That is the last piece of grace."
Dean gapes, staring as the banshees open their mouths wide, wider than any human mouth would ever be able to go. And they begin to wail.
It starts low, a rumble that's only barely audible. But then it picks up, growing in volume until Dean's ears start to ring. The sound is agonizing, mournful and unending, and he falls to his knees, clapping his hands over his ears. "Cas," he screams. "Get out of there. Move, you idiot. I'm not going to let you die!"
But Cas doesn't answer him, doesn't even seem to hear. The grace above him is solidifying, becoming more and more like a cloud. It's streaked through with gold and green, and the banshees look up at it, their arms still raised, almost worshipful. Cas spreads his arms out wide, and then thick, feathery wings burst from his back. They're as beautiful as Dean remembers, huge and glorious, the tip of each feather shining with otherworldly golden light. And then the grace swirling above them sinks down, engulfing the wings in a nebulous, hazy white.
Cas's screams join the banshees and Dean's head starts to pound. He sinks further down until he's laying on the ground. His vision starts blacking out, and as hard as he tries to remain conscious he's fading fast. The last thing he remembers, before he passes out, is an explosion of feathers, falling from the sky like rain.
When Dean wakes up again, it's late morning. He groans, putting a hand on his aching head. He feels like he drank his weight in whiskey the night before, but he knows that's not what happened.
"Hello, Dean."
He looks up to see Cas, standing above him. He looks tired, his eyes red like maybe he's been crying. Dean gets up slowly and looks around. There's no sign of the banshees, and Cas is there, so apparently he'd gotten away safe without Dean. On the ground, though, is clear evidence of what happened.
There are feathers - hundreds of feathers, some covering the grass and some floating in the lake.
"Cas," Dean says. His voice shakes a little as he imagines what his friend must feel - what he must have lost. "Are those... ?"
"My wings," Cas says. His voice is hard, his tone clipped. He meets Dean's eyes. "I'm human now, completely human." Dean opens his mouth - maybe the sympathize, maybe to say something, he has no clue what the fuck would be appropriate to say in this situation - but Cas shakes his head. "I don't want to talk about it," he says. He picks up a few of the feathers and hands them to Dean. Dean's not sure what to do, so he sticks them in his pocket. "I just want to go home - back to Bobby's."
"Yeah," Dean says. He swallows, thick, and claps Cas on the back. Cas grabs a hold of his shirt, tight, and doesn't let go. They're not quite touching, but they're close, and Dean can feel the heat of him, can smell the scent of grass clinging to him from his night on the lawn. "I'll call Sam."
Dean knows he’s dreaming.
He’s not sure how he knows, thinks he probably shouldn't be able to, but he knows he's in his bed at Bobby's and that everything he sees is happening in his head. He's in the same forest as before, in the same clothes he was wearing that day, has the bare feet he remembers from the other dreams in the same place
He feels the same impulse: the one that tells him to run. But this time, he ignores it. He's not sure why, but he's pretty sure that this time he's the one in control.
“Cas!” he calls. “Or tiger! Cas-tiger. Castiel. Tigerstiel. Come out.”
The tiger stalks out, licking at its jowls with its big, wet tongue. His walk is measured, purposeful, and his eyes burn into Dean.
“Uh... Hey, do you think that, um. Maybe you could not be a fucking tiger.” Dean has actually practiced this in his head a time or two, ever since the drive back from the ravens, had thought about what he’d say if he ever had this dream again, but now that it’s happening he can’t remember any of it. His mouth suddenly feels a little dry.
You dreamed this yourself, Dean. I had no part in this world’s creation this time, you only called me here.
“Yeah, I know. I mean... I don't know how. Didn't think you'd be able to do this anymore when you were human, anyway, but. Um. Since we're here...” He looks away and clears his throat, his hand playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. Christ, this is a lot more awkward than he thought it’d be. “If you’re going to do to me whatever the hell it is you do here usually, I want you to be at least... at least human-shaped. I don't want you to be some gigantic monster cat.”
I'm not a monster. He who made the lamb made me, the tiger thinks at him, a little peevishly, and isn’t that just fucking like Cas. His tail flicks again and Dean wonders again if Cas gets off on the whole tiger thing, or if this time he’s just deliberately misunderstanding. The tiger makes a sound that is far too much like a sigh. Dean, it thinks, I am not... I was not... a man.
And Dean knows that, of course he knows, just like he knows Cas isn’t a tiger, or another Impala, or fire, or that weird mermaid-bird thing he’d dreamed about one time. He's always been more, even if know he's been a little downgraded.
But Dean will be the first to tell anyone who asks that he’s nothing if not a simple man, and since it's his dream, he wants to dream-fuck Cas, and he wants a human body to look at while he does it.
The tiger twitches its ears. You are thinking of sexual congress.
Fucking awkward Castiel. “Yes,” Dean says, sounding exasperated. Hell, he’s starting to feel exasperated, too. “That’s what I meant.” He walks up to the tiger and holds his hand out. It’s almost trembling, and he’s not sure why, but all of a sudden he’s... damn it, he’s nervous. He reaches out and touches the beast’s nose with the palm of his hand. The glow around it starts to shimmer, and the tiger’s outline seems hazy.
Dean, it thinks, and he can sense something close to hesitation in the communication. I...
Dean breathes in deep and closes his eyes, reaching out for what he hopes is skin instead of fur.
And then he wakes up.
He blinks up at the ceiling and sighs. Cas had no problem before, but apparently when Dean initiates it, when it's overt, and not just an instance of pent-up sexual frustration finally breaking free, he can't handle it. Dean's head hurts and he wonders how awkward it's going to be if he tries to bring this up at breakfast. It’s early, still, not even dawn, and he can probably catch a few more hours of sleep before everybody starts getting up. But he's not really tired.
Damn it, Cas, he thinks, even though he knows Cas won't be able to hear him. That was really shitty of you, you coward. You gotta step up and be a fucking man. He knows Cas wants him, too, he knew even before Cas threw him against his car, even if he hadn't wanted to admit it. But it seems like getting Cas to admit that is going to be much, much harder than he thought.
He just wants to make sure the asshole's okay, too - make sure he's adjusting to being human. Even if he's been heading towards it for months, finally hitting that final wall can't have been easy.
First, though. He has to do something he knows he should have done a long time ago. Even if he and Lisa hadn't been an official anything, there had still been a Dean-and-Lisa. He thinks he might love her, even though it's not really how she deserves to be loved. It's the idea of her that he loves, maybe. The idea of a beautiful woman and a great kid and a house in the suburbs. Perfect apple pie life.
He picks up his phone and dials.
"Dean?" Lisa sounds muzzy and confused - not that Dean can really blame her. It's got to be about five in the morning. "What the hell are you doing, calling me at this hour? Do you know what time it is?"
"Oh, uh, yeah." He laughs, but he doesn't really feel it. "I guess I wasn't really... Well, I was awake, so..."
"Dean." Lisa's tone is serious, the anger cooling. "What's going on?"
"Sorry, Lisa, it's just." He sighs. "I think we need to talk."
She's quiet for a long time. "You're not coming back, are you? This is it. This is the break-up." Dean feels like shit, and he knows Ben's probably going to hate him, and be totally justified in doing it.
"I still care about you, Lisa. And Ben, too."
"I know, Dean. I never doubted that. I mean... I wasn't sure if we'd be good for you, wondered a couple of times if you'd be good for us. But I never doubted that you cared." She makes a thoughtful noise. "There's actually this guy. Matt."
"Oh." Dean's a little surprised, though he knows he shouldn't be. He has Cas, of course it's likely Lisa would find somebody, too. "He a good guy?"
"Think so," Lisa says. Dean can hear the smile in her voice. "He likes Ben, and he's a doctor."
"So full package then, huh?"
"Yep." She weighs her next words carefully. "You know, you can... It's not like I hate you for leaving, Dean. I don't blame you. And if I wanted you to stay - if I really thought I could ever make you stay - I'd have told you."
"God, Lisa," he says, half on a laugh, "I really don't deserve."
"Hey, Ben liked you. That's good enough for me. Sex wasn't half bad, either."
Dean chuckles. "That's true. We were damn good together."
"Is there... somebody else for you?"
"There might be," Dean says, past the lump in his throat. "I don't... It's kind of up in the air, you know?"
Lisa's voice is sympathetic, way more sympathetic than he knows he deserves. That Matt guy must be fucking amazing. "Well good luck, whatever happens."
"Yeah, uh. Thanks, Lisa. Really."
