My 2011 Reversebang entry
Fic Title: In a different light
Author: deanawinchester
Artist: xsilverdreamsx
Art link: Art Masterlist
Fandom/Genre: SPN, Dystopian
Pairing(s): Dean/Castiel
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 5491
Warnings: Mentions of violence
Summary: When Detective Dean Winchester first meets his assigned Guardian, sparks fly. The Cyberangel named Castiel is the most infuriating being Dean has ever had the misfortune to meet. He doesn't have a sense of sarcasm or humor, but he makes up for it with staring. A lot. Of course, this still doesn't hold Dean back from falling for Castiel, teaching the half-human, half-cybernetic being about the importance of feelings in the process.
After two days without getting any sleep Detective Dean Winchester was ready to fall asleep while standing, so despite the huge pile of files on his desk, he decided to take a night off, go home, and get some rest. Nights spent at home were far and rare in-between for him. Every time he got to sleep in his own bed, it felt foreign and strange under his exhausted body. Ironically, the huge, wrought-iron piece of furniture was the only luxury in his small, untidy apartment, and yet it was the object he used the less. Ever since the Religion War had started, he had his hands full of mean, evil, or simply misguided people who were shedding innocent blood in the name of something they thought was holy. Dean had seen a lot of shit during the course of his life, but the violence of the New Religion’s missionary work was something that had him truly frightened.
The leader of the New Religion, a guy named Crowley was a smart, cunning bastard, with some sort of almost hypnotic power over people, which made it easy for him to convert them into Believers. While Dean didn’t care much for any religion, he did care a lot about justice, which came all to short those days. Openly taking a stand against the New Religion wasn’t an option, but Dean tried his best to keep his perimeter safe from bullying Believers. He managed to step onto a few toes in the process, but if Dean wanted to be honest with himself, he had to admit that he kind of enjoyed the vigilante-like actions. Of course, that meant that he had to be careful at all times, because unlike the “real” vigilantes, he wasn’t hiding his face or keeping his name a secret. Sometimes this resulted in pretty uncomfortable situations, but Dean wouldn’t have it any other way.
Trying to shake off the memories of the murder case he was working on, Dean took a long, hot shower before going to bed. He was asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow, and he slept for more than ten hours straight.
The next day passed by quickly. Dean was busy investigating a new case. There was another murder, quite similar to the one Dean was working on.
“Same MO, same neighborhood, and of course, this victim wasn’t into the New Religion crap either, what a surprise…” Dean thought bitterly while looking for clues at the crime scene. He spent hours with it, but he couldn’t find anything that could lead him to the murderer. Angered by the futile search, he stormed out of the victim’s house, and decided to help his colleagues looking for possible eyewitnesses himself.
After interviewing the last neighbor, Dean started walking back to his 1967 Chevrolet Impala, but he was stopped by intense yelling in one of the houses he had to walk past. He tried to convince himself that it was probably just a family quarrel, but his conscience wasn’t taking that option into consideration, so he decided to check it out. With just a few steps he reached the door, and knocked.
“I’m Detective Dean Winchester, sorry to bother you, is everything okay?” he called out, but no answer came. There was a loud crash instead, and then silence. Without thinking, Dean kicked down the door. He saw immediately that he’d been right when he assumed this wasn’t just a family fight. The situation didn’t need any explaining. He happened to catch two brainless muscle-men in the act of beating a man, while a third one was holding down a woman who was probably their victim’s wife.
One of the men lashed out at Dean, trying to hit him in the face. Before Dean caught the hand, and forced the man to his knee, he noticed the ring on his ring finger: It bore the sign of the New Religion. Dean had been right, they were Believers, and quite possibly trying to bully the family into changing their religion. Dean saw red, and after that everything happened really fast. The henchmen were huge, and strong, however kind of dumb. They couldn’t see what Dean was playing at, and before they knew what was happening, he has already tired them out. Suddenly, it was Dean who had the upper hand, but it didn’t last long. Someone, who wasn’t even there just seconds ago, tossed him out of the house, into the street.
“Who the hell are you?” Dean yelled furiously, glaring up at the man standing above him. The bright street light coming from behind the man’s back made it impossible for Dean to see the man’s face, but he hoped that the stranger could see his as clear as day. Dean was sprawled on the wet concrete, right where he fell after he was pushed out of the house. He hated being interrupted, especially when he was having fun by beating up a few dumb muscle-men. Of course, those men had escaped by then, and Dean was left with a tall, dark figure leaning over him.
“Castiel,” the stranger said in a deep, raspy voice. “I am what I believe you would call a Cyberangel. I am a Guardian, and from now on, you’re my charge.” Castiel turned around, and the position made it possible for Dean, who was still sitting on the cold floor, to take a good, long look of the glistening metal wings folded against the man’s back.
“What the hell are you talking about?!”
“In my opinion I expressed myself clearly. My job is to guard you, to keep you from trouble.”
“I don’t need no freaking babysitter.”
“Great, because I am not one.” Castiel answered in a flat voice, which was a clear indication of just how much he didn’t care about Dean’s aversion towards him. “We have no more business to take care of here. Are we needed anywhere else?” he asked, then started walking without waiting for an answer.
Dean huffed loudly, scrambling to his feet. Automatically he lifted his leg to take a step towards Castiel, who was moving away quite quickly, tan trenchcoat flowing behind him, but he changed his mind and turned around to leave. He couldn’t take more than two steps though before he met a brick wall - or at least that was what it felt like when he bumped into Castiel. For a moment Dean was sure he would end up on his rear end again, and he prayed for the decency of landing on all fours instead, but one of Castiel’s arm darted out and caught him, keeping him from falling. Only now did Dean look at the half-cybernetic being’s face, and he found that he wasn’t ugly… quite the contrary. Too bad that his bright, blue eyes were uninterested and cold as ice.
“Oh, come on Winchester, get a fucking grip already, you’re acting like a gangly, embarrassed teenager.” Dean chastised himself in his head, and shook off Castiel’s touch. “Well, Castiel, this has been nice. Thanks for your help...” he muttered sarcastically, hoping that the being would finally take it as his cue to leave, but when did anything happen the way Dean wanted it to happen?
“You are welcome.” Castiel said, and he wouldn’t move an inch from Dean’s side.
“Are you serious? You’re supposed to be better and more than a human being, and yet they forgot to fill you in about the meaning of sarcasm?”
“I have been educated about the tools of the human non-verbalism, but I don’t feel the need to actually use my knowledge about them. My job is to protect you. I’m not here to have any kind of personal intercourse with you.”
“That’s good, because you’re sure as hell not mating with me, sunshine.”
