Hymns of Angels Don't Sound Like This Chapter 13
Title: Hymns Of Angels Don't Sound Like This
Authors: azimmermann & bodiesnotourown
Artist: kassiopeiar
Fandom/Genre: Supernatural, High School AU
Rating: NC-17
Chapter Word Count: 4642
Warnings: Language, physical violence, and blowjobs. :)
It was both the longest, and shortest drive of Castiel’s life. His mouth was tingling and he felt a little high from the roller coaster the night had been. He wasn’t sure how it happened, but before he knew it, they had made out of the car and into his bedroom.
Dean had Castiel pressed up against the door and they were breathing one another’s air. Castiel’s fingers were tugging on the belt loops of the other boy’s jeans. Dean’s hands were on the singer’s shirt, unbuttoning the vest and dress shirt Anna had made him wear, sliding them off his shoulders and onto the floor. He all but ripped Dean’s shirt off of him, mouthing over his neck and shoulders.
When Dean finally rid Castiel of the many layers he had on, Castiel delighted in the feel of skin against skin. Dean put out an incredible amount of heat. It made his memories of being with Crowley seem cold and almost clinical. He and Dean hadn’t had much of a chance to go past kissing as his siblings were always around and Bobby and Ellen frequently checked to make sure they were actually studying. Not to mention his recent inability to be intimate…so when Dean’s fingers, roughened from working on cars, dug into the meat of his shoulders he was a little surprised at the pleased moan that came out of him.
He kneaded his fingertips along Dean’s hips, tipping his head to allow for Dean’s mouth to close over the spot where his neck met his shoulder, his knees going weak at the sensation. He pushed his leg in-between Dean’s thighs and leaned in until they were flush with one another. It didn’t last long, however, as Dean succeeded in undoing Castiel’s pants and pushing them off of his hips and down over his knees.
He watched in petrified awe as Dean kissed his way slowly down Castiel’s chest and stomach, never breaking eye contact. A thread of panic lit in him but he quashed it down. This wasn’t Crowley. It was Dean and Dean was nothing like Crowley. His heart rate dropped from frightened rabbit back down to the excited teenage boy range; which really wasn’t that much of a difference when Dean’s mouth closed hot and wet over his erection straining against the fabric of his boxers.
He paused, green eyes questioning, waiting for a sign of assent. The only things Castiel could do was run his hand through Dean’s hair and pushing him ever-so-gently closer. He could feel Dean’s grin against his pelvis as he mouthed at the fabric, gripping it in his teeth and pulling it down enough to expose the head of Castiel’s cock. Fingers hooked around the top band and tugged the cloth down in tandem with Dean’s tongue flicking playfully over the head. Castiel inhaled sharply and groaned, easing himself back against the door for support.
Dean glanced up but didn’t stop, his hands returning to Castiel’s hips where they played over the planes of his hip bones and the swell of his ass. The sensation of Dean’s tongue running along the length of his dick was almost too much and it only got better when he took him into his mouth in one long slide.
Dean was nothing like Crowley.
For starters he was always moving, sliding his reddened lips tightly along the skin of Castiel’s cock, sucking at the head with a slight, exciting drag of teeth. He used his hands, along with his mouth, stroking along the shaft matching the motions. Not to mention that thing he did in the back of his throat, Castiel’s knees almost gave out with that little surprise.
It didn’t take long before Castiel whined and pulled at Dean’s hair; unable to form more than basic sounds but Dean understood and pulled slowly away, lingering over the head for an extra few seconds. Castiel bent down to meet him halfway with a kiss, fingers cupped under Dean’s jaw. It was sweet and slow when Dean’s arms wrapped around him and pulled him close eliciting a sigh from Castiel. He was so lost in the flurry of heated kisses that he didn’t notice them going backwards until the back of his legs hit the edge of his bed and Dean lowered him onto it. He looked up at Dean, leaning over him and pulled him closer by hooking his foot behind Dean’s leg. Dean laced his fingers with Castiel’s and it was okay until he pinned his arms above his head and settled down to continue kissing Castiel.
With that it was simply not okay anymore. He sucked in a few panicked breaths, shook his hands out of Dean’s grasp and shoved, hard, all but throwing Dean from the bed and he scrambled backwards until the head-board’s cold wood pressed into his naked back. His mind blanked for a few precious seconds, pulse skittering wildly and hands trembling.
Dean stood from where he had landed with his hands out and slowly approached Castiel like he was a skittish animal.
“Cas? Cas? Hey.” He moved closer, settling carefully on the edge of the bed. “Hey,” he whispered reaching up to gently cupped Castiel’s cheek and turned his head to look at him. “What’s going on? Did I do something wrong?”
