Supernatural Fic: Some Dreaming State, (7/8)
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 1| Part 2| Part 3| Part 4| Part 5| Part 6
Part 7
The first thing he was aware of was the screaming, the sounds of thousands upon thousands of souls being tortured. Next were the scents of blood and decay and sweat, but all the smells and all the sounds were muffled, somehow. They were duller than he remembered from his two trips into the Pit. His body felt heavy, unnaturally so, and when he shifted, pain spiked through him from his shoulders, his wrists, one of his hips, and his ankles.
He shouldn't have a body. Vessels were never worn in the Pit.
Castiel opened his eyes, dread pooling heavily in the stomach he shouldn't have. He stared upwards, body suspended from meathooks attached to chains that seemed to go on forever. Far, far above him, he could see a faint white light that he knew he would never reach, no matter how high or how fast he climbed. Other chains spiderwebbed across his vision, each with a human soul at the center and all being tortured by another in various stages of decomposition.
The webs were everywhere; above, to either side, and probably below as well, but Castiel couldn’t turn enough to check. He couldn’t help hearing, though. Even though he refused to look at the suffering around him, the sounds conjured up images in his mind.
He heard the splintering of bone and pictured ribs cracking like broken eggs. He heard the crack of a whip and a woman’s scream and saw the bloody gashes on previously smooth flesh. He heard chains clank and screaming and sawing and the wet smack of flesh on flesh; the last perhaps the worst noise of all.
Was this how a human experienced Hell? Men and women being raped, being torn to shreds, being broken into little pieces until the most promising were offered a chance to get off the rack to do unto others as they had been done to?
"Oh, good, you're awake."
The voice was familiar and Castiel suddenly felt chilled all over. Slowly, hoping that he was mistaken, he looked towards the source.
Dean stood there, a smirk on his face and not a trace of light anywhere in his soul. His eyes were pools of ink. The sight was like a blow and Castiel couldn't breathe for a moment.
"This isn't real," he said, trying to project more confidence than he felt. His voice shook.
"Oh, it's real all right," Dean said.
Cas reached for the bond in his head. Consequences be damned, this was the most realistic vision Lucifer had ever managed to create. He would accept whatever punishment Dean saw fit to give him just so long as he could break free.
He couldn’t find it.
His head was empty, no trace of Grace or of the golden light that had come to represent safety and sanity to him. He groped blindly for something, anything; a mere illusion couldn’t have severed the connection. The bond still existed, surely. It couldn’t have vanished.
There was a quiet, uneasy voice in the back of his head reminding him that he’d never had trouble sensing the bond before now, even when hallucinating, so what made this different?
Had he Fallen?
"Dean, what-" Cas started to say, but Dean cut him off.
"You've been asleep for a long time, Castiel," he said, striding confidently closer. "Things have changed."
The use of his full name sent a spark of discomfort down his spine.
"What happened to you?" Castiel demanded, shivering in a nonexistent chill when Dean was finally close enough to loom over him. He was still smirking.
"Hell," he answered. "Held out for fifty years this time, convinced you'd come to get me out. Well." He jabbed his thumb towards his chest. "Obviously, that didn't happen."
"I-" Cas started to say. Dean slapped a hand over his mouth and squeezed his jaw painfully.
"You don't get to make excuses, Cas," Dean spat. "You weren't here when I needed you." He tore his hand away and turned. He waved his hand horizontally over what had been empty space and there was suddenly a long table top covered with various knives, needles, whips, and other devices and instruments. "That's ok. I learned a few tricks down here and all I've been thinking about for the past thirty years is what I would do to you if you ever ended up on my rack."
Fifty years on the rack. Thirty years off.
Dean had suffered down here for eighty years. Where had Castiel been? He could remember nothing after smiting the shapeshifter and returning to the motel room. Sam had been there, then Lucifer, and then nothing.
"Dean," he said. He wanted to say something about how he wouldn't have left Dean down here, not if he could help it. He would have come for Dean, but something must have prevented him. Before he could get another word out, Dean rounded on him and slammed a knife into his gut. Cas choked, any words he would have said disappearing in a pained grunt.
Hallucination or not, this certainly felt real enough.
"I already said I don't want to hear you," Dean growled, pulling the blade up towards Castiel's chin. At the top of Cas's sternum, he stopped and withdrew it. "I'd cut out your tongue, but it would be a shame to ruin such a pretty mouth this early. I'll start with your lungs."
Castiel's breathing quickened, interspersed with sharp hisses as Dean cut a line under his collarbone and another above his hips.
"I would never have left you," Cas choked out, gritting his teeth as Dean began to peel the skin away from his ribs. "You know that, Dean. I have always-"
Dean grabbed Castiel's chin again, his hand sticky with blood. He pressed his thumb and index finger into the fallen angel's jaw, forcing Castiel's mouth open.
"I told you not to make excuses," Dean said, sliding the knife into Castiel's mouth and pressing the sharp edge against one of the corners. Cas stilled. "Actually, you'd probably enjoy me using that mouth of yours too much. This is supposed to be punishment, Cas." Dean dragged the knife through the flesh and Cas gagged on his own blood. He thrashed, trying instinctively to turn his head away, but Dean's grip was too strong. Dean switched sides and cut through the other cheek as well, careful not to nick his own fingers.
"Dean," Cas gurgled, trying to speak around the crimson liquid in his mouth. Dean yanked on his jaw, pulling it open as far as the joint would allow and then reaching in. Cas could taste sulfur and ash on Dean's thumb as the demon pulled on his tongue. Dean's grip was slippery, a combination of blood and saliva making it hard to hold, but he pinched the muscle and began to saw Castiel's tongue free. Cas cried out, trying to pull his head back, but he failed.
Dean tossed the chunk of flesh aside, a satisfied expression on his face.
"Now that you're quiet, I don't need to rush to your lungs," he said, turning back to the table with his instruments. He set down the knife and picked up a hammer. "How do you like your ribs, Cas?"
Cas's chest heaved as he coughed. He turned his head to the side, trying to get rid of the blood clogging his windpipe. Without a tongue, the most he could hope to do was encourage it to dribble out of his mouth.
There was a rush of air and then pain exploded in his chest. Cas tried to curl up, but the hooks holding him suspended prevented him. Dean brought the hammer down again, targeting a different rib. The bone gave a sickening crack and then Dean dug his hand underneath it and tore it free. The fragment went the way of Castiel's tongue.
Cas couldn't even cry out. The demon broke his ribs one by one, blood coating the head of the hammer and covering Dean's shirt, flecking his face. Dean pulled out the rest of the bones, taking only one fragment at a time and making sure to twist any pieces hanging on, rupturing as many of Castiel's organs as he could. He dragged one of the larger fragments over Castiel's stomach, widening the puncture he had made with the initial knife wound until the acid was spilling out over the rest of Castiel's internal organs.
Surely he couldn't hallucinate this much pain? There wasn't even the mercy of death in Hell, even though anything mortal would have long since died.
"I'm pretty good at flaying people," Dean commented casually, dropping the bone fragment he had been playing with and poking the few remaining ones until they were buried in whatever organ they rested on top of. Most ended up in Castiel's lungs. "After a bit of practice, I can usually get their skin off in one piece. I'm feeling lucky today; I'll probably be able to do yours on the first try."
