Forgive you? forget you. The end... chapter 3

[caz2y5]

Chuck bit at his lip. He was worried. Bobby had arrived home less than an hour ago but Castiel hadn’t been with him. He didn’t know where Castiel was. He’d asked Chuck but didn’t know where he was either. He had reached a blind spot in his visions and he could no longer see what Castiel was doing. In his last vision he’d seen Dean attacking Cas in a hotel room. He’d called Bobby but by the time the hunter had reached the hotel room there was nothing but an empty crime scene, a dead woman and no witnesses.

That had been almost a week ago.

Bobby had spent two days in Wisconsin looking for some trace of Castiel, or Dean, but had found nothing. He had returned to the scrap yard hoping that Chuck would have something new but Chuck just couldn’t see Castiel any more. Hell he hadn’t had a vision since he saw Dean hurting Castiel. It was kind of a relief but it was also scary not knowing what had happened to his friends.

Right then the two of them were in Bobby’s study, which Chuck had only just started venturing into. Bobby was leaning over the desk with his hands on the edge, going over what Chuck had written and mumbling every so often when he came across a page that mentioned some of Dean’s extra curricular activities. “Idjit’s,” Bobby muttered as he read, tutting with his tongue and shaking his head and all Chuck could do was sit on the chair and watch him, an arm wrapped tight across his chest as he chewed on the nails of his other hand.

“Are you sure Dean didn’t take Castiel with him?” Bobby flashed a concerned glance at Chuck, reminding him how much the other man appreciated having someone who cared about the boys as much as he did helping him on his hunts to find them.

Chuck shook his head and stood up, leaning over the desk and rummaging through the papers until he found the page he was looking for. Chuck looked at the paper, skimming over it until he had found the few paragraphs that detailed what happened after Dean left the hotel room.

“Do you want me to read it for you?” Chuck tilted his head and scratched at a spot behind his ear. “It’s, um… They kind of…” Chuck wasn’t exactly sure how to say it but from the look on Bobby’s face, if he didn’t hand it over right now, Bobby was going to shoot him. So Chuck handed it over, pointing out a paragraph, “You might want to skip to here.” 


The moment Dean appeared in their little room, Sam pulled him into his arms and pressed his lips over Dean’s, kissing him hard until Dean put his hands on his shoulders and leaned away.

“Where were you? I told you not to leave the hotel,” Sam met Dean’s eyes and Dean could sense the anger that flickered like a snake behind those softened eyes. Dean slid his arms around Sam and raked his fingers over his brother’s scalp before leaning back in and nipping at Sam’s jaw.

“I went out for a drink.” Dean smiled. He had done a great job of proving to Sam that he could go off on his own and be safe. Hell, he had even seen Castiel who was a hunter now and kicked his ass, and more besides. “Come on, Sammy, don’t get like that. Haven’t I proven now that I can be trusted?” Dean nuzzled against him and hummed softly against his skin.

“I told you to stay there. Disobeying does not instill trust,” Sammy still sounded mad but Dean could feel him softening. “You promised me you would behave while I was gone. You lied to me,” Sam frowned and slid a hand under Dean’s shirt, dragging his nails across the bare skin.

Dean leaned back and scowled. “I didn’t lie to you. Not like when you told me Castiel was dead,” Dean said harshly. Sam let him go and took a step back so that he could see Dean’s face clearly. The anger that had seethed under the surface of Sam’s eyes was now bubbling to the surface.

“You were with the angel? They’re not suppose to know you’re alive, Dean. Did you forget that they will try to take you from me?” Sam spoke quickly, anger and frustration and lip curling in disgust. “Or is that what you wanted?”

Dean watched his brother clench and unclench his fists. The last few times that Dean had seen Sam do that his brother had struck out in anger and killed all of the demons in the room except for Dean. But it had taken Dean a long time to heal.

Dean chose his posture carefully, slouching just a little, but raising his chin and looking Sam in the eye. He chose his words just as carefully and his tone was even. “He isn’t an angel, he’s human. Cas lost his grace, he can’t stop us. He can’t do anything,” Dean stepped forward and cupped a hand to Sam’s cheek.

A smirk spread across Dean’s lips as shrugged and let the hand at Sam’s cheek brush the hair from Sam’s face. “You don’t have to worry about me, Sammy. I’m not going to fall into some hunter’s trap.” Dean slid his other hand around Sam’s waist and pulled him close.

“Where is Castiel now?” Sam ignored Dean’s last comment just as he ignored the hands rubbing him, trying to soothe and arouse him, trying to distract him from Dean’s disobedience. He kept his head tilted back just out of reach of Dean’s lips.

“In Wisconsin... but after what I did to him he’s probably in a hospital.” Dean grinned

It was the right thing to say. Sam’s posture relaxed and he finally gave the older man a small smile. “In hospital, huh.” Dean nodded, slotting himself closer so that Sam could feel how aroused he was. “You know, you still need to be punished.”

Sam’s voice was a soft growl and Dean shivered in anticipation. He lowered his eyes, “I understand.”

“Good,” was all Sam said before pushing Dean at the bed. “Face down,” he ordered and Dean willingly complied … 


Bobby lowered the paper and rubbed his eyes. “Why the hell do you write this crap?” He gave Chuck a stern look before throwing the paper down with the rest of them. “Can’t you skip that stuff? Leave it out?” Bobby looked exasperated, or perhaps he was going to lose his liquid lunch. Chuck couldn’t be certain. He stepped back just in case but couldn’t help defending himself.

“I don’t want to write it either, you know.” His face scrunched up as he thought of some of what he had seen in the past months. . It sucked that the only way he could get the visions out of his head was to write all of it down. Every last dirty detail. “Take it up with God if you have a problem with it. Maybe he’d listen to you; he’s never listened to me.”