Castiel met his eyes and then looked away quickly. He felt too vulnerable, too exposed and raw.
“No. I’m sorry, it’s okay.”
Dean didn’t seem to buy it. “You know if I hurt you, you can tell me, right? I’m not going to be offended.”
Castiel tried to shove down everything he was feeling. He was with Dean, not Crowley. Dean not Crowley. He repeated it to himself. It was just that the weight of Dean’s body holding him down and having his arms pinned was too much. He couldn’t help the sudden claustrophobia.
“Castiel.”
Dean’s concerned tone snapped him back to the present and when he met his eyes again, he could read all of the worry, growing fear, and worst of all the horrified suspicion. He was still gentle when he gripped Castiel’s shoulders.
“Cas, what’s happening here? What are you not telling me?”
God he didn’t want Dean to know. It was bad enough he knew that Castiel wasn’t able to stop the beating, but it was so much worse. He knew it was irrational but he was afraid the truth would disgust Dean. Make him never want to touch him again. He felt broken and worthless; he couldn’t even be intimate with his boyfriend properly. Dean shook him slightly to bring his focus back outwards and Castiel found himself unable to look at him as he cleared his throat and tore the lies apart.
It hit him like a sucker punch to the gut. His breathing quickened and he sucked in air like a drowning man. Castiel stared at him, eyes wide and panicked.
“Dean, wait.” Castiel reached out to grab his hand but Dean stumbled backward and ran for the bathroom. A wave of nausea hit him and he collapsed to his knees and emptied the contents of his stomach into the toilet.
Oh god...oh god, oh god. Cas...it couldn’t be true...
He still felt like he couldn’t get enough air. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and turned back to look at Cas, huddled miserably on the bed.
“Please, tell me it’s not true.” Cas didn’t meet his eyes, instead stared down at his hands resting on the sheets.
“Why?” he croaked, “Why didn’t you say anything before now?” Still no answer. “Cas, he deserves to, at least, go to jail if I don’t kill him myself.” Anger was quickly replacing the sheer anxiety. Seeing his boyfriend’s shaking frame, his fury rose hot in his chest. He stood, pulled on his shirt and jeans and made for the door. He heard the rustle of sheets and a thud as Castiel jumped off the bed and scrambled after him.
“Dean, no! You can’t!” He stopped cold and turned slowly to face Castiel. Some of the bruises weren’t completely healed, still mottling his skin with sickly looking splotches, more reminders of Crowley.
“I can’t? No, Cas, no. This is nuts! He raped you!” It hurt to watch Castiel flinch and stare at the ground. He moved forward and cupped Castiel’s face in his hands, forcing him to meet his eyes. “Baby, please...” He pleaded with Castiel. “He hurt you. Badly. He should have been punished for the beating. This is...this is just.” Nausea rolled his stomach again and Castiel’s eyes filled with tears. “You have to let me do this.”
“I can’t,” he whispered. Dean recoiled as if struck.
Oh god.
“You-you’re telling me you still love him?”
Not me.
He dropped his arms to his sides as the world shifted out of place.
“Dean, no. That’s not-” He shuddered, “I didn’t say that.”
“No, but I can see it in your face! How can you still feel that way?! He’s a monster, Cas. He deserves to be put down. I don’t understand.” The tears spilled down Castiel’s cheeks.
“It’s not something that I can just turn off, Dean. You have to understand that.” He made an abortive attempt to reach for Dean but paused at how tensely Dean was standing.
“So, after all this,” he gestured between them. “After us, you would still pick the guy who treated you like shit, beat you, and raped you?” Dean could hear his own tears thickening his voice. “You would still pick that bastard, over me?” God it hurt so badly. Every breath was like swallowing acid. How could he have been so stupid? He should have known Castiel would never pick him. He should have known. He was just the new kid. He was just something new, different, a fling. He couldn’t possibly mean enough to Castiel that he would matter more. He laughed bitterly and Castiel cringed again.
What did it say that Castiel would pick an abusive rapist over him? He laughed again, feeling as if his body was ripping apart at the seams.
“Am I just a rebound to you? Is that it?” He spit out the words.
“No!” Cas sobbed, “Dean...stop...” Castiel sounded far too distant in Dean’s head. He could hear the pain and the effect his meltdown was having on him but he couldn’t stop. It wasn’t enough. He wasn’t enough. Christ he was stupid, so stupid to think that this was more than a fling to Cas. He had rebounded after girlfriends before. He felt sick, being on the other side. He sucked in a few deep breaths and straightened, turning back to face the door. He stared at it, sheer will disguising the agony he was feeling.