Castiel stared at the far-distant entrance of the Pit, eyes glazed over with pain. He was dizzy with it and his head hurt like something was slamming into with a battering ram. Was this what pain was like for humans? When there was so much, even the parts of your body that had barely been touched ached?
Dean picked up a smaller knife and walked to Castiel's feet. He began prying up the toenails one by one, shoving the blade between the hardened keratin and the nail bed and twisting his wrist. His other hand held Cas tightly around the ankle, beneath where the meathook pierced his leg. Every so often, at irregular intervals, he'd dig his thumb into the wound to widen it.
The pounding in Castiel's head increased, or perhaps just his perception of it did. Cas's whole body shook, nerves overloading on sensation. Dean slid the tip of the blade beneath Castiel's skin at the tip of his toe, and slowly began to cut a line to the center of his foot. He repeated the process with the other toes, giving himself little inroads into the skin so he could peel it off.
Cas couldn't speak, he couldn't move; any chance he had to communicate with Dean was gone for now. He would have to try again tomorrow and just endure whatever the demon wearing Dean's face had planned for him today. Eventually, he would break through. He couldn't believe that something as brilliant and beautiful as Dean Winchester's soul had been irrevocably destroyed.
If it took a thousand years, he would find a way back to the Dean he had lost.
There was enormous pressure in his skull, like someone had taken a jackhammer to the back of it. Castiel shut his eyes.
Dean began to peel the skin away from each of Castiel’s toes, carefully tugging until he had enough to get a good grip. He pulled, peeling everything up to his knee away in one long strip. Castiel gritted his teeth against the pain, body shaking with the force of it.
The pressure in his head broke as something in it shattered. Cas opened his mouth to cry out, as though voicing the pain would help to lessen it, as though he could yell with partially dried blood blocking his throat, but the ache suddenly subsided. Worry, not blood, choked him now. Anger, confusion, desire, hope, and fear poured into Cas and he gasped in shock, eyes flying open. The far-distant light was no longer white, but gold and it glowed far brighter. The golden light grew bigger and bigger and Cas abruptly realized that it wasn't getting larger, it was getting closer.
It streaked past all the webs of human misery above Cas. He half expected it to pass him by as well, but then it was upon him, slamming into him so hard he lost the air he had recently regained.
The meathooks holding him up disintegrated and the chains holding him down crumbled. His body was new again in an instant and, without the support of the chains, he began to fall.
Something caught him, slipping under his arms and wrapping around his back. His tumble instantly stopped and then they were heading straight up just as fast as he'd been falling. Faster, even. They flew past hundreds of souls, all screaming to be saved, and Cas had an odd sense of deja vu.
This had happened before, but that time, he had been the one with wings. He clung tighter to the light, uncertain of what was happening but trusting in it absolutely.
Everything around him grew brighter and brighter and Cas shut his eyes again, knowing they were reaching the exit. The light grew so intense Cas could see it even though his closed eyelids and then suddenly it was gone and he snapped his eyes open.
He stared at the cracked ceiling of a motel room, head pounding and breath coming in shallow pants. His head ached, but that was quickly fading and while he still felt phantom pain in his mouth, chest, and leg, he didn't actually hurt.
None of it had been real.
"Cas?" Dean's face replaced the view of the ceiling and Cas felt a wave of trepidation and worry not his own. Castiel swallowed heavily, feeling the bond pulse bright and strong in the back of his head, the pieces of the destroyed Grace wall littering the mental surface around it.
The bond hummed contentedly, now more than a mere thread between himself and Dean. The connection had transformed into a rope bridge, a bit shaky but anchored very strongly on both sides.
"Dean," he croaked. Dean smiled and straightened up, pulling Castiel with him. Relief and triumph transmitted themselves across the bond, loud and almost obnoxious. Cas winced, the throbbing in his head getting worse.
"Oh, thank fuck, it worked," Dean said. There was a flash of pride, almost blinding to Castiel’s still-sensitive mind.
"Cas!" Sam said. Castiel looked over in time to see Sam get out of his chair. The younger Winchester walked over and sat at the edge of the other mattress, facing Dean and the angel. "How are you feeling?"
There was concern and a hint of guilt flowing through him, but those were not his feelings.
"I am well," Castiel replied, trying to build up the remaining bricks of the wall between himself and Dean, just enough so that the throbbing in his head would go down. He had succeeded only partially before Dean's hand suddenly seized his wrist in what would have been a painfully tight grip if Cas was human. Anger and fear stabbed through Castiel's head.
"Don't shut me out again," Dean demanded, staring at Castiel.
"I'm not," Castiel replied, sending an echo of his pain across the bond to Dean, who recoiled as though struck. Cas immediately followed it up with something more soothing as a kind of apology. "But your emotions are very strong. It's making my head ache."
"I'm doing that?" Dean asked, stunned. Castiel nodded and Dean let go. A few seconds later, Cas felt a wave of apology and guilt and this time, when he put up a partial wall, Dean let him do it in peace. The throbbing in Castiel's head immediately subsided.
"... can someone explain to me what just happened?" Sam asked, looking from one to the other in confusion. "What did you do, Dean?" His voice wasn't accusatory in the least, just puzzled.
Dean floundered for a moment, opening and closing his mouth while he groped for words.
"Dean used the bond he and I share to pull me out of the hallucination I was experiencing and ground me in reality," Cas explained. Sam and Dean both blinked.
"I think that just raised more questions," Sam said. Dean poked at the bond carefully, examining it.
"So, this is what you meant by 'profound bond', huh?" he said. He frowned. "If we’ve had it for over a year, why am I just now finding out about it?”
"Sounds like someone's not too happy with you, Cassie."
Castiel closed his eyes briefly, wishing the sound of Lucifer's voice was as easy to block as the sight. It had been too much to hope for that the madness would be eradicated by the deepening of the bond. Cas had known from the beginning that it would take full consummation, but he had hoped.
"Wonder how mad he'll be when he finds out that you've neglected to mention the fine print." Lucifer was stretched out on the other bed behind Sam, his arms folded beneath his head. His form was very insubstantial, almost ghostlike, but existent.
"Our bond has existed for more than a year,” Castiel said reluctantly. “The beginnings of it have been present since I took you from the Pit.”
Dean stilled.
"What?" he demanded. His shock and anger were almost tangible things.
"By the time I found you, your soul had already been tainted. In order to purify you and raise you as the Righteous Man, I poured my Grace into you. I didn't just rebuild your body, Dean," Castiel told him, meeting his eyes directly. "I used pieces of my being to bind together the tattered fragments of your soul. When the time came for you to be placed back into your body, some of my Grace had bonded too strongly to you for me to remove them without causing you harm."
"And you never thought about telling me?" Dean demanded, getting up and walking away to pace at the end of the bed. Castiel could feel his anger and his suspicion and for a moment he regretted ever taking down the wall between their minds, all those weeks ago at the hospital.
“The bond was originally no more invasive than one a guardian would have with their charge,” Cas said.
"’Originally’?" Sam prompted, tone apologetic but firm.
Cas felt the weight of Dean’s stare but pressed on even as it pinned him down.
“When I was in the mental hospital, I tried to put the madness in a Cage, similar to how my Father trapped Lucifer,” Cas explained. “I did not have the power to do it. I accidentally brought down the wall between Dean’s mind and my own and discovered that the bond could keep me grounded. The madness had less of an effect on me.”
The Winchesters were silent. Castiel looked down, studying the bedspread.