"You want to talk to Ben later? It'll give you a chance to apologize."
Dean groans. "Guess I should apologize, huh? I'll call later to talk to him, I promise."
"Good. I think he knew something was up when you started sending gifts to him along with the postcards. He's a little angry with you, I'm not going to lie, but I think he's still hoping you'll be back. You made a big impression on him."
"He's..." Dean clears his throat. "He's a great kid."
"Thanks," Lisa said. "Like to think I had a little something to do with that."
Dean laughs. And suddenly he feels lighter. He's a dick, he thinks, and he's still worried that he's throwing away his best chance at a family but it's not like he doesn't have anyone. He has Sam - he'll always have Sam, no matter what - and Bobby, and he has Cas. Yeah. He has Cas. "Sorry for calling so early, Lisa," he says. "I'll talk to you later, okay? And I'll talk to Ben. Promise."
"It's fine. Goodbye Dean."
"Yeah. Goodbye."
Dean shoves his phone back into his pocket. “Okay,” he says. “That’s, uh... that, I guess.”
Sam looks at him, eyebrow raised. “You and Lisa are over, huh? I could hear Ben yelling from over here.”
Dean shrugs, looking uncomfortable and obviously not wanting to talk about it. “Looks like.”
Sam nods. “Figured as much when you started sending him stuff besides just the postcards. I thought it was probably guilt.”
"Well, Christ." Dean rolls his eyes at his brother. "Lisa said the exact same thing. Was it really that obvious?"
"Sorry, boy," Bobby says, not looking up from his newspaper. "But you ain't ever been a master of subtlety."
Neither Sam or Cas jump to his defense, so Dean decides to just let that one go.
They spend the rest of the day lounging around Bobby's place. It's almost completely their place now, too, even though Bobby still hasn't issued an official invitation. Sam's been looking at online schools, and both brothers have played with the idea of maybe finding a part-time job in town. What Cas is going to do no one knows, but he'll be all right. And they can all still hunt. Dean's not sure they'll ever stop being hunters, no matter what else they do.
After supper Bobby takes a bottle of whiskey and disappears, and Sam takes his laptop to his bedroom. Cas wanders outside and after a minute - and checking to make sure no one sees him doing it - Dean follows him.
“Hey,” he says, sitting next to Cas on the porch. Cas is looking up at the sky, his hands folded in his lap.
Cas turns to him and gives him a blank look - but he doesn’t tell him to leave. Their legs are pressed together and it makes Dean a little twitchy, the urge to reach out and touch Cas making the back of his neck hot and his palms sweaty. “Hello, Dean.”
“What are you doing?”
“Nothing.” Cas looks back towards the sky. “Star-gazing.”
“Ahh.”
Dean sits with him silently for a long moment, looking up at the stars that have Cas so entranced. It’s a nice night, Dean’ll give him that.
“Did you need something?” Cas asks.
Dean lets out a deep sigh. “No,” he says, and he’s aware suddenly that it’s a lie. Cas still doesn’t look at him. Dean licks his lips and makes a decision before he’s even conscious that it’s there to make. “Yes. You. I thought we could talk maybe. About stuff. You and me stuff.”
There's that master of subtlety Bobby mentioned, but Dean's started this, so he might as well see it through. Cas shakes his head. "Dean, I don't..." He looks down at his hands, helplessly. "I don't know what you want from me." Cas doesn't continue, but Dean can tell he's got more to say. "I'm human now," he says. "I can... Actually, there are still pieces of my grace out there. If I find them, if I take them in, I think I may regain some of my power. I won't be - I'll never be - what I was. But I can be more than..." His nose wrinkles and he looks down at his body in distaste. "More than this."
"Hey, humanity's not so bad," Dean says. "And don't sell yourself short; your body's not so bad, either."
Cas huffs. "Dean. Be serious."
"Dude, I am." He stands up, looking down at Cas. "I am being serious. Do you think I don't want you, Cas? Do you think I'm lying, that I'm messing with you? I don't care if you're human or an angel or whatever. You're Cas. You're just..." He shrugs, the momentum leaving him all in a rush. He looks away. "You're Cas."
Cas doesn't say anything and Dean's not exactly sure what his outburst accomplished, if anything, but he feels better. Then, Cas hooks a finger through one of his belt loops and pulls. Dean sits back down beside him. "You know," Cas says conversationally, looking back out to the stars, "if I did regain some power, I wouldn't be quite so human anymore. I'd be superhuman."
"Dude." Dean grins. "You'd be like Superman." Cas smiles back. "Wait, though. What the hell would that make me: Lois Lane?" Cas laughs, then, so hard his whole body moves with it, and Dean feels a little light-headed.
"No," Cas says. "You're Batman."
"Yeah." Dean bumps his shoulder companionably. "I'm Batman."
Cas stands up then, looking serious. Dean isn't sure what causes the change so suddenly. "That night, with the banshees..." He makes a pained face and something in Dean aches for him. "When I awoke, I found these." He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a handful of seeds. "I believe this is Demeter wishes to be honored."
Dean looks skeptical. "Are you going to plant them?"
"Yes. And Dean..." Cas smiles like he has a secret and Dean wants, painfully and viscerally, to go over and kiss the hell out of him. "When dawn breaks, come find me. I'll be out here."
When Cas said "find me" Dean hadn't really thought he'd actually have to do much looking. He wakes up to an alarm right about the time the sun rises. Second day in a row, he thinks, shaking his head, but he knows Cas'll make it worth it. At least he better, or Dean's going to kick his ass. He pulls on his clothes and heads outside.
Where, instead of the normal salvage yard, there is a huge expanse of wheat.
It's wheat.
Dean's not really sure what to make of that.
"Uh, Cas?" he calls, half unsure. "You in there somewhere?"
"This way, Dean," Cas calls back. "Follow my voice."
It's about five and a half feet tall, he guesses, so he should be able to see Cas over it, at least the top of his head, but there's no sign of him. Dean plunges into the wheat anyway, though, hoping that the Cas he's hearing isn't some weird mirage. He gets to the center, though, and there's a big circle, the stalks pressed down. It's just like a crop circle, and Dean wonders what the hell exactly it is Demeter wanted to be thanked with.
Castiel is sitting there, though, his legs folded, a bowl of ash in front of him.
"It's done," he says, standing up and wiping his hands. He looks up at Dean. Dean stares back, watches as Cas's eyes go dark. And okay, the wheat? Whatever Cas had burning? Dean doesn't get that at all. But this? The warmth in his belly, the tension curling up around them, the way Cas's breath gets heavy and the front of his jeans gets tight?
Dean knows exactly how to deal with that.
xxx
"Dean?" Sam pushes wheat out of the way, parting it on either side as he stumbles through the new growth. He has no idea what the hell's going on, and neither does Bobby. But he does know Dean is missing, and that sure as fuck is not going to fly. "Dean?" he tries again. "Are you here?"
He can see something up ahead, just over the stalks. He continues forward and pushes through into a flat circle in the center of the yard. And he finds Dean, all right. Cas, too.
Because they're there. And they are really, really obviously having sex in front of him.
"Ahh!" Sam screams and stumbles back, covering his eyes with his forearm. "What the hell, guys?! Are you just... You're having sex. With each other. In the middle of a field of wheat."
Dean laughs, hard, his arms spread out on the ground like wings and his legs wrapped around Cas's sides.
Cas is scarcely more composed, one hand around Dean's cock and the other pressed against the handprint he made on Dean's shoulder. It is an image Sam could have gone his entire life without seeing.
"You are very perceptive," Cas says. Dean just keeps laughing.
Sam turns around so his back is to them. "Don't laugh, Dean," he snaps. "You just disappeared. Me and Bobby were worried when we couldn't find you. And how did... How did this wheat get here, anyway?"
"It is my offering to Demeter," Cas explains. Dean makes a noise that suggests they have continued their activities despite Sam's presence. He really, really, really hopes that isn't true.
"Oh, well. That's fine, then," Sam says, knowing - and not caring - that he sounds pissy. "Hey, Bobby!" he calls, "It's fine! I found Dean. He's just here, fucking Cas, in a field of Demeter's wheat!"
That's apparently enough to make Dean burst out again, raucously, and this time Cas joins him. Sam wants brain bleach and maybe something to gouge out his eyes, but hearing them laughing together tells him that this is good. That, whatever else they might be - and since they are fucking outside on wheat meant to honor a goddess Sam is going to add disgusting and possibly stupid to the top of that list - they're happy.
Dean's happy. And that's enough for Sam.
