Fic: Fell in your opinion when I fell in love with you
Pairing/Characters: Dean/Cas, Sam, Bobby, Atropos, other major deities
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: mild blasphemy
Spoilers: S6 through 6.22
Word Count: 6300
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: The quality of the souls Gods use for power matters. Cas’ trouble controlling the souls of Eve’s twisted, hungry creatures that he’d stolen from Purgatory is only growing and he’s endangering the world he’d tried so desperately to save with no idea what to do to stop himself.
A/N: I find SPN's meta absolutely fascinating, especially the idea that lots of souls make gods from the season finale and my absolute favorite bit: that someday Death will reap God. The point of this entire fic was pretty much to play with the meta. Oh, and to make Dean and Cas have sex. Can't forget that part. :)
Dean decides the only thing to do once you're human again after your brother gets you turned into a vampire is to get drunk or get laid. Maybe both.
So he hits the nearest bar, by himself. He finds that beer is much more forthcoming than sex, and far less effort, so he sticks with that. He stays until he's well and truly smashed before stumbling his way out to his car. The cool night air does nothing to clear his head and even he can tell he shouldn't be driving right now so he folds his arms against the roof above the driver’s side door and leans his forehead against the cold metal.
"You know you shouldn't be driving like this," a voice as cool as the chilled night air says. A familiar voice.
Dean looks up to see Cas standing across from him on the passenger side of the car.
"Who says I was going to," Dean retorts, annoyed that Cas takes his time to show up when they need him but appears out of the blue exactly when he's not wanted just to tell Dean things he already knows.
Cas says nothing. Dean studies him silently for a moment in return, thinking over how crappy his life's gotten in the past few weeks. He's pretty sure that Lisa's never going to talk to him again. He'd suspected there'd been something off about Sam for awhile. Just the way he's been acting lately - just the other day, Dean had jokingly called him a bitch. He'd waited for Sam to return the jibe and call him a jerk like normal, but instead he’d just given Dean a little smirk as he'd let the moment deliberately pass by before changing the subject - and now that he'd let Dean get turned, Dean's absolutely sure of it. And Cas…
Cas has been stone-faced and distant since Dean's last seen him - no, since God had brought him back to life back at Stull right after Lucifer had destroyed him with a single snap of his fingers. Dean had simply figured that once his grace had been restored, all that burgeoning humanity Cas had felt before was just gone.
"So I take it God's still at large?"
Cas glances away, the only sign that this question affects him. "I haven't given Him much thought recently."
"What? I thought you were his heavenly stalker."
"My faith in my Father has… waned, in light of certain matters," Cas responds, picking his words carefully.
"No shit?" Dean says. "And here I thought your faith had been restored after he brought you back that last time."
"No," Cas answers, looking him right in the eye. "I was brought back because of you."
"What? Me?" Dean repeats, flabbergasted. "You can't be serious."
"I have recently been… enlightened to the fact that it was the piece of my grace embedded in your soul that keeps bringing me back."
Dean just stares at him. "There's a who in my what now?" he asks. "Why the hell did you put your who in my what now?"
Cas stares at him for a moment, trying to parse that statement. Dean admits it's a little off, for which he's blaming the alcohol.
"Dean, you were on the rack for thirty years. The demons did more in that time than just torture you. Your soul, when I dragged it out of Hell, was in tatters and large pieces of it had been carved away. I had to place a piece of my grace within your soul to keep it intact when I restored it to your body. I hadn't realized that this would be a side effect."
Dean takes a moment to process this. He wishes he could say he was more surprised, but his life being what it is, he's really not. "So you weren't kidding about that profound bond thing, huh."
"No, I was not."
"And the resurrection thing, that's, like, a side effect? Are there any other side effects I should know about? Am I going to spout wings out of my ass one day? And is this why my chest feels kind of funny and tight like I have heartburn when you're not around?"
"No," Cas answers. He pauses. "You miss me?"
"Shut up. The beer made me say that."
"Right."
"Give me an analogy I can work with here."
"The bond between you and I… it is akin to soul mates," Cas says, "only stronger."
"Stronger, right." Dean thinks that's an understatement. "It's strong enough to bring you back from being exploded into a million tiny pieces. Twice." Dean can't help wondering what else it's going to do, and Cas doesn't seem to be inclined to fill him in. "So, we're like angel married, minus the sex part?" he concludes.