“Great. Now that we cleared that issue up, can I finally bring you to a safer location? Standing around in the open street is not exactly the best course of action for a person like you.”
“A person like me? Let me reiterate my question from earlier: What the hell are you talking about?!”
“Dean.” Castiel didn’t even have to raise his voice to make Dean feel intimidated, even though the being standing next to him was a few inches shorter than him and nearly not as built. “I will explain everything later, but right now, you have to tell me where your vehicle is, and let us… I think you would use the expression ‘get the hell out of Dodge’.”
Dean realized that there was no way he could get rid of the Guardian, not in that moment anyway, so he decided to play along, just until the right time to rebel against the utterly unnecessary babysitter.
“Okay,” he nodded. “My car is that way, just past this block. Does my apartment qualify as a safer location, or do you want me to move straight into a panic room?” Okay, so ‘playing along’ didn’t necessarily mean the complete disregard of sarcasm, at least not in Dean’s dictionary. Not that it had any effect on Castiel: Of course, once again he took no notice of it, and just started walking in the direction Dean had motioned earlier.
The ten-minute drive to Dean’s block had never seemed to be so long as it did this time. Castiel looked so utterly uncomfortable in the confinement of the backseat - where he was banished to, because his wings didn’t fit into the passenger seat -, that it made Dean uncomfortable too. And then, there was the intense staring. Dean could feel the heat of Castiel’s gaze on the back of his neck, and by the time they finally reached the house Dean was living in, he was ready to snap at Castiel, to yell at him to stop staring, or even better, to gouge the Guardian’s eyes out himself.
As soon as the apartment door clicked shut behind them, Dean pushed Castiel up against the wall, arm right over his neck - even though Dean was pretty sure that he could only do that, because Castiel let him and Castiel didn’t need to breathe anyway -, and he growled into the Cyberangel’s face.
“I want answers, now! Why are you here, who sent you, and what the hell do you want from me?!”
“There’s no need to get violent. I told you that I would answer all of your questions, as soon as we are someplace safe.” Castiel said with a hint of annoyance in his voice, and pushed Dean off of him. “I was hired by your boss, Lieutenant Robert Singer.”
“Do you have any idea why he decided to sick a half-metal babysitter on me?” Dean’s angered growl got another notch lower, voice dropping deep enough to make every sane person wanting to get as far away from him as possible. However, Castiel didn’t even flinch.
“He believes you’re in danger because of the case you are working on right now, and my superior agreed with him on the matter. Getting involved with the matters of the New Religion is not a smart thing to do, Dean.”
“So what? I know the risks, but it’s the only good thing I can do! Am I supposed to sit idly by, twiddling my thumbs and watch as a group of lunatics murders, blackmails and harasses its way to the top of the religious food chain? That’s utter bullshit, and you know it too!” Dean yelled, slamming his cellphone down onto the chest of drawers by the door.
“It doesn’t matter what I know, or don’t know. The only thing that matters is that I’ve been hired to make it impossible for the Believers of the New Religion to harm you in any way, and that’s exactly what I am planning on doing. I believe we are safe for now, but I have to make sure it stays that way. I don’t care what you do, but don’t leave the apartment without letting me know.”
“I am not a sixteen years old teenage girl you can order around!” Dean hissed.
“If you’re not one, then don’t act like it. I am not your enemy, Dean Winchester. I am here to keep you safe, whether you like it or not.”
“Well, I don’t like it one bit.”
“You have already made that clear. Now stay out of my way, and let me take a few safety precautions around here.”
“Okay, you know what? I’m going to bed, so be quiet, or I swear I’ll end you, Cyberangel or not.” Dean growled, but Castiel didn’t even deign to give him an answer. Quietly murmuring about Cyberangels being infuriating, Dean got himself ready for bed, and as soon as he climbed into his bed, he was out like the light.
Any hope Dean had about Castiel disappearing overnight went right up in flames as he opened his eyes in the morning. The Cyberangel was still there, standing motionless at the end of Dean’s bed, staring at the man with his huge blue eyes.
“Jeeze, Castiel, have you been standing there the whole time, watching me sleep? “
“Yes. I am your Guardian, after all.”
“Doesn’t this feel a little rape-y to you?”
“Rape-y is not an existing word, Dean.”
“Look at all the fucks I don’t give about your English lesson. Now please, get the Hell out of my room.”
“I can’t do that, I’m afraid. I’m supposed to watch over you all the time.”
“Okay, watch this then!” Dean said, jumped out of his bed, crossed his room to get into the en-suite bathroom, and slammed the door on Castiel before the Cyberangel could make one single move. Once behind the locked bathroom door and under the shower spray, he let out a satisfied sigh. For some reason, the mere existence of the Guardian was bothering him endlessly, and he was ready to make Castiel suffer just as he was suffering under the weight of the Cyberangel’s gaze. Of course, he didn’t think that a, Castiel was really effective with picking locks and b, he didn’t feel much beyond the tiniest hint of annoyance, so when he stepped out of the shower and found Castiel standing there, looking as emotionless as possible, the childish joy of his “accomplishment” disappeared completely.
“Castiel, for fuck’s sake, have you EVER heard the term personal space? Because that’s exactly what you’re not giving me right now, buddy!” Dean yelled as he wrapped a towel around his waist with a quick move, and turned around to hide the blush coloring his face bright red. He could still feel Castiel’s proximity, which indicated that the half-cybernetic being didn’t really get what Dean was trying to say, so he decided to become more vocal about his wishes. “Dude, did you not hear me? Leave me the fuck alone! I’ll be out in a minute, and then you can watch over me all you want, okay?”
To Dean’s biggest surprise, this time Castiel actually listened to him, and left him alone to get dressed. Just this once, Dean was really grateful that he kept a change of fresh clothes in every room in his apartment, because he sure as Hell would have hated having to waltz around naked in front of Castiel for a single second longer than necessary, and they’ve already been past that point.
Trying to push his luck (and Castiel’s boundaries), Dean spent a longer time in the bathroom than he usually did in a week altogether, but Castiel didn’t barge in again, and Dean almost felt disappointed about that. After a while he grew tired of waiting, and emerged from the bathroom.
Castiel was standing right next to the door, with his head hanging. When Dean appeared, Castiel looked up at him.
“I thought you would never get bored enough to actually come out of there…” Castiel nodded towards the bathroom, and Dean felt the blood rush to his face and ears - again.
“Yeah, well… whatever,” Dean shrugged. “I’m hungry. Tell me you can cook, and maybe I won’t be so grumpy to you anymore.”
“Sorry to disappoint you, but I have not been educated on cooking. However, I am able to take you to a diner, fast-food joint or bakery of your choice.”