"I'm going inside," he says. "You can just..." He waves a hand vaguely in their direction. "You know what? I don't care. I don't care what you do. I'm going inside."
Dean's still laughing as Sam walks away, and Cas kisses the corner of his mouth, warm and wet.
"You know, there were probably better ways to break this to him."
"Yes," Cas says, biting hard at Dean's jaw. "But... We can worry about that later."
He digs his fingernails into Dean's skin, his hand fitted over his handprint. Dean gasps. Yeah, he thinks, feeling Cas's hips snap, pushing into him. Later.
They have all the laters in the world.
FIN.
~~~
Word Count: ~9700
Warnings: sexual situations
masterpost | part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4
THY FEARFUL SYMMETRY
part 5
“Look,” Bobby says, and Dean can hear in his tone that he's going to try to be nice about something he's pissed as hell about. “Not that I don't like having you boys here, and you know you're as close to family as I've got, but if I don't get away from the lot of you someone's going to end up shot in the face.”
Bobby has a valid point. They've had no luck finding any more of Cas's grace, and it's been awhile since they've even been on a hunt. Ever since the night at The Boar Cas has been evasive and Dean's been wound up - he knows Sam can tell, but he sure as hell isn't going to talk about it and Sam hasn't been dumb enough to ask. He'd suggested they all go back to Bobby's, try to blow off some steam, but being cooped up there has just made everyone stir-crazy.
Bobby pulls the strap of a back over his shoulder. “So I'm going on a hunt. Routine haunting, nothing I can't handle. You're welcome to stay; I'll be back in a few days.”
“I'm coming with you,” Sam says, shooting up out of his seat. And Bobby's expression, he amends his demand with a quiet “Please.”
“I told you, boy, I can handle this on my own.”
“Bobby,” Sam says. His eyes widen, and he gives Bobby a significant look, glancing once to Dean and then back again. “Bobby.”
Bobby sighs. “Yeah, all right, you got a point there. You can come.”
“Hey.” Dean looks at his surrogate father indignantly. “And what the hell am I supposed to do while you two are gone?”
“Try learning not to be an asshole,” Bobby suggests. “And you can clean out your car. Fix her up. You said you've been meaning to do it for awhile anyway.”
Dean sighs, but doesn't protest further.
“Bye!” Sam says, waving cheerfully. “We'll see you in a few days. Don't forget to feed Hercules.” And then they're gone, leaving Dean and Cas alone.
“Guess Bobby has a point,” Dean says, looking away from Cas. “Baby could use some TLC.”
“I could help you,” Cas offers. “If you need it.”
“Uh. Sure,” Dean says, though almost immediately he regrets. “Bobby's right. Got a lot of shit that's wound up in the trunk. Might as well clean it out.”
They'd already pulled the guns out for maintenance when they'd gotten there, but there's the axe Cas used on the tree, some wooden stakes, a few cassettes Dean doesn't listen to much, books, and a bag of extra clothes.
Dean pulls out a bag from some fast food place and shoves it at Cas in disgust. “Fucking Sam,” he mutters. “Promised me he'd get that out at the next gas station.”
“It appears he forgot.”
“Thanks for the update, Cas.”
Cas doesn't respond, just grabs something else from the trunk.
They don't talk much; it's not dirty, and most of the stuff that's accumulated isn't junk - it's just a matter of deciding what they need and what they can leave behind. They've been at Bobby's so much recently it's come to feel more and more like home. Dean's got something like a home, he thinks, back with Ben and Lisa, but Bobby's place has come to feel like home, too. Leaving a few things there might cement that. They'd at least have to come back if they wanted to get them.
“Dean.” Cas frowns and Dean looks over at him, wondering what had given him pause. “Look at this.” Cas fishes out a wad of white tissue paper from the trunk. It's not something Dean recognizes. Cas unfolds it and there, laying soft and sheltered, is a small white feather.
Dean raises an eyebrow. “Is that... ?”
“Yes,” Cas breathes. He cradles it in both hands, holding it up between them. The feather starts to levitate, giving off a familiar glow. It's bright and golden, barely visible motes of celestial light twinkling like glitter in the air. Cas's eyes lock with Dean's and his mouth opens. Dean can't look away, and something clenches in his chest, releasing a flood of heat the makes his skin prickle. The feather floats up to Castiel's mouth, and his lips close around it. His tongue licks a circle around his mouth and the feather blinks out of existence, apparently re-assimilated into Cas.
The moment hangs between them. They should probably keep cleaning, Dean thinks. Or Cas should go inside for a nap, since he's probably feeling a little worn from ingesting the grace. Yes, he thinks, Cas should go inside. It's a one man job, anyway, and he can do it alone. Working on his baby has always been his thing, his alone, and even if Cas wants to help he doesn't really need to. The shirts they'd picked up for him are really thin; Dean can see his nipples. And not because he's looking - because Jesus, he tells himself, he's not looking - because they are quite clearly visible. The v-neck of the shirt dips down too far, too, Dean notices, and he has the sudden urge to push Cas away. He ignores it.
“I suppose that was the Augean Stables,” Cas says. Dean hopes that's the first thing he's said, because he wasn't really paying attention. “Not to suggest, of course, that your car - your baby - was in any way as filthy.”
“No, I uh.” Dean clears his throat. “I know.”
Cas stares at him. “Good.”
Sam and Bobby, Dean thinks, need to get back right the fuck now.
Dean spends the rest of the day fixing up his car, while Cas is doing whoever-the-fuck-knows-what inside the house. Probably thinking up ways to make him feel even more awkward, Dean thinks, which he realizes is petty, but after the Augean Impala incident things are about twenty times worse than they were. It's a probably a good thing Sam and Bobby left when they did, because Dean's pretty sure that Bobby was only half-kidding about shooting somebody.
They eat supper separately, and even though he hears him moving around the house, Dean doesn't see Cas until the next morning. He gets up at about nine, ambling into the kitchen to get coffee and some breakfast. Cas is already there, sitting at the table with the remains of what looks like an omelette on the plate in front of him. He looks up and sees Dean, and says “I made coffee if you want some.”
“Thanks,” Dean grunts. He pours himself a coffee, then takes a seat at the table. “You got some more eggs cooked somewhere?”
Cas gives him a dismissive look. “Make your own.”
Dean just drinks his coffee. It takes him a few seconds to realize that Cas is staring at him expectantly, but he feels the weight of the gaze and looks up. “What?” he asks.
“I think I've found something.” Cas unfolds some papers sitting on the table and passes them to Dean. It's an internet article about some town with a recent infestation of ravens. While it's pretty weird, Dean will admit, he's not sure what's so supernatural about it.
“So what?” he asks. He finishes his coffee. He's hungry; maybe Bobby has the stuff to make french toast.
Cas sighs, sounding like he's so put-upon, having to deal with a being so much less insightful than himself. Dean scowls and thinks about punching him. “Ravens, Dean.” It still doesn't click. “Birds? One of Hercules's labors was the flesh-eating Stymphalian birds?”
“Oh.” And yeah, okay, Dean can admit he was a little slow on the uptake for that one. “Right.” He nods. “So what, then? You want to go check it out?”
“I know we should wait for Sam and Bobby,” Cas continues, “But. If you're amenable, I'd like to go now. We don't know when they'll return and while I don't believe there's any sort of time limit set up, I think sooner would be better than later.”
Dean thinks it over for a minute. “Okay,” he says. “We can go.” It would probably be a good idea to teach Cas how to drive, he muses; maybe then he can take care of stuff like this on his own.
It's a long drive, all the way to the east coast, so as soon as Dean eats something they leave. They drop the kitten off with Jody Mills while they're gone, and then call Sam and Bobby to tell them they went out on a hunt while they were gone.
To stave off any potential awkwardness - because despite Dean's staunch position in favor of ignoring everything, things are still tense - Dean decides to give Cas a crash course in music. Their tastes line up almost perfectly, which Dean is ecstatic about and plans to rub in Sam's face the first chance he gets. His excitement is somewhat lessened, however, when he realizes that Castiel likes almost everything. They wind up playing Bob Dylan for most of the trip, and it doesn't take long before Cas knows the songs well enough to sing along.
They stop somewhere to sleep a couple hours after it gets dark. Dean needs to sleep and he's not letting Cas take the wheel until he passes a battery of tests Dean devises himself. The guy at the check-in desk doesn't pay much attention as they check in, focused instead on the game he's playing on his laptop. He gives them the key to their room and they head to bed.
That night, Dean dreams.