"In a sense," Cas agrees.
"In a sense, my fucking ass," Dean grouses. He rounds the car and grabs Cas by the tie, leading him towards the alley behind the bar. "I think we're going to be putting the kibosh on that without the sex part."
"What? Dean, I don't understand what you mean," Cas says, confused. He is following after Dean without qualm none the less.
"What's not to understand? I'm here, you're here, we're angel married and I need to get laid. Any more questions?"
"Dean, are you sure-" Cas begins, reaching up a hand toward Dean's forehead to sober him up.
"Don't you dare," Dean says, grabbing Cas' hand and directing it downwards instead to splay across the front of his jeans. "You can say yes or you can say no, but we're doing this my way."
"Yes," Cas practically growls and leans forward to capture Dean's lips in a wanton kiss. Dean gets the feeling he’s wanted to do this for awhile. He knew there was more to the staring than Cas’ lack of social graces.
Dean had always figured that Cas would be a bumbling virgin, not sure what to do with his hands, using too much tongue when they kissed. He finds quite the opposite is true - Cas is so distracted finding skin as his hands roam up under Dean's shirt and dip down below his waistband and his mouth devours Dean's own that it makes it somewhat difficult for Dean to undo his belt buckle and get this show on the road.
This isn't the first time that Dean's messed around with guys. There's been more than a couple mutual handjobs and blowjobs scattered throughout his past, but outright sex with a man has been has been few and far between. Doesn't mean he doesn't know exactly what he's doing, though, and how he wants it tonight - hard, rough, Cas' cock up his ass.
Cas, despite being so tangled up in touching as much of Dean's skin as possible, offers no argument there, doesn't resist Dean directing him exactly how he wants him. And it's perfect, Dean thinks - bent at the waist, his forearms braced against the brick alley wall as Cas drives into him from behind, causing his cheek to brush the rough brick with each thrust.
Dean groans his appreciation. "Fuck yeah, Cas, harder!"
Cas complies. He has one hand wrapped firmly around Dean's cock, jerking it in time with each thrust, the other digging into Dean's hip hard enough to leave bruises.
Dean loves every minute of it.
It ends far too soon, Dean shooting his load all over Cas' hand and the brick wall, his muscles clenching tight around Cas’ cock as Cas lets out a guttural groan and follows him over into orgasm.
Dean remains still for a moment, resting his forehand against his hand where it’s still braced on the wall, trying to catch his breath. When Cas steps back, Dean follows, turning around as he tucks himself back inside his pants and redoing his belt buckle. Cas just stands there, wordlessly staring, so Dean does the same for him. He suspects Cas’ lack of initiative has more to do with him not realizing what to do next than exhaustion since the angel isn't even breathing hard.
"I guess you have things in Heaven to get back to," Dean hints.
"Yes," Cas answers although he doesn't disappear.
Dean sighs. "You get what this is, right? I don't give a shit about whatever profound bond we have. I'm cool with having sex with you, but that's all. Lisa and I…" Dean starts, but he doesn't want to try and explain the disaster that is him and relationships, not to mention his latest cock up that’s ended things with Lisa. "You need to know that my life is just too fucked up to try for anything more."
Cas nods. "But sex is acceptable, right?" he reiterates.
"Sure, fine. Drop by whenever you're feeling like a booty call."
Cas' eyes narrow as he processes Dean's phrasing, but he seems to get the message. "I will hold you to that," he says before finally vanishing.
Cas is true to his word. He shows up a number of times and Dean is more than happy to get down and dirty with him.
When Cas drops by to confirm his brother's missing his soul? Dean blows him in Bobby's spare room.
Cas kisses Meg to make him jealous? Dean rides him in his motel room.
It turns out Cas is really the mastermind behind the alternate reality farce? They fuck in the backseat of the Impala, Cas' tie wrapped firmly around Dean's wrists.
Everything is fine and dandy in Dean’s eyes, at least until Cas has to fuck it all up by working with demons.
*
Cas had suspected that Dean wouldn't approve of his plans. This is why he kept them to himself for so long. Still, even after Dean, Sam, and Bobby had trapped him with holy oil, he hadn't anticipated what Dean would say next.
He comes to Lisa’s hospital room with one intention - to save her life. He doesn’t think it will do much to redeem him in Dean’s eyes, but at least, he figures, their relationship can’t get any worse and it might lessen some of the doubt that’s been nagging at him.
