the strongest among you may not wear a crown
Title: the strongest among you may not wear a crown
Author: angelic_x_demon
Pairings: mainly Dean/Castiel, but lots of mentions of Wincest (Dean/Sam), Sam/Gabriel, Dean/Castiel/Sam, Dean/Sam brotherly, Sam/Castiel
Characters: Dean, Castiel, Sam, Gabriel, Raphael
Word Count: 5600
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: mentions of sex, violence, language, asphixiation
Notes: written from 50 words challenge, originally posted in chapter form on fanfiction.net
Disclaimer: Don't own Supernatural, title from Citizen/Soldier by Three Doors Down
beyond boundaries, stand heroes waiting
#01 - Ring
It's dark, almost too dark, and quiet, so it's kind of strange that he doesn't notice the glimmering white of the holy salt ring before he steps in it. A startled sound keens low in his throat and he glances up, startled, eyes dark as midnight, hands outstretched, as he tries and fails to escape the Devil's Trap.
His brother and the angel turn to look at him, his green eyes dim and those blue ones light but solemn. They turn away together, walking side by side, shoulders touching.
"Dean?" His voice is broken, desperate.
The green eyes that turn to look at him are too bright, too sad. "Sorry, Sammy."
#02 - Hero
One would never guess that the two men driving away from town to town in the classic Chevy Impala that can speak to each other without words, simply a twitch of the eyebrows, a meeting of green and hazel eyes, are brothers, as codependent as they are.
But Castiel knows better. He knows these two brothers, with their erotic relationship that is a sin. Castiel should be disgusted, repelled even. He would've been, before. But Castiel has fallen far. Now all he sees is two broken heroes trying to gain a grip on their world and lives before it all comes crashing fantastically down.
#03 - Memory
He's with Ruby when it happens. She's biting along his jaw, licking at his scruff, and they're well on their way to having no boundaries in between. Just skin on skin.
He hears the knock on the door, and the gruff, "Sammy!" and freezes. Ruby stops immedietely, eyes wide, full lips parted in shock. When she opens the door, his eyes pop, adrenaline rushing through his system.
"Dean," he breathes, and he pulls him into his arms, the sweet musk scent filling his nostrils, an old memory finally untrapped from the dark recesses of his grieving mind.
#04 - Box
They're laying together, limbs entwined and tangled together, relaxed and slightly sticky when Dean shifts to put away the lube, and he stops, breath huffing softly in curiosity. Beside him, Sam stiffens, an audible swallow heard.
"Sam?" Dean picks up the velvet square, eyes huge and too bright.
Sam lets out an explosive breath, jaw clenching. "It was for Jessica." Dean's eyes grow brighter, if possible, in understanding, and cradles Sam's head when the first tear rolls down his face, and it's like a dam breaking, the full force of his waterfall sadness following right after. The fingers of one hand clench, knuckles white around the velvet holding something that could end their card scamming days forever, but will never have the chance to do that.
#05 - Run
"No, Sam, I know you! I know how you are! Right when things get real bad, so bad you just can't handle it, you run! Like how you ran away from us all those years to go to college," Dean holds up his hands at Sam's furious gaze. "Don't look at me like that. Hell, I'm proud you went to college but you can't deny that yeah maybe some of it was the want to get a college education, but the other part was you wanted to get away from this family. Dad, the memory of Mom, me." Dean narrows his eyes, breathing hard, fists clenched and jaw tense.
Suddenly, his stance droops, the fight abruptly slipping away from him. He looks up at his brother, eyes dim and sad. "Just...stay, Sam. Stop running, for once, and stay. Here. With me."
There's a brief moment of silence, and then, Sam nods.
#06 - Hurricane
If being Castiel's vessel is like being chained to a comet, being Lucifer's is the equivalent of riding a weather storm, a hurricane, all deceptive calm and sudden, explosive force.
But if being Lucifer's vessel is like riding a hurricane, killing your brother on said hurricane is like a twister coming through and ripping the storm apart, at once calming it and destroying it.