Cas is a tiger again, bigger this time than he's ever been before. Dean sits astride his back, holding fistfuls of the thick fur. Cas starts running. He goes so fast the scenery starts to blend together, and Dean doesn't know where they are, or where they're going. He leans down close, bent over Cas's shoulders, and feels it in his whole body when Castiel growls Dean.
They leap up into the sky, and the clouds part for them as Cas runs further and further away from the ground. Dean's lungs tighten in the thin air, and he breathes close to Cas's skin, feeling the fur ghost across his lips every time he inhales.
The stars sing; Dean can't understand the song, but he can feel it, the music working its way down into his bones. Cas opens his mouth and starts to sing, too. Flames lick at them but it doesn't burn; the pain of hearing the song, of hearing something so alien to human ears, is excruciating, but the pain is good, it's real, and even if he's ashamed of it Dean feels like crying. He pulls hard at Castiel's fur, so hard he's surprised it doesn't come off in his hands, and the star-song starts to melt into something closer to pleasure. Dean screams, long and loud, and waits, waits, waits for the wave to crest over him, for the spiral of heat curling up from his core to burst out, but it never happens. Castiel growls so loudly Dean thinks it might shatter the heavens, and all the stars blink out as one, and then Dean starts to fall, down into the endless darkness of space.
And then he wakes up.
He groans, feeling so frustrated he wants to shoot something. He looks over, but Cas isn't in the next bed. The light in the bathroom's on, though, the door open a crack. Dean breathes and falls back onto his pillow, feeling relieved. He can just go back to sleep. He can go back to sleep, and not dream, and forget all about fucking Castiel and his stupid fucking tiger body.
Until he hears a choked-off moan come from the bathroom. The sound's one of pleasure, and suddenly Dean realizes what Cas is doing, what he's doing to himself, and thinks that maybe Cas was just as affected by the dream as he was. He squeezes his eyes shut, though, and turns over, pressing his erection into the mattress. When Cas leaves the bathroom he pretends to be asleep.
The next morning, they get up and neither mentions the dream. They get ready, check-out, and then get back on the road. It's a peaceful few hours of driving, if silent besides the music they always have playing.
It's pretty obvious when they arrive, because a flurry of ravens come to meet them. As far as they can see, when they pull into town, are ravens. On every building, on every traffic light, there are ravens.
“A conspiracy of ravens,” Cas says, looking thoughtfully out the window.
“What do you mean?” Dean asks, glancing over to Cas. He frowns, wondering how the hell the birds could be up to anything. “A conspiracy? What are they planning, to shit on everyone's cars?”
“No,” Cas says, impatiently, in a voice indicative of long suffering. “A conspiracy of ravens. Like a murder of crows. Or a flock of sheep.”
“Oh. It's just what you call a group of them.” Dean nods, and pulls into the parking lot of a small restaurant. “This place okay?” he asks. Cas nods. “Figured we could get some food, then do some investigating or something.” He gets out and shuts the car door. “Not sure what we're supposed to investigate, though, since other than the ravens there doesn't seem to be much here.”
Cas holds the door to the restaurant, Carlisle's, open and Dean walks in. “The ravens in and of themselves are suspicious,” Cas says, following. A young, pretty hostess leads them to a booth and they take a seat. “We only need to figure out why they're here.”
“Hi,” the waitress says, “I'm Jennie and I'll be taking care of you boys today.”
Dean gives her his brightest smile. “Hi there, Jennie.” He gestures out the window. “What's up with all these damn birds?” he asks. “Nearly hit a whole group of them on the drive here.”
Jennie just shrugs. “No idea. They've been here for about a week. They don't cause any trouble, though, they're just... there.” She gives him an apologetic smile. “Now, what can I get you to drink?”
They give her their order and she walks off. Dean flips open his menu. “So where do you think your grace is?” he asks. “Gotta have something to do with the ravens, right?”
“I imagine so. But since I can't sense it, I have no idea where to start looking.”
Dean just nods. “That's what I thought.”
Neither one speaks again until the waitress comes back to take their order. The ravens outside seem harmless; they're not really doing anything but sitting. Sometimes one flies off somewhere, and sometimes another one will land, but other than that it's like they're in some sort of stasis.
Just waiting.
“I don't like it,” Dean says. “Fucking conspiracy is right, Cas. Those birds are up to something.”
Cas sighs. “Dean. I believe they're just regular ravens.”
“And you'd be right, sir.”
They both look up, startled, to see an old man standing beside their booth, smiling. His voice is odd, with inflection that doesn't quite fit, and a weird overlay - like two people are talking at once. His eyes are two different colors; one a dewy brown and the other a pale, sky blue. A well-groomed gray beard covers his chin, and he's wearing a navy trenchcoat over a neat pinstriped suit.
“Excuse me?” Dean says, one eyebrow raised. There's a knife in his boot and he's ready to reach down and grab it if he needs to.
The man smiles, his hands clasped together in front of him. “Ravens,” he says. He nods out the window. “They're just regular ravens.”
“Of course,” Cas says, cautiously. “What else would they be?”
The man laughs, and his smile turns a little patronizing. “Young man,” he says. “Do you not recognize us?”
Cas blinks a few times and stares at the man for a long, silent moment. Then something clicks into place and his expression turns to something close to alarm. “Oh,” he says finally. He nods demurely. “I hope we're not intruding here.”
“Oh no, don't worry about that. We're here for the same reason you are. Drawn to something... ancient. And powerful.” The man pulls out a black raven's feather from inside his coat. He holds it by the quill and presents it to Castiel. “And I believe it belongs to you.”
“You would just return it to me. Freely.” Cas sounds a little wary, and Dean still has no idea what's going on. He holds his tongue, though, because as long as Cas doesn't act like the guy is dangerous he should probably just sit tight and shut up.
“Accept it, Castiel.” The man's tone is firm and brooks no argument. Cas stares for a moment longer before reaching out and taking the feather. It bursts outward, and Cas blinks as the dust falls onto the table. “There.” He gives Castiel a friendly pat on the shoulder. “It is yours again.”
The man nods to Cas, then to Dean, and walks to the door. He grabs his hat from the rack and then leaves the restaurant. Dean watches the window for a few seconds, but he never sees the man walk by. “Uh.” He looks at Cas. “What the hell was that?”
“These ravens are messengers,” he says. “And the man we just spoke to was not a man.”
Dean snorts. “Yeah, Cas. I got that.” Jennie comes then, with their burgers.
“Enjoy your lunch, Dean,” Cas says. “I think we're done here.”
“So that's it,” Dean says. He takes a large bite of his burger and chews. “We're just done.”
“I have my grace now,” Cas says. He shrugs, looking uncomfortable. “That's all we needed.”
“Yeah, but.” Dean gestures a little helplessly towards the window. There are still a fuckload of ravens everywhere. “What about the birds?”
“That man who spoke to me,” Cas explains. He pushes his plate away from him and folds his hands on the table. “That was Hugin and Munin, the messengers of Odin.”
“Odin,” Dean repeats.
“That's right.” Cas takes a bite of his burger and chews, almost daintily. He swallows. “They normally appear as ravens, perched on his shoulder.”
“And the other ten dozen of those little fuckers are... ?”
“I imagine they are heralds of some kind. Odin is the god of ravens. Valkyries are also associated with ravens. Perhaps the god has business here.” He bites a fry in half. “My grace was here, after all.”
“Okay, sure, but why would he be interested in that? Is an angel's grace really that powerful?”
“There are... certain uses for it,” Cas says. “And it's valuable - though perhaps not so much so in such a diluted form.”
That’s all there is to it, really. They have the grace, the ravens are harmless, and they’re in fucking West Virginia. So Dean just eats his burger.
After they eat and pay, they go to find someplace to stay the night. They pass a group of attractive, scary-looking women that Cas tells Dean are probably valkyries. There’s probably something going on that they don’t know about - or at least Dean doesn’t know about - but nobody seems to be eating human flesh, and besides the ravens there’s not even anything weird. Not much Dean can do in the face of that.
“Shouldn’t we just head back to Bobby’s?” Cas asks. They’re in the lobby of a little hotel just off the highway, and even though it’s not late yet they’d still have to find someplace to stay later that night, so it just makes sense to spend the night in town.
“It’s like fifteen hours back,” Dean snaps. “We’ll just stay here for the night and start early tomorrow morning.”
They check in - one room, two queens - and then sit down on their respective beds. Dean turns on the television. There’s not much on, and Dean flips through a couple of channels aimlessly.
“I don’t want to stay here all night,” Cas says. “There’s an entire town here. I think I can find something to do.”