He’s surprised when Dean asks him to erase her memory. Ben’s too.
Cas doesn’t ask any questions. He simply does it - just like everything else Dean’s ever asked of him.
Afterwards, Dean goes to get a cup of coffee while he wakes for Lisa to wake up so he can say one last tortured goodbye, although she won’t understand it the way he does. Cas follows after him, watches as Dean scrubs a weary hand over his face.
“That memory thing is a pretty handy trick,” Dean comments. “It’s too bad you can’t do that with the memories of you and me.”
“Would you-” Cas begins to ask, but Dean cuts him off, his face hardening like he just remembered exactly why he can’t trust Cas.
“Don’t even think about,” he growls, stalking out of the room.
Cas wasn’t about to. What he was actually going to ask is if Dean would have wanted him to take his memory away before, right after Sam had been dragged into the Pit - if that would have given him a real shot at staying with Lisa the first time, having a normal life.
He doesn’t need to ask Dean anyway. He’s fairly certain the answer would have been no.
*
Cas never gives up on God, not really. He keeps hoping - praying - until the very last moment that God will show up and say Castiel, what have you done? and stop him or maybe even this was my plan all along and absolve him from his doubts.
He is, of course, disappointed. For ten seconds or more, he feels the wave of disappointment wash over him as he finishes the incantation and the gates to Purgatory open wide and God isn’t there. Then the souls start flowing into him and his father is the furthest thing from his mind.
*
Dean, unsurprisingly, refuses to bow down in worship. Sam and Bobby won’t either.
Cas narrows his eyes and reaches out a hand.
“I gave you a choice,” he reasons, voice firm, if slightly regretful. He knows this is necessary if he wants to keep the Winchesters and their allies out of his way while he puts an end Heaven’s civil war. They have a unique talent for managing to get in the way of even the most powerful of beings which is something Cas just can’t afford right now. He can always resurrect them again later, when the timing suits him.
His palm glows briefly, hot and brilliant for a single second before the souls inside him erupt into anarchy. There’re responding to something deep inside of him that before would have caused him to pause, think perhaps this is not the right thing to do. The souls can sense his hesitancy and they start to rage, refusing him their power, beating against the confines of his grace.
Cas falters and falls to his knees, sucks in a shaky breath. He can see Dean inch towards him out of the corner of his eye, and the chaos inside him only increases the closer Dean gets.
“Stop,” Cas chokes out, whether to himself - the souls inside of him - or Dean, he’s not sure. All he knows is he needs to get as far away from Dean - from the source of these feelings - as possible, so he screws his eyes shut tight and disappears.
He falls back into existence on a sandy beach on the other side of the continent, right at the shoreline. Cool water laps around his hands as he curls his fingers into the damp sand, soaks into the cuffs of his coat and the knees of his pants.
He sucks in a ragged breath as the chaos inside his grace finally starts to subside.
Atropos appears behind him. One minute he’s alone on the beach, the only being for miles, and the next he can feel her presence there with him. Cas takes one more deep breath of the salty marine air before climbing to feet that shake slightly beneath him and turns to face her.
“What have you done?” she demands, brandishing her ledger in one hand as the breeze whips her neatly arranged hair into tangles around her face. She’s standing farther up on the dry beach by a crest of sand dunes.
“I did what I had to do,” Cas answers. His voice sounds steadier than he feels.
“I warned you before,” she says, “there are rules. There is an order to things. You can’t just create souls out of thin air.”
“I didn’t,” Cas answers truthfully.
“No, this time you stole them instead.”
Cas shrugs. “There was no one to stop me from doing so.”
Atropos’ lips form a thin, hard line, her version of a frown. “This has never been done before. You have no idea of the consequences if you continue to hold on to them without proper mastery of their power.”
“Is that a threat?”
“It’s the truth.”
“I am not afraid of your sisters,” Cas returns.
Atropos shakes her head. “That’s not who you should be worried about,” she replies. “These souls are not yours to control, Castiel. If you keep using them and fail to master them, you could be endangering the very fabric of creation itself.”
Cas is confident. “That won’t be a problem. I am the new God. There’s nothing I can’t do.”
Atropos sighs. “You have no idea how this world works, do you? If I can’t convince you, there is a man you should talk to.”