Bobby just shook his head sadly. If he had been about to say anything more he didn’t get the chance. A wind whipped through the room, scattering the papers, knocking over stacks of books and filling the air with dust. . When they uncovered their faces, Castiel was standing in the middle of the room. He was no longer wearing Dean’s old clothes, leather and jeans replaced by his old suit and trench coat. Even the tie sat in the same crooked way it had always sat just like he had never taken it off, or spent the last three months as a human.

Chuck blinked but said nothing. Instead he started picking up the paper, gathering and sorting his writing.

“Where in the hell have you been?” Bobby blurted out, all his fear and frustration released in the short sentence.

“He’s an angel again,” Chuck stated. “That’s why I couldn’t see him, right?” He looked up at Castiel and received a quiet nod in confirmation.

Bobby looked the angel up and down and grinned, “That’s great,” he said enthusiastically, “Now we’ll be able to really kick some demon ass”.

“It should help,” Castiel agreed calmly.

Chuck knew that Castiel having his mojo back was a good thing because it meant they had more of a chance of getting the boys back. But, Chuck realized looking at Castiel so solemn as he stood in the middle of the room, good for Dean and Sam wasn’t necessarily good for Castiel.

He was about to say something about it but Bobby spoke first. “You know, I looked for you for two days.”

“I am sorry that I frightened you. I needed time to …adjust to having my grace back,” his voice was quiet and just a little sad. Chuck looked away because it was almost a private moment. He knew from his visions that Castiel had wanted to be human so he could be with Dean. .

Castiel’s gaze fell on Chuck and his voice when he spoke had that same demanding angel quality that Chuck remembered from before. “Chuck I need you to tell me, did Dean call for me to save him?”

Chuck fidgeted, nodded sadly as he lowered his gaze. “Yeah, I was going to tell you but by the time I had written it, it had already happened and you were human and-and not doing so good,” a mild way of saying that Castiel had nearly died from the injuries Raphael had caused and the shock of having his grace torn from him. Chuck looked at Castiel and shrugged in apology. “You couldn’t have done anything to save him anyway and you didn’t need the extra worry. I’m so sorry, Cas,” and he was. Writing this stuff had been so much easier when he thought Sam and Dean were just fictional characters.

Bobby frowned and poured himself a whiskey. “So why now? After all the crap we’ve been through, why are the angels helping out now?” Bobby worried. He never had trusted the angels. Even Castiel was considered dubious since he’d zapped the old hunter during their first meeting.

“Sorry to interrupt your maudlin mood.” There was a man in an immaculate black Italian suit with a grey tie standing in Bobby’s kitchen. “But fancy a fag and a chat?” He asked spoke with a faint English accent.

Bobby jumped. “What the hell?”

The newcomer unscrewed a bottle of whiskey on the table and poured a small amount into a glass. He swirled the amber liquid around inside it and smiled broadly at the old hunter.

“Who in the hell are you?” Bobby stood behind the desk. He’d pulled a gun from under his desk and now it was pointed it at the intruder.

“He’s a demon,” Castiel announced.

“King of the Crossroads,” the newcomer announced with a proud little smile.. The stranger stepped forward, coming close enough to lean against the archway between kitchen and study. His eyes were on the angel who he probably considered the only real threat.

“You got two seconds, buster...” Bobby pulled back the hammer.

“Calm down,” the demon said nonchalantly, “If I were here to kill you I'd have done it already.” He lifted the glass to his face and inhaled the aroma. He grimaced and placed the glass as far away from him as possible.

“I said: who are you,” Bobby demanded.

The demon sighed, “And I said: King of the Crossroads.”

“His name is Crowley,” Castiel supplied. Chuck frowned; the name was familiar but he couldn’t place it. Maybe he’d read it somewhere...

“Crowley,” Bobby growled, “Great. Now, what do you want?”

“I’m here to help,” he started. Bobby scoffed; his gun didn’t waver. He turned and looked at Castiel. “What can I say; I like the status quo.”

“Let him speak,” Castiel raised a hand, a signal to Bobby to lower his weapon. “He obviously feels it’s worth the risk of speaking to a hunter and an angel.”

“Thank you.” “Crowley tilted his head slightly, smiled a serpentine smile and held his hands out in a gesture that encompassed the room. “I heard you were planning on stopping the Hardy Boys and I want in.”

Bobby snickered at that. Castiel’s brow furrowed and it was obvious that he did not understand the reference. .

Chuck opened his mouth to explain, but closed it again as a more important question occurred to him. “Uh…why?” Chuck nervously crossed his arms and tucked his hands under as all eyes in the room turned to stare at him. “Why would he help us?”

“A valid question,” Castiel turned back to look at the Demon. All three of them thinking the same thing: why did Crowley want in?

“You’re the prophet, right?” Crowley tilted his head slightly and rolled his eyes sarcastically, then he turned to face Bobby and Castiel again. “I’m in sales which means I need buyers. If Lucifer has his way, there will be no more humans and therefore, no more market. I’ve made myself a good life here and I don’t want it to end.

Castiel stared at him, that odd, assessing look that he used to get, as if he was seeing something beyond the physical. “No,” he rejected Crowley’s words, “that’s not the whole reason.”

Crowley rolled his eyes impatiently. “It’s called survival, right?” He huffed slightly as they continued to stare at him. “Lucifer is famous for his hatred of human kind,” Crowley gestured at Bobby and Chuck as he spoke. “To him, you're just filthy bags of pus. If that's the way he feels about you, what can he think about us?”

“But he created you,” Chuck protested, looking shocked.