“That’s still better than nothing,” Dean said with another small shrug, grabbed his badge, gun, and the keys to his car. “Okay, we can go then. But I am driving.”
They say that after a rocky start things can only get better. While in most of cases that saying is in fact true, after having spent three months with Castiel day in, day out, Dean was ready to slap everyone saying that into a three-week coma. The Cyberangel’s proximity was still driving him crazy, he still had practically no personal space , and - the worst of it all - Castiel still wasn’t any better with getting and using sarcasm. Of course, there were smaller victories along the way - Dean was able to convince Castiel to eat once in a while, and he even got him to sleep for a few hours occasionally, but all in all, the fact that the Cyberangel was there wasn’t any less infuriating for Dean than it had been three months ago. The only difference was that the initial nervous tension between them changed into something much more primal, sensual and sexual, and Dean was sure it wasn’t just him who felt it. At times it was almost impossible to bear the heavy weight of it, but sometimes the very same tension felt as good as a whiff of fresh air after being stuck in a room for long hours. Slowly, Dean got used to Castiel being always there, and not just because the Cyberangel proved himself to be quite useful more than a few times.
The three months anniversary of Castiel being Dean’s Guardian was on a Friday, and as Dean had the weekend free, they decided to have some kind of a celebration. It wasn’t something big, they just ordered a pizza, bought a six-pack of beer and an apple-cinnamon pie. In Castiel’s opinion the whole thing was just an excuse for Dean to get wasted, yet he didn’t argue when Dean told him about his plans. They spent the evening watching movies on DVD, but most of the time Dean was rather busy with laughing at the trouble Castiel had while trying to understand pop-culture references. After the last movie they planned for the night ended, Dean stood up to go to bed, but he tripped in one of Castiel’s shoes, and he fell back onto the couch, only a lot closer to Castiel than before. On the spur of the moment, he leaned even closer, leaving only the tiniest sliver between them, one hand resting on Castiel’s thigh.
“I don’t even know what I’m doing…” Dean admitted silently, his mouth merely a few inches away from Castiel’s.
“That makes two of us, because I don’t know what you’re doing either. But I think I like it,” the Guardian said, leaning into the gentle touch as Dean laid his hand onto his face, carefully cradling his jaw line.
“We shouldn’t be doing this.”
“You’re right. No, we shouldn’t. I shouldn’t even feel anything, but I do. You ruined me, Dean Winchester,” the Guardian shook his head.
“I think I only made you better.” Dean objected, and he let his fingers run over Castiel’s face before tracing the bridge of his nose. The slight caress made Castiel’s lower lip quiver, and the promise of that tiny movement poured liquid fire into Dean’s veins. A few moments passed, and finally, his mouth met Castiel’s. At first the kiss was more than a little uncertain, mostly because Castiel wasn’t reacting to it in any way, but as Dean’s tongue swept over Castiel’s lips, asking for entrance, it broke the wall holding back their passion, and soon they were kissing like there was no tomorrow. It was messy, and sensual, and the best kiss Dean’s ever had. It was everything and more, too much and yet not enough, overwhelming and begging for more… It felt good, maybe too good to be true.
“I kissed a Cyberangel, and I liked it!” Dean announced with a bright grin after they parted.
“You certainly know how to ruin the mood.” Castiel chuckled, but then his playful expression turned serious. “What are we going to do now, Dean?”
“I was thinking about some more kissing…”
“That is not what I meant. I can’t stay with you, not like this. You’re clouding my judgement.”
“Is that such a bad thing?”
“It’s not a coincidence that all Guardians are created without emotions, Dean. We were humans once, yes, but we had to leave our feelings behind, because feelings are doorways to doubt, and doubt is the last thing a Guardian needs. I shouldn’t stay close to you.”
”But I don’t want anyone else to babysit me.”
“I know you don’t, you didn’t even want me in the first place. But if we keep this up, it might end badly.”
“And if we don’t, it has already ended badly!” Dean yelled angrily.
“I am aware of that, yes.” Castiel answered, and Dean could clearly see how hard he had to fight to keep at least the smallest shred of objectivity. “I’m sorry, Dean. I have to go. I will ask for a replacement immediately, soon you will have someone else by your side. Please, don’t do anything reckless while you’re alone. Promise me!”
“I can’t promise you anything. Not if you walk out that door.” Dean said. He knew he sounded like a petulant child, but he didn’t care. He didn’t only get used to Castiel being around, he’d grown to love the half-cybernetic being, and they changed each other, both of them becoming a better person in the process. The possibility of losing the only good thing in his life was killing him on the inside.
“I’m sorry, Dean. I really am.” Castiel answered, and he lifted his hands in a deceiving motion. Dean thought he was going to hug him, but instead Castiel used the momentary confusion to handcuff Dean’s right hand to the bed’s headboard.
“You son of a bitch!” Dean hissed as he realized the betrayal.
“There’s no other way to keep you from doing anything reckless, am I right?”
“I guess you got to know me pretty well in the past few weeks, huh?” Dean smiled a bitter smile.
“I have to keep you from getting yourself killed somehow. Goodbye, Dean.” Castiel bit his lower lip, and without looking back, he left, leaving Dean all alone.
Dean’s hope for Castiel to realize he was wrong to go, and for him to come back to release him lasted for almost half an hour, but as his arm began to fall asleep in the uncomfortable position it was forced into, that hope began dwindling too, until Dean was left with nothing but the wish of never getting to know Castiel in the first place. Even though the Guardian hadn’t made any preparations for possibly handcuffing Dean to the bed, the detective was out of luck: There was nothing nearby that he could have used to pick the lock on the metal cuffs, and moving the heavy, wrought-iron bed wasn’t an option either. Defeated, he wriggled around to get into a more comfortable position until someone would come and release him. He waited for an hour, then for another one… then slowly it got dark outside, and having nothing better to do, Dean fell asleep. He couldn’t sleep for long though, soon he was woken up by heavy footsteps on the corridor, followed by a loud bang against his door.
“Finally someone…” Dean muttered, still halfway asleep, but his happiness only lasted till that someone actually kicked down the door of his apartment. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me!” he cursed, and tried to reach his gun, which was completely unsuccessful.
“Look at that, he’s like a wrapped present for Christmas,” one of the men, who had just arrived, cooed.
“You don’t even celebrate Christmas, asshole,” Dean growled.
“Smartass,” the other man shook his head pityingly, and knocked the completely defenseless Dean out cold.
When Dean woke up, he was in a dark, smelly, unknown location, probably an old, abandoned factory building.