“Who?” Cas asks.
“You’ve probably heard of him,” she answers. “His name is Zeus.”
*
Cas finds Zeus, somewhat unsurprisingly, in Athens, Georgia. He’s seated at a booth in a nondescript diner, wearing a brightly colored shirt and eating a fairly large breakfast, very greasy and with a lot of meat. Just the way Dean likes his own breakfasts, Cas idly notes.
"Fancy meeting you here," Zeus remarks.
"Atropos sent me to speak with you. She said you could help me control these souls."
Zeus studies him sternly for a moment. "No, she told you I could tell you why they're so difficult to control. Actually being about to master them, on the other hand… now that is up to you.
"Our story begins," he says after pausing to take a bite of pancake, "at the beginning of time. Once, the Earth was just an empty ocean with only Chaos and Order to call it home and the stars in the sky to watch over it. Together, Chaos and Order - she prefers to call herself Tiamat while he's never been big on names - they had a son by the name of Death - nice guy. Not sure you've ever met him. Very big on appeasing both his parents. After all, everybody - even Gods - die, but death rarely makes sense.
"Alone, they created more children - Tiamat gave birth to the Fates and Chaos created Eve and the Titans. The Titans grew bored with an ocean empty of everything but algae. They destroyed Tiamat's body and reshaped it into the continents, then created the Gods and let them run rampant over their new Earth in order to amuse them. The Fates, of course, didn’t like this at all. They couldn’t undo what was done to their mother so they retaliated by reforming Chaos' body into the Afterworld and doing their best to instill order and control onto all forms of life in their new reality.
"Now this is when it gets interesting, when the soul comes into play. Who can say who created the soul? Some think it was formed as Tiamat’s lifeblood, her power, seeped out of her broken body and into the ocean. No wonder the soul is so powerful, eh? Took a few hundred million years for life to evolve into mankind and into the kind of soul-power to be worth something, though. But the Gods… they fought over it from the first moment they discovered what it was and what it could do."
"Is there a point to this story?" Cas intercedes.
"I'm getting there, I'm getting there. A few million years go by. Some of us realize there are better ways to collect souls than to barter, coerce, or outright steal them. We started storing them away for safekeeping in our own little divisions of the Afterlife. But your boy God, he really takes the cake. He finds that the quality of the soul, it matters. Pure souls, righteous souls, his true believers, they give their power over much more easily than any other kind. They don't try to fight you for control, the way your souls from purgatory are so keen on doing now. So God, he filters the best of the best into Heaven and lets the demons and the pagan gods have the rest."
"I don't believe you. No one is more powerful than my Father. God is the one who created Heaven and Hell, the Earth, and life itself. I was there when the first creature crawled out of the sea. I heard him say-"
"Oh, I'm sure you did. That little announcement went out over a celestial broadcast. God didn’t do it though."
"You're implying that I wasn't standing there, watching it happen. I remember-"
"Again, I'm sure you do. Just… I wouldn't exactly say you were standing there, more like looking down from afar. Very much from afar. Your boy God never exactly wanted Heaven and Hell to be evenly matched in a fight, so he created soldiers to protect his righteous out of the very stars themselves. And you angels, drinking up all that power - why, you're practically gods yourselves. You can heal, you can destroy a demon with a single touch, you can even bring the dead back to life. Even you, Castiel, running on the fumes from the one single soul you had left when you fell, the one trapped with you in your vessel after your brother cut you off from Heaven - you did things some pagan gods could never hope to accomplish."
“I don’t understand what this means,” Cas says.
“It’s simple, kid. You may be a new god, but your not the new God. This kind of thing has happened before - just not so quickly on your scale, or with a batch of souls from Purgatory. Now Eve, she was one sick puppy. The souls she collected were just like her. Not only do you have to learn how to control them, but they don’t want to do a thing you try to use them for, or at least not for anything good. Those souls hunger for one thing and that is death and destruction. If you don’t give them what they want or figure out how to keep them on a tight leash, you’re the one they’re going to consume and, hopefully, you won’t take this whole dimension with you when they do.”
*
Cas doesn’t give much thought to Zeus’ words. He has work to do.
He goes hunting for angels. Raphael’s followers flee Heaven, and Cas must range over the entirety of the Earth to find them. He smites any of Crowley’s demons that get in his way. Just because he worked with Crowley doesn’t mean he will take pity on any demons he finds. The souls from Purgatory may hunger for this kind of destruction, but that doesn’t make them any easier to control.
