Supernatural Fic: Some Dreaming State, (2/8)

[bookkbaby]

Title: Some Dreaming State

Rating: NC-17 overall

Pairing: Dean/Cas

Character List: Castiel, Dean, Sam, Meg, Crowley, halLucifer

Warnings/Enticements: jealous!Dean, Sam and Cas broship with a side of awesome!Sam, explicit violence, explicit torture, explicit sex, soulbonding, BAMF!Cas, protective!Cas, offscreen death of a minor character, brief Dean/OFC, brief jealous!Cas

Spoilers: through the end of 7.17, goes AU after

Summary: Meg wants a weapon. When Castiel refuses, she sells him out to Crowley. The Winchesters won't be happy... assuming they find out.

Wordcount: about 52K total

Title comes from Florence the Machine's 'Blinding'.

Under the cut.



Part 2

"Castiel."

Cas stared straight ahead, doing his best to ignore the sound of Lucifer’s voice. It had been days since he had last seen Meg and a week since he had put the bond safely behind a wall once more. He’d left small holes, just enough to give him a tenuous connection to reality and maintain the thin Grace wall between himself and the madness, but not enough for anything else.

He hadn’t even left himself enough of the bond to banish Lucifer. He could bear with just this, just the talking, and the wall between them left Lucifer little power to do anything else.

He had sworn to himself to continue as though the bond did not exist, vowing only to touch it in the direst of straits. With any luck, he would never need it.

"Brother, talk to me."

The solution was imperfect and impermanent, the madness burning like holy fire behind the wall, but sufficient. He could take the pain; he owed the Winchesters at least this much.

He could find a more permanent fix once Meg let him go. She had no more use for him, as he had refused to be her soldier. He only hoped that she would release him soon, not only so he could seek out a cure.

With only the walls and Lucifer for company, his thoughts had inevitably turned to the reasons he was here. He hadn’t remembered his crimes when he had been Emmanuel and he’d had little time to reflect on them before shifting Sam’s madness into his own head.

He had swallowed all of Purgatory in the belief that the power wouldn't consume him, and it had. And thousands of innocent humans had died and he had slaughtered hundreds of his brethren.

Dean had stopped trusting him.

"We're a lot alike, you and I."

But Dean was safe. Sam was restored. That was all Castiel had wanted.

As soon as he was cured, he would fly to Dean's side and help him. There were still things he needed to atone for, but he was useless to the Winchesters as he was. Surely not all of his Grace would go into containing his brother. He wouldn't be useful to Dean without his power and he refused to burden them with a mostly-human, half-mad version of himself.

He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to smite the Leviathans. They were older than angels and he could very well be just as helpless against them as he had been against Raphael, but he could certainly try.

"We both loved too much and were punished for it. You know what I mean, don't you, Castiel?"
Cas didn't acknowledge the hallucination, refusing to look at the little table in the corner where his brother sat and watched him. He was nothing like Lucifer.

The archangel moved and suddenly, it wasn't Lucifer in the room with Cas. It was Dean.

"I suppose I should thank you for fixing Sammy," he said, walking closer to the bed. Cas tensed, unable to help himself. "But you and I both know you owed him that. You broke him, it was your responsibility to fix him. Took you long enough."

This wasn't Dean, Cas reminded himself. It sounded like him, walked like him, and looked like him, but this was just a hallucination. He just wished that his subconscious had chosen some other person to recite all of his failings. Anyone else, but that was the beauty of this, wasn’t it? Lucifer was in his head, he knew exactly where to apply the pressure, but Castiel refused to break.

"People are dying out there, man," Dean said, crouching in front of Castiel. Cas's eyes were drawn to Dean's like they had been magnetized. He saw no warmth in the green, just determination and righteous anger. The need to protect; it was something Cas was intimately familiar with. "We need you. You're the only weapon in our arsenal that can take out those gooey sons-of-bitches."

"I... I don't know-" Realizing he was responding to the hallucination, he shut his mouth. He’d tried to stop responding after figuring out that it only encouraged Lucifer.

“You make it too easy, Cassie.” Dean was Lucifer again and Lucifer was smiling. “I've been talking to you for days, but two minutes as Dean Winchester and you've finally spoken to me."
Castiel pressed his lips tightly together, staring at the wall once more.

"Oh, great, and now the baby's sulking again," Dean said, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

LINE BREAK

Lucifer was reciting a list of all of Castiel's victims, angelic and human, when the door opened. Cas watched it warily. Meg had been absent for a week now and none of the other doctors had ever visited him. He had wondered about that when he had noticed the oddity, but he was fairly certain it was Meg’s machinations at work.