Crowley’s return look was patronizing, as if the answer was too obvious. “To him, we're just servants. Cannon fodder. So what do you say you let me help you defeat the devil?” Crowley raised his eyebrows and tilted his head again. The demon looked expectantly at each of them and waited for their response.

Chuck wasn’t so sure that they shouldn’t at least listen to Crowley, after all it’s not like they had even the start of a plan on how to stop Lucifer and save Dean and Sam, but Castiel didn’t bother checking with Bobby or Chuck before speaking. “We cannot trust you and we do not need the kind of help you wish to offer,” From Crowley’s easy stance, he hadn’t expected them to accept his offer straight away. He raised an unimpressed eyebrow and smirked, “You sure about that?”



The noise in the club was deafening. That irritating bass beat that made his chest rattle and his teeth ache. It was evil but, demon or not, this kind of music sucked and Dean wasn’t happy about having to be here.

Sam had left him up on the VIP balcony, with a good view of the dance floor, but he didn’t want to watch the ignorant masses dancing to crappy music. He had given him a bodyguard to keep him safe but, as a demon and a former hunter, Dean hardly needed the protection. No, most likely the guy had been assigned because Lucifer still didn’t trust him.

It had been a week since the incident where he had run into Castiel and it was the first time that Sam had let him out of his sight but there was no reason for him to be here.

Whatever business had called Sam away, surely Dean could have just gone with him? Failing that, he wanted to cause some havoc, raise a little hell, and the bodyguard’s presence made that a little difficult.

He contemplated picking one of people from the dance floor for some private fun when his brain struck on an even better idea. He downed what was left of his drink before standing up. He stretched a little before he made his way over to his bodyguard-slash-babysitter. When he got close enough he could feel his insides getting jittery. It had been a while since he had drunk any demon blood and the other demon smelt good.

Dean didn’t think about it. He grabbed the demon by the throat and slammed him against the wall. He pulled out his knife, the one that he had taken from Ruby, and opened the vein in the demon’s throat. The demon thrashed but Dean was stronger, pinning him with his powers, as he pressed his mouth over the wound and drank the warm blood that flowed from it. The demon’s struggles weakened, he started to droop limply. Dean kept drinking, enjoying the zing that poured into him.

Better than fucking whiskey, that’s for sure.

A pretty brunette walked by and whistled “Nice floor show,” she said and Dean nearly laughed. As if he’d ever touch this lame-ass dick for sex.

He didn’t pull away until he was full. Dean kept an arm pressed into the guy’s chest because he was dead, or nearly dead, and he would have fallen and drawn attention to them. Dean didn’t want the attention right now. He searched the dead guy’s pockets until he pulled out a cell phone. “Yahtzee,” he murmured.

He angled the demon’s fall so that he collapsed into one of the low chairs. In the dark light of the club, people looking at him would figure he’d drunk too much and leave him alone. It would give Dean plenty of time to do what he wanted.

Dean stepped out into the chilly morning air, into the alley behind the bar. Quick glances in both directions told him it was empty except a stray cat that hissed at him from the top of a trash can, just for fun he hissed back and then laughed as the mangy thing took off like he’d tied a firecracker to its tail.

Easy fun.

Dean pulled the mobile from his pocket and dialed the number. He leaned his shoulder against the wall as he waited. His heart sped up, not because he wanted to talk to the person on the other end, but because he was looking forward to tormenting them. It rang ten times and Dean was beginning to think it would ring out when there was a click and a deep voice spoke.

“Hello?”

“Hey Bobby,” Dean smiled at the familiarity of the voice even though he hadn’t heard it in what felt like a life time. “Man, you sound like shit.”



They were all just sitting around the table, trying to figure out how to get to Dean, when the phone rang. Dean’s voice was so familiar that Bobby could hear the smile in his voice.

“Dean?” Bobby asked tentatively. Bobby wanted to yell at him for not calling as he felt his heart leap into his chest. He wanted to laugh and he wanted to cry, but most of all, he wanted to know if this was actually Dean-his Dean-phoning and not demon-infested Dean who let his brother do... He turned to Castiel. The angel’s eyes widened. He moved closer to the older hunter, gaze fixed and waiting and intent.

“Yeah Bobby, it’s me. Is Cas there?” There wasn’t even a hint of anything untoward in his voice. It was like the past three months hadn’t happened. It was so good to hear the boy’s voice even if it was just some demon using it.

“Uh… yeah Castiel is here,” Bobby met Castiel’s gaze and used it to steel himself before covering the receiver with a hand and holding it toward Castiel. “He wants to talk to you.”

Castiel held the phone up to his ear. “Hello, Dean,” he said quietly as he kept his eyes on Bobby.

“Hey, lover, you miss me?” Dean’s smirk was practically audible.

“We were not lovers, Dean,” Castiel corrected. “You beat me half to death.”

“Foreplay,” Dean snickered. “Still it’s been a while and I missed you. You’re all I can think about,” Dean’s voice practically oozed insincere sweetness. Castiel closed his eyes as the memory of Dean pinning him to the wall, of Dean running his lips against his skin, skittered across his mind. “Hey listen, I was wondering if you wanted to make out? Maybe we could get together and play some more?”

One of the aspects of being an angel that Castiel had least looked forward to, was the separation from emotions, the lack of true connection with other living beings. Angels were removed from them whereas humans reveled in them. Now, with Dean whispering his taunts over the phone, Castiel found himself glad of the disconnect. Despite the residual presence of his human emotions and the effect Dean’s voice was having on them, Castiel managed to remain calm.

He even managed to remember that this, speaking on the phone with Dean, was a strategic gift they could not afford to ignore.

“You’re alone? Why are you not with Sam?” If Dean was foolish enough to give them the opportunity to capture him then Castiel was not going to look a gift horse in the eyes. Or whatever the saying was.