“And how are you going to get there?” Dean asks. “You’re not taking the car.”
“I can walk.”
“No offense,” Dean says, sitting up and muting the tv, “but there’s a highway right there. It’s kind of in the way.”
“Then come with me.” Cas turns the power to the tv off and opens the door. “Now.”
Dean’s first instinct is to fight. He doesn’t really want to go anywhere, there’s probably nothing to do, and they have to go out to get supper later, anyway. But Cas is standing there, determined, and letting him out by himself might actually be worse. Dean sighs. “Fine,” he says. He grabs the car keys. “Let’s get this over with.”
Where Cas wants to go, apparently, is a bookstore. It’s one of those giant chain stores, with a little coffee shop and lots of shit besides books. They look through the religious section - which Cas seems to enjoy browsing with disdain - and then head to the music section. There are only CDs, which Cas seems disappointed by, but he does pick out two or three he wants. One of them is some opera Dean hadn’t ever heard of, but Cas seems pleased so he tries to feign a modicum of interest. It doesn’t work.
Castiel is perfectly content to browse for hours, but after about forty-five minutes Dean’s antsy. “Come on, Cas,” he says, “let’s go.”
“In a minute, Dean. Be patient.”
He asks again thirty minutes later. “Cas. Seriously, man, let’s go. You must have looked at the entire store already.”
Cas looks up from what appears to be a hardcover collection of Garfield cartoons. He has his smiting face on. “Dean,” he says. “Go away.”
So Dean wanders off. He grabs a book and finds a chair, and waits for Castiel to finish whatever the hell it is he’s doing.
They finally leave, and Cas has three new CDs and a collection of philosophical essays about some weird ideology Dean had never heard of. He’d forgone the Garfield collection, though, and picked up the book Dean had been looking at instead. It makes Dean feel weird, because he knows it’s a gift, even if technically it’s neither of their money.
After the bookstore they go grab some cheap take-out and go back to their room. It’s a pretty quiet night, boring, though they end up watching some old movies that come on until about midnight.
There’s still something not quite comfortable about being alone with Castiel, but to Dean’s surprise, it’s nice.
They go to bed, but there aren’t any dreams. Dean tries to pretend he’s not a little disappointed.
The drive back is much less pleasant. About four or five hours in the air conditioning stops working, and even though it’s not high summer, it’s still warmer than is really comfortable. Things have been tense since they were in The Boar, though if Dean’s being honest things were weird even before that. They’re both irritable and it doesn’t take long before they start snapping. That, combined with the heat, brings whatever is bubbling under the surface up to a rolling boil.
“It’s so fucking hot,” Dean says, fanning himself with his hand. Cas gives him a sharp, exasperated look. Dean has been complaining for a little over an hour and even though he knows it’s driving Cas up the wall, he can’t help himself.
“Complaining about it isn’t going to make it any cooler.”
“Jesus,” Dean says, “I know that. Just finish pumping the fucking gas and let’s go. At least we’ve got some water now.”
Cas rolls his eyes but doesn’t press the point any further. It takes another minute for the car to fill up, and then they’re back on the road. It’s still hot, the seats warmed from the sun. The denim jeans they wear stick to their bodies, and Dean groans again, shaking his head from side to side.
“Do you want to pull over and let me drive?”
“No,” Dean says, sounding a little peeved, “I’m fine. And you still don’t know how to drive, anyway.”
“You don’t sound fine.”
“Well maybe you should check your ears, then, because I said I’m fucking fine.”
“If you’re ‘fine’ then,” Cas says, snappishly, making air quotes around the word fine, “stop complaining. It’s becoming as unbearable as the heat.”
“Oh, well, I’m sorry that I’m harshing your buzz, princess, but if it’s fucking hot then I’m going to say something about it!”
“Stop being an asshole!”
“Goddamn it, Cas, stop fucking complaining about me complaining.”
“Pull over.”
Dean doesn’t look at him. “No.”
“Dean. Pull the car. Over.”
“I said no.”
Cas grabs the wheel and turns it hard to the right.
“What the fuck,” Dean says, slowing the car and pulling off to the shoulder. They both get out. “Cas, you can’t just do that, you dumb bastard. You want to get us killed?”
“If you’re not going to stop complaining, then get in the back and go to sleep. And I’ll drive.”
“I told you. I’m not letting you drive my baby.”
“Driving isn’t that difficult, I’m sure. I understand the basics already. And it’s just a car, Dean.”
“Yeah, it’s just a car, and it’s mine, Cas; it’s a fucking awesome piece of machinery.”
Cas pushes him on the shoulder, hard. Dean stumbles back, towards the road. Once he regains his footing he storms back over to Cas and shoots his fist out, landing in the middle of Cas’s chest. Cas growls and punches back, knocking against Dean’s jaw.
“You... stupid fucker,” Dean says, dodging out of the way of another blow. “I’m the one being an asshole? I’m not the one who’s picking a goddamn fight!”
“You drove me to it,” Cas answers, his voice even deeper than it usually is. He’s light on his feet and fast, and even though Dean’s sure he’s been in more fist fights, he’s not entirely certain he can end this without any serious injury. Cas seems serious - apparently, he’d been more pissed off than Dean had realized.
“Well you sure are handling your anger well, fuck you very much.” He hits Cas in the stomach and Cas wheezes, losing his breath.
That is enough to drive him to some deep inner well of strength, apparently, because the next thing Dean knows, Cas has a fistful of his shirt and is pressing him up against the driver’s side door of the impala. Their bodies are pressed tight together, barely any space between them, and Dean swallows hard. “You,” Cas says, pulling his face towards him so they’re practically nose to nose, “are fucking impossible.” And then - and holy shit, Dean really should have expected it - Cas kisses him.
Or maybe it would be more accurate to say that he launches a full out assault on his mouth, because it’s not sweet or gentle, it’s rough and hard and so, so angry. Their teeth hit against each other, and then Cas bites Dean’s bottom lip hard, pulling on it and then letting it go, running his tongue along the indentations left by his teeth. He still has a tight hold on Dean and he pulls him even closer, and Dean can feel the hard line of his body, and the hard line of his cock in his jeans.
Cas is a motherfucking pro at this kissing thing - and when did that happen, Dean wonders. Or maybe he’s just like the hulk, except that you really, really, really would like him when he’s angry. He fucks into Dean’s mouth with a wet, purposeful tongue, and Dean lets out a strangled sound of protest that even to his ears comes out more like a whimper. Okay, yeah, he might be enjoying it more than he wants to admit. It’s fucking hot to have Cas go all caveman on him, even if a big part of Dean is telling him to wrest back control. It doesn’t seem like that would go over well with Cas anyway.
Suddenly, and without any warning - because shit, Dean had just really started to get into it, too - Cas pulls away. “Impossible,” he says again, his mouth red and shiny with spit. It’s a good look for him. He takes a step away. “If there wasn’t a truck coming I’d be fucking you on the hood of your car.” He lets that sink in for a second, then snatches the keys out of Dean’s pocket.
“So what,” Dean says, feeling a little dumb-founded and maybe a lot aroused. He decides just to let the infraction with the keys go; Cas probably won’t give them back, anyway. “We go on our first hunt, just the two of us, and all we have to fucking tell Sam is that you wanted to take me in a manly fashion?”
Cas doesn’t look at him. “Just get in the damn car.”
The Cretan bull turns out to be a chimera. They manage to kill it, but Sam gets his arm broken in the process. Bobby reminds them that they’re all idjits, but drives them all to the hospital anyway and then lets them come back to his house to crash. Dean calls Lisa twice that week, but never gets around to mentioning what happened with Cas.
As soon as Sam’s recovered they’re off hunting again, and after taking care of a haunting they run into a crazy alchemist. He’s got five little homunculi running around, which turn out to be the mares of Diomedes. The bastards go after Dean, and they’re surprisingly strong for how small they are, but Sam and Cas run in guns blazing and destroy the things. That piece of grace is in a medallion the alchemist had; they snatch it and leave the crazy old bastard to deal with his mess on his own.
The belt of Hippolyta they get from actual fucking Amazons. This hunt's a little more complicated, with murders and dismembered corpses, and without Cas it probably would have taken a lot longer to figure out what was going on. But they got the grace - which was in an actual belt, too - even if the Amazons got away.