“I didn’t intend to deepen the bond, but given the circumstances, it grew stronger on its own,” Cas said. Sam made a curious, interested noise in the back of his throat and Dean breathed in sharply, realization emanating from him.
“Physical proximity increases the bond’s effects,” Castiel explained shortly. Sam nodded and Dean looked towards the motel room window, gesturing with his hand for Cas to continue.
“If I blocked the connection completely, I would succumb to the madness, so I left myself a thread to hold on to. Of course, that meant the wall between myself and the bond was weak and it broke earlier when the shapeshifter nearly killed Dean.” It had more broke under the force of his own reaction than anything the shifter had done, but there was no need to mention how big a part his feelings had played. “I did repair the cracks, but Dean had already become aware that the bond existed.” He stopped for a moment to breathe and allow the hunters to digest the information.
There was a long pause, during which Cas became aware of a slow-burning anger stemming from Dean.
"You never wanted me to find out," Dean finally said. He was a maelstrom of fury and hurt and then suddenly, there was nothing. Castiel looked at him in shock. Dean's face was pinched as though he was concentrating very hard on something and the bond had been completely blocked off from his end. A lifetime of holding his emotions close to his chest had paid off. "Fine. Better? Now it's like I never did."
"Ouch," Lucifer commented, pseudo-sympathetically. He was now fully solid behind Sam. "And you haven't even told him the worst part yet. What do you think he'll do after you tell him?"
“Guardian angels can protect more than one person, right?” Sam asked suddenly, a slightly desperate note in his voice. “And the angel would have a bond with everyone?”
Castiel nodded slowly, reeling a bit from the sudden loss of connection. Sam seemed to relax.
“So, angels don’t see bonds as a big deal? Is that why you didn’t tell us?” he asked gently. “If they’re that commonplace…”
Dean's block wavered for a moment and Cas could feel the hurt spilling out of the break, though nothing showed on Dean's face.
"Well, Cas? Is that why you didn't tell me? Because it wasn't a ‘big deal’?" he demanded flatly, crossing his arms and staring at the angel.
"He's not going to like this one bit," Lucifer singsonged, smiling. He was still disconcertingly solid and Dean had the bond locked down tight.
“At first, yes,” Cas said, looking back at Dean, heart beginning to trip in trepidation. “And I am no guardian. I was stationed on Earth to fight and to carry out what I believed were Heaven’s orders; there were too few of us and too many Seals. I couldn’t be excused from my duties to perch on your shoulder.”
Dean scowled at that, but there seemed to be little actual anger behind it. He gave a grudging nod.
“I blocked the bond off and it virtually ceased to exist until I broke the wall. There was no point in mentioning it before,” Castiel said.
Sam was nodding, as though the explanation satisfied him. Dean didn’t nod, but there was less tension in his frame. Pity the difficult part had yet to come.
Castiel would have given anything to be allowed to stop there and say no more, but he didn’t want to think about how Dean would react when he found out that Cas hadn’t fully disclosed everything. Dean would find out, that was inevitable.
“Go on, spit it out,” Lucifer said, unholy glee in his voice.
“However, considering what has happened, I would have needed to reveal it to you tonight even if you hadn’t asked,” Cas said reluctantly.
Dean tensed again, scowl turning suspicious, and Sam frowned, confused.
“What happened?” Sam asked. “You mean Dean pulling you out of the hallucination?”
“Why?” Dean demanded.
Castiel didn’t speak for a moment, attempting to find the right words to explain what Dean had done in ignorance.
“You may as well just say it. He won’t be any less angry if you talk around it,” Lucifer said.
“It isn’t uncommon for an angel to have multiple bonds,” Castiel began. “I actually had bonds with both Anael and Balthazar that were, at one point, stronger than our bond at its inception. Of course, those were severed when she Fell and when he faked his own death.”
“And?” Dean snapped. Sam shot him an annoyed look, but Dean stiffly shrugged it off.
“The only thing that differentiates the different types of bonds is the depth,” Castiel said slowly. “Shallow bonds, like what a guardian forms with his or her charges, are numerous and can be broken with little effort. Slightly deeper bonds are reserved for close comrades, usually angels from the same garrison and of the same order. Those are obviously less common and are more difficult to sever.”
Sam was listening with rapt attention, naked interest in his eyes. Dean seemed far more wary of the information, like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“The deepest level is reserved for mated pairs. An angel can only have one bond of that depth at a time. It’s usually severed by death, though not always,” Cas said.
Dean’s expression seemed frozen halfway between curiosity and foreboding, like his brain was drawing conclusions he’d rather it wouldn’t. Sam, however, had no such reservations. His eyes had widened comically, his interest igniting into full-blown excitement.
“Angels mate?” he asked.
“You’re telling us all this why?” Dean asked quickly. Sam’s expression quickly sobered at his older brother’s tone, comprehension slowly crawling over his face as well.
“Ooh, they’re sharp,” Lucifer said approvingly, clapping mockingly.
“In order to pull me out, Dean had to travel deeper into my mind than I have permitted anyone,” Cas explained quietly. “That, combined with what happened in the sewers earlier, resulted in some unexpected side effects. This bond is now the deepest I’ve ever had, stronger than what I shared with my brother or sister.”
There was a thin, fragile silence for several too-long moments following Castiel’s declaration. Then Dean forced himself to laugh, though it was obvious from the sound that he found nothing at all funny about the situation. Sam just stared, first at Cas, then at Dean.
“Man, Cas, you need to work on your wording,” Dean said, voice as brittle as the quiet had been. “Because it really sounds like you just told me that I went and angel-married you without realizing it.”
Castiel looked down, studying the bedspread once more.
“Dean,” Sam said, voice soothing in an attempt to placate his brother.
“I misunderstood, right, Cas?” Dean asked, stepping closer to the angel and stopping just short of actually looming over him. Castiel could feel anger boiling over in Dean, and shock, far too much for the hunter to hold close and hide. “That’s not what you’re telling me, right?”
In that moment, if Castiel could change the past, he would have given his Grace for the chance. Anything to not have to hear Dean’s fury when he realized that he was now mated to Castiel.
“I’m sorry, Dean,” Castiel admitted softly.
"See?" Lucifer whispered. He had moved, now sitting behind Castiel on the mattress. He laid a hand on the angel's shoulder. "I told you he wouldn't be happy. He doesn't want this, Cassie."
"Nothing has to change," Castiel said, still not looking at Dean. "The bond can still be broken or blocked. It won't affect Dean at all and I can find some other method of grounding myself."
Dean’s expression shuttered at the mention of ‘grounding’. To Castiel’s surprise, he felt the stranglehold Dean had on his emotions loosen. The angel could now feel Dean’s anger and confusion more fully, but behind him, Lucifer faded somewhat. The archangel scowled, once again ghostlike.
“Killjoy,” he murmured.
“What other methods are there?” Dean asked flatly, sounding less interested in getting an answer than asking the question. “You told us you couldn’t Cage the bastard.”
Castiel didn’t answer. Dean rubbed a hand over his face, exhausted.
“I need some air. Just… stay here,” he said as he turned towards the door.
"Dean..." Sam said, but Dean ignored him. He stalked towards the door and yanked it open. It slammed shut behind him and Sam turned back to Castiel with a sigh. "That could have gone better."
"Yes, it could have," Castiel replied. Sam gave him a strained smile.
"We need to teach you about understatements and humor sometime," he said. Silence fell and dragged on before Sam cleared his throat awkwardly. "So... congratulations?"