“How original…” he mumbled as he took in his surroundings. He sat up, but he crumbled back down almost immediately: his head was throbbing so badly it was making him nauseous. His arms and legs were tied, the cuffs on his hands connected to the wall. “It’s so good to be in the host’s special care,” he said to himself jokingly, while trying to loosen his bonds. He didn’t get the chance to be alone for long: Soon the men who took him from his apartment were back, but they weren’t alone. There was a shorter figure behind them, a man in a black suit.
“Well, well, look who we have here!” He cheered, taking a step towards Dean.
“Hello, Crowley. It’s so nice to finally meet you in person. I heard so much about you from those goons of yours I managed to take out!” Dean greeted him, wearing his trademark ‘please, go and fuck yourself while I’m still asking nicely’ grin.
“What can I say, news about my charm proceed me,” Crowley said with a small shrug. “You on the other hand, aren’t nearly as badass as I was expecting you to be.”
“Oh, you ain’t seen nothing yet.”
“I’m certain of that.” Crowley grinned, and then he chuckled when Dean groaned in pain after one of the henchmen - who he didn’t see coming - landed a kick into his stomach. “Sadly, I don’t think I’ll have enough time to experience just how badass you are,” he continued, and turned to his men. “Kill him, then get rid of the body.”
“Yes, sir,” the men nodded in unison, and waited patiently until Crowley left.
Dean struggled against his bonds, but he knew that all effort was in vain: He was going to die in a dark basement that smelled like urine, beaten to death by two dumb henchmen, without the chance of going down swinging, like he always imagined he would.
The first few hits and kicks were hardly painful, a little uncomfortable, but nothing serious. When the men saw that they were getting nowhere with their bare hands and feet, they both picked up a crowbar, and that was when things got ugly. Dean couldn’t do anything but try to roll away from the blows, but after what seemed like an eternity, he didn’t even have enough power to do that. As the blows kept coming, the world was getting darker and darker around him, every breath was painful, and his mouth tasted like blood and death. He wished that he would at least pass out already, but his consciousness was holding onto him with every ounce of strength it had left. Before it finally happened, he could have sworn he saw Castiel, righteous fury on the Guardian’s face, his beautiful, metal wings spread, taking up the span of the room…
Castiel felt incredibly guilty about leaving Dean mere minutes after their first kiss, but he knew the risks of them getting involved with a relationship, and he had to eliminate those risks. He tried to convince himself that he was doing it for Dean, which was partially true, but there was a small voice in Castiel’s head, that wouldn’t shut up about him doing this mostly for his own sake, wouldn’t stop screaming at him to stop being so frightened and stupid, to turn around and go back to Dean, but Castiel wasn’t ready yet to give in, and do what the voice said. By the time he felt ready to face his feelings and Dean again, it was already too late: He found the entrance door to Dean’s apartment kicked down, the flat was empty, and there was a small smudge of fresh blood on Dean’s blue sheets. Castiel knew immediately what had happened, that one of the risks he’d been afraid of had actually become true. Crowley’s men had Dean, and it happened because Castiel was stupid enough to let his guard down, and allowed his emotions to take control. With a loud curse, he slammed his fist into the wall in Dean’s bedroom, and sank to the floor, completely devastated. He needed a full minute to calm down before he could function at least halfway normally again. He called the Guardian Center, informed them of the situation, and asked for a location on Dean’s phone, only to find it lying on the kitchen table. Fortunately, he also installed a tracker in Dean’s wristwatch, and it that moment his only hope was that it was still working. Luckily, it was, and only ten minutes later Castiel stood in front of the building Dean was supposedly held in.
Without thinking, Castiel barged in. The place wasn’t heavily guarded, there was only a single guard in front of the basement door. It wasn’t too hard for Castiel to knock him out, but stopping right there without killing the guard was one of the hardest tasks Castiel ever had to accomplish. He wasn’t this merciful with the other two goons though. When he saw them beating down Dean, he saw red, spread his wings to their full size, and attacked. At first, the two men looked surprised at the Cyberangel’s appearance, but soon they snapped out of their reveries, and managed to cause Castiel quite a few injuries, ripping the skin from his left arm, revealing shiny cybernetic parts underneath. The distant feeling of pain only made Castiel angrier, and when the opportunity presented itself, he all but ripped apart the two men.
Castiel knew he needed immediate help, but the only thing he could think about was Dean. He let the body he was holding fall to the ground, hurried to Dean’s side, fell to his knees, and lifted the detective’s body into his arms. Dean was still alive, hanging on by a thread. His body was a bloody mess, breaths loud and wheezing. Castiel was sure that the men managed to break every bone in Dean’s body, and he didn’t know what to do.
“I’m so sorry, Dean. I should have never left you. It’s all my fault,” Castiel whispered, trying to keep his emotions from completely taking control over him. “I’m going to make it right, I promise,” Castiel continued, and he began unbuttoning his shirt. He knew that what he was planning on doing was risky, that they both could die because of it, but Dean was dying anyway, and having to live without Dean but with emotions just didn’t seem to attractive for Castiel. His fingers were trembling as he reached the last button, just above the tiny vial embedded into his skin. That vial contained all of his life energy, and breaking it would probably kill him, but this time it was about Dean, and Castiel broke the vial without a second of hesitation. Bright white light filled the room, its rays playfully whizzing around the Guardian and the wounded Detective. Castiel could feel his strength diminishing, but Dean’s wounds were healing, scars disappearing right before his eyes, and that made it all okay. With the last of his power, he pressed a kiss onto Dean’s lips, and he collapsed onto the man’s chest.
When Castiel woke up, he found himself in a white room, surrounded by an army of loudly beeping machines, and a very worried-looking Dean.
“Hey, Cas. Explain me this. I’m the one who was almost beaten to death, and yet you’re the one who’s been out of it for three days and is currently lying in a hospital bed, hooked onto every cyberlife-supporting system known to man. How is that possible?” Dean joked weakly when he noticed that Castiel was finally awake.
“I am sure it has something to do with the fact that after opening the vial of my life energy, I shouldn’t even be alive,” the Guardian admitted almost inaudibly.
“You stupid, stupid son of a bitch.” Dean shook his head sternly. “Who has told you to risk your life for mine?”
“No one did. But I wanted to save you. It’s my job after all, isn’t it?” Castiel said with the slightest hint of a smile.
“Don’t ever leave me again.”
“I won’t, I promise. I was wrong to do it in the first place.”
“Shh, let’s not waste any more time talking about that. Or, you know what? Let’s not waste any time, period.” Dean grinned, and he claimed Castiel’s lips in a careful kiss. Not wasting any time was certainly an idea Castiel could wholeheartedly agree with.