#07 - Wings
He doesn't know how he could have fallen far enough to have actually let the Winchester brothers lure him, seduce him into removing his clothes, laying soft kisses along his neck and collarbone, butterfly kisses on his nose and cheeks. All he knows is that it happened, and it's happening again, less frantic but more passionate, Dean's gruff voice and beautiful soul lighting up in ways he thought it couldn't and Sam's predatory gaze and hidden darkness giving way to soft happiness and indulgent romance.
They are entangled together and the angel is stuck in between them, body writhing, breath catching, eyes rolling back into his head so much that he misses the meaningful look pass between the two hunters.
Suddenly, he feels a harsh tongue and sharp teeth graze along his shoulder blades and he keens, flexible spine arching high into the air.
"Show us them," the voice of his marked human breathes into his ear and he trembles at Sam's soft murmur of agreement, his long fingers stroking his back soothingly, achingly. Castiel's body shakes at their implication, but he doesn't feel any hesitation when he agrees, slowly extracting himself from their arms. He closes his eyes, tenses, and in one smooth fluid motion, unfurls his wings, feathers satiny and so dark they appear violet and green like the aurora borealis.
He opens his eyes and...they are much closer than they used to be, irises filled with awe and something much more carnal, sending an elictric bolt of lust straight through him. When their hands tangle into the feathers, he goes weak-kneed, and finds that he's held up by both front and back.
Later, he finds that the brothers Winchester will stay that way, keeping him up as he falls.
#08 - Cold
Sam thought he could handle it. After all, it isn't like this is a surprise. There'd been a whole damn year of forewarning.
But that doesn't change the fact that he's crying as he holds his brother's cold, still body, blood still warm, eyes dim and unseeing.
#09 - Red
Red is Sam's favorite color. Not for the reasons you'd think because all that came after the fact. No, it's his favorite color for two reasons.
1. It's the color of Dean's lips after sex, all rosy and kiss-swelled, feminine and beautiful.
and,
2. Since the addition of Cas to Team Free Will, in more ways than one, it's the color of the flush on his cheeks when they finish with him, and he's limp and languid, completely debauched.
#10 - Drink
"Thanks," he grins at the bartender and winks, watching her blush and stammer away. Turning away from her to look at the stoic person beside him, he hands him the martini while sipping his own beer.
The angel looks at it and back to Dean quizzically, and Dean rolled his eyes.
"Drink it, Cas. It's good." Castiel tilts his head and picks it up, long fingers gripping the stem delicately, and Dean has a minute where he imagines those slender digits wrapping around something else before squirming uncomfortably and gulping down some of his beer.
Castiel sniffs the drink, then-dear God-sticks his pink tongue out to lap at the edge, and Dean almost has a heart attack, chugging down his beer like there's no tomorrow (which, funny enough...) and waving down the bartendress to get him another before he launches himself at Cas. When he turns back to him, the angel is finally taking a delicate sip, and he watches as those big blue eyes widen and then flutter closed, warm, contented sigh spilling between his parted pink lips. Castiel takes another sip, and then another and another, failing to hear that strangled moan from beside him, so immersed was he in the taste and burning feeling down his throat.
When he turns to look at his companion, he finds him with his pretty green eyes nearly blown black and pouted lips parted soundlessly, hand gripping his beer glass so hard his knuckles are white. Castiel tilts his head.
"Are you alright, Dean?" He asks, unaware of the blaringly obvious fact that no, Dean was not alright.
always ready, always there
#11 - Midnight
The world almost ends at midnight, the cliché making him want to roll his eyes so hard Sam bitchfaces at him. It ends sort of anticlimatically, what with God swooping in and saving the day in the form of Chuck.
(I know, lame as hell, right?)
After a stern talking to, the two angelic brothers disappear and God-Chuck-Whatever turns to look at them, solemn and smelling slightly of booze. All Dean wants to do is yell, scream, punch, something at this figure who didn't show up until the last possible second, making a man lose his legs, an angel lose faith, a brother lose his sanity, and himself lose everyone, but he doesn't do any of that. He just sits and looks at him, feeling the comfort of having his brother right beside him, and his angel's soft hand intertwined with his.
#12 - Temptation
Castiel is sin wrapped in innocence, all lithe and lean with deceptively naive blue eyes and pretty full lips. His voice is sex dripping with childlike curiosity, body hard and sharp with long, tapering fingers and fluffed, toussled hair. He's all supposed good soldier with a surprising rogue spirit, a laugh that's barely there and a smile that wrinkles his nose, and a cute characteristic head tilt.