There aren't any cattle involved in the next labor, fortunately, though there is somebody who's a damn close equivalent to Geryon. It's a witch, a crazy old fucker who's made it his habit to collect supernatural oddities. The latest in his collection is a piece of Castiel's grace, crystallized in a piece of quartz. He's smart enough to figure out that it's something big, something rare and valuable; it doesn't take him long to get a good idea of what it is exactly he's got. That's not enough, though, and instead of being content with just a piece of angelic grace he decides he wants his own fallen angel to go along with it. He sets a trap for Cas, but he uses the reserves on his old angel batteries and zaps away. Sam and Dean rush in to crash Geryon's party - which is what Dean insists on calling him, though actually they find out his name is Erik - and find the guy in some kind of crazy witch rage, screaming about his precious collection. His house is creepy as fuck, like some supernatural museum. He's got a jackalope head, locks of hair from a few extremely powerful witches, and the claw of a dragon. And that's just in the first room. He gets away, but not before they break open the crystal and get Cas's grace. So even if Dean didn't get to gank a witch, he still considers it a win.
The next labor is even better. It turns out to the apple pie of the Hesperides, and they have to deal with a haunted bakery. It's actually pretty awesome. Apparently the owner of the bakery had some great, bitter rivalry with an old friend of hers over whose pies where better. The owner - Anita Lassiter - had won some contest, and then her friend had died in a mysterious baking accident. It turns out to be true, as screwy as the story is, but Mrs. Cumberland comes back as a ghost bent on revenge. They find the grace in a pie, and actual apple pie, and Cas claims he has to eat it all by himself. Dean's okay with that, though, because Anita's so grateful she gives them all the pies she has in the store. For free.
"You got paid in pie," Bobby says, looking at his kitchen table, which is positively overrun with baked goods.
"Hey," Dean says, his cheeks bulging with half-eaten pie, "most people don't pay us at all, so I say we take what we can get."
Sam stares at him with an expression of disbelief on his face, like he can't quite believe one man can fit that much in his mouth at one time. "You do seem to be taking all of it."
Dean swallows. "Sorry, man, you want a slice?" Sam laughs and shakes his head, but Bobby accepts. "Goddamn," Dean says. "This is good pie."
xxx
"Hey, Cas." Sam turns his laptop so Cas can see the screen. "This look like it could be the final task? It's a haunted animal hospital."
"Dogs," Dean says loudly from the living room. "Gotta be it, right? We're down to Cerberus."
"Dean's right," Cas says. "Thank you, Sam. This may be it; the last piece of grace I need to complete Demeter's labors."
Sam gives him a quick smile. "Let's just hope Dean doesn't break another vase."
"Hey! I heard that, bitch."
Sam rolls his eyes. "Jerk."
Even though it's just a simple haunting, it feels pretty momentous. Bobby gives Cas a gruff "Good luck," when they leave, and even Hercules seems friendlier than usual, rubbing against Cas's legs as they walk out the door.
They drive out to the animal hospital. It's a pretty easy job; the woman Bobby had talked to on the phone - because apparently he also runs some sort of Ghostfacers type website to field potential hunts, except his of course is actually legit - had realized it was a ghost and hired them, so there was no need to break out the fake I.D.s or come up with a cover story. They get there and find three ghosts: two dogs and an old man who'd once been a dog groomer. Easy enough to take care of, but once the ghosts are gone, there isn't any sign of Castiel's grace.
"I don't understand," he whispers to Dean. "There's nothing here."
"You just can't sense it, right?" Dean glances over at Sam and the young veterinary tech, making sure she can't overhear. "We just have to find it."
"No." Cas grabs his arm. "Dean, it's not here."
"Oh." Dean clears his throat and pulls his arm out of Cas's grip. He pats his friend on the shoulder. "Well don't worry. We've been at dead ends before; we'll find it."
Cas doesn't seem convinced, but he doesn't press the issue, just nodding and turning back to Sam.
It turned out that in addition to getting paid for the work they'd done, Sam had gotten a date. He and Valerie the vet tech - who is a buxom, blue-eyed beauty nearly as tall as Dean - are going out to the bar nearby. She invites Dean and Cas to come along, too, and after locking up she and Sam climb into her car and tell them to meet them there.
"She's hot," Dean says, pulling out. "Score one for Sammy."
"I don't like bars much," Cas says, the expression on his face sour.
Dean laughs. "You'll like them better if you don't get drunk off your ass every time you go. Just watch me and try not to drink more than I do."
They have a good time and it's obvious that Valerie is really into Sam. He's flirting, and he keeps touching her arm. She laughs and flirts back and by the time Cas has decided he's ready to go, it's pretty obvious that one of them's taking the other home. Dean glances at Cas, in the front seat of the Impala next to him. He probably won't get as lucky.
They find what looks like a little bed and breakfast near a lack. It's surprisingly scenic and after they check in - two rooms this time, because they only have single beds and even if Dean's okay with admitting that Cas is really goddamn pretty, he's not sure he wants everyone else to know that - Dean calls Sam and gives him the address. Sam's voice is slurred with alcohol, and Dean can hear Valerie in the background, murmuring something that Dean never wanted to know his little brother was going to do with someone.
There's a moment, when Dean thinks Cas might break their silent agreement not to talk about what happened. They're standing outside the door to Cas's room, and he opens the door, then glances back at Dean. Dean waits.
"Goodnight," Cas says, his voice heavy. He gives Dean a tight smile and then he steps in and quickly shuts the door.
"Goddamnit," Dean curses, hitting his fist against the wall. A picture of one of those babies dressed as flowers rattles and he sighs. Might as well get some sleep, he thinks. He goes to his own room across the hall. It's decorated in some sort of kitschy nautical style, everything blue and white, a decorative anchor hanging on the wall at the head of the bed and a little wooden boat filled with towels and soaps sitting on the counter in the bathroom.
Dean pulls off his boots and settles back on the big, cushy bed. The comforter is downy and soft, and there are at least six pillows of various sizes. There's a wicker armoire against the opposite wall, and Dean opens it. His expectations are confirmed; there's a television and a DVD player, with a couple of DVDs laying on top of it. The proprietor apparently picked a movie from nearly every genre, because there's "When Harry Met Sally," "The Dirty Dozen," the 2008 Star Trek movie, and Stephen King's "It." Dean snorts at the last one, because with all the shit they've seen he still can't believe Sam's afraid of clowns.
He picks one and puts it on, then falls asleep to the low hum of the television.
It's about three or four in the morning when he wakes up to an eerie green light streaming in his window.
"What the fuck is this," he grumbles, sitting up slow. He'd fallen asleep in his clothes and probably in a weird position from the ache in his back. He yawns and stretches as he stands and heads to the window.
It only takes one glance, but as soon as he makes sens of what he sees he's awake. It's Cas, down by the edge of the lack, surrounded by three pale figures in long, flowing dresses. Their hair is black, and so long it nearly touches the ground. And they're all glowing.
"Cas!" The window won't open, and Cas can't hear him. He jams his feet into his shoes and runs, bolting into the hallway and down the stairs. The front door's locked, but he undoes it quickly and starts as fast as he can toward the lake.
"Cas!" he calls. "Cas, are you okay?"
"Stay back, Dean," Cas says. The three women have him surrounded on three sides, and the lake's at his back. Dean isn't sure what exactly he plans on doing, because without back-up it really looks like Cas is in serious trouble.
"No way," Dean says. He's at the edge of the circle, only about ten fee from the women. Now that he can see them, he can tell what the women really are.
Banshees.
"Shit," he says, a cold feeling washing over him. He knows what banshees do; they foretell death. Death. And if three of them are there for Cas? Dean doesn't know what it means, but he knows it can't be good.
"Dean." Cas looks pale, and his voice is hoarse. The green glow is getting brighter, and the banshees lift up their arms, pointed up towards the sky right above Cas. "Dean it's all right. It's all right." He swallows and looks up. There's something forming where the banshees hands are pointing. It's a cloud, a white, smoky mass littered with flecks of gold. Something in it shimmers, iridescent, and Cas's mouth opens, staring up at the bright swirl above me. "This," he says, "is Cerberus. This is the last labor. And that..." He points upwards, to where the mass of milky haze has started to rotate. "That is the last piece of grace."
Dean gapes, staring as the banshees open their mouths wide, wider than any human mouth would ever be able to go. And they begin to wail.
It starts low, a rumble that's only barely audible. But then it picks up, growing in volume until Dean's ears start to ring. The sound is agonizing, mournful and unending, and he falls to his knees, clapping his hands over his ears. "Cas," he screams. "Get out of there. Move, you idiot. I'm not going to let you die!"