-the end-
Author: deanawinchester
Artist: xsilverdreamsx
Art link: Art Masterlist
Fandom/Genre: SPN, Dystopian
Pairing(s): Dean/Castiel
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 5491
Warnings: Mentions of violence
Summary: When Detective Dean Winchester first meets his assigned Guardian, sparks fly. The Cyberangel named Castiel is the most infuriating being Dean has ever had the misfortune to meet. He doesn't have a sense of sarcasm or humor, but he makes up for it with staring. A lot. Of course, this still doesn't hold Dean back from falling for Castiel, teaching the half-human, half-cybernetic being about the importance of feelings in the process.
After two days without getting any sleep Detective Dean Winchester was ready to fall asleep while standing, so despite the huge pile of files on his desk, he decided to take a night off, go home, and get some rest. Nights spent at home were far and rare in-between for him. Every time he got to sleep in his own bed, it felt foreign and strange under his exhausted body. Ironically, the huge, wrought-iron piece of furniture was the only luxury in his small, untidy apartment, and yet it was the object he used the less. Ever since the Religion War had started, he had his hands full of mean, evil, or simply misguided people who were shedding innocent blood in the name of something they thought was holy. Dean had seen a lot of shit during the course of his life, but the violence of the New Religion’s missionary work was something that had him truly frightened.
The leader of the New Religion, a guy named Crowley was a smart, cunning bastard, with some sort of almost hypnotic power over people, which made it easy for him to convert them into Believers. While Dean didn’t care much for any religion, he did care a lot about justice, which came all to short those days. Openly taking a stand against the New Religion wasn’t an option, but Dean tried his best to keep his perimeter safe from bullying Believers. He managed to step onto a few toes in the process, but if Dean wanted to be honest with himself, he had to admit that he kind of enjoyed the vigilante-like actions. Of course, that meant that he had to be careful at all times, because unlike the “real” vigilantes, he wasn’t hiding his face or keeping his name a secret. Sometimes this resulted in pretty uncomfortable situations, but Dean wouldn’t have it any other way.
Trying to shake off the memories of the murder case he was working on, Dean took a long, hot shower before going to bed. He was asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow, and he slept for more than ten hours straight.
The next day passed by quickly. Dean was busy investigating a new case. There was another murder, quite similar to the one Dean was working on.
“Same MO, same neighborhood, and of course, this victim wasn’t into the New Religion crap either, what a surprise…” Dean thought bitterly while looking for clues at the crime scene. He spent hours with it, but he couldn’t find anything that could lead him to the murderer. Angered by the futile search, he stormed out of the victim’s house, and decided to help his colleagues looking for possible eyewitnesses himself.
After interviewing the last neighbor, Dean started walking back to his 1967 Chevrolet Impala, but he was stopped by intense yelling in one of the houses he had to walk past. He tried to convince himself that it was probably just a family quarrel, but his conscience wasn’t taking that option into consideration, so he decided to check it out. With just a few steps he reached the door, and knocked.
“I’m Detective Dean Winchester, sorry to bother you, is everything okay?” he called out, but no answer came. There was a loud crash instead, and then silence. Without thinking, Dean kicked down the door. He saw immediately that he’d been right when he assumed this wasn’t just a family fight. The situation didn’t need any explaining. He happened to catch two brainless muscle-men in the act of beating a man, while a third one was holding down a woman who was probably their victim’s wife.
One of the men lashed out at Dean, trying to hit him in the face. Before Dean caught the hand, and forced the man to his knee, he noticed the ring on his ring finger: It bore the sign of the New Religion. Dean had been right, they were Believers, and quite possibly trying to bully the family into changing their religion. Dean saw red, and after that everything happened really fast. The henchmen were huge, and strong, however kind of dumb. They couldn’t see what Dean was playing at, and before they knew what was happening, he has already tired them out. Suddenly, it was Dean who had the upper hand, but it didn’t last long. Someone, who wasn’t even there just seconds ago, tossed him out of the house, into the street.
“Who the hell are you?” Dean yelled furiously, glaring up at the man standing above him. The bright street light coming from behind the man’s back made it impossible for Dean to see the man’s face, but he hoped that the stranger could see his as clear as day. Dean was sprawled on the wet concrete, right where he fell after he was pushed out of the house. He hated being interrupted, especially when he was having fun by beating up a few dumb muscle-men. Of course, those men had escaped by then, and Dean was left with a tall, dark figure leaning over him.
“Castiel,” the stranger said in a deep, raspy voice. “I am what I believe you would call a Cyberangel. I am a Guardian, and from now on, you’re my charge.” Castiel turned around, and the position made it possible for Dean, who was still sitting on the cold floor, to take a good, long look of the glistening metal wings folded against the man’s back.
“What the hell are you talking about?!”
“In my opinion I expressed myself clearly. My job is to guard you, to keep you from trouble.”
“I don’t need no freaking babysitter.”
“Great, because I am not one.” Castiel answered in a flat voice, which was a clear indication of just how much he didn’t care about Dean’s aversion towards him. “We have no more business to take care of here. Are we needed anywhere else?” he asked, then started walking without waiting for an answer.
Dean huffed loudly, scrambling to his feet. Automatically he lifted his leg to take a step towards Castiel, who was moving away quite quickly, tan trenchcoat flowing behind him, but he changed his mind and turned around to leave. He couldn’t take more than two steps though before he met a brick wall - or at least that was what it felt like when he bumped into Castiel. For a moment Dean was sure he would end up on his rear end again, and he prayed for the decency of landing on all fours instead, but one of Castiel’s arm darted out and caught him, keeping him from falling. Only now did Dean look at the half-cybernetic being’s face, and he found that he wasn’t ugly… quite the contrary. Too bad that his bright, blue eyes were uninterested and cold as ice.
“Oh, come on Winchester, get a fucking grip already, you’re acting like a gangly, embarrassed teenager.” Dean chastised himself in his head, and shook off Castiel’s touch. “Well, Castiel, this has been nice. Thanks for your help...” he muttered sarcastically, hoping that the being would finally take it as his cue to leave, but when did anything happen the way Dean wanted it to happen?
“You are welcome.” Castiel said, and he wouldn’t move an inch from Dean’s side.
“Are you serious? You’re supposed to be better and more than a human being, and yet they forgot to fill you in about the meaning of sarcasm?”
“I have been educated about the tools of the human non-verbalism, but I don’t feel the need to actually use my knowledge about them. My job is to protect you. I’m not here to have any kind of personal intercourse with you.”
“That’s good, because you’re sure as hell not mating with me, sunshine.”