Dean is positive that Castiel was sent to tempt him back into Hell.
#13 - View
He is observing again, or as Dean would say, lurking. But Castiel doesn't like the negative connotations with that word, so he chooses to say observing.
The Winchester brothers are having a quiet moment on the Impala, sharing a beer and a few laughs, gazing at the stars. Bobby joins a few minutes later, wheeling softly out beside them, drinking as well.
The angel watches for awhile, feeling a soft smile as he sees the contentment rolling off of them like waves. Suddenly, Dean looks up.
"Cas, get down here you feathery bastard and come have a drink with us!" He hollers, Castiel blinks in surprise but does as he says (always, always for Dean) landing lightly next to them. Nobody jumps and Dean silently hands him a beer, grinning.
It's the day before the plan to stop Lucifer, but no one would know from the scene unfolding in their view.
#14 - Music
Carry on my wayward son
There'll be peace when you are done
Lay your weary head to rest
Don't you cry no more.
Dean looks at his brother sleeping quietly next to him in shotgun seat of the car for the first time in six months, and turns the music down.
#15 - Silk
Gabriel's silvery white wings feel soft and satiny, like finely woven silk in his fingers, and his moans are music to his ears. The tall hunter threads his fingers through them intently, as if he could sew a story in the silk thread of those feathers.
#16 - Cover
"Sammy, run," Dean cried, eyes never leaving the powerful demon with eyes only for his younger brother.
"I'm not leaving without you, Dean." Sam had no right to be that calm, that composed when Dean himself was flipping a shit.
Dean grunted, eyes wild and crazed as the demon's female body zeroed in on the younger Winchester, eyes dark and malicious. As if from from away, he saw the girl's hands rise up, fingers pointing to the tall hunter, eyes growing blacker. His bleary eyes made out Sam being slowly lifted up, hands clawing at the invisible restraint on his neck.
He felt his legs move, slamming straight into Sam, pulling him up and taking off, legs carrying them both as far as they could go. The demon bitch was fast, almost at Sam's heels, so he tackled his younger brother into an old dilapidated building, cradling his shaking head as they ducked for cover.
#17 - Promise
"You said you wouldn't start drinking the demon blood again," Dean says, eyes downcast and sad. Sam snarls at him from the inside of the Devil's Trap, trying vainly to break free, eyes flickering yellow and black.
#18 - Dream
Dean's body arched into his, neck bared submissively as a low whimper fell from his throat. Castiel pressed his lips to the salty skin, licking and nipping his way down, biting hard on his collarbone. Dean spasmed underneath him, fingers scrabbling for purchase on the lithe form above him, finally finding it in the tent in the angel's trousers. He cupped the erection, and Castiel gasped, eyes flying wide open, pupils shot.
"Dean," he sighed.
"Yeah, Cas?" The angel blinked, slowly washing sleep from his eyes. He looked down at his pants, feeling discomfort, and looked up soon after, eyes huge and confused.
Dean's smirk widened. "What were you dreaming about, angel?"
#19 - Candle
"Happy birthday, Cas!"
The angel tilted his head, examining the pastry with the flickering candle astride it.
"But, it is not my birthday, Sam." The tall hunter grinned, sheepish, hair flipped in front of his eyes.
"It's the day you pulled Dean from Hell. The day we met you. We kinda consider it your birthday."
The angel binked.
"I-I'm honored. Thank you," Castiel breathed, small smile adorning his face. Sam's face reddened.
"Uh, yeah, no problem. Dean said he wanted to be here when you blew out the candles, so we'll wait for him. Is that okay?"
Castiel nodded, eyes never leaving the slowly flickering flame that marked the two year anniversery of pulling Dean from Hell.
#20a - Talent
"Jesus, Dean," Sam gasped, fingers gripping at his brother's short hair, as he did things with his tongue that should have been downright illegal.
underneath my wing, you can rest
#20b - Talent
See, Dean's got this ability, this completely unfair thing he can do this his tongue, and when his knees hit the ground, the adrenaline from nearly dying making him frantic and needy, pawing at the jeans and sliding them down, mouth hot and insistent on him...well, who is he to say no to that?