Dean walked in. Cas stared, stunned. His eyes darted to where Lucifer had been, but the archangel had vanished. He narrowed his eyes in suspicion at the new Dean.

"Stop this,” he rasped, voice dry from lack of use. “You won’t fool me again.”

Lucifer had grown quite fond of this trick in the weeks that Castiel had been in the asylum. He appeared as Sam too, though less frequently. Sam had less of an effect on Cas than Dean did, though he cared dearly for both brothers.

Dean seemed surprised, then his expression softened to one of regret.

"Cas... Cas, it's me. Dean," he said, stepping carefully closer to the bed as though afraid Castiel would attack. Or run, Cas wasn’t sure which. "We came back to get you, Sam and me. I promised we'd be back, didn't I?"

Cas looked around the room suspiciously. There was a flicker of movement at the corner of his eye and he turned to see Lucifer in the corner, waving at him. Powerful relief swept through Castiel. Lucifer was strong, but he couldn't manifest as both himself and another person at the same time.

This had to be Dean. He knew that Dean wouldn't abandon him, not permanently. Dean was too good for that. Hope rose in his chest, too quickly for caution to follow.

A small, quiet voice in the back of his mind urged him to check the bond, just let down the wall and touch it for a moment to confirm the identity of his visitor, but he silenced it. This close, Dean might sense it when Castiel accessed their connection. He couldn’t risk it.

Castiel turned back to Dean, blinking for a moment to clear his vision. For a split second, Dean had seemed shorter, stockier, and dressed more darkly than was his wont. Cas looked him over again, carefully, but there was nothing strange about him when Cas looked closer.

Spending so long with the same four walls and his brother for company might be starting to really drive him mad.

"You did," Castiel finally said. Dean grinned triumphantly and reached for Cas's hand. Cas let him take it.

"Found something that should help you," he said, reaching into the pocket of his coat and withdrawing a small silver cuff. It hummed with magic, something that felt dark and made Cas's skin crawl. Instinct screamed at him to pull back his hand, but he forced himself to keep still.

"I need to put these on you, Cas," Dean said patiently. "You want to redeem yourself to me, right? You want to finish cleaning up your mess?"

Castiel nodded slowly.

"I promise, Dean," he said as Dean lowered the cuff to his wrist. "I'll find a way to redeem-"

The cuff snapped into place and Cas's words ended with a sharp gasp as half of his body suddenly went numb. Dean dropped his wrist and it fell onto Cas's lap as the angel doubled over, gasping. Dean seized his other wrist and snapped on a second cuff and quite suddenly, it wasn't Dean holding his wrist in an iron grip.

"Crowley," Cas said, eyes widening. Lucifer appeared behind Crowley, doubled over with laughter and more solid than Castiel had ever seen him in reality. Fear momentarily overcame his shock, but he squelched both and set his jaw in a determined line.

"You should have seen your face, baby brother," Lucifer said. "When you thought Dean had come back for you. He left you. He and his brother both, they left you with me."

"Hello, angel," Crowley said, smiling coldly. "Daphne sends her regards."

"What did you do?" Castiel asked, voice quiet. Daphne had been a good woman. She had truly loved Emmanuel, even if he hadn't been able to bring himself to love her in the way that she deserved. Even without his memories, Castiel had always been utterly devoted to one human.

"She required a bit of... persuasion," Crowley said. He raised a hand and snapped. Two more demons walked into the room. One went to one of the angel-containment sigils on the wall and used a knife to scrape off some of the paint before joining the second behind Crowley. "But don't worry about her. Her suffering is already over, but yours hasn't even started yet."

The demons grabbed Castiel's arms and lifted him up, frog-marching him out of the room. He struggled, but his body was weak. All his strength seemed to have drained into the cuffs; he couldn't even feel an ounce of his Grace. He could still feel the bond, but only faintly and far beyond his reach.

"A change of scenery might do you some good, Castiel," Lucifer said, trailing behind the demons. He smiled. "At least you still have me."

The world dissolved around Castiel, the tile under his feet softening. He looked down and immediately regretted it; he was walking on fresh corpses, blood still oozing from their wounds and splashing up onto the bottoms of his pants. It reached his shins, then his knees.

He closed his eyes, but that just intensified the smell of death and, above that, the grease, gunpowder, and old leather smell he had come to associate with Dean.

LINE BREAK

"The only downside to Hell is that pain is different down there," Crowley said conversationally as he sharpened a small knife. "It's much less... immediate, much less real. Oh, it works well enough for turning humans into demons. Most humans don't understand real pain."