Eve’s creatures are another matter entirely.
He would like to destroy as many of them as he comes across, but the souls react even more poorly to his commands when he tries to harm their brethren. Destroying angels and demons is difficult enough with the souls simply resisting. When he tries to turn their power on creatures of their own kind, it is nearly impossible to force them into submission, much less to use their power as his own.
He finds it frustrating.
He is burning through this power faster than he intended just trying to get these souls to bend to his will. 1/978,092 may seem like such a small fraction of the power at his disposal, but he’s only had these souls for a matter of weeks, and it’s unlikely he’ll be getting more.
He starts to believe that maybe Zeus is right. This doesn’t mean he has any idea what to do about it.
*
He tests himself by visiting Dean.
Dean is sleeping fitfully, tossing and turning beneath the sheets. In the other bed, Sam is sleeping in a deep stupor, undisturbed by Dean’s movement across the room. If the mostly empty whiskey bottle on the nightstand beside his bed is anything to go by, Cas suspects that Sam is dealing with his memories of Hell the same why Dean had.
“Dean,” Cas whispers, standing beside the foot of his bed. Dean starts violently awake at the sound of Cas’ voice with a muttered curse. Cas supposes he can’t blame him. The last time they saw each other, Cas had intended to kill him, after all.
“Shit, Cas, what the hell?” Dean grumbles, dragging a hand through his already well mussed hair as he pushes the blankets back and sits up. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“I…” Cas starts.
“Going to give it another try?” Dean challenges.
“No. Before - I didn’t mean to… These souls-“ He’s having a harder time than he thought he would explaining this. He’s sure Dean wouldn’t want the long version, so he tries to make it as simple as possible. “They are causing problems.”
“I told you-“ Dean starts in an angry voice, but Cas shakes his head, cutting him off.
“I didn’t come here to fight.”
“Then what did you come here for?”
“I just wanted to see you.”
“You - what?” Dean shakes his head in exasperation. “Jesus, Cas,” he breaths. He has never dealt well with the abrupt way Cas speaks.
Dean swings his legs over the side of the bed and pats the mattress beside him. “Just, come sit down,” he says.
Cas’ chest clenches in his chest as he sinks down onto the firm mattress. He’s not sure if it’s the souls or his own reaction. They don’t touch, but Cas is close enough that he can feel the warmth of Dean’s skin radiating from him.
“Can I ask you something?” Dean asks after a long pause.
Cas doesn’t answer, simply inclines his head.
“Did you leave Sam’s soul behind on purpose?”
“No. I hadn’t known it was missing until you told me. It might have been hasty of me not to check, but I wasn’t lying when I told you it took a battalion to rescue you and give me sufficient time to repair the damage to your soul. I barely had time to make it out with what parts of your brother that I could.”
“But I thought you had to do that grace thing to my soul to patch it up or whatever. Didn’t you even try to do the same for him?”
“Your situation and Sam’s were entirely different. You were on the rack. The torture wasn’t just for the sake of enjoyment. Demons have to carve energy away from the souls in their keeping in order to consume the soul’s power. Pieces of your soul were physically missing. What Sam went through was horrific with Michael and Lucifer taking their frustrations out on his soul, but they weren’t actually using his energy and his soul remains whole. In that sense at least.”
“And the souls in Heaven? What do you do to them?”
“They give themselves over willingly. It is a much less… invasive process.”
Dean still looks uncomfortable at the very thought.
“They don’t mind, Dean. They lend us their strength when we need it and in return we protect them, give them a place to relive their most cherished memories.”
“But are they… in pieces too?”
“No, Dean. Souls in Heaven get much better treatment than anywhere else. They stay whole and content for thousands of years until they are needed. “
“I just… you have my friends there. My family.”
“I understand.”
Dean is clearly struggling with the implications of celestial power. He was the Righteous Man for a reason - his sense of ethics have always been unerring and he’s always held those close to him to the same standard, although he’s always been willing to forgive them in the past when they struggle. Cas wonders if Dean sees him differently now, as no more than one of the predatory monsters that he hunts daily.
But no. Dean’s hand reaches out across the blanket to rest on Cas’ knee as if he knows what he’s thinking.
“I’m sorry,” Cas says.