Anyone with half a brain could see he's got something special, pretty green eyes, and feminine lips hiding a not-so-clean tongue, one that can do wicked, wicked things.
#21 - Silence
Sam's gone, Castiel's gone, he's not talking to Bobby, everyone's left him. Like always.
And there is quiet at the end of the Apocalypse that didn't happen, a stillness he knows he'll never be able to stand.
#22 - Journey
There are two brothers in the front seat and an angel in the back and they ride off in the sleek, black '67 Impala, sun setting behind them.
#23 - Fire
The rain hits his face and he turns to look up, closing his eyes at the cool liquid sliding down his hair, soaking up his skin. The flames surrounding him flicker and die out, but he stays inside the circle, thinking on two humans and a renegade brother, wondering what makes them so special.
Miles, states, away, an angry scream fills the air as an unruly archangel gets schooled by a lowly human and an angel much less powerful than him.
#24 - Strength
There's a quiet sort of strength in him, always present in an unnoticeable away, but people can sense a sort of off-ness about him. Maybe his eyes are too blue? His hair too shiny? Nobody can really put a name to it, they just know he's different.
Usually, they just pass him over like he's nothing, but he prefers it that way, because then when he whips out his knife, gleaming sharply in the night, shadowed wings unfurled and alien strength in his actions, nobody sees it coming, so he walks away victorious.
#25 - Mask
A cocky smirk crosses his face, lollipop in his mouth, caramel hair and eyes flickering in the light. The tall hunter only looks at him in his quiet, searching way, and the cracks in his cover give way under that stare, like they always do.
He needs to work on his poker face, for goodness sake.
#26 - Ice
They're polar opposites, like the hottest fire to the coldest icicle, Castiel's cold demeanor hiding a passionate soul, Dean's fiery stance covering a broken, icy heart.
Together, they warm each other up, cool each other down; whichever they do it seems to work, to the bewilderment of people around them.
#27 - Fall
Liquid trickling down his back, pain, pain, oh so much pain. He's screaming, high, broken, and animal-like, thrashing on the ground. Strong arms wrap around him, hand stroking through his hair.
"What's wrong; what's wrong?" The voice is nearly unrecognizable in its frantic state and Castiel wants nothing more than to help him, but all he can do is lay in those arms as his feathers fall off one by one, invisible blood running down his back.
#28 - Forgotten
It's dark down in the cage, and, tired of the two fighting archangels, Sam curls up next to Adam's quiet form, looking up, hoping, praying that Dean is up there remembering.
#29 - Dance
"C'mere, Cas," Sam laughs, watching the way he's looking at Dean twirling that girl around.
"Sam?" The angel questions, curiousity in his tone.
Sam grins, for the first time in a long time, happy. "I'm gonna teach you how to do that."
He pulls him in close, hand on a sharp hip, and Castiel molds himself to him, picking up the steps very quickly. Sam hears Castiel's purr of contentment and meets Dean's eyes, who's looking at him with fire in his eyes. Sam smirks and winks at him.
#30 - Body
"Holy shit, holy shit, Cas." Dean's voice is high, terrified and frantic.
"Dean, calm down," Sam says, hand on his shoulder. Dean rips away from him, flipping around, eyes flashing.
"Are you seriously asking me to calm down? Did you see what just happened? That thing ripped him apart, Sam! I can't just calm down." His breathing is heavy and too fast, dark spots gathering behind his eyelids.
"No, seriously, Dean, calm down or you're going to pass out. You're hyperventilating and you can't do anything for him if you're not conscious." And that gets to Dean's head, causing him to force his breathing to slow down, heart slowly calming its stuttering, staccato beats. A flutter of wings fills the room, and the smell of ozone permeats the air.
Dean whirls around.
"Holy shit, Cas, how the fuck are you whole?" The angel looks at him, head tilted to the side.
"This is only a physical body, Dean. I can heal it from whatever damage."
And Dean just laughs, loud and hysterical as Castiel looks at him worriedly, eyes flickering from Sam to him. Sam shrugs.
citizen soldiers hold light, guiding
#31 - Sacred
He won't touch him. He won't touch the creature with the slack mouth and guileless blue eyes because he's too innocent, too pure for someone like him.