But Cas doesn't answer him, doesn't even seem to hear. The grace above him is solidifying, becoming more and more like a cloud. It's streaked through with gold and green, and the banshees look up at it, their arms still raised, almost worshipful. Cas spreads his arms out wide, and then thick, feathery wings burst from his back. They're as beautiful as Dean remembers, huge and glorious, the tip of each feather shining with otherworldly golden light. And then the grace swirling above them sinks down, engulfing the wings in a nebulous, hazy white.
Cas's screams join the banshees and Dean's head starts to pound. He sinks further down until he's laying on the ground. His vision starts blacking out, and as hard as he tries to remain conscious he's fading fast. The last thing he remembers, before he passes out, is an explosion of feathers, falling from the sky like rain.
When Dean wakes up again, it's late morning. He groans, putting a hand on his aching head. He feels like he drank his weight in whiskey the night before, but he knows that's not what happened.
"Hello, Dean."
He looks up to see Cas, standing above him. He looks tired, his eyes red like maybe he's been crying. Dean gets up slowly and looks around. There's no sign of the banshees, and Cas is there, so apparently he'd gotten away safe without Dean. On the ground, though, is clear evidence of what happened.
There are feathers - hundreds of feathers, some covering the grass and some floating in the lake.
"Cas," Dean says. His voice shakes a little as he imagines what his friend must feel - what he must have lost. "Are those... ?"
"My wings," Cas says. His voice is hard, his tone clipped. He meets Dean's eyes. "I'm human now, completely human." Dean opens his mouth - maybe the sympathize, maybe to say something, he has no clue what the fuck would be appropriate to say in this situation - but Cas shakes his head. "I don't want to talk about it," he says. He picks up a few of the feathers and hands them to Dean. Dean's not sure what to do, so he sticks them in his pocket. "I just want to go home - back to Bobby's."
"Yeah," Dean says. He swallows, thick, and claps Cas on the back. Cas grabs a hold of his shirt, tight, and doesn't let go. They're not quite touching, but they're close, and Dean can feel the heat of him, can smell the scent of grass clinging to him from his night on the lawn. "I'll call Sam."
Dean knows he’s dreaming.
He’s not sure how he knows, thinks he probably shouldn't be able to, but he knows he's in his bed at Bobby's and that everything he sees is happening in his head. He's in the same forest as before, in the same clothes he was wearing that day, has the bare feet he remembers from the other dreams in the same place
He feels the same impulse: the one that tells him to run. But this time, he ignores it. He's not sure why, but he's pretty sure that this time he's the one in control.
“Cas!” he calls. “Or tiger! Cas-tiger. Castiel. Tigerstiel. Come out.”
The tiger stalks out, licking at its jowls with its big, wet tongue. His walk is measured, purposeful, and his eyes burn into Dean.
“Uh... Hey, do you think that, um. Maybe you could not be a fucking tiger.” Dean has actually practiced this in his head a time or two, ever since the drive back from the ravens, had thought about what he’d say if he ever had this dream again, but now that it’s happening he can’t remember any of it. His mouth suddenly feels a little dry.
You dreamed this yourself, Dean. I had no part in this world’s creation this time, you only called me here.
“Yeah, I know. I mean... I don't know how. Didn't think you'd be able to do this anymore when you were human, anyway, but. Um. Since we're here...” He looks away and clears his throat, his hand playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. Christ, this is a lot more awkward than he thought it’d be. “If you’re going to do to me whatever the hell it is you do here usually, I want you to be at least... at least human-shaped. I don't want you to be some gigantic monster cat.”
I'm not a monster. He who made the lamb made me, the tiger thinks at him, a little peevishly, and isn’t that just fucking like Cas. His tail flicks again and Dean wonders again if Cas gets off on the whole tiger thing, or if this time he’s just deliberately misunderstanding. The tiger makes a sound that is far too much like a sigh. Dean, it thinks, I am not... I was not... a man.
And Dean knows that, of course he knows, just like he knows Cas isn’t a tiger, or another Impala, or fire, or that weird mermaid-bird thing he’d dreamed about one time. He's always been more, even if know he's been a little downgraded.
But Dean will be the first to tell anyone who asks that he’s nothing if not a simple man, and since it's his dream, he wants to dream-fuck Cas, and he wants a human body to look at while he does it.
The tiger twitches its ears. You are thinking of sexual congress.
Fucking awkward Castiel. “Yes,” Dean says, sounding exasperated. Hell, he’s starting to feel exasperated, too. “That’s what I meant.” He walks up to the tiger and holds his hand out. It’s almost trembling, and he’s not sure why, but all of a sudden he’s... damn it, he’s nervous. He reaches out and touches the beast’s nose with the palm of his hand. The glow around it starts to shimmer, and the tiger’s outline seems hazy.
Dean, it thinks, and he can sense something close to hesitation in the communication. I...
Dean breathes in deep and closes his eyes, reaching out for what he hopes is skin instead of fur.
And then he wakes up.
He blinks up at the ceiling and sighs. Cas had no problem before, but apparently when Dean initiates it, when it's overt, and not just an instance of pent-up sexual frustration finally breaking free, he can't handle it. Dean's head hurts and he wonders how awkward it's going to be if he tries to bring this up at breakfast. It’s early, still, not even dawn, and he can probably catch a few more hours of sleep before everybody starts getting up. But he's not really tired.
Damn it, Cas, he thinks, even though he knows Cas won't be able to hear him. That was really shitty of you, you coward. You gotta step up and be a fucking man. He knows Cas wants him, too, he knew even before Cas threw him against his car, even if he hadn't wanted to admit it. But it seems like getting Cas to admit that is going to be much, much harder than he thought.
He just wants to make sure the asshole's okay, too - make sure he's adjusting to being human. Even if he's been heading towards it for months, finally hitting that final wall can't have been easy.
First, though. He has to do something he knows he should have done a long time ago. Even if he and Lisa hadn't been an official anything, there had still been a Dean-and-Lisa. He thinks he might love her, even though it's not really how she deserves to be loved. It's the idea of her that he loves, maybe. The idea of a beautiful woman and a great kid and a house in the suburbs. Perfect apple pie life.
He picks up his phone and dials.
"Dean?" Lisa sounds muzzy and confused - not that Dean can really blame her. It's got to be about five in the morning. "What the hell are you doing, calling me at this hour? Do you know what time it is?"
"Oh, uh, yeah." He laughs, but he doesn't really feel it. "I guess I wasn't really... Well, I was awake, so..."
"Dean." Lisa's tone is serious, the anger cooling. "What's going on?"
"Sorry, Lisa, it's just." He sighs. "I think we need to talk."
She's quiet for a long time. "You're not coming back, are you? This is it. This is the break-up." Dean feels like shit, and he knows Ben's probably going to hate him, and be totally justified in doing it.
"I still care about you, Lisa. And Ben, too."
"I know, Dean. I never doubted that. I mean... I wasn't sure if we'd be good for you, wondered a couple of times if you'd be good for us. But I never doubted that you cared." She makes a thoughtful noise. "There's actually this guy. Matt."
"Oh." Dean's a little surprised, though he knows he shouldn't be. He has Cas, of course it's likely Lisa would find somebody, too. "He a good guy?"
"Think so," Lisa says. Dean can hear the smile in her voice. "He likes Ben, and he's a doctor."
"So full package then, huh?"
"Yep." She weighs her next words carefully. "You know, you can... It's not like I hate you for leaving, Dean. I don't blame you. And if I wanted you to stay - if I really thought I could ever make you stay - I'd have told you."
"God, Lisa," he says, half on a laugh, "I really don't deserve."
"Hey, Ben liked you. That's good enough for me. Sex wasn't half bad, either."
Dean chuckles. "That's true. We were damn good together."
"Is there... somebody else for you?"
"There might be," Dean says, past the lump in his throat. "I don't... It's kind of up in the air, you know?"
Lisa's voice is sympathetic, way more sympathetic than he knows he deserves. That Matt guy must be fucking amazing. "Well good luck, whatever happens."
"Yeah, uh. Thanks, Lisa. Really."
"You want to talk to Ben later? It'll give you a chance to apologize."
Dean groans. "Guess I should apologize, huh? I'll call later to talk to him, I promise."
"Good. I think he knew something was up when you started sending gifts to him along with the postcards. He's a little angry with you, I'm not going to lie, but I think he's still hoping you'll be back. You made a big impression on him."
"He's..." Dean clears his throat. "He's a great kid."
"Thanks," Lisa said. "Like to think I had a little something to do with that."