LINE BREAK
Dean leaned against the trunk of the car, staring up into the night sky. The air was a bit chilly, but not enough to send him running back into the motel room for his coat.
He heard the room’s door open and the sound of familiar footsteps. Sam approached his older brother cautiously, as though trying to get a feel for Dean's mood before speaking. Dean heard the sound of something being dropped on the gravel next to the car, but didn't turn.
"What?" Dean asked, gaze still fixed on the sky. Sam leaned against the trunk of the car as well and followed Dean's line of sight.
"I already told Cas this, but... congratulations," Sam said. Dean scowled.
"This isn't a joke, Sam," he said. He kicked at some of the small stones at his feet and gave a soft huff of laughter. "Or maybe it is. Not like any of this was intentional."
"Maybe not, but-" Sam started to say, but Dean held up a hand.
"Don't even start with that," he said warningly.
"I'm just saying," Sam said patiently but stubbornly. "You didn’t know what would happen. Cas obviously doesn’t blame you, so why-”
“You think I’m worried about Cas blaming me?” Dean demanded, turning fully to face the younger Winchester and stare at him incredulously. “If there’s anyone to blame for this, it’s him. I didn’t even fucking know about our ‘bond’ until I apparently stumbled my way into a goddamn marriage.”
“It’s not like Cas meant-” Sam started. Dean cut him off with a snort and kicked one of the larger pieces of gravel to the other side of the parking lot.
“Yeah, I know,” he said. He looked back up at the night sky and took a deep breath before letting it out slowly. “He didn’t mean to keep it from me. He didn’t mean for me to accidentally marry him while he was tripping on whatever he lifted from your head.”
Sam went quiet next to him, thinking. The silence was tense and awkward and Dean shifted uncomfortably, about to suggest that they go get beers or something because there was no way he was going to deal with this sober, when Sam spoke again.
"Are you angry?" he asked.
"Wouldn't you be?" Dean replied shortly. "Hell, if not for the shifter almost beating me to death, I probably would never have found out."
There was an expectant pause, but Dean had no intention of continuing.
“Sounds like you’re more upset he didn’t tell you than upset about what happened,” Sam said softly.
“I-” Dean said, then cut himself off. He shook his head. “I’ll be pissed about that once I’m done being pissed that he didn’t tell me.”
“Sure,” Sam agreed easily. Dean glared at him. “What? I’m agreeing with you.”
“Right,” Dean grumbled. They lapsed into silence again, but Sam seemed a lot more comfortable with it than Dean was. Sam leaned against the car, a small, contented smile on his face as he looked up at the night sky. Dean shifted in place and dropped his gaze from the stars to the other vehicles in the parking lot. “I don’t do commitment, Sammy. It doesn’t work for me.”
He wanted to take the words back the instant they left his mouth, but it was too late now.
"It hasn't worked for you yet," Sam said gently, without mockery. Dean breathed easier. The younger Winchester paused for a moment, as if debating the wisdom of his next words. "And it still sounds like you’re more upset because you didn’t know than upset that the bond exists.”
"I am upset that it exists," Dean growled, but without much heart. "Are we done talking about our feelings now, Samantha?"
"Yeah, I'm done," Sam replied, standing up. Dean watched him, wary of the easy capitulation. "Just think about it, ok? Then talk to Cas. Here." He reached into his pocket and pulled out the key to the motel room. He offered it to Dean, who took it automatically. "I'll see you in the morning."
"Wait, what? Where are you going?" Dean asked, watching as Sam picked up a small duffle from the ground next to the car's tire and headed in the direction of the lobby. Sam stopped and threw an incredulous smile at Dean.
"Seriously? I am not staying in the room tonight. Even if all you two do is talk," he said. Dean shoved the key into his pocket, feeling the tips of his ears heat.
"What do you mean 'even if'?" he demanded. "I'm a dude. He's a dude. We're not going to... do anything." And if Cas's sex wasn't actually one of Dean's hang-ups, Sam didn't need to know that.
"I'm not stupid, Dean," Sam said. "I've noticed that you don't just check out the girls when we go to bars."
Dean suddenly regretted leaving his jacket behind. He folded his arms and went back to staring at the sky, now picking out half-remembered constellations.
Sam's feet crunched over the gravel as he stepped closer to Dean and laid a supportive hand on his shoulder.
"I love women," Dean muttered unconvincingly. Sam chuckled dryly.
"Even if you only liked women, I've seen the way you look at Cas. He'd be your exception," Sam said, dropping his hand. His tone was so matter-of-fact Dean almost wanted to punch him, but what he spoke was the truth.
"It doesn't bother you?" he asked, looking at Sam. Sam shook his head.
"Was a little weird when I first noticed it, but that was years ago." Before Hell, he didn't need to say. Dean understood and he chuckled lowly, half-proud of his little brother for being so observant and half-irritated Sam had never just took him aside and told him 'I know and I'm cool with it'.
"Bitch," Dean said.
"Jerk," Sam replied, smiling. "Talk to him, ok? And if you do anything else, I never want to hear about it."
"What, you don't want the play-by-play?" Dean laughed. Sam's mouth twisted into one of his classic bitchfaces. Dean sobered up suddenly, a thought occurring to him. It was a worry he’d never really laid to rest and had managed not to think about tonight, but if there was going to be any kind of discussion between himself and Cas, he needed Sam to salt and burn it now so it wouldn’t linger. "Sammy, you and Cas were never together, right?"
"'Toget-'," Sam spluttered. "You’re still hung up on that? No!"
The denial was quick but not overly hasty, bewildered but not false. Dean relaxed.
"Good. Wouldn't want him to forget which Winchester's name he's supposed to be screaming," he said, his smirk more confident than he actually felt. Sam shook his head.
"I'll see you in the morning and I really, really don't want to hear your voice-"
Dean opened his mouth.
"-Or Cas's until then," Sam finished quickly, gritting his teeth. "I'm getting a room on the other side of the motel. On the top floor."
"Might want to try the next county over," Dean said, winking theatrically.
"Leaving now," Sam said. He headed for the lobby, tossing over his shoulder, "Everything will be fine, Dean." He was gone before Dean could respond.
The older Winchester leaned more heavily on the trunk of the car, his cocky smirk fading. He looked up at the sky and let out a long, slow breath.
His thoughts were chasing themselves in circles. The bond had been an accident, but he didn't want it gone and not only because apparently his mind was helping keep Cas out of a white wraparound jacket and a padded cell. There were so many things he should hate about this; the loss of privacy, the fact that Cas hadn’t told him, he could go on.
But despite all of that, he still didn't want the bond gone.
After all, when a guy pulls you out of Hell and cradles your soul in their hands, there wasn’t a whole lot of privacy there, either. Dean had picked up pretty quickly on how to build a wall in his head and fuck, Cas had seen him at his worst and at his best. He had little left to hide.
Dean hadn't known what he had done, he hadn't meant to do it, but he'd been only mildly irritated about that when he had thought of the emotion-sharing as just some kind of weird quirk. Before he'd known it was basically marriage.
Cas should have told him, he shouldn't have kept this from -- there were those circular thoughts again.
Dean ran a hand over his face, dragging his palm over his eyes, nose, and chin.
"Damn it," he muttered, getting off the trunk of the car and heading to the motel room. The only way to resolve any of this was to talk to Cas.