#32 - Farewells
There's a flutter of wings, an odor of ozone and spring rain.
"You really suck at goodbyes, you know that?"
#33a - World
"I hate Ireland," Dean grumbles, hunched further in to the airplane seat.
"You hate everything, Dean."
"Do not!"
"Well, we could've just gotten Angel Express." The horrified look on Dean's face says it all.
#33b - World
The two brothers writhed and twisted, bodies covering in a dripping sheen of sweat and muscles rippling under the strain of holding each other back. They bit and licked and kissed and fucked, bodies so intertwined they were nearly one, as the world burned around them.
#34 - Formal
"You look like a bonified flasher, Cas."
The angel looks halfway between miffed and confused.
"A suit is perfectly fine for an occasion like this."
"Yeah, but not with a trench coat," Dean laughs and swings an arm around Castiel's shoulders, leading him into the federal building.
" #35 - Fever
The man with the flyaway hair appears out of nowhere and immediately zeroes in on the flushed face of the younger Winchester. He's whimpering, eyeballs rolling erratically under his fluttering eyelids.
Silent as a cat, he stalks towards him and puts his hand on Sam's forehead, stroking back his sweaty hair. He murmurs some soothing words and the tall hunter stops fidgeting, breath easing restfully. Just as suddenly as he came, he leaves, the fluttering of wings the only sound to be heard.
#36 - Laugh
It starts small, a low shaking sound starting deep in his gut, and turns bigger and louder, a clear peal of laughter, all hoarse sound and happy bells clanging. He's all contrast, dark hair and pale skin, bright blue eyes wide open in surprise at the foreign sound coming from himself.
The two Winchester brothers look at him, Dean's eyebrow raised and Sam's mouth open. Then they both break into wide grins themselves.
#37 - Lies
"Enough with the lies, Sam." The tall hunter looks at his brother, furrowing his eyebrows.
"Yeah, you heard me. I'm so tired of your bullshit. You think I don't know what you're doing when you leave in the middle of the night? I'm not fucking stupid, no matter how dumb you think I am." Sam swallows and turns away, unable to come up with any excuse.
#38 - Forever
"Sam?"
"Yeah, Jess?" He says, looking down at the blonde girl curled in his arms, one hand on his chest, the other making small patterns on his arm.
"Stay with me?" Her blue eyes are huge and a little timid and she looks quickly back down at his chest. He wraps his arms even tighter around her.
"Always," he says.
The next night Dean breaks into their apartment.
#39 - Overwhelmed
"I can't, I can't, I can't, I can't." His voice is harsh and deep, breaking slightly at random moments, body writhing out of control.
"Dean," he whimpers, face pressing into the man's collarbone, breath skittering hotly against his skin. The man makes a soothing murmuring sound, mouth pressing against his dark hair while his hand makes an expert twist that has Castiel keening.
"I can't, Dean. It's too much, too much, I-Dean, Dean, DeanDeanDeanDean." He whimpers, crying out sharply against the intense emotion, the sense of smell, taste, touch.
#40 - Whisper
The true end of the world didn't end with a bang, but instead with a whimper.
Just like the end of all creation didn't begin with a hoarse, loud shout and an army of soldiers, but instead with one sole man, a dead angel by his side and a brother too hyped up on demon blood to care, whispering.
"Yes."
strongest among you may not wear a crown
#41 - Wait
When Castiel left, all he asked for in return was for Dean to wait for him.
So he did.
#42 - Talk
"Dean."
"No, Sam."
"Dean."
"Sam! How many times do I gotta tell you, no chick flick moments?"
"You have to talk, Dean," he says, mouth pressed in a thin line, eyes narrowed and nostrils flared. "You can't keep everything buried inside. Just quit with the emotionally stunted thing, and talk to me."
Dean looks at him, eyes wide and huge and terrified, hands shaking as he sits down on the bed, warm presence of his brother holding him as he breaks down.
#43 - Search
"Raphael, you dick, what'd you do to him? Where is he, you motherfucker?" Dean snarls, grabbing at the crisp, pressed shirt of the archangel, eyes wild, mouth pressed in a tight line.
The angel growls, power whiplashing around the room, barely contained in that small, frail vessel of a man.