Dean laughs. And suddenly he feels lighter. He's a dick, he thinks, and he's still worried that he's throwing away his best chance at a family but it's not like he doesn't have anyone. He has Sam - he'll always have Sam, no matter what - and Bobby, and he has Cas. Yeah. He has Cas. "Sorry for calling so early, Lisa," he says. "I'll talk to you later, okay? And I'll talk to Ben. Promise."
"It's fine. Goodbye Dean."
"Yeah. Goodbye."
Dean shoves his phone back into his pocket. “Okay,” he says. “That’s, uh... that, I guess.”
Sam looks at him, eyebrow raised. “You and Lisa are over, huh? I could hear Ben yelling from over here.”
Dean shrugs, looking uncomfortable and obviously not wanting to talk about it. “Looks like.”
Sam nods. “Figured as much when you started sending him stuff besides just the postcards. I thought it was probably guilt.”
"Well, Christ." Dean rolls his eyes at his brother. "Lisa said the exact same thing. Was it really that obvious?"
"Sorry, boy," Bobby says, not looking up from his newspaper. "But you ain't ever been a master of subtlety."
Neither Sam or Cas jump to his defense, so Dean decides to just let that one go.
They spend the rest of the day lounging around Bobby's place. It's almost completely their place now, too, even though Bobby still hasn't issued an official invitation. Sam's been looking at online schools, and both brothers have played with the idea of maybe finding a part-time job in town. What Cas is going to do no one knows, but he'll be all right. And they can all still hunt. Dean's not sure they'll ever stop being hunters, no matter what else they do.
After supper Bobby takes a bottle of whiskey and disappears, and Sam takes his laptop to his bedroom. Cas wanders outside and after a minute - and checking to make sure no one sees him doing it - Dean follows him.
“Hey,” he says, sitting next to Cas on the porch. Cas is looking up at the sky, his hands folded in his lap.
Cas turns to him and gives him a blank look - but he doesn’t tell him to leave. Their legs are pressed together and it makes Dean a little twitchy, the urge to reach out and touch Cas making the back of his neck hot and his palms sweaty. “Hello, Dean.”
“What are you doing?”
“Nothing.” Cas looks back towards the sky. “Star-gazing.”
“Ahh.”
Dean sits with him silently for a long moment, looking up at the stars that have Cas so entranced. It’s a nice night, Dean’ll give him that.
“Did you need something?” Cas asks.
Dean lets out a deep sigh. “No,” he says, and he’s aware suddenly that it’s a lie. Cas still doesn’t look at him. Dean licks his lips and makes a decision before he’s even conscious that it’s there to make. “Yes. You. I thought we could talk maybe. About stuff. You and me stuff.”
There's that master of subtlety Bobby mentioned, but Dean's started this, so he might as well see it through. Cas shakes his head. "Dean, I don't..." He looks down at his hands, helplessly. "I don't know what you want from me." Cas doesn't continue, but Dean can tell he's got more to say. "I'm human now," he says. "I can... Actually, there are still pieces of my grace out there. If I find them, if I take them in, I think I may regain some of my power. I won't be - I'll never be - what I was. But I can be more than..." His nose wrinkles and he looks down at his body in distaste. "More than this."
"Hey, humanity's not so bad," Dean says. "And don't sell yourself short; your body's not so bad, either."
Cas huffs. "Dean. Be serious."
"Dude, I am." He stands up, looking down at Cas. "I am being serious. Do you think I don't want you, Cas? Do you think I'm lying, that I'm messing with you? I don't care if you're human or an angel or whatever. You're Cas. You're just..." He shrugs, the momentum leaving him all in a rush. He looks away. "You're Cas."
Cas doesn't say anything and Dean's not exactly sure what his outburst accomplished, if anything, but he feels better. Then, Cas hooks a finger through one of his belt loops and pulls. Dean sits back down beside him. "You know," Cas says conversationally, looking back out to the stars, "if I did regain some power, I wouldn't be quite so human anymore. I'd be superhuman."
"Dude." Dean grins. "You'd be like Superman." Cas smiles back. "Wait, though. What the hell would that make me: Lois Lane?" Cas laughs, then, so hard his whole body moves with it, and Dean feels a little light-headed.
"No," Cas says. "You're Batman."
"Yeah." Dean bumps his shoulder companionably. "I'm Batman."
Cas stands up then, looking serious. Dean isn't sure what causes the change so suddenly. "That night, with the banshees..." He makes a pained face and something in Dean aches for him. "When I awoke, I found these." He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a handful of seeds. "I believe this is Demeter wishes to be honored."
Dean looks skeptical. "Are you going to plant them?"
"Yes. And Dean..." Cas smiles like he has a secret and Dean wants, painfully and viscerally, to go over and kiss the hell out of him. "When dawn breaks, come find me. I'll be out here."
When Cas said "find me" Dean hadn't really thought he'd actually have to do much looking. He wakes up to an alarm right about the time the sun rises. Second day in a row, he thinks, shaking his head, but he knows Cas'll make it worth it. At least he better, or Dean's going to kick his ass. He pulls on his clothes and heads outside.
Where, instead of the normal salvage yard, there is a huge expanse of wheat.
It's wheat.
Dean's not really sure what to make of that.
"Uh, Cas?" he calls, half unsure. "You in there somewhere?"
"This way, Dean," Cas calls back. "Follow my voice."
It's about five and a half feet tall, he guesses, so he should be able to see Cas over it, at least the top of his head, but there's no sign of him. Dean plunges into the wheat anyway, though, hoping that the Cas he's hearing isn't some weird mirage. He gets to the center, though, and there's a big circle, the stalks pressed down. It's just like a crop circle, and Dean wonders what the hell exactly it is Demeter wanted to be thanked with.
Castiel is sitting there, though, his legs folded, a bowl of ash in front of him.
"It's done," he says, standing up and wiping his hands. He looks up at Dean. Dean stares back, watches as Cas's eyes go dark. And okay, the wheat? Whatever Cas had burning? Dean doesn't get that at all. But this? The warmth in his belly, the tension curling up around them, the way Cas's breath gets heavy and the front of his jeans gets tight?
Dean knows exactly how to deal with that.
xxx
"Dean?" Sam pushes wheat out of the way, parting it on either side as he stumbles through the new growth. He has no idea what the hell's going on, and neither does Bobby. But he does know Dean is missing, and that sure as fuck is not going to fly. "Dean?" he tries again. "Are you here?"
He can see something up ahead, just over the stalks. He continues forward and pushes through into a flat circle in the center of the yard. And he finds Dean, all right. Cas, too.
Because they're there. And they are really, really obviously having sex in front of him.
"Ahh!" Sam screams and stumbles back, covering his eyes with his forearm. "What the hell, guys?! Are you just... You're having sex. With each other. In the middle of a field of wheat."
Dean laughs, hard, his arms spread out on the ground like wings and his legs wrapped around Cas's sides.
Cas is scarcely more composed, one hand around Dean's cock and the other pressed against the handprint he made on Dean's shoulder. It is an image Sam could have gone his entire life without seeing.
"You are very perceptive," Cas says. Dean just keeps laughing.
Sam turns around so his back is to them. "Don't laugh, Dean," he snaps. "You just disappeared. Me and Bobby were worried when we couldn't find you. And how did... How did this wheat get here, anyway?"
"It is my offering to Demeter," Cas explains. Dean makes a noise that suggests they have continued their activities despite Sam's presence. He really, really, really hopes that isn't true.
"Oh, well. That's fine, then," Sam says, knowing - and not caring - that he sounds pissy. "Hey, Bobby!" he calls, "It's fine! I found Dean. He's just here, fucking Cas, in a field of Demeter's wheat!"
That's apparently enough to make Dean burst out again, raucously, and this time Cas joins him. Sam wants brain bleach and maybe something to gouge out his eyes, but hearing them laughing together tells him that this is good. That, whatever else they might be - and since they are fucking outside on wheat meant to honor a goddess Sam is going to add disgusting and possibly stupid to the top of that list - they're happy.
Dean's happy. And that's enough for Sam.
"I'm going inside," he says. "You can just..." He waves a hand vaguely in their direction. "You know what? I don't care. I don't care what you do. I'm going inside."
Dean's still laughing as Sam walks away, and Cas kisses the corner of his mouth, warm and wet.
"You know, there were probably better ways to break this to him."
"Yes," Cas says, biting hard at Dean's jaw. "But... We can worry about that later."
He digs his fingernails into Dean's skin, his hand fitted over his handprint. Dean gasps. Yeah, he thinks, feeling Cas's hips snap, pushing into him. Later.
They have all the laters in the world.
FIN.
~~~