Maybe if he did, he could figure out where to go from here.
Next
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 1| Part 2| Part 3| Part 4| Part 5| Part 6
Part 7
The first thing he was aware of was the screaming, the sounds of thousands upon thousands of souls being tortured. Next were the scents of blood and decay and sweat, but all the smells and all the sounds were muffled, somehow. They were duller than he remembered from his two trips into the Pit. His body felt heavy, unnaturally so, and when he shifted, pain spiked through him from his shoulders, his wrists, one of his hips, and his ankles.
He shouldn't have a body. Vessels were never worn in the Pit.
Castiel opened his eyes, dread pooling heavily in the stomach he shouldn't have. He stared upwards, body suspended from meathooks attached to chains that seemed to go on forever. Far, far above him, he could see a faint white light that he knew he would never reach, no matter how high or how fast he climbed. Other chains spiderwebbed across his vision, each with a human soul at the center and all being tortured by another in various stages of decomposition.
The webs were everywhere; above, to either side, and probably below as well, but Castiel couldn’t turn enough to check. He couldn’t help hearing, though. Even though he refused to look at the suffering around him, the sounds conjured up images in his mind.
He heard the splintering of bone and pictured ribs cracking like broken eggs. He heard the crack of a whip and a woman’s scream and saw the bloody gashes on previously smooth flesh. He heard chains clank and screaming and sawing and the wet smack of flesh on flesh; the last perhaps the worst noise of all.
Was this how a human experienced Hell? Men and women being raped, being torn to shreds, being broken into little pieces until the most promising were offered a chance to get off the rack to do unto others as they had been done to?
"Oh, good, you're awake."
The voice was familiar and Castiel suddenly felt chilled all over. Slowly, hoping that he was mistaken, he looked towards the source.
Dean stood there, a smirk on his face and not a trace of light anywhere in his soul. His eyes were pools of ink. The sight was like a blow and Castiel couldn't breathe for a moment.
"This isn't real," he said, trying to project more confidence than he felt. His voice shook.
"Oh, it's real all right," Dean said.
Cas reached for the bond in his head. Consequences be damned, this was the most realistic vision Lucifer had ever managed to create. He would accept whatever punishment Dean saw fit to give him just so long as he could break free.
He couldn’t find it.
His head was empty, no trace of Grace or of the golden light that had come to represent safety and sanity to him. He groped blindly for something, anything; a mere illusion couldn’t have severed the connection. The bond still existed, surely. It couldn’t have vanished.
There was a quiet, uneasy voice in the back of his head reminding him that he’d never had trouble sensing the bond before now, even when hallucinating, so what made this different?
Had he Fallen?
"Dean, what-" Cas started to say, but Dean cut him off.
"You've been asleep for a long time, Castiel," he said, striding confidently closer. "Things have changed."
The use of his full name sent a spark of discomfort down his spine.
"What happened to you?" Castiel demanded, shivering in a nonexistent chill when Dean was finally close enough to loom over him. He was still smirking.
"Hell," he answered. "Held out for fifty years this time, convinced you'd come to get me out. Well." He jabbed his thumb towards his chest. "Obviously, that didn't happen."
"I-" Cas started to say. Dean slapped a hand over his mouth and squeezed his jaw painfully.
"You don't get to make excuses, Cas," Dean spat. "You weren't here when I needed you." He tore his hand away and turned. He waved his hand horizontally over what had been empty space and there was suddenly a long table top covered with various knives, needles, whips, and other devices and instruments. "That's ok. I learned a few tricks down here and all I've been thinking about for the past thirty years is what I would do to you if you ever ended up on my rack."
Fifty years on the rack. Thirty years off.
Dean had suffered down here for eighty years. Where had Castiel been? He could remember nothing after smiting the shapeshifter and returning to the motel room. Sam had been there, then Lucifer, and then nothing.
"Dean," he said. He wanted to say something about how he wouldn't have left Dean down here, not if he could help it. He would have come for Dean, but something must have prevented him. Before he could get another word out, Dean rounded on him and slammed a knife into his gut. Cas choked, any words he would have said disappearing in a pained grunt.
Hallucination or not, this certainly felt real enough.
"I already said I don't want to hear you," Dean growled, pulling the blade up towards Castiel's chin. At the top of Cas's sternum, he stopped and withdrew it. "I'd cut out your tongue, but it would be a shame to ruin such a pretty mouth this early. I'll start with your lungs."
Castiel's breathing quickened, interspersed with sharp hisses as Dean cut a line under his collarbone and another above his hips.
"I would never have left you," Cas choked out, gritting his teeth as Dean began to peel the skin away from his ribs. "You know that, Dean. I have always-"
Dean grabbed Castiel's chin again, his hand sticky with blood. He pressed his thumb and index finger into the fallen angel's jaw, forcing Castiel's mouth open.
"I told you not to make excuses," Dean said, sliding the knife into Castiel's mouth and pressing the sharp edge against one of the corners. Cas stilled. "Actually, you'd probably enjoy me using that mouth of yours too much. This is supposed to be punishment, Cas." Dean dragged the knife through the flesh and Cas gagged on his own blood. He thrashed, trying instinctively to turn his head away, but Dean's grip was too strong. Dean switched sides and cut through the other cheek as well, careful not to nick his own fingers.
"Dean," Cas gurgled, trying to speak around the crimson liquid in his mouth. Dean yanked on his jaw, pulling it open as far as the joint would allow and then reaching in. Cas could taste sulfur and ash on Dean's thumb as the demon pulled on his tongue. Dean's grip was slippery, a combination of blood and saliva making it hard to hold, but he pinched the muscle and began to saw Castiel's tongue free. Cas cried out, trying to pull his head back, but he failed.
Dean tossed the chunk of flesh aside, a satisfied expression on his face.
"Now that you're quiet, I don't need to rush to your lungs," he said, turning back to the table with his instruments. He set down the knife and picked up a hammer. "How do you like your ribs, Cas?"
Cas's chest heaved as he coughed. He turned his head to the side, trying to get rid of the blood clogging his windpipe. Without a tongue, the most he could hope to do was encourage it to dribble out of his mouth.
There was a rush of air and then pain exploded in his chest. Cas tried to curl up, but the hooks holding him suspended prevented him. Dean brought the hammer down again, targeting a different rib. The bone gave a sickening crack and then Dean dug his hand underneath it and tore it free. The fragment went the way of Castiel's tongue.
Cas couldn't even cry out. The demon broke his ribs one by one, blood coating the head of the hammer and covering Dean's shirt, flecking his face. Dean pulled out the rest of the bones, taking only one fragment at a time and making sure to twist any pieces hanging on, rupturing as many of Castiel's organs as he could. He dragged one of the larger fragments over Castiel's stomach, widening the puncture he had made with the initial knife wound until the acid was spilling out over the rest of Castiel's internal organs.
Surely he couldn't hallucinate this much pain? There wasn't even the mercy of death in Hell, even though anything mortal would have long since died.
"I'm pretty good at flaying people," Dean commented casually, dropping the bone fragment he had been playing with and poking the few remaining ones until they were buried in whatever organ they rested on top of. Most ended up in Castiel's lungs. "After a bit of practice, I can usually get their skin off in one piece. I'm feeling lucky today; I'll probably be able to do yours on the first try."
Castiel stared at the far-distant entrance of the Pit, eyes glazed over with pain. He was dizzy with it and his head hurt like something was slamming into with a battering ram. Was this what pain was like for humans? When there was so much, even the parts of your body that had barely been touched ached?