"Like I would tell you, you puny, insignificant human." Dean smirks, eyes gone dark and cold and laughs, the sound harsh and terrifying in the crackling silence. Raphael lifts an eyebrow, fury emanating from his very core, burning holy oil barley containing him.
"Oh, I think you will," he murmurs, and Raphael opens his mouth, about to say something when he feels something cold and slightly slimy splash over him. He whirls around, sputtering.
Behind him, Sam smirks and lights a match, and the archangel's eyes widen.
And hours later, a blue-eyed angel appears, wet, cold and bedraggled, as the green-eyed hunter curls him to his chest and walks away, leaving the tall one to light the match.
#44 - Hope
"You think we can make it?"
"If there was anyone in the world who could make this plan work, it'd be you two, Dean."
And Dean smiles genuinely for the first time in a long time.
#45 - Eclipse
"Hey, bright eyes, you gonna quit lurkin' and join me or what?"
Seconds later the sound of ruffled feathers and the smell of sharp ozone fills the air, and Dean grins, gesturing at the hood of the Impala.
"What are you doing, Dean?" The angel asks as he graceful slides next to the hunter.
Dean slits his eyes against the dark sky, stars bright and shining.
"You ever seen an eclipse from the human's view?" Castiel shakes his head.
Dean snorts, "Yeah, me either. Today's gonna be the first one for another 150 years." The blue-eyed being raises an eyebrow and Dean looks at him.
Stay with me, he doesn't say.
He doesn't need to.
#46 - Gravity
"Do you understand the importance of this challenge, Dean?"
Dean licks his lips, swallows, and nods, and Death hands him the ring.
#47 - Highway
The sandy, dry road leading to nowhere is home to two brothers, an Impala, and occasionally a renegade angel sitting in the backseat.
#48 - Unknown
"Where are we, Gabe?" Sam's voice is hushed and reverant, gazing at the lush palm tree leaves and the glittering, rolling waves.
"It's whatever you want it to be, Sammy," the archangel-turned-trickster says, and reaches over to entertwine their fingers.
#49 - Lock
Those slender, long fingers grasp the pin delicately, slipping it into the doorknob. Blue eyes narrow and a pink tongue slips out of full, soft lips as delicate brows furrow.
The only sound is of soft breathing and quick pants.
Moments later, a click sounds and the dark-haired man stands up, gliding graceful to the broad-shouldered, green-eyed person and handing him the pins, smirking lightly.
Who knew angels were such damn good lock-pickers?
#50 - Breathe
His eyes are huge, pupils dark and heavy in aqua-filled orbs, panting harsh and loud against the ground, body curled up in the fetal position. His slender fingers are gripping that unruly black hair tightly, torso vibrating with the whimpers of pain.
"Cas. Cas!" Through a haze of fear-induced nausea, two pairs of hands grip his shoulders and waist, lifting him up and putting him on something soft and musk-scented.
"Hey, hey, buddy, look up. Cas, look up at me. We're not gonna hurt you; you just gotta trust us." Swallowing convulsively, he curls in even tighter, whining high and keening in his throat.
"Castiel, look up, please," the voice is calm and deep and familiar but not as panicked as the other voice. He licks his lips, lifting his head slowly, meeting the deep brown-grey eyes of Samuel Winchester.
"Hey, you're back," he says softly, reaching a large hand to grip his shoulder. He shies away, flinching and scooting back, right into the warmth of another body, smelling of leather, sweat, musk and spice.
It's very familiar, so he curls into it, fingers gripping at the flannel shirt.
"Hey, shh, it's just Sam. He's not going to hurt you, Cas." The angel's eyes are wide and dark, throat constricting in and out as he swallows, fingers clenching and unclenching in the shirt. He's panting harshly, mouth cottony and vision going blurry at the edges.
"Oh my God, Cas, please, please chill. Breathe for me, buddy. Breathe. Look at me, Cas." Blue eyes meet green.
"Breathe for me," his voice soft and hushed, hands squeezing trembling ones firmly, finger at the angel's chin swiping softly at the rough stubble. His breath stutters, stops.
And he inhales, and breathes.
we'll always be ready because we will awlays be there.
aaaand that's it! I'd love feedback, please and thank you!