“It’s okay, Cas. I get it. It’s fine. I just...let myself get carried away with thinking this was something it’s not.” He scrubbed a hand over his face, wiping away tracks left by tears so Castiel wouldn’t see them and tossed an empty smile over his shoulder. He pulled open the door; before he could leave Castiel’s arm shot past him and slammed the door shut.
“You goddamn idiot.” Castiel growled from his left, “Would you listen to me for a second?” Dean stayed in place; hand still on the doorknob. “You want me to hate him, I get that. I do hate him, part of me.”
“Part?!” He turned back to Castiel, hands balled into fists at his sides. “A guy like that deserves to be locked away for a long while, Cas. That’s how you should feel! You shouldn’t be protecting him!” The hot edge of edge pushed away his tears. Anger he was familiar with. Anger he could handle.
“I’m not-“
“You are! If you’re not then let me go deal with him, right now!”
“Jesus, Dean, you don’t understand!” Arms encircled his waist, holding him in place and he felt Castiel’s forehead press against his shoulders. “You goddamn idiot. Would you listen to me for a second?” The broken whisper cut through his façade, and made his chest feel tight. “I hate him. Part of me hates myself, too, for letting him do this, for not trying hard enough to fight him. But part of me can’t help but care about him, that’s the part that I need you to understand.” All of this came out in a rush between shuddering breaths.
“None of this changes how I feel about you. God, Dean, I’m so messed up. I’m sorry.” Dean’s breath came out slow and shallow, trying to fight the constricting feeling that had moved up to his throat as the tears threatened again. “I didn’t want you to get dragged into this…I just…you were so…I wanted to know you.”
“You’re not messed up.” Dean whispered back, willing his voice not to crack on the words.
“I am. He messed me up bad…” Dean turned around in the circle of Castiel’s arms so that he could see his face. Cas looked at him, blue eyes earnest. “This isn’t just ‘something’, Dean. This is important. You’re important.” He paused, eyes searching Dean’s face for some kind of understanding. “I…don’t know what this is or what’s going to happen, but I like it. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have made it this far. It’s not simple and sometimes it’s still hard, but I wouldn’t…I don’t want it to change because I’m a mess.” The tears Dean had been fighting finally overwhelmed him again.
“Cas…”
“Look, I guess what I’m trying to say is that even though I’m so emotionally fucked up right now, I’m not stopping you for him. I’m stopping you for me. I just want to be done with this, and that’s what I’m trying to do.”
“Cas.” Castiel looked up at him again, confusion written plainly on his face.
“What?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Yes it does, Dean. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. It’s all-“ Dean cupped his face in his hands, quieting Castiel.
“It doesn’t matter. Put it plainly, how do you feel?”
He was quiet for a second before he responded. Dean could see him weighing his emotions. “Terrified.”
“Of what?”
“That you’ll leave.” Dean sighed.
“Someone has to take care of this, Cas, and I would rather it was me. That bastard isn’t going to get away with hurting you.”
“But why does that matter so much? Why can’t you just leave it alone? It’s over and done with.”
Dean managed a smile, “Because, for some crazy reason, I think I’m in love with you. And that’s what you do for people you love. You fix things, you make them better.” As the words left him he felt like he’d finally been freed from a great weight. Castiel stared up at him in silence, why wasn’t he saying anything? Panic shot through him, what if he’d just made a fool of himself? What if he was right about Cas never feeling the same way about him? He’d said it wasn’t just “some thing” but that didn’t mean love. God, seriously?
“You...love me?” Forget it. It is what it is, regardless of the answer.
“Yes.” It was that simple.
“You shouldn’t...”
“Yeah, well, it’s a little late for that.” A small smile played at the corners of Castiel’s mouth.
“This is terrible timing...”
“I never claimed to be impeccable.”
“Oh, shut up, Dean.” Despite the frustration in his tone, Castiel’s smile was full fledged now.
“Not until I get an answer.”
“I think I might love you too.” Dean grinned, leaning in to kiss Castiel deeply.
“I’m glad you said that.”
The fire laps at his skin, the thick black smoke invading his mouth and lungs. He chokes on it as it burns out his voice and he cries, trying to carry the heavy weight of his little brother through the walls of fire and out into the cold yard. He can’t make any sound, but he screams anyways, calling for a mother who can’t be saved. His vision is a blur of orange and black, the fire shifting, and he is fifteen again, breaking down a rotting door with the butt of a fire extinguisher, yelling for his dad. The wood sticks in his hands as it splinters and gives way beneath the metal. He’s pushing through the flames, spraying as wide of a path as possible when he hears the gunshot, breaks through to a living room, and sees blood pumping from in between his Dad’s fingers as he clutches his chest. Dean stares, frozen, his mom’s killer and now dad’s killer is smiling, grinning from ear to ear.