“I got time off for good behavior,” Dean’s reply dripped with sarcasm but it didn’t matter. The conversation was enough to tell the angel where Dean was.

“I will have to think about it. I will call you back,” Castiel ended the call and returned the handset to Bobby. “Empty the safe room of everything. I will bring Dean to it.”

“You sure that’s wise?” Bobby frowned.

“Where else can I bring him?” With a gust of wind and a whispering of feathers Castiel was gone.


Dean frowned at the phone: Castiel had just hung up on him. For a second Dean contemplated redialing just to piss the dude off. It had been fun teasing the former angel. Of course, Sam would be majorly pissed that Dean had phoned the old hunter, risked them tracing the call or something. He’d made Dean promise to stay away from them; not that they were a threat or anything, but because... actually, Lucifer hadn’t given a reason. He’d just issued the order and expected to be obeyed.

Dean had gotten good at obeying his little brother. He’d be better at it except Sam left him behind in motel rooms or boring ass clubs with crappy music and stupid babysitters so, in this instance, what Sam didn’t know wasn’t going to get Dean killed.

Besides, he smiled, he liked being punished...

A wind picked up, scattering the rubbish and paper in little swirls around the alley. There was no reason for a wind. Dean stepped away from the wall, into the middle of the alley, where enemies would have to expose themselves to get at him and he had room to move if it came to a fight. . He searched the dimly lit area with his senses, sniffing the air and staring into the dark corners. He turned slowly, examining it all, but he couldn’t see anything.

“Hello Dean,” Castiel’s voice was deep and it echoed off the walls of the alley. It was also coming from behind him. Dean spun back around and faced Castiel. Dean grinned at him, “Wow, you really want me, don’t you baby.” Before he had finished talking, Castiel rushed forward, grabbed Dean and shoved him back till he slammed hard against the wall of the club.

Laughing, Dean grabbed Castiel’s arms and dug in. He twisted and tried to maneuver out of the guy’s hold. When that didn’t work he pushed at Cas with his demon power. That didn’t do anything either; he was trapped.

What the fuck, he wondered. He pushed again, with his body and his mind but, aside from the trash can across the way, nothing. While Castiel had a hold of him, Dean was helpless, that was when it clicked.

“You got your mojo back,” Dean looked the angel up and down. He trailed his tongue over his bottom lip -he’d always liked the geek look on the angel, it suited him so well. The wind continued to stir through the alleyway and Castiel’s coat whipped around them. “An angel, again,” he mused, “Are you here to kill me now, Cas?”

Castiel stared at Dean, blue eyes intense He kept his eyes on Dean, kept Dean’s eyes locked on his, as he pressed his palm to Dean’s forehead. He had to do this quickly, destroy the demon inside his friend then get back to Bobby’s before the angels or Lucifer noticed.

Dean smirked, raised his hand and knocked Castiel’s hand from his brow. “That tickled, Cas. Do it again,” Castiel frowned, the demon was supposed to burn away at such a touch but it had no effect at all. Dean found his puzzlement hilarious.

“You still don’t get it do you, Cas?” Dean snarled as he closed his hand around Castiel’s tie. He pulled Castiel close, so close that their noses were almost touching. “I’m not possessed” Dean smiled then, “I’m better.” He pulled Castiel’s tie until their lips came together.

It was a short kiss, almost platonic with closed lips and no nibbling but it shocked Castiel into action.

He stepped back, pulling away to look more deeply at the soul that he had fought so hard to bring back to earth and protect. Dean’s soul had once been bright. Even forced to torture in hell, it had glowed with the purity of the man’s being. Now, Dean’s soul was dirty.

On the whole, it was barely brighter than the low-watt bulb flickering over the building’s back entrance. Dark tendrils infected the rest.

“What have you done?” That pain in his chest came back and Castiel couldn’t get enough air. His gaze met Dean’s and Castiel couldn’t look away. He tried to understand, because it wasn’t just some demon. All those things, it was Dean the whole time. “You have condemned your own soul”

“Like you even care, Cas” Dean stepped closer to Castiel, close enough that Castiel could smell the tang of alcohol and the sour bitterness of blood on the man’s breath. “You knew! You knew Zachariah’s plan and you let him do this to us.” Dean’s harsh words dripped hatred and disdain.

“What about you? Who did you sell out to Zachariah this time to get your wings back?”

“Enough!” Castiel voice boomed out echoing off the bricks and the garbage cans as he slammed Dean back against the wall hard enough to knock the wind from his lungs and make him shut up. Castiel had both hands wrapped in Dean’s shirt, holding him tight, holding him high. Castiel’s eyes are so blue and full of anger that Dean can’t take his eyes from them as Cas watches him. “I rebelled! And I did it…”

He shook Dean, bumping him against the rough brick. He leaned so close that he could feel the heat of Dean’s breath sour on his face. “I did all of it... For you.” It’s a whisper and Dean almost doesn’t hear it, Cas’ voice is so soft and broken.

“You are the one that failed, you and your brother destroyed the world,” Castiel backed up a step, keeping one arm across Dean’s throat to hold him in place. He can see Dean forming the intent to fight and he knows he is running out of time. Lifted two fingers to Dean’s forehead. “And I lost everything… for nothing.”


There was silence as the angel, the hunter, the prophet, and the demon, (Crowley was sure there was a joke in there somewhere) sat around Bobby’s desk and considered what to do about the demon they had trapped in the basement. They only had so long before the spells and glyphs would no longer stop Lucifer from seeing that they had Dean and then they would all be toast.

Sitting here was actually starting to grate on Crowley’s nerves. Bobby still insisted on putting holy water in all of the alcohol so he couldn’t drink and the food was probably full of salt. That and the longer he sat there the less chance he had of getting away without being noticed when Lucifer finally caught on.