“You fucked up. It happens. But you’re family and you’re worth fighting for. Things are complicated now, but we’ll find a way. We always do.”
Cas has always admired Dean’s easy forgiveness and loves him for it. “Dean, I…”
“Shh,” Dean hushes him. “Don’t say it.”
There’s a pause, the only sound in the room the soft whirl of the air conditioner.
“Me too,” Dean adds.
Cas hangs his head in gratitude.
*
Well, shit, Dean thinks. That sums up his day pretty nicely.
He and Sam had been on a hunt, demonic omens in Montana. That’d been the first thing to go wrong. The cattle deaths and missing children turned out to be a pack of chupacabras rather than the demons they’d suspected, and of course they hadn’t figured this out until they’d stumbled onto the beasts feasting on a recent kill. Of course they weren’t prepared for a pack wild animals but with sharper claws and razor sharp teeth - all they had were guns loaded with rock salt, Ruby’s knife, and Dean’s trusty .45 caliber gun. A machete would have been better, or actual shotgun rounds.
Still, they’d tried to make due, but the thing about a pack is that they don’t quietly sit still while you try and kill them. They tend to fight back as a group, and when that doesn’t work, they flee. Which is exactly what the rest of the pack had done after Dean and Sam had managed to off two of them.
Except, of course, this day being what it is, they flee into the center of town. In two different directions. Worried about what the creatures will do to any unsuspecting people they come across, Dean and Sam split up to go after them. Dean had cornered his pair in an abandoned alley. He’d managed to slice the throat of one of beasts, but not before its dangerous claws had shredded his abdomen.
So there Dean is, alone, bleeding out on the pavement, an enraged chupacabra about to finish him off.
He’s thinking right about now would be a good time for a rescue, and suddenly, there Cas is, standing between him and certain death. He figures it’s pretty lucky he has a God for a boyfriend/someone he shares a profound bond with. Whichever. He’s never been picky about terminology.
“You will not hurt him,” Cas says, reaching out a hand to smite the chupacabra. The thing actually has the sense to look scared and Dean wonders if the damn things aren’t just a little bit sentient after all.
Cas is putting on a pretty spectacular lightshow, his black wings whipping wildly behind him, a dark contrast to the brilliant white light of his newfound power. It takes a moment for Dean to realize that Cas is bend double, one hand still outstretched, for him to see that Cas is having real trouble and he’s not trying to impress him as he’d first assumed. By the time he’s finished and the chupacabra has been properly smited, Cas is on his knees, one arm braced against the ground to hold him steady.
“Damnit Cas,” Dean swears, struggling to his feet and limping the few feet to Cas’ bent form. Dean had seen this happen the last time Cas’ had used to his powers - to try and kill him, and he’s still not exactly happy about that - and Cas had alluded to the souls not being so good for him, but Dean hadn’t realized it was this bad. He braces himself against Cas’ shoulder with one hand, the other he keeps clutched tightly to the deep lacerations on his stomach.
“You’re bleeding,” Cas says expressionlessly, staring at the blood dripping to the pavement inches from his hand.
“It’ll keep until we can get to a hospital,” Dean says. Since the more pressing matter had been the chupacabra about to wrap its jaws around Dean’s throat, he’s got time to worry about Cas.
“No,” Cas says, pushing himself to his feet. The hand he reaches out to Dean’s forehead shakes slightly, but when he draws it away, Dean’s wounds are completely healed.
Dean keeps his hand resting on Cas’ shoulder. Cas leans heavily against him. “Dude, are you okay? What the hell happened? It’s not like that was anything more than an ordinary chupacabra. Not even an Alpha.”
“It seems,” Cas says, “that I am not as in control here as I thought.”
“You mean the souls…”
“Yes.”
“Cas,” Dean breaths, pulling him close, “what do we do?”
One of Cas’ shoulders lifts in a small shrug. “I’m not sure,” he admits. Cas leans his forehead against Dean’s and sighs, eyes fluttering closed.
Dean tips Cas’ face up with a knuckle under his chin and claims his lips in a tender kiss. The kiss stays tame for a moment until Cas parts his lips and slips his tongue into Dean’s mouth. It quickly heats up from there. Dean is just about to dip his hand under Cas’ belt when Cas breaks away, breathing heavy.
“What’s wrong?” Dean asks.