Dean picked up a smaller knife and walked to Castiel's feet. He began prying up the toenails one by one, shoving the blade between the hardened keratin and the nail bed and twisting his wrist. His other hand held Cas tightly around the ankle, beneath where the meathook pierced his leg. Every so often, at irregular intervals, he'd dig his thumb into the wound to widen it.
The pounding in Castiel's head increased, or perhaps just his perception of it did. Cas's whole body shook, nerves overloading on sensation. Dean slid the tip of the blade beneath Castiel's skin at the tip of his toe, and slowly began to cut a line to the center of his foot. He repeated the process with the other toes, giving himself little inroads into the skin so he could peel it off.
Cas couldn't speak, he couldn't move; any chance he had to communicate with Dean was gone for now. He would have to try again tomorrow and just endure whatever the demon wearing Dean's face had planned for him today. Eventually, he would break through. He couldn't believe that something as brilliant and beautiful as Dean Winchester's soul had been irrevocably destroyed.
If it took a thousand years, he would find a way back to the Dean he had lost.
There was enormous pressure in his skull, like someone had taken a jackhammer to the back of it. Castiel shut his eyes.
Dean began to peel the skin away from each of Castiel’s toes, carefully tugging until he had enough to get a good grip. He pulled, peeling everything up to his knee away in one long strip. Castiel gritted his teeth against the pain, body shaking with the force of it.
The pressure in his head broke as something in it shattered. Cas opened his mouth to cry out, as though voicing the pain would help to lessen it, as though he could yell with partially dried blood blocking his throat, but the ache suddenly subsided. Worry, not blood, choked him now. Anger, confusion, desire, hope, and fear poured into Cas and he gasped in shock, eyes flying open. The far-distant light was no longer white, but gold and it glowed far brighter. The golden light grew bigger and bigger and Cas abruptly realized that it wasn't getting larger, it was getting closer.
It streaked past all the webs of human misery above Cas. He half expected it to pass him by as well, but then it was upon him, slamming into him so hard he lost the air he had recently regained.
The meathooks holding him up disintegrated and the chains holding him down crumbled. His body was new again in an instant and, without the support of the chains, he began to fall.
Something caught him, slipping under his arms and wrapping around his back. His tumble instantly stopped and then they were heading straight up just as fast as he'd been falling. Faster, even. They flew past hundreds of souls, all screaming to be saved, and Cas had an odd sense of deja vu.
This had happened before, but that time, he had been the one with wings. He clung tighter to the light, uncertain of what was happening but trusting in it absolutely.
Everything around him grew brighter and brighter and Cas shut his eyes again, knowing they were reaching the exit. The light grew so intense Cas could see it even though his closed eyelids and then suddenly it was gone and he snapped his eyes open.
He stared at the cracked ceiling of a motel room, head pounding and breath coming in shallow pants. His head ached, but that was quickly fading and while he still felt phantom pain in his mouth, chest, and leg, he didn't actually hurt.
None of it had been real.
"Cas?" Dean's face replaced the view of the ceiling and Cas felt a wave of trepidation and worry not his own. Castiel swallowed heavily, feeling the bond pulse bright and strong in the back of his head, the pieces of the destroyed Grace wall littering the mental surface around it.
The bond hummed contentedly, now more than a mere thread between himself and Dean. The connection had transformed into a rope bridge, a bit shaky but anchored very strongly on both sides.
"Dean," he croaked. Dean smiled and straightened up, pulling Castiel with him. Relief and triumph transmitted themselves across the bond, loud and almost obnoxious. Cas winced, the throbbing in his head getting worse.
"Oh, thank fuck, it worked," Dean said. There was a flash of pride, almost blinding to Castiel’s still-sensitive mind.
"Cas!" Sam said. Castiel looked over in time to see Sam get out of his chair. The younger Winchester walked over and sat at the edge of the other mattress, facing Dean and the angel. "How are you feeling?"
There was concern and a hint of guilt flowing through him, but those were not his feelings.
"I am well," Castiel replied, trying to build up the remaining bricks of the wall between himself and Dean, just enough so that the throbbing in his head would go down. He had succeeded only partially before Dean's hand suddenly seized his wrist in what would have been a painfully tight grip if Cas was human. Anger and fear stabbed through Castiel's head.
"Don't shut me out again," Dean demanded, staring at Castiel.
"I'm not," Castiel replied, sending an echo of his pain across the bond to Dean, who recoiled as though struck. Cas immediately followed it up with something more soothing as a kind of apology. "But your emotions are very strong. It's making my head ache."
"I'm doing that?" Dean asked, stunned. Castiel nodded and Dean let go. A few seconds later, Cas felt a wave of apology and guilt and this time, when he put up a partial wall, Dean let him do it in peace. The throbbing in Castiel's head immediately subsided.
"... can someone explain to me what just happened?" Sam asked, looking from one to the other in confusion. "What did you do, Dean?" His voice wasn't accusatory in the least, just puzzled.
Dean floundered for a moment, opening and closing his mouth while he groped for words.
"Dean used the bond he and I share to pull me out of the hallucination I was experiencing and ground me in reality," Cas explained. Sam and Dean both blinked.
"I think that just raised more questions," Sam said. Dean poked at the bond carefully, examining it.
"So, this is what you meant by 'profound bond', huh?" he said. He frowned. "If we’ve had it for over a year, why am I just now finding out about it?”
"Sounds like someone's not too happy with you, Cassie."
Castiel closed his eyes briefly, wishing the sound of Lucifer's voice was as easy to block as the sight. It had been too much to hope for that the madness would be eradicated by the deepening of the bond. Cas had known from the beginning that it would take full consummation, but he had hoped.
"Wonder how mad he'll be when he finds out that you've neglected to mention the fine print." Lucifer was stretched out on the other bed behind Sam, his arms folded beneath his head. His form was very insubstantial, almost ghostlike, but existent.
"Our bond has existed for more than a year,” Castiel said reluctantly. “The beginnings of it have been present since I took you from the Pit.”
Dean stilled.
"What?" he demanded. His shock and anger were almost tangible things.
"By the time I found you, your soul had already been tainted. In order to purify you and raise you as the Righteous Man, I poured my Grace into you. I didn't just rebuild your body, Dean," Castiel told him, meeting his eyes directly. "I used pieces of my being to bind together the tattered fragments of your soul. When the time came for you to be placed back into your body, some of my Grace had bonded too strongly to you for me to remove them without causing you harm."
"And you never thought about telling me?" Dean demanded, getting up and walking away to pace at the end of the bed. Castiel could feel his anger and his suspicion and for a moment he regretted ever taking down the wall between their minds, all those weeks ago at the hospital.
“The bond was originally no more invasive than one a guardian would have with their charge,” Cas said.
"’Originally’?" Sam prompted, tone apologetic but firm.
Cas felt the weight of Dean’s stare but pressed on even as it pinned him down.
“When I was in the mental hospital, I tried to put the madness in a Cage, similar to how my Father trapped Lucifer,” Cas explained. “I did not have the power to do it. I accidentally brought down the wall between Dean’s mind and my own and discovered that the bond could keep me grounded. The madness had less of an effect on me.”
The Winchesters were silent. Castiel looked down, studying the bedspread.