Azazel.
Azazelazazelazazelazazelazazel.
The name is crawling through his brain and out of his mouth and the serial killer’s laugh rings in his ears. A flash of silver and a hole appears in the middle of the arsonist’s head, and when he turns to look at Dean, he can see clear through to the flames licking the walls behind him. For a terrible, hideous moment, he continues to laugh, brain matter dripping down his skin before he reaches for Dean. He closes his eyes in revulsion and when he opens them he is again on a front lawn as a house burns behind him. He is covered in John Winchester’s blood, his hands gripping at his dad’s favorite leather coat, sirens and lights filling all the space in his head.
When the noise clears, Dean is sitting in the Impala next to 12-year-old Sammy, Dean’s new driver’s license between them, and the last call from their case worker yelling at them for not checking in with their foster parents fading. Time is distorted, Sam flicking from 11 to 14, hair and clothing changing too fast for Dean to follow and he cries out for his brother to just give him more time, but it’s useless and inevitably he ends up with Sam’s screams in his ears as he rounds a corner to watch a group of kids kicking him, and the final stomp on his arm, and the sickening snap of bone.
Doctors and nurses fill his vision, ripping a pale and writhing Sam out of his arms.
Where are your parents?
How are you paying for this?
Where is your dad, kid?
How did this happen?
What is your address?
WHY AREN’T YOUR PARENTS HERE?
His scalp stings and he knows he’s been tearing at his hair, eyes red and burning as if the fires are trapped inside of his body now.
Dean, where are your parents?
Why are you alone?
How could you let this happen?
He doesn’t know. Where are Bobby and Ellen? They were here. They are supposed to be there to save them. Dean whips around, eyes scouring the mass pressing in on him for a ball cap, or long brown hair as the faceless doctors continue to shriek at him.
“I don’t know! I don’t know why we are alone!” He yells, eyes shut, slamming his hands over his ears to just keep the noise out, but the sounds when he removes his hands are infinitely worse and he fights to keep the bile down.
He knows what’s coming before he even turns around and he whimpers at the sight of Castiel, stretched out on a gurney in the middle of the deserted emergency room, Crowley standing over him. Castiel’s fingers claw at the larger hands squeezing firmly around his throat. Blood seeps from his mouth, the wet bubbling breathy noises deafening Dean.
His face is so swollen and his naked body is littered with bruises and gashes and his body looks as if the bones are no longer whole. Castiel turns his head to look at Dean before Crowley’s hands tighten even more. Dean steps back, lost and horrified, as Castiel smiles and reaches a misshapen arm towards him, beckoning, but Dean can’t escape, he can’t run away, and the light fades from Castiel’s eyes as his blood pools on the floor.
Dean screams.
Dean woke with a start, eyes wide and startled, gasping quietly for breath. In his disoriented just-sleeping state he couldn’t remember where he was, staring at a ceiling not his own. A rustle of sheets next to him pulled his eyes to Castiel’s sleep relaxed face. The morning sun peaking through the windows lightened the boy’s hair, picking out the warmer tones, and his face looked far less troubled than it had the night before.
He softly ran his fingers through dark hair and leaned in to kiss Castiel’s forehead lightly before rolling onto his back again and scrubbing at his face. He hadn’t had any nightmares in several weeks and was starting to get used to uninterrupted sleep. He felt the same dull ache that he associated with thoughts of his father, but it was made worse by Castiel’s confession the night before. He fought down the swell of rage he felt pushing to the forefront of his mind. Too many people he cared about were being hurt; he’d be damned if he was going to just sit back and not doing something about Crowley.
He heard Castiel mutter something in his sleep and watched his forehead crease with concern. Dean reached out to smooth the lines, sliding closer to the other boy, pleased when Castiel latched onto him, tangling their limb together. Blue eyes opened into heavy-lidded slits before settling back down with his head resting against Dean’s shoulder and his breathing slowed again. Dean smiled to himself, pressing his nose to the top of Castiel’s head. This was something that he could get used to.
An audible growl of his stomach broke the comfortable quiet, reminding Dean that it was breakfast time and one simple does not miss such a wonderful meal. He warred with himself, stay in a warm soft bed with Castiel or go find something to eat? Another, slightly louder, growl made the decision for him; he could always come back after a quick snack. He slowly untangled his limbs from the other boy’s and slid out of bed, slipping into his jeans and tee. He checked his phone once out in the hall to find a text promising all sorts of unpleasantness from Ellen when he got home for staying out all night. He sent her a quick apology, knowing it wouldn’t be enough. Whatever, she had a massive soft spot for Castiel that Dean wasn’t above using against her. Cas had needed him after Crowley’s interruption; Ellen just didn’t need to know it what way.