“Great. Now that we cleared that issue up, can I finally bring you to a safer location? Standing around in the open street is not exactly the best course of action for a person like you.”
“A person like me? Let me reiterate my question from earlier: What the hell are you talking about?!”
“Dean.” Castiel didn’t even have to raise his voice to make Dean feel intimidated, even though the being standing next to him was a few inches shorter than him and nearly not as built. “I will explain everything later, but right now, you have to tell me where your vehicle is, and let us… I think you would use the expression ‘get the hell out of Dodge’.”
Dean realized that there was no way he could get rid of the Guardian, not in that moment anyway, so he decided to play along, just until the right time to rebel against the utterly unnecessary babysitter.
“Okay,” he nodded. “My car is that way, just past this block. Does my apartment qualify as a safer location, or do you want me to move straight into a panic room?” Okay, so ‘playing along’ didn’t necessarily mean the complete disregard of sarcasm, at least not in Dean’s dictionary. Not that it had any effect on Castiel: Of course, once again he took no notice of it, and just started walking in the direction Dean had motioned earlier.
The ten-minute drive to Dean’s block had never seemed to be so long as it did this time. Castiel looked so utterly uncomfortable in the confinement of the backseat - where he was banished to, because his wings didn’t fit into the passenger seat -, that it made Dean uncomfortable too. And then, there was the intense staring. Dean could feel the heat of Castiel’s gaze on the back of his neck, and by the time they finally reached the house Dean was living in, he was ready to snap at Castiel, to yell at him to stop staring, or even better, to gouge the Guardian’s eyes out himself.
As soon as the apartment door clicked shut behind them, Dean pushed Castiel up against the wall, arm right over his neck - even though Dean was pretty sure that he could only do that, because Castiel let him and Castiel didn’t need to breathe anyway -, and he growled into the Cyberangel’s face.
“I want answers, now! Why are you here, who sent you, and what the hell do you want from me?!”
“There’s no need to get violent. I told you that I would answer all of your questions, as soon as we are someplace safe.” Castiel said with a hint of annoyance in his voice, and pushed Dean off of him. “I was hired by your boss, Lieutenant Robert Singer.”
“Do you have any idea why he decided to sick a half-metal babysitter on me?” Dean’s angered growl got another notch lower, voice dropping deep enough to make every sane person wanting to get as far away from him as possible. However, Castiel didn’t even flinch.
“He believes you’re in danger because of the case you are working on right now, and my superior agreed with him on the matter. Getting involved with the matters of the New Religion is not a smart thing to do, Dean.”
“So what? I know the risks, but it’s the only good thing I can do! Am I supposed to sit idly by, twiddling my thumbs and watch as a group of lunatics murders, blackmails and harasses its way to the top of the religious food chain? That’s utter bullshit, and you know it too!” Dean yelled, slamming his cellphone down onto the chest of drawers by the door.
“It doesn’t matter what I know, or don’t know. The only thing that matters is that I’ve been hired to make it impossible for the Believers of the New Religion to harm you in any way, and that’s exactly what I am planning on doing. I believe we are safe for now, but I have to make sure it stays that way. I don’t care what you do, but don’t leave the apartment without letting me know.”
“I am not a sixteen years old teenage girl you can order around!” Dean hissed.
“If you’re not one, then don’t act like it. I am not your enemy, Dean Winchester. I am here to keep you safe, whether you like it or not.”
“Well, I don’t like it one bit.”
“You have already made that clear. Now stay out of my way, and let me take a few safety precautions around here.”
“Okay, you know what? I’m going to bed, so be quiet, or I swear I’ll end you, Cyberangel or not.” Dean growled, but Castiel didn’t even deign to give him an answer. Quietly murmuring about Cyberangels being infuriating, Dean got himself ready for bed, and as soon as he climbed into his bed, he was out like the light.
Any hope Dean had about Castiel disappearing overnight went right up in flames as he opened his eyes in the morning. The Cyberangel was still there, standing motionless at the end of Dean’s bed, staring at the man with his huge blue eyes.
“Jeeze, Castiel, have you been standing there the whole time, watching me sleep? “
“Yes. I am your Guardian, after all.”
“Doesn’t this feel a little rape-y to you?”
“Rape-y is not an existing word, Dean.”
“Look at all the fucks I don’t give about your English lesson. Now please, get the Hell out of my room.”
“I can’t do that, I’m afraid. I’m supposed to watch over you all the time.”
“Okay, watch this then!” Dean said, jumped out of his bed, crossed his room to get into the en-suite bathroom, and slammed the door on Castiel before the Cyberangel could make one single move. Once behind the locked bathroom door and under the shower spray, he let out a satisfied sigh. For some reason, the mere existence of the Guardian was bothering him endlessly, and he was ready to make Castiel suffer just as he was suffering under the weight of the Cyberangel’s gaze. Of course, he didn’t think that a, Castiel was really effective with picking locks and b, he didn’t feel much beyond the tiniest hint of annoyance, so when he stepped out of the shower and found Castiel standing there, looking as emotionless as possible, the childish joy of his “accomplishment” disappeared completely.
“Castiel, for fuck’s sake, have you EVER heard the term personal space? Because that’s exactly what you’re not giving me right now, buddy!” Dean yelled as he wrapped a towel around his waist with a quick move, and turned around to hide the blush coloring his face bright red. He could still feel Castiel’s proximity, which indicated that the half-cybernetic being didn’t really get what Dean was trying to say, so he decided to become more vocal about his wishes. “Dude, did you not hear me? Leave me the fuck alone! I’ll be out in a minute, and then you can watch over me all you want, okay?”
To Dean’s biggest surprise, this time Castiel actually listened to him, and left him alone to get dressed. Just this once, Dean was really grateful that he kept a change of fresh clothes in every room in his apartment, because he sure as Hell would have hated having to waltz around naked in front of Castiel for a single second longer than necessary, and they’ve already been past that point.
Trying to push his luck (and Castiel’s boundaries), Dean spent a longer time in the bathroom than he usually did in a week altogether, but Castiel didn’t barge in again, and Dean almost felt disappointed about that. After a while he grew tired of waiting, and emerged from the bathroom.
Castiel was standing right next to the door, with his head hanging. When Dean appeared, Castiel looked up at him.
“I thought you would never get bored enough to actually come out of there…” Castiel nodded towards the bathroom, and Dean felt the blood rush to his face and ears - again.
“Yeah, well… whatever,” Dean shrugged. “I’m hungry. Tell me you can cook, and maybe I won’t be so grumpy to you anymore.”
“Sorry to disappoint you, but I have not been educated on cooking. However, I am able to take you to a diner, fast-food joint or bakery of your choice.”