Cas shivered on the cold metal bed he was strapped to, completely naked but for the cuffs on his wrists keeping his Grace locked down. It was still there, humming beneath his skin, but it slipped away from him whenever he tried to use it. He had tried reaching for the bond as well, so at least he would only have Crowley to deal with, but it hung far beyond his reach.

"But you, Castiel, you know what pain is. You've been to Hell before, but I'll wager you've had less experience with pain on Earth."

"His patter could use some work," Lucifer commented, idly picking filth from under his nails with one of the tiny hooks Crowley had. He examined his handiwork. "That's the problem with most demons. They're more into the physical torture when it's the mental that really gets to someone." Lucifer pointed at his own head on the last few words.

"I'm no Alistair, but I've picked up a few tricks," Crowley said, walking over to Castiel's table. Lucifer grinned suddenly.

"I’ve got a great idea! How about we make this a little more interesting?" he said. Lucifer snapped his fingers.

Dean lowered the knife.

LINE BREAK

"What do you mean, he still hasn't woken up?" Dean demanded into the phone. "It's been two months, Meg."

"Exactly what I said, Dean," Meg replied coolly. "He hasn't stirred an inch. The doctors aren't sure why he's still unresponsive, so for all we know, he could wake up tomorrow."

Dean sighed quietly, running a hand through his hair. Sam, seated across the diner's table from Dean, stared at him with concern furrowing his brow.

"On the other hand, he might stay like this forever," Meg added casually. Dean tensed, free hand forming a fist and slamming down onto the table with enough force to nearly knock over Sam's iced tea. Sam caught it before the cup could topple and shot Dean an irritated look. Dean glared back and made a shooing motion, to which Sam rolled his eyes.

Dean could sense some of the greasy diner's other patrons eyeing him warily after his little outburst, but he ignored them. Meg must have heard the sound of Dean's fist hitting the table, because she laughed.

"Temper, temper," she said.

"Call me if- when he wakes up," Dean growled.

"If little Castiel wakes up, I'll let you know," Meg said. She hung up. Dean stabbed the 'off' button with his thumb and slammed the phone shut before shoving it back into his pocket.

"Cas still isn't awake, huh?" Sam asked quietly, gently. Dean grunted, but didn't dignify the question with any further response. He turned his attention to his lunch instead; Dr. Pepper, a double-cheeseburger with bacon, and some of the fries this little diner was apparently locally famous for. They had a good amount of grease, but had been served unsalted. Dean hadn't heard anything about their pie, but he'd seen apple pie on the menu and after the conversation with Meg, he deserved a slice or three.

Sam, the giant girl, had gotten Caesar salad with grilled, not breaded, chicken, and was only using half of the dressing. He'd also gone with unsweetened ice tea, with lemon, for his drink. This was their last lunch here before they'd be off to another tiny, no-name town, hunting down rumors of weapons they might be able to use against the Leviathans. It was mostly a wild goose chase, but both felt like they needed to be doing something.

"Dean..." Sam said slowly, the way he always did when he was determined to start a conversation he knew Dean wanted to avoid. "If Cas hasn't woken up by now-"

"Shut it, Sam," Dean said firmly. He picked up his burger and took a big bite, not meeting the younger Winchester's eyes.

"-then he might not. Ever." Sam's expression was pained, but there was understanding there too and it pissed Dean off.

"He'll wake up," Dean said tightly.

"Look, Dean, I know he means a lot to you. He does to me, too," Sam said. Dean tensed, looking up and opening his mouth to protest, but Sam continued. "He's family and we've lost enough, I get that, but we have to be real here. Cas might never wake up."

"'Family'?" Dean echoed, mustering up a derisive snort. It was weak and he looked back at his food, grabbing a few fries from his plate. "Dude cracked your gourd, Sammy." He shoved the fries into his mouth.

"I've already forgiven him for that, Dean. Don't tell me you haven't," Sam replied. His voice held more warning than puzzlement and Dean scowled down at his food.

"I haven't," he said, partly from contrariness and partly from guilt. Sam had always been his number one priority, over absolutely everything and everyone else, so how could he even justify forgiving someone that had nearly driven Sam to insanity and death? Sure, there was anger when he thought about what Cas had done, but it was something he could work past, if given the chance. If Cas woke up.

Given his track record and how protective he was of Sam, 'moving past it' wasn't something he felt like he should even be contemplating.

"Cas is gonna wake up and he'll help up gank those butt-ugly bigmouths, then he'll probably fuck off to hang with his buddies up in Heaven," Dean said, voice as confident as he could make it.

"Dean..." Sam said, but then he lapsed into silence as though he'd lost his words. Dean tiredly shook his head.