When he rounded the corner into the kitchen he was greeted with wide-eyed stares from the rest of Castiel’s family situated around the center island. The counter itself was covered in a mess of papers interrupted by a massive plate of waffles and other food items. “Am I interrupting something?”
Gabriel grabbed a waffle from the plate and drizzled a disgusting amount of syrup on top of it, and Dean loved syrup. “Nope, just plotting.” He grinned manically before taking a bite.
The matching smiles on the other’s faces reminded Dean of a pack of wolves. Even Anna’s sharp grin was unsettling. He gave them a slow nod and headed straight for the coffee machine. If this was about what he thought it was he was going to need coffee, and lots of it. When he turned back to the others Anna was holding a plate of waffles out to him.
“So, what have you got on Crowley so far?”
“What the hell makes you think you’re invited along, Kansas?” Balthazar asked, arching an imperial brow. Israfael lobbed a wadded up paper at his face.
“Oh, bite it, Balth! He’s just as involved as any of us. More so, since I don’t see you offering to suck face with Cassy anytime soon.”
“Such a same too. Wasted on this uncouth barbarian…” Dean chose to ignore the comment; he was starting to acclimate to the Milton’s and their constant need to get under his skin. He devoured his waffles while listening to them bandy ideas about, ranging from hacking the computer system and plummeting all of Crowley’s grades to burning down his house, or holding his evil mutt of a dog for ransom. It was all well and good, minus the house burning, but Dean noticed a flaw in their plotting.
“Are you just going to focus on Crowley?” Every eye in the room turned on him.
“Do you see anyone else responsible here?” Gabe asked.
“No, no. I mean, Crowley has some evil empire or something, right?” The Milton’s nodded at him. “Well how does he do it? He does he keep perfect grades in classes that he never attends? I have first hour with him and I think he’s missed at least half of it. How does he supply the school stoners like Andy, but never get caught? Cas can’t be the first person he’s hurt either.” He could see them mulling it over. Anna was the first one to speak.
“Well it has to do with his father, yeah? He’s a big time criminal defense lawyer that everyone thinks is linked to one of the bigger mob families out of Chicago. I would imagine that is enough of a threat?”
“It isn’t.”
As a group they whipped their heads around to stare at the staircase where a sleep-mussed Castiel stood.
“Well, fuck.” Gabriel muttered; Anna elbowed him sharply. Dean sent Castiel an apologetic shrug as he moved to sit at the counter next to him. When he leaned against him and rested his chin on Dean’s shoulder, he figured he was forgiven for plotting with his family.
“How do you know it isn’t just hid father?” Anna inquired.
“I don’t, not one hundred percent. He tried to keep me out of that part of his life for the most part, but I’m not an idiot. Despite what everyone else seems to think.” The soft inflection of anger in his voice made the rest of the group flinch slightly. “Alistair and Brady would interrupt dates sometimes with reports, like some damn mob boss. And if you haven’t noticed, the teachers tend to avoid him at all costs.”
Gabriel grunted, “And you only now decided that maybe he wasn’t a good guy to be dating? No, we don’t think you’re an idiot, Cassy, but Jesus you sure are stupid.”
Castiel flushed and stared at the floor, and Dean could see the sheen of liquid forming along his eyelid.
“Don’t be such a dick, Gabe.” Dean snapped in Castiel’s defense. Tension so thick it was palpable filled the air between the two boys as they glared each other down.
“So what exactly are you planning on doing, or is this just a chance to discuss my poor decision making?” Castiel asked after clearing his throat.
“I do think that we are plotting the tear down of Crowley’s tower of Babel.” Balthazar’s grin was sharp and wolf-like.
“What’s to stop him from just coming after us in response?”
“We were thinking permanently, Cas.” Dean shoved his plate away, wiped clean of food. “What is going to stop his stupid thugs from just taking his place? I mean we can take out Crowley, but we will just leave an opening for one of them.”
“It would, in theory, work better if you cut out Crowley’s support first, actually. Take out Brady and Alistair.“ He paused. “The timing has to be perfect though. Once Crowley finds out, he will be gone. He has his father’s funds available to him. We can’t give him the time to make his own plans.”
“We? Are you so sure you won’t go running to him and let him know what we are doing, Cassy.” Gabriel sniped.
“No, he needs to be taken care of. On that we can agree.”