Crowley hadn’t even needed all of his years in sales to sell the plan of getting Dean away from Sam to the angel. And well okay, perhaps they didn’t see eye to eye on all the details. Not one of the others had liked the idea of emptying the colt into Lucifer’s face. The old hunter and the angel still thought they could find some way to save Sam. Crowley sincerely doubted it but, hey, more power to them.

The thing that got Crowley though, was the fact that the prophet had no idea about Dean drinking demon blood. He’d seen lots of other, wonderfully salacious, activities, but not that. Then, it turned out, Chuck hadn’t seen Castiel get his wings back either. For a prophet, Chuck didn’t see a lot. And, now everything was gone, no visions, no clues to the future, just blank. To make matters worse, Chuck was happy about it, probably glad the headaches were gone. The wanker, he was supposed to be their early warning system and, now he was essentially dead weight.

So the room that had been built to keep demons out had been turned into a prison, all glyphed up in Enochian and demonic sigils to keep Dean in and so that no one could see who was inside it. Now the four of them sat in Bobby’s study, listening to the occasional sound that drifted up from the safe room.

“I still think this is dangerous, we should have some kind of contingency plan,” Crowley pulled a flask of whiskey from his pocket and took a sip from it. Everyone seemed to be edgy. Even the angel looked like it really was the end of the world.

“Oh and I suppose you already have one?” Bobby snapped and glowered at Crowley and the demon knew that Bobby had already decided that, if the plan went south, then it would be Crowley’s fault

Crowley was okay with that. He always had a million and one ways to cover his arse if the first plan fell though. “I’ve already booked an extended vacation to all points nowhere,” Crowley smiled smugly at Bobby. After all, it was always good to have an exit strategy.

“Castiel! Let me out! You son of a bitch!” Dean’s voice reverberated up through the floorboards into the room followed by banging. Crowley glanced at the angel who had taken to closing his eyes every time the demon that was Dean cried out.

They stared at each other in silence as they waited for the current outburst to subside. All except Castiel, who was standing at the window, his blue eyes staring solemnly out into the distance. Crowley raised his glass to Chuck and grinned as the prophet tried to look anywhere but at him.

“Just don’t seem right,” Bobby grumbled as he paced back and forth across the room, a hand rubbing absently at the whiskers on his chin.

“I can not save him…” The angel spoke as if from far away. Castiel’s voice cracked and he closed his eyes again. All eyes in the room turned to look at Castiel who still stood with his back to them as he looked out the window. Castiel turned enough to look over his shoulder and meet Bobby’s eyes. “I failed him, Bobby.”

Crowley barely resisted the urge to throw up at the over-blown emo caterwauling but it was a near thing. Humans... annoying sentimentalists.

Bobby shook his head. “He ain’t dead.” The old hunter moved up to stand beside Castiel and rested a hand on the angel’s shoulder. “That ain’t a fail in my book.”

Crowley cleared his throat. “Touching as your little moment is, gentlemen, we need to get back to the problem at hand.” Bobby scowled angrily at the demon and Crowley pretended to be offended by the look. “What? Lucifer will find us soon and we still don’t have a way to stop him without Dean.”

Castiel was turning to face the demon when something outside the window caught his eye. He stepped forward and disappeared from the room. Crowley watched him through the window as he appeared outside. The angel was tracking something...


Castiel turned, eyes searching amongst the piles of wrecked cars until he caught sight of it again. Another step and Castiel was in a clearing formed by piles of junkers waiting to disintegrate into the void.. There was a man leaning on an old Chevy truck his stance was casual, unconcerned, with legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankles. Wavy brown hair was brushed back from his face and just brushed the collar of his brown jacket. The man had one hand tucked in the front pocket of his faded blue jeans as he took a bite from a Snickers bar.

“Gabriel,” Castiel stated in recognition. It wasn’t a greeting.

“Hello, little brother.” The man smiled a chocolaty smile and wriggled the free fingers of the hand that held the chocolate bar in a little wave as Castiel frowned at him.

“Why are you here, Gabriel?” Castiel didn’t trust his older brother even though he knew that Gabriel had been absent from heaven for many thousands of years, or perhaps that’s what Michael and the others had wanted the troops to believe. He searched the piles of crushed cars for any sign that this was a trap.

“Awww, is that any way to greet someone you haven’t seen in millennia?” He held out his arms as if anticipating a hug. Castiel just looked at him.

Gabriel shrugged, threw the empty wrapper over his shoulder, then pulled another candy bar out of an empty looking shirt pocket. He held it out and offered it, eyebrows raised expectantly. Castiel, frowned and declined with a brief shake of his head “Why are you here?” he repeated.

Gabriel tore open the wrapper. “You know when Lucifer finds you guys, and he will because, hey, even I found you pretty easily. When he does, Luci is going to squash your little A-Team like bugs.” Gabriel took a bite out of the chocolate and grinned like the whole thing was amusing.

“You are offering to help us?” Castiel’s brows went up in surprise. He had begun to accept that he wouldn’t be able to save either of his friends from the plans that had been made for them. Lucifer was ensconced in the younger Winchester, as planned, and Dean was... almost beyond salvaging. . But with the archangel’s help, possibilities opened up that hadn’t been there before. They could hold off most attackers, from either heaven or hell. They could clean out the dark matter tainting Dean’s soul making him pure and righteous once again. Hope, that had been flickering low, rose up once again.

It was a brief resurgence.

“I could…” Gabriel quirked an eyebrow and smirked as he shook his head. “But I won’t.” He stood up, crossed an arm over his chest and used it to support his other arm that he raised to his chin in a classic, contemplative pose. “, Do you really think I spent the last millennia down here avoiding everyone just so I could get involved now?” He shook his head in mock sadness. “Nope. I got better things to do. Besides, it’s way more fun to watch you blunder about and make things worse.” Gabriel said with a chuckle.