“I didn’t intend to deepen the bond, but given the circumstances, it grew stronger on its own,” Cas said. Sam made a curious, interested noise in the back of his throat and Dean breathed in sharply, realization emanating from him.
“Physical proximity increases the bond’s effects,” Castiel explained shortly. Sam nodded and Dean looked towards the motel room window, gesturing with his hand for Cas to continue.
“If I blocked the connection completely, I would succumb to the madness, so I left myself a thread to hold on to. Of course, that meant the wall between myself and the bond was weak and it broke earlier when the shapeshifter nearly killed Dean.” It had more broke under the force of his own reaction than anything the shifter had done, but there was no need to mention how big a part his feelings had played. “I did repair the cracks, but Dean had already become aware that the bond existed.” He stopped for a moment to breathe and allow the hunters to digest the information.
There was a long pause, during which Cas became aware of a slow-burning anger stemming from Dean.
"You never wanted me to find out," Dean finally said. He was a maelstrom of fury and hurt and then suddenly, there was nothing. Castiel looked at him in shock. Dean's face was pinched as though he was concentrating very hard on something and the bond had been completely blocked off from his end. A lifetime of holding his emotions close to his chest had paid off. "Fine. Better? Now it's like I never did."
"Ouch," Lucifer commented, pseudo-sympathetically. He was now fully solid behind Sam. "And you haven't even told him the worst part yet. What do you think he'll do after you tell him?"
“Guardian angels can protect more than one person, right?” Sam asked suddenly, a slightly desperate note in his voice. “And the angel would have a bond with everyone?”
Castiel nodded slowly, reeling a bit from the sudden loss of connection. Sam seemed to relax.
“So, angels don’t see bonds as a big deal? Is that why you didn’t tell us?” he asked gently. “If they’re that commonplace…”
Dean's block wavered for a moment and Cas could feel the hurt spilling out of the break, though nothing showed on Dean's face.
"Well, Cas? Is that why you didn't tell me? Because it wasn't a ‘big deal’?" he demanded flatly, crossing his arms and staring at the angel.
"He's not going to like this one bit," Lucifer singsonged, smiling. He was still disconcertingly solid and Dean had the bond locked down tight.
“At first, yes,” Cas said, looking back at Dean, heart beginning to trip in trepidation. “And I am no guardian. I was stationed on Earth to fight and to carry out what I believed were Heaven’s orders; there were too few of us and too many Seals. I couldn’t be excused from my duties to perch on your shoulder.”
Dean scowled at that, but there seemed to be little actual anger behind it. He gave a grudging nod.
“I blocked the bond off and it virtually ceased to exist until I broke the wall. There was no point in mentioning it before,” Castiel said.
Sam was nodding, as though the explanation satisfied him. Dean didn’t nod, but there was less tension in his frame. Pity the difficult part had yet to come.
Castiel would have given anything to be allowed to stop there and say no more, but he didn’t want to think about how Dean would react when he found out that Cas hadn’t fully disclosed everything. Dean would find out, that was inevitable.
“Go on, spit it out,” Lucifer said, unholy glee in his voice.
“However, considering what has happened, I would have needed to reveal it to you tonight even if you hadn’t asked,” Cas said reluctantly.
Dean tensed again, scowl turning suspicious, and Sam frowned, confused.
“What happened?” Sam asked. “You mean Dean pulling you out of the hallucination?”
“Why?” Dean demanded.
Castiel didn’t speak for a moment, attempting to find the right words to explain what Dean had done in ignorance.
“You may as well just say it. He won’t be any less angry if you talk around it,” Lucifer said.
“It isn’t uncommon for an angel to have multiple bonds,” Castiel began. “I actually had bonds with both Anael and Balthazar that were, at one point, stronger than our bond at its inception. Of course, those were severed when she Fell and when he faked his own death.”
“And?” Dean snapped. Sam shot him an annoyed look, but Dean stiffly shrugged it off.
“The only thing that differentiates the different types of bonds is the depth,” Castiel said slowly. “Shallow bonds, like what a guardian forms with his or her charges, are numerous and can be broken with little effort. Slightly deeper bonds are reserved for close comrades, usually angels from the same garrison and of the same order. Those are obviously less common and are more difficult to sever.”
Sam was listening with rapt attention, naked interest in his eyes. Dean seemed far more wary of the information, like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“The deepest level is reserved for mated pairs. An angel can only have one bond of that depth at a time. It’s usually severed by death, though not always,” Cas said.
Dean’s expression seemed frozen halfway between curiosity and foreboding, like his brain was drawing conclusions he’d rather it wouldn’t. Sam, however, had no such reservations. His eyes had widened comically, his interest igniting into full-blown excitement.
“Angels mate?” he asked.
“You’re telling us all this why?” Dean asked quickly. Sam’s expression quickly sobered at his older brother’s tone, comprehension slowly crawling over his face as well.
“Ooh, they’re sharp,” Lucifer said approvingly, clapping mockingly.
“In order to pull me out, Dean had to travel deeper into my mind than I have permitted anyone,” Cas explained quietly. “That, combined with what happened in the sewers earlier, resulted in some unexpected side effects. This bond is now the deepest I’ve ever had, stronger than what I shared with my brother or sister.”
There was a thin, fragile silence for several too-long moments following Castiel’s declaration. Then Dean forced himself to laugh, though it was obvious from the sound that he found nothing at all funny about the situation. Sam just stared, first at Cas, then at Dean.
“Man, Cas, you need to work on your wording,” Dean said, voice as brittle as the quiet had been. “Because it really sounds like you just told me that I went and angel-married you without realizing it.”
Castiel looked down, studying the bedspread once more.
“Dean,” Sam said, voice soothing in an attempt to placate his brother.
“I misunderstood, right, Cas?” Dean asked, stepping closer to the angel and stopping just short of actually looming over him. Castiel could feel anger boiling over in Dean, and shock, far too much for the hunter to hold close and hide. “That’s not what you’re telling me, right?”
In that moment, if Castiel could change the past, he would have given his Grace for the chance. Anything to not have to hear Dean’s fury when he realized that he was now mated to Castiel.
“I’m sorry, Dean,” Castiel admitted softly.
"See?" Lucifer whispered. He had moved, now sitting behind Castiel on the mattress. He laid a hand on the angel's shoulder. "I told you he wouldn't be happy. He doesn't want this, Cassie."
"Nothing has to change," Castiel said, still not looking at Dean. "The bond can still be broken or blocked. It won't affect Dean at all and I can find some other method of grounding myself."
Dean’s expression shuttered at the mention of ‘grounding’. To Castiel’s surprise, he felt the stranglehold Dean had on his emotions loosen. The angel could now feel Dean’s anger and confusion more fully, but behind him, Lucifer faded somewhat. The archangel scowled, once again ghostlike.
“Killjoy,” he murmured.
“What other methods are there?” Dean asked flatly, sounding less interested in getting an answer than asking the question. “You told us you couldn’t Cage the bastard.”
Castiel didn’t answer. Dean rubbed a hand over his face, exhausted.
“I need some air. Just… stay here,” he said as he turned towards the door.
"Dean..." Sam said, but Dean ignored him. He stalked towards the door and yanked it open. It slammed shut behind him and Sam turned back to Castiel with a sigh. "That could have gone better."
"Yes, it could have," Castiel replied. Sam gave him a strained smile.
"We need to teach you about understatements and humor sometime," he said. Silence fell and dragged on before Sam cleared his throat awkwardly. "So... congratulations?"