"Eat your rabbit food," he said, smiling tightly at his brother. Sam looked away, lips pressed together like he wanted to say something, but had no idea what. Dean turned his attention back to his burger, missing the way Sam's eyes wandered to the door of the restaurant and the sudden tension in the younger Winchester's body.

"Dean," Sam hissed. Dean kept his motions deliberately casual so as not to draw attention to their table, but he also began instantly cataloguing every weapon he currently had on him and anything he could use within arms' reach. Every sense went on high alert, like flipping a switch.

"What is it, Sam?" Dean asked, voice a bit quieter than usual. Sam looked back at him, anger now etched into the lines of his face, and though he tried to keep his movements nonchalant, there was a stiffness to his neck.

"Check my eight," Sam said, picking up his fork and stabbing a few of the leaves on his plate, though he didn't bring them to his mouth. Dean glanced over at the counter where people ordered their food and froze in shock. The surprise lasted only a second before fury and steely determination replaced it.

Meg stood at the counter, leaning over it provocatively and probably trying to flirt her way into free food. The cashier's gaze kept slipping down to Meg's chest, so Dean was pretty sure that it was working. His guess was confirmed when Meg walked away a few minutes later with a small plate of fries and a superior smirk. She didn't seem to notice the Winchesters at all.

"Dean, we're more than two days’ drive from the hospital," Sam said.

"I know, Sam," Dean replied, eyes following Meg as she sat down at a small booth towards the back of the diner.

"If she's here..." Sam didn't need to finish his sentence.

"I know, Sam," Dean repeated through gritted teeth. He tore his gaze from the demon bitch currently enjoying her fries and surveyed the rest of the diner. There were a few people scattered about, but not many. Dean slid out of his seat and picked up his tray. "Come on."

Sam got up and picked up his own tray, casually following Dean as they walked towards the back of the restaurant.

"You have the knife?" Sam asked in undertone as they approached. Dean nodded once and both fell silent. They didn't need words to move like one creature, Sam sliding onto the bench beside Meg at the same time as Dean slid into the booth on the opposite side of the table. Meg looked up, eyes flashing with shock before she covered it up with her usual confidence.

"Hello, boys," she said calmly.

"Fancy meeting you here," Dean said, smiling thinly. "You see, I was under the impression that you were in a mental hospital."

Meg shrugged, unconcerned and not at all insulted. A smirk tugged at the corners of her mouth.

"We never kissed on it, Dean. And honestly, did you really think your little threat scared me?" Meg asked, picking up another fry. "You can't exactly mail someone a stabbing and you were never in to check on your poor little angel. Did you really think I was going to stick around and look after a weapon I couldn't use?"

Dean bristled.

"We'll call Crowley," Sam said. "I'm sure he'd love to know where you are, unless you've given up on being the Queen of Hell."

Meg's grin widened.

"Please, by all means. Tell Crowley where I am right now. The information will be useless in five months," she said, chuckling. Her words gave Dean a feeling of unease and he exchanged confused looks with Sam. Sam shrugged a bit, a troubled expression on his face.

"Five months?" Dean asked. "Why five months?"

"That's how much longer I've got to go to ground," Meg said. "I originally asked for a year, but we settled on six months."

"You made a deal," Dean said, realization sinking in. There was a weight in his stomach and a sense of foreboding with an unidentifiable origin. Something inside him was screaming that he didn't want to know and a voice inside his head was whispering frantically about what the pieces of this puzzle were adding up to. Meg's presence here, away from the asylum, a deal with Crowley, Meg's daily reassurances that Cas hadn't woken up yet...

Dean swallowed heavily, stomach roiling.

"What did you have that Crowley wanted?" he asked, mildly impressed with how steady he kept his voice.

"You can't guess?" Meg asked. She sounded delighted, like she was getting way too much enjoyment out of Dean's ignorance. "Demons don't make deals with angels, Dean-o. Do you have any idea how major it was that Castiel was desperate enough to deal, even an unofficially?"

Dean inwardly flinched but tried not to let it show. Meg kept talking, oblivious.

"So of course Crowley made a big production out of it. He had made a deal with an angel and he was going to crack open Purgatory. He’d started as a lowly nobody, risen to King of the Crossroads, and then to undisputed King of Hell. He would have as much power as Lilith, maybe even more." Meg paused for a moment, picking up another fry. "Do you have any idea what it did to his reputation when Cas broke the deal and double-crossed him?"

The weight in Dean's stomach doubled. He could feel Sam's horrified expression more than see it; Dean's eyes were fixed blankly on Meg's still-smug face.

"Crowley was a laughingstock. So, naturally, he wanted a little payback, something to put his reputation back on track and reassert his power," Meg said. She chewed, allowing her words to sink in. "And guess what you boys placed in my lap?"