“If you’re not going to help, why are you here?” Gabriel didn’t say anything so Castiel rolled his eyes and sighed with frustration. “This is pointless,” he said and turned to make his way back to the house

Gabriel straightened hastily and took a step toward him. “You can’t save Dean from being Michael’s vessel, Castiel. That’s how you stop Lucifer.” Castiel ignored him. “You should just turn him over before it’s too late and you lose everything.” Gabriel raised his voice and rose up onto his tip toes as he yelled after Castiel.

Castiel turned, his anger causing the sky to flash. “I already lost everything because I didn’t act when I knew I should,” Castiel ground out. His fists clenched at his sides and he wanted to hit something. Lightning cracked and Bobby’s security lights blew out but Castiel didn’t feel better and his show of temper had changed nothing. And, just like that, the fight drained out of him. “It doesn’t matter anyway. Dean does not want to be saved and I do not know how to change his mind.” He turned back to the house, “Go away, Gabriel, before the fight you want to avoid comes to you.”

“Woah, woah, woah, little bro. Don’t be so down.” Gabriel was a little surprised at just how defeated his baby brother seemed. He said he’d tried everything but Gabriel knew that wasn’t true... of course, maybe he hadn’t tried everything because the sanctimonious douche-wads in charge of heaven probably hadn’t told him everything. “I can think of one more thing you can try that doesn’t require me to risk my oh so firm and sexy ass.”

Castiel froze. He turned back to face the archangel.

“Angel blood,” Gabriel said, before adding with a shrug, “Course it might kill Dean too.”

“What do you mean?” Castiel tilted his head a little and narrowed his eyes as he tried to gauge exactly what it was that Gabriel was hinting at. If there was a chance at helping Dean become human again Castiel needed to know what it was.

“I mean... if you let Deano drink your blood it will burn the demon out of his soul like giving him the Eucharist. You just... have to hope that there is enough of him still in there. If there’s not,, you may as well just give him to Michael for all the use he will be,” Gabriel grimaced comically, then raised his brows. “Might be worth a shot.”

Castiel wasn’t sure if Gabriel was joking or not He had never heard of angel’s blood being used as a cure for demon infection but there were many possible reasons for that-number one being that angels didn’t spend a lot of time rescuing humans who ingested demon blood. But Gabriel was older than him, and had fought in more battles than Castiel. He had been an archangel, one of God’s most trusted warriors and most terrifying weapons. He should know.

“Then again, I don’t think you should go anywhere near Dean. Bad things might happen if you and he get in the same room together.” Castiel opened his mouth to ask for clarification. “Of course, good things might happen too.” Gabriel wriggled his eyebrows at Castiel suggestively. Then he grinned broadly, clicked his fingers and disappeared from the clearing.

Castiel huffed in exasperation. Dean really had been right about angels being dicks...


Everything hurt. Even Dean’s teeth hurt.

It felt like he was being ripped apart from the inside and Dean knew it was his own stupid fault. Dean should never have let his boredom and his ego and his desire to torment his angel smother his caution the way it had. He’d been trapped so easily and now he was suffering withdrawals from the demon blood and, holy fucking god did it hurt. Next time he saw Sam, he was going to apologize profusely for doing this to him that one time. He’d been so sure that what they were doing was right.

Sanctimonious prick.

Not only did the blood give him the best kick of adrenaline that he’d ever felt, but it made him forget the deadness that was inside him. Made it easy to not care what happened and Dean had had enough of caring.

He let his head hang back against the metal of the pentagram that he was chained to and watched the fan in the vent above him spin and cast shadows on the wall. The dank little room was one giant devil’s trap inside another. There was the drawing, the one from the Key of Solomon that they’d been using for years. Then, of course, there were the iron walls with the salt-based paint job.

Newly added were Enochian sigils that Dean couldn’t even begin to comprehend. Even some Demonic that made him wonder how Cas even knew it. They covered every available surface-and there was a lot of surface since his jailers had removed all the furniture except the giant metal star they’d chained him to.

Even the vent was blocked with a devil’s trap, a simple one, but still effective.

Assholes...

Closing his eyes, Dean wondered why Sam hadn’t rescued him yet, why he hadn’t heard any fighting or even raised voices?

Not that Dean was counting on anyone to save him. He had learned the mistake of counting on anyone for anything and Dean was never doing that again. There was no one protecting him just random unpredictable evil that comes out of nowhere and rips you to shreds. He snorted, reminded of a long ago conversation. Sam had believed in God and look what it had got him: starring role in the end of the world.

The metal door of his prison creaked like a rusty siren when it opened. Dean didn’t bother to open his eyes or lift his head. He knew it was Castiel the moment the angel stepped in the room and not just because of the way the angel’s grace made his demonic skin crawl. “You finally come to put me out of my misery, huh?” When Castiel didn’t reply Dean lifted his head to stare at him; silence was a new tactic and any change was dangerous.

Castiel stood by the door, his blue eyes watching Dean with such intensity that Dean couldn’t be certain what those eyes were seeing. Dean tried to focus in on the angel, hoping to figure out what was going on but his vision swam, making ethereal lights dance around Castiel. Dean was so fucked up that if Castiel did kill him he’d actually be relieved. It would all be over.

“You need blood, Dean,” Castiel’s voice wavered but Dean was fairly certain that it was his addled brain putting the waver there and not because Castiel actually sounded broken.