LINE BREAK
Dean leaned against the trunk of the car, staring up into the night sky. The air was a bit chilly, but not enough to send him running back into the motel room for his coat.
He heard the room’s door open and the sound of familiar footsteps. Sam approached his older brother cautiously, as though trying to get a feel for Dean's mood before speaking. Dean heard the sound of something being dropped on the gravel next to the car, but didn't turn.
"What?" Dean asked, gaze still fixed on the sky. Sam leaned against the trunk of the car as well and followed Dean's line of sight.
"I already told Cas this, but... congratulations," Sam said. Dean scowled.
"This isn't a joke, Sam," he said. He kicked at some of the small stones at his feet and gave a soft huff of laughter. "Or maybe it is. Not like any of this was intentional."
"Maybe not, but-" Sam started to say, but Dean held up a hand.
"Don't even start with that," he said warningly.
"I'm just saying," Sam said patiently but stubbornly. "You didn’t know what would happen. Cas obviously doesn’t blame you, so why-”
“You think I’m worried about Cas blaming me?” Dean demanded, turning fully to face the younger Winchester and stare at him incredulously. “If there’s anyone to blame for this, it’s him. I didn’t even fucking know about our ‘bond’ until I apparently stumbled my way into a goddamn marriage.”
“It’s not like Cas meant-” Sam started. Dean cut him off with a snort and kicked one of the larger pieces of gravel to the other side of the parking lot.
“Yeah, I know,” he said. He looked back up at the night sky and took a deep breath before letting it out slowly. “He didn’t mean to keep it from me. He didn’t mean for me to accidentally marry him while he was tripping on whatever he lifted from your head.”
Sam went quiet next to him, thinking. The silence was tense and awkward and Dean shifted uncomfortably, about to suggest that they go get beers or something because there was no way he was going to deal with this sober, when Sam spoke again.
"Are you angry?" he asked.
"Wouldn't you be?" Dean replied shortly. "Hell, if not for the shifter almost beating me to death, I probably would never have found out."
There was an expectant pause, but Dean had no intention of continuing.
“Sounds like you’re more upset he didn’t tell you than upset about what happened,” Sam said softly.
“I-” Dean said, then cut himself off. He shook his head. “I’ll be pissed about that once I’m done being pissed that he didn’t tell me.”
“Sure,” Sam agreed easily. Dean glared at him. “What? I’m agreeing with you.”
“Right,” Dean grumbled. They lapsed into silence again, but Sam seemed a lot more comfortable with it than Dean was. Sam leaned against the car, a small, contented smile on his face as he looked up at the night sky. Dean shifted in place and dropped his gaze from the stars to the other vehicles in the parking lot. “I don’t do commitment, Sammy. It doesn’t work for me.”
He wanted to take the words back the instant they left his mouth, but it was too late now.
"It hasn't worked for you yet," Sam said gently, without mockery. Dean breathed easier. The younger Winchester paused for a moment, as if debating the wisdom of his next words. "And it still sounds like you’re more upset because you didn’t know than upset that the bond exists.”
"I am upset that it exists," Dean growled, but without much heart. "Are we done talking about our feelings now, Samantha?"
"Yeah, I'm done," Sam replied, standing up. Dean watched him, wary of the easy capitulation. "Just think about it, ok? Then talk to Cas. Here." He reached into his pocket and pulled out the key to the motel room. He offered it to Dean, who took it automatically. "I'll see you in the morning."
"Wait, what? Where are you going?" Dean asked, watching as Sam picked up a small duffle from the ground next to the car's tire and headed in the direction of the lobby. Sam stopped and threw an incredulous smile at Dean.
"Seriously? I am not staying in the room tonight. Even if all you two do is talk," he said. Dean shoved the key into his pocket, feeling the tips of his ears heat.
"What do you mean 'even if'?" he demanded. "I'm a dude. He's a dude. We're not going to... do anything." And if Cas's sex wasn't actually one of Dean's hang-ups, Sam didn't need to know that.
"I'm not stupid, Dean," Sam said. "I've noticed that you don't just check out the girls when we go to bars."
Dean suddenly regretted leaving his jacket behind. He folded his arms and went back to staring at the sky, now picking out half-remembered constellations.
Sam's feet crunched over the gravel as he stepped closer to Dean and laid a supportive hand on his shoulder.
"I love women," Dean muttered unconvincingly. Sam chuckled dryly.
"Even if you only liked women, I've seen the way you look at Cas. He'd be your exception," Sam said, dropping his hand. His tone was so matter-of-fact Dean almost wanted to punch him, but what he spoke was the truth.
"It doesn't bother you?" he asked, looking at Sam. Sam shook his head.
"Was a little weird when I first noticed it, but that was years ago." Before Hell, he didn't need to say. Dean understood and he chuckled lowly, half-proud of his little brother for being so observant and half-irritated Sam had never just took him aside and told him 'I know and I'm cool with it'.
"Bitch," Dean said.
"Jerk," Sam replied, smiling. "Talk to him, ok? And if you do anything else, I never want to hear about it."
"What, you don't want the play-by-play?" Dean laughed. Sam's mouth twisted into one of his classic bitchfaces. Dean sobered up suddenly, a thought occurring to him. It was a worry he’d never really laid to rest and had managed not to think about tonight, but if there was going to be any kind of discussion between himself and Cas, he needed Sam to salt and burn it now so it wouldn’t linger. "Sammy, you and Cas were never together, right?"
"'Toget-'," Sam spluttered. "You’re still hung up on that? No!"
The denial was quick but not overly hasty, bewildered but not false. Dean relaxed.
"Good. Wouldn't want him to forget which Winchester's name he's supposed to be screaming," he said, his smirk more confident than he actually felt. Sam shook his head.
"I'll see you in the morning and I really, really don't want to hear your voice-"
Dean opened his mouth.
"-Or Cas's until then," Sam finished quickly, gritting his teeth. "I'm getting a room on the other side of the motel. On the top floor."
"Might want to try the next county over," Dean said, winking theatrically.
"Leaving now," Sam said. He headed for the lobby, tossing over his shoulder, "Everything will be fine, Dean." He was gone before Dean could respond.
The older Winchester leaned more heavily on the trunk of the car, his cocky smirk fading. He looked up at the sky and let out a long, slow breath.
His thoughts were chasing themselves in circles. The bond had been an accident, but he didn't want it gone and not only because apparently his mind was helping keep Cas out of a white wraparound jacket and a padded cell. There were so many things he should hate about this; the loss of privacy, the fact that Cas hadn’t told him, he could go on.
But despite all of that, he still didn't want the bond gone.
After all, when a guy pulls you out of Hell and cradles your soul in their hands, there wasn’t a whole lot of privacy there, either. Dean had picked up pretty quickly on how to build a wall in his head and fuck, Cas had seen him at his worst and at his best. He had little left to hide.
Dean hadn't known what he had done, he hadn't meant to do it, but he'd been only mildly irritated about that when he had thought of the emotion-sharing as just some kind of weird quirk. Before he'd known it was basically marriage.
Cas should have told him, he shouldn't have kept this from -- there were those circular thoughts again.
Dean ran a hand over his face, dragging his palm over his eyes, nose, and chin.
"Damn it," he muttered, getting off the trunk of the car and heading to the motel room. The only way to resolve any of this was to talk to Cas.
Maybe if he did, he could figure out where to go from here.
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