"You didn't," Sam said, sounding more sick than disbelieving. Dean couldn't even find words. He kept replaying that day in his mind's eye, the drive away, his cocky proclamation of 'mutually assured destruction'... what utter bullshit.

"Why wouldn't I?" Meg asked. "Did you honestly think I stayed there to help you? I needed a weapon and when Cas refused-"

"He's awake?" Dean interjected, stunned. Sam shot him a pained, almost pitying look.

"Of course. Woke up two weeks after you left."

The table fell silent as the Winchesters absorbed that information. Dean felt the bile rise in the back of his throat and his eyes widened.

"You said 'five months', but the deal was for six," he said slowly. "Does that mean that son-of-a-bitch has had Cas for a month?"

Sam looked just as shocked and horrified as Dean felt.

"A little over, actually," Meg said. "But yes."

Dean shoved his tray to the side, clearing a path for him to surge across the table and grab Meg by the lapels of her jacket.

"Where is he?" Dean growled, pulling her closer and trying to intimidate her by sheer proximity.
He vaguely heard sounds of alarm from the patrons that had noticed the action in the back corner of the restaurant, but he didn't care. Meg had lost her smirk, but she didn't seem all that concerned, either.

"Dean," Sam hissed. "Let her go!"

Dean held on for a second longer, then slowly released the demon's clothing. Meg sat back in her seat and calmly picked up another fry.

"Where is he?" Dean asked lowly. Meg took the time to eat and lick the grease off of her fingers before answering.

"I don't know exactly where Crowley took him," she said. "But I'm willing to tell you what I know if you swear I'll walk out of here alive."

Sam hesitated for a moment, apparently considering it, but Dean wasn't nearly so forgiving.

"No deal," Dean growled. "Tell us, now."

"Where's my carrot?" Meg asked, raising an eyebrow. "The way I see it, I'm the only lead you boys have. I'm not asking for much, just a guarantee that I'll leave here alive." She smiled. "It's not a bad offer. What were you planning to do, stab me in front of all these people?"

Meg nodded towards the room at large behind Dean, still smiling pleasantly. Dean turned slightly, scowling when he realized just how much attention he had attracted with his earlier outburst.

"Fine," Sam said begrudgingly as Dean turned back to them. "What do you know?"

"Not much," Meg admitted. "Rumors, mostly. Crowley wouldn't tell me his base of operations, of course."

"How is this helpful?" Dean grumbled. Meg shot him an annoyed look.

"Patience, Dean-o. I'm getting there," she said.

Dean made an impatient 'well, hurry up' motion with his hand and Meg sighed.

"Just like a man. Always wanting to get to the point rather than enjoy the journey," she said. She picked up another fry.

"What do you know?" Dean asked through gritted teeth.

"Crowley's supposedly holed up somewhere in St. Louis," Meg said. "Your angel should be there."

"Can you narrow it down any further?" Sam asked.

"He's probably in the basement of some building Crowley owns, or maybe an abandoned warehouse or something. I don't know." Meg ate another fry. "If he's still on Earth at all, anyway."

Dean's insides went cold.

"What do you mean?" he demanded. Meg smirked.

"Crowley probably hasn't taken him to Hell, but if he has, you'll never get Castiel back. Well, not as himself, anyway," Meg said. Dean bristled. "Fortunately for you, Crowley likes inflicting pain. Pain in Hell just doesn't have the same... flavor, does it, Dean?"

Dean's hands tightened into fists. Next to Meg, Sam flinched. Meg turned to him, false surprise lighting up her face.

"Oh, I almost forgot. You've been to Hell too, haven't you, Sammy?" she asked sweetly. "Tell me, do you still hear the screams at night, or were you too far away in the Cage-"

"Enough," Dean snapped, cutting her off. "Is that it?"

"Yes," Meg said. She nodded at the door of the restaurant. "Can I enjoy my food now? We're done here, right?"

Dean hesitated a moment, feeling the weight of the demon-killing knife against his ribs. He could gank Meg here, now, and it would be just desserts for everything she had done. Hell, it wouldn't be enough to pay her back for everything she had done; a quick, clean death was more than she deserved.

"Dean," Sam said lowly, a question in his voice. The younger Winchester gave the other patrons in the diner a significant glance and Dean scowled.

"Fine. We're going," Dean said, sliding off the booth's bench. Meg grinned, relaxing fractionally as Sam slid away from her as well. "But don't think for a second you're safe. As soon as we get Cas back, we're coming for you. And we'll hunt you down like the bitch you are."

"I'm worried," Meg said, deadpan.

Part 3