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Well, I don’t see some hot blooded devil woman, so are you going to let me go find one?” Dean chuckled slightly but his amusement faded under Castiel’s intense blue-eyed stare. Castiel stood on the far side of the room, his stare didn’t change. It was as if he hadn’t even heard Dean, as if he were so focused on some inner conversation that Dean’s taunt passed right by him...Dean shifted awkwardly on the uncomfortable cross. This wasn’t going like their previous encounters.

“You joke,” the angel finally said, solemn and serious as he always was, “but this is not funny. I don’t want to encourage you to do what you have been doing, to become what you are now.” ” Castiel stepped over the circle of Enochian that was scrawled across the floor. He moved until he was standing a foot from Dean and facing him. “I want to save you.”

Dean quirked an eyebrow and shrugged “What makes you think I want to be saved? I like the way things are now, Cas,” He stopped and tugged at the chains around his wrists so they made a metallic clanging sound. “Well, maybe not the whole being trapped here part.”

“Dean-”

Dean bared his teeth, stopping whatever comment the angel was going to make. “When Sam finds out you took me, he is going to yank your wings off, Cas,” Dean’s smirk spread across his lips as he kept eye contact with Castiel.

Castiel should have looked concerned. He should have looked sad or worried or any one of Castiel’s familiar range of expressions. He didn’t. Instead, a smile spread over his lips and he looked at Dean gently, kindly, like they were friends sharing secrets. Dean didn’t like it. Then he spoke and Dean liked it even less.

“Sam will not find you, Dean. No one knows that you are here,” Castiel’s brows were knitted together with curiosity, his head tilted slightly to the side as he looked directly at Dean. “Not the angels, not the demons. As long as you are in this room you will not be found.”

The angel took off his overcoat and stripped out of his suit jacket but Dean barely noticed. He was too busy panicking. He needed to be found, not by the angels, the junkless dicks, but by Sam. He needed Sam to find him and, fuck it, yes, save him and give him what he needed. Of course, Sam would figure out who’d taken him and where they’d stash him. Of course he would.

Reassured, Dean decided to flip this conversation back onto Cas. He ran his tongue over his lip and tilted his head flirtatiously. “That mean I have you all to myself?” Dean watched as Castiel raised his hand to the knot of his tie, slipped a finger under it, and pulled it looser. He blinked, sure he was imagining the response.

“I can’t burn the demon out of you, Dean,” Castiel sighed as he looked at the bound hunter.

Dean’s eyes turned black as he let his anger take over. He didn’t want to be saved from this; he didn’t need anyone to save him. Dean just wanted to be left alone, he wanted to be with Sam. “I don’t want you to; I said that already!”

Castiel flinched. The movement was almost imperceptible but Dean caught it. It was enough to make the angry expression on Dean’s face twist into a cruel smile. He was winning.

Castiel stepped back and closed his eyes for a moment and Dean knew he was rallying. He struggled to find a new angle, a new strategy, some way to convince the angel to leave him the fuck alone!

Except Castiel reached into his pocket and pulled out a knife. . It had a wooden handle and the blade folded back inside it. Castiel opened the blade and held up the knife between him and Dean. He kept his gaze steady on the hunter’s. “You need demon blood or you are going to die and I can’t let that happen.” The angel’s brows knitted together in concern. “I can’t give you demon blood but I can give you something just as good.”

Dean frowned because this wasn’t making any sense. Maybe it was a trick, a part of him argued. It was a small part; most of him just wanted the blood especially if it would make the pain go away.

Castiel tilted his head to the side pulling back the collar of his shirt to reveal the curve of his throat where it met his shoulder. It was smooth and pale and it gleamed in the light from the overhead vent.

Dean licked his lips.

Castiel closed his eyes and placed the tip of the knife on the thick vein in his throat. He pressed the blade in until blood flowed rich and thick from the small wound. He let the knife fall to the floor between them and leaned in, letting his brow rest against Dean’s shoulder. “Take it, Dean,” the angel said, “You need it.”

Dean stared wide-eyed as Castiel shifted and pressed closer. He could actually feel the beat of Castiel’s heart against his own chest they were so close. Dean watched as the blood ran a crimson line down Castiel’s pale skin and bloomed like a rose against the white collar of angel boy’s dress shirt.

He’d be damned if it wasn’t the most tempting thing he’d ever seen. Even Sam had never offered him his own blood; it was always some random demon that was put on the table. But Castiel was offering up his own blood. It was right there, within reach, looking thick and delicious, and he could smell it. It smelled sweet like sugar instead of the bitter copper flavor that blood usually carried. Oh yeah, he wanted it.

Before he could think better of it Dean leaned forward and let his tongue follow the line of blood over the contours of Castiel’s collarbone. The angel’s blood tasted light and warm, not at all like demon blood, with its dark heaviness. Dean closed his mouth over the wound, sucking gently and letting his tongue lap at the blood as it flowed into his mouth. It slid down his throat so smooth and easy, it was like... using synthetic 5W30 oil versus a standard 15W40.

Dean could feel the way it warmed his throat all the way down to his stomach. It made the small hairs on the back of Dean’s neck stand up and a chill of electricity spark between his shoulder blades. He could feel the buzzing ache from the withdrawal fade from his joints and his bones and he could have howled in relief. Instead, Dean leaned in closer to the angel. He let his head nuzzle softly against Castiel’s ear as he licked the blood from his lips, savoring its flavor.

He felt Castiel’s hand press against his chest, the angel’s hand covering his heart as Castiel let out the breath he had been holding. Dean grinned. He wanted more of Castiel’s blood and it didn’t feel like the angel was going to deny him. Dean trailed his tongue over Castiel’s throat, lapping at the wound before smearing a trail of crimson up to the angel’s ear. “God, Cas I missed you so much.” There were hints of need and desperation as Dean exhaled the words into the angel’s ear.