“That’s still better than nothing,” Dean said with another small shrug, grabbed his badge, gun, and the keys to his car. “Okay, we can go then. But I am driving.”
They say that after a rocky start things can only get better. While in most of cases that saying is in fact true, after having spent three months with Castiel day in, day out, Dean was ready to slap everyone saying that into a three-week coma. The Cyberangel’s proximity was still driving him crazy, he still had practically no personal space , and - the worst of it all - Castiel still wasn’t any better with getting and using sarcasm. Of course, there were smaller victories along the way - Dean was able to convince Castiel to eat once in a while, and he even got him to sleep for a few hours occasionally, but all in all, the fact that the Cyberangel was there wasn’t any less infuriating for Dean than it had been three months ago. The only difference was that the initial nervous tension between them changed into something much more primal, sensual and sexual, and Dean was sure it wasn’t just him who felt it. At times it was almost impossible to bear the heavy weight of it, but sometimes the very same tension felt as good as a whiff of fresh air after being stuck in a room for long hours. Slowly, Dean got used to Castiel being always there, and not just because the Cyberangel proved himself to be quite useful more than a few times.
The three months anniversary of Castiel being Dean’s Guardian was on a Friday, and as Dean had the weekend free, they decided to have some kind of a celebration. It wasn’t something big, they just ordered a pizza, bought a six-pack of beer and an apple-cinnamon pie. In Castiel’s opinion the whole thing was just an excuse for Dean to get wasted, yet he didn’t argue when Dean told him about his plans. They spent the evening watching movies on DVD, but most of the time Dean was rather busy with laughing at the trouble Castiel had while trying to understand pop-culture references. After the last movie they planned for the night ended, Dean stood up to go to bed, but he tripped in one of Castiel’s shoes, and he fell back onto the couch, only a lot closer to Castiel than before. On the spur of the moment, he leaned even closer, leaving only the tiniest sliver between them, one hand resting on Castiel’s thigh.
“I don’t even know what I’m doing…” Dean admitted silently, his mouth merely a few inches away from Castiel’s.
“That makes two of us, because I don’t know what you’re doing either. But I think I like it,” the Guardian said, leaning into the gentle touch as Dean laid his hand onto his face, carefully cradling his jaw line.
“We shouldn’t be doing this.”
“You’re right. No, we shouldn’t. I shouldn’t even feel anything, but I do. You ruined me, Dean Winchester,” the Guardian shook his head.
“I think I only made you better.” Dean objected, and he let his fingers run over Castiel’s face before tracing the bridge of his nose. The slight caress made Castiel’s lower lip quiver, and the promise of that tiny movement poured liquid fire into Dean’s veins. A few moments passed, and finally, his mouth met Castiel’s. At first the kiss was more than a little uncertain, mostly because Castiel wasn’t reacting to it in any way, but as Dean’s tongue swept over Castiel’s lips, asking for entrance, it broke the wall holding back their passion, and soon they were kissing like there was no tomorrow. It was messy, and sensual, and the best kiss Dean’s ever had. It was everything and more, too much and yet not enough, overwhelming and begging for more… It felt good, maybe too good to be true.
“I kissed a Cyberangel, and I liked it!” Dean announced with a bright grin after they parted.
“You certainly know how to ruin the mood.” Castiel chuckled, but then his playful expression turned serious. “What are we going to do now, Dean?”
“I was thinking about some more kissing…”
“That is not what I meant. I can’t stay with you, not like this. You’re clouding my judgement.”
“Is that such a bad thing?”
“It’s not a coincidence that all Guardians are created without emotions, Dean. We were humans once, yes, but we had to leave our feelings behind, because feelings are doorways to doubt, and doubt is the last thing a Guardian needs. I shouldn’t stay close to you.”
”But I don’t want anyone else to babysit me.”
“I know you don’t, you didn’t even want me in the first place. But if we keep this up, it might end badly.”
“And if we don’t, it has already ended badly!” Dean yelled angrily.
“I am aware of that, yes.” Castiel answered, and Dean could clearly see how hard he had to fight to keep at least the smallest shred of objectivity. “I’m sorry, Dean. I have to go. I will ask for a replacement immediately, soon you will have someone else by your side. Please, don’t do anything reckless while you’re alone. Promise me!”
“I can’t promise you anything. Not if you walk out that door.” Dean said. He knew he sounded like a petulant child, but he didn’t care. He didn’t only get used to Castiel being around, he’d grown to love the half-cybernetic being, and they changed each other, both of them becoming a better person in the process. The possibility of losing the only good thing in his life was killing him on the inside.
“I’m sorry, Dean. I really am.” Castiel answered, and he lifted his hands in a deceiving motion. Dean thought he was going to hug him, but instead Castiel used the momentary confusion to handcuff Dean’s right hand to the bed’s headboard.
“You son of a bitch!” Dean hissed as he realized the betrayal.
“There’s no other way to keep you from doing anything reckless, am I right?”
“I guess you got to know me pretty well in the past few weeks, huh?” Dean smiled a bitter smile.
“I have to keep you from getting yourself killed somehow. Goodbye, Dean.” Castiel bit his lower lip, and without looking back, he left, leaving Dean all alone.
Dean’s hope for Castiel to realize he was wrong to go, and for him to come back to release him lasted for almost half an hour, but as his arm began to fall asleep in the uncomfortable position it was forced into, that hope began dwindling too, until Dean was left with nothing but the wish of never getting to know Castiel in the first place. Even though the Guardian hadn’t made any preparations for possibly handcuffing Dean to the bed, the detective was out of luck: There was nothing nearby that he could have used to pick the lock on the metal cuffs, and moving the heavy, wrought-iron bed wasn’t an option either. Defeated, he wriggled around to get into a more comfortable position until someone would come and release him. He waited for an hour, then for another one… then slowly it got dark outside, and having nothing better to do, Dean fell asleep. He couldn’t sleep for long though, soon he was woken up by heavy footsteps on the corridor, followed by a loud bang against his door.
“Finally someone…” Dean muttered, still halfway asleep, but his happiness only lasted till that someone actually kicked down the door of his apartment. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me!” he cursed, and tried to reach his gun, which was completely unsuccessful.
“Look at that, he’s like a wrapped present for Christmas,” one of the men, who had just arrived, cooed.
“You don’t even celebrate Christmas, asshole,” Dean growled.
“Smartass,” the other man shook his head pityingly, and knocked the completely defenseless Dean out cold.
When Dean woke up, he was in a dark, smelly, unknown location, probably an old, abandoned factory building.