Dean shifted, tugging at his restraints. He put his mouth back on the cut and sipped at the blood. He smeared it on Cas’ pale skin and licked it off. He nibbled and nipped and the pressure built inside him. “Fuck, you taste so good. I want to put my arms around you, Cas... Please.”

Castiel’s hand twisted in Dean’s shirt as Castiel practically mewled into the crook of his neck. Dean could feel the angel’s heart thumping like a badly tuned engine. The angel was warm too. In fact he was giving off heat like one of hell’s furnaces. It helped to burn away the cold inside Dean’s bones and made him feel lazy and relaxed for the first time in what felt like decades.

Dean leaned back, away from the angel. He waited until Cas raised his head before slowly licking his lips. Blue eyes tracked his tongue as it swept from corner to corner. Finally, he raised his head and met Dean’s gaze. Dean smiled happily before leaning in and kissing his angel. .

Castiel responded to the kiss by tipping his head to the side, allowing the hunter better access which Dean didn’t hesitate to take advantage of. The angel’s other hand curled around Dean’s shoulder, finger tips digging in slightly before letting go and following the contours of Dean’s arm down to touch the chain at Dean’s wrist. The chain cracked at the touch and fell with a clatter to the floor, freeing the hunter’s arm.

Dean should have attacked the angel, his jailor, his brother’s enemy. He didn’t.

He searched out Castiel’s hand, entwining their fingers a moment before trailing up Cas’ arm in a slow caress. He didn’t stop there. He let his hand move down the angel’s side, feeling muscles and ribs through the thin fabric of his shirt, until it closed roughly on Castiel’s hip. His thumb rested on the sensitive crease where pelvis met thigh and his fingers could caress the swell of Cas’ ass. He massaged them firmly, scratched them lightly, and got turned on as hell.

“Dean,” Castiel gasped as his free hand joined the other to twist in Dean’s shirt and his knees gave way.

Dean held him up with his free hand but Cas was nearly a dead weight against him. “Cas, my other wrist,” he urged, “I need my other wrist free.”

With a moan the angel complied and the heavy chain fell to the ground.

Dean didn’t hesitate to wrap himself around the angel, holding him up, holding him close. In return, Castiel put his arms around Dean and held on. “Good boy,” Dean purred. He leaned in, sealing his lips around the cut on Castiel’s throat and sucked strongly, knowing, from his moans, that the angel wouldn’t fight him.

Dean kept his mouth to Cas’ throat swallowing each gulp of blood as it filled his mouth. It tasted so fucking good, and felt even better. He felt like he was floating which was absolutely fucking fantastic. It was also, and Dean wasn’t sure how he knew this, it was also making the angel weak.

Castiel sagged more heavily against him until Dean was the only thing holding him off the floor. So trusting and vulnerable...

Dean smiled through bloody lips as he pulled at Castiel’s clothing, ripping buttons from his shirt as he tried to bare more of the angel’s throat. He wanted the artery, wanted the feel the blood pulsing into his mouth.

“Dean…stop...” Castiel’s voice sounded so weak that Dean was jarred out of his frenzy.. He leaned away from the angel’s neck, grabbing a fistful of hair wrenching Castiel’s head back so that he could see the angel’s face. Castiel’s skin was paler than his shirt and his lips were blue.

“You were holding out on me, Cas,” Dean grinned as he licked the blood from his lips, trying to gather every drop. “I feel awesome. Your blood tastes much better than that crap Sam’s been feeding me.”

“Glad you liked it,” Castiel blinked slowly as he kept his eyes on Dean. He raised a hand to his throat as he dragged his fingers over the cut, covering them with blood. He raised them to Dean’s forehead and smeared them across Dean’s skin.

“I’m not scared of a little blood, Cas,” Dean laughed. “As a matter of fact, you can cover me in it if you like.” He grabbed Cas’ wrist and pulled it to his mouth so he could lick at the blood on his finger. “But I don’t like to see it wasted someplace I can’t reach.”

Castiel gripped Dean’s wrists in turn, “It’s not the blood I don’t want you to reach,” he breathed “It’s the Enochian marking.” And then he smiled, peaceful and satisfied and fucking smug! Dean wanted to hit him. He tried to pull his hands away but Castiel’s grip was firm.

Then it was like a fire started in his skull, spreading from the smear of blood on his forehead and running through his insides until all he felt was heat and pain.

“It is done,” Cas said happily and he let Dean’s hands go and fell to the floor.

Dean tried desperately to wipe the blood from his forehead. He swiped at his lips and tongue. He tried to spit out the blood that was still in his throat, but it was no use: he’d swallowed too much. “You fucker,” he swore, “What did you do to me.”

“I have either killed you or saved you from the demon blood,” was Castiel’s placid response.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean muttered. He grabbed at his stomach. It was like electricity running through every atom in his body, electricity carried on razors that had been heated over white-hot coals. It hurt a thousand times worse than the withdrawal had. It even hurt worse than anything he could remember Alistair putting him through. He couldn’t hold back his screams as he fell to his knees. It didn’t stop it from hurting, nothing would do that.

The pain was building in intensity. Like a million sharp needles piercing his skin and drawing the fire to them. It was bright behind his eyelids, like strobe lights placed inches from his face. He opened his eyes and saw Castiel staring at him worriedly. You fucking son of a bitch, he wanted to say but the pain had taken his breath and all he could do was watch as he lit up from the inside. He could see his veins glowing blue-white. He could see the light expanding and growing until he was filled with it.

It burned.

He screamed through clenched teeth. His muscles spasmed uncontrollably. He couldn’t close his eyes and he knew, he fucking knew, this is what happened to Pamela and his eyeballs were going to burn out again.

Fucking angels, the self-righteous pricks, he thought. He should have known it was a trick.
Go to part 4