“How original…” he mumbled as he took in his surroundings. He sat up, but he crumbled back down almost immediately: his head was throbbing so badly it was making him nauseous. His arms and legs were tied, the cuffs on his hands connected to the wall. “It’s so good to be in the host’s special care,” he said to himself jokingly, while trying to loosen his bonds. He didn’t get the chance to be alone for long: Soon the men who took him from his apartment were back, but they weren’t alone. There was a shorter figure behind them, a man in a black suit.
“Well, well, look who we have here!” He cheered, taking a step towards Dean.
“Hello, Crowley. It’s so nice to finally meet you in person. I heard so much about you from those goons of yours I managed to take out!” Dean greeted him, wearing his trademark ‘please, go and fuck yourself while I’m still asking nicely’ grin.
“What can I say, news about my charm proceed me,” Crowley said with a small shrug. “You on the other hand, aren’t nearly as badass as I was expecting you to be.”
“Oh, you ain’t seen nothing yet.”
“I’m certain of that.” Crowley grinned, and then he chuckled when Dean groaned in pain after one of the henchmen - who he didn’t see coming - landed a kick into his stomach. “Sadly, I don’t think I’ll have enough time to experience just how badass you are,” he continued, and turned to his men. “Kill him, then get rid of the body.”
“Yes, sir,” the men nodded in unison, and waited patiently until Crowley left.
Dean struggled against his bonds, but he knew that all effort was in vain: He was going to die in a dark basement that smelled like urine, beaten to death by two dumb henchmen, without the chance of going down swinging, like he always imagined he would.
The first few hits and kicks were hardly painful, a little uncomfortable, but nothing serious. When the men saw that they were getting nowhere with their bare hands and feet, they both picked up a crowbar, and that was when things got ugly. Dean couldn’t do anything but try to roll away from the blows, but after what seemed like an eternity, he didn’t even have enough power to do that. As the blows kept coming, the world was getting darker and darker around him, every breath was painful, and his mouth tasted like blood and death. He wished that he would at least pass out already, but his consciousness was holding onto him with every ounce of strength it had left. Before it finally happened, he could have sworn he saw Castiel, righteous fury on the Guardian’s face, his beautiful, metal wings spread, taking up the span of the room…
Castiel felt incredibly guilty about leaving Dean mere minutes after their first kiss, but he knew the risks of them getting involved with a relationship, and he had to eliminate those risks. He tried to convince himself that he was doing it for Dean, which was partially true, but there was a small voice in Castiel’s head, that wouldn’t shut up about him doing this mostly for his own sake, wouldn’t stop screaming at him to stop being so frightened and stupid, to turn around and go back to Dean, but Castiel wasn’t ready yet to give in, and do what the voice said. By the time he felt ready to face his feelings and Dean again, it was already too late: He found the entrance door to Dean’s apartment kicked down, the flat was empty, and there was a small smudge of fresh blood on Dean’s blue sheets. Castiel knew immediately what had happened, that one of the risks he’d been afraid of had actually become true. Crowley’s men had Dean, and it happened because Castiel was stupid enough to let his guard down, and allowed his emotions to take control. With a loud curse, he slammed his fist into the wall in Dean’s bedroom, and sank to the floor, completely devastated. He needed a full minute to calm down before he could function at least halfway normally again. He called the Guardian Center, informed them of the situation, and asked for a location on Dean’s phone, only to find it lying on the kitchen table. Fortunately, he also installed a tracker in Dean’s wristwatch, and it that moment his only hope was that it was still working. Luckily, it was, and only ten minutes later Castiel stood in front of the building Dean was supposedly held in.
Without thinking, Castiel barged in. The place wasn’t heavily guarded, there was only a single guard in front of the basement door. It wasn’t too hard for Castiel to knock him out, but stopping right there without killing the guard was one of the hardest tasks Castiel ever had to accomplish. He wasn’t this merciful with the other two goons though. When he saw them beating down Dean, he saw red, spread his wings to their full size, and attacked. At first, the two men looked surprised at the Cyberangel’s appearance, but soon they snapped out of their reveries, and managed to cause Castiel quite a few injuries, ripping the skin from his left arm, revealing shiny cybernetic parts underneath. The distant feeling of pain only made Castiel angrier, and when the opportunity presented itself, he all but ripped apart the two men.
Castiel knew he needed immediate help, but the only thing he could think about was Dean. He let the body he was holding fall to the ground, hurried to Dean’s side, fell to his knees, and lifted the detective’s body into his arms. Dean was still alive, hanging on by a thread. His body was a bloody mess, breaths loud and wheezing. Castiel was sure that the men managed to break every bone in Dean’s body, and he didn’t know what to do.
“I’m so sorry, Dean. I should have never left you. It’s all my fault,” Castiel whispered, trying to keep his emotions from completely taking control over him. “I’m going to make it right, I promise,” Castiel continued, and he began unbuttoning his shirt. He knew that what he was planning on doing was risky, that they both could die because of it, but Dean was dying anyway, and having to live without Dean but with emotions just didn’t seem to attractive for Castiel. His fingers were trembling as he reached the last button, just above the tiny vial embedded into his skin. That vial contained all of his life energy, and breaking it would probably kill him, but this time it was about Dean, and Castiel broke the vial without a second of hesitation. Bright white light filled the room, its rays playfully whizzing around the Guardian and the wounded Detective. Castiel could feel his strength diminishing, but Dean’s wounds were healing, scars disappearing right before his eyes, and that made it all okay. With the last of his power, he pressed a kiss onto Dean’s lips, and he collapsed onto the man’s chest.
When Castiel woke up, he found himself in a white room, surrounded by an army of loudly beeping machines, and a very worried-looking Dean.
“Hey, Cas. Explain me this. I’m the one who was almost beaten to death, and yet you’re the one who’s been out of it for three days and is currently lying in a hospital bed, hooked onto every cyberlife-supporting system known to man. How is that possible?” Dean joked weakly when he noticed that Castiel was finally awake.
“I am sure it has something to do with the fact that after opening the vial of my life energy, I shouldn’t even be alive,” the Guardian admitted almost inaudibly.
“You stupid, stupid son of a bitch.” Dean shook his head sternly. “Who has told you to risk your life for mine?”
“No one did. But I wanted to save you. It’s my job after all, isn’t it?” Castiel said with the slightest hint of a smile.
“Don’t ever leave me again.”
“I won’t, I promise. I was wrong to do it in the first place.”
“Shh, let’s not waste any more time talking about that. Or, you know what? Let’s not waste any time, period.” Dean grinned, and he claimed Castiel’s lips in a careful kiss. Not wasting any time was certainly an idea Castiel could wholeheartedly agree with.
-the end-