“Every time I touch you,” Cas gasps, “I feel as if I’m falling apart.”
“Yeah. Me too,” Dean answers, voice just as wreaked, though he clearly doesn’t understand Cas’ meaning because Cas shakes his head.
“I mean that much more literally,” he whispers against Dean’s skin. Dean’s hand curls around the back of his neck. He means it as a comfort but apparently it’s Cas’ tipping point since he makes a frustrated noise and disappears right out of Dean’s embrace.
*
Cas reappears in a familiar park, seated on a bench he’s revisited many times. It’s just before sunset here, the little bit of sunlight left turning golden as it filters through the trees.
Dean’s touch had slowly grown into an agony, and he hadn’t been able to think straight. All he could do was fling himself as far away from Dean as possible and hope that he’d be able to breath easy again without the souls tainting his judgment. He had never anticipated how strongly their natures would affect him. He wonders if the souls that Crowley had given him had done the same thing, if every bad decision he’d made in the last year, the ones which he’d known had been wrong but had managed to convince himself that the ends justified the means, could be attributed back to those souls. He thinks that Crowley had probably handpicked the worst of the worse to give to him. And he hadn’t even noticed, hadn’t even cared.
Now, of course, he’s paying for it. He knows Dean is willing to help him find a way to “de-nuke” himself, Sam too, but he has no idea where to start, can’t tell if he’d stay in control long enough to even finish the research.
“You are troubled,” a richly accented voice says a few feet away from him. Cas walked the planet for thousands of years and watched over it from above for millennia more, but he’s never heard an accent like that before. He glances up to see a woman standing in the grass a few feet away from him.
Cas assumes that the few other people in the park at this hour - all of them human - see a pretty young woman in a floral printed dress. He, however, can see the crown of bone white horns growing from her forehead, the way her fingers and the toes of her bare feet taper into delicate claws, and the way her incandescent eyes shift rapidly through all the colors of the rainbow. Yellow and purple clover and white lacy flowers spring up in her footsteps as she approaches him.
He can feel the power radiating off her, stronger than anything he’s ever felt before.
“You’re Tiamat,” he accurately assumes.
“Yes,” she says. When she smiles at him, he catches a glimpse of sharp teeth. “May I sit?” she asks, indicating the bench beside him with a sweep of her hand.
“Of course,” Cas says. He studies her for a long moment, can’t stop himself from asking, “What are you doing here?”
“You are troubled,” she repeats in her enchanting lilt. She reaches out a hand to rest on his cheek. Her touch burns like the heat of the sun, or molten lava. “You are too pure for the souls you have consumed. They have resided too long with the daughter of Chaos to be of any use to you, yet you cannot rid yourself of them without my help.”
“Is that my only option?” Cas asks.
Her multihued eyes settle into a vibrant orange for a moment before shifting back to a rapidly changing prism of colors.
“You would have to become as dark as Eve in order to control them, a scourge on the world like Chaos’ other creatures. This is not a thing you want, I think.”
“If you dislike Chaos’ creatures so much, why don’t you destroy them?”
“Chaos and I are too evenly matched. Any disagreement between us would end only in the destruction of this planet.”
“Yet you mean to help me,” Cas states.
She waves her hand dismissively. “This will not cause a conflict.” Her eyes settle into a light indigo for a few seconds. “Zeus informed you that if you fail to master these souls, you could destroy my world, did he not? It is my right to protect myself.”
Cas considers his options, limited as they are. Let Tiamat take away this power he hasn’t been able to control or destroy the world he had been trying to save when he’d obtained them. He thinks he can trust her. To be honest, he’s too desperate not to.
“Do it,” he says.
She nods in approval as she reaches out a hand and places it on his chest, right above his heart. Her touch leaves him gasping. All the souls, every last one of them, even those from Heaven, are gone, leaving his grace dwindled and empty, much like it was the first time he fell. When it’s over, she stands and turns to face him.
“Here,” she says, holding a familiar Nokia cell phone out to him. “You will need this.”
Cas takes the phone and flips it open, rubs his thumb across the tiny LCD screen. He looks up to thank Tiamat, but she’s already gone. He closes his eyes and sits alone for a long moment. It’s finally over.
He glances down at the cell phone in his hand. A moment later he dials the only phone number he knows by heart.
“Dean?” he says. “Can you come pick me up?”
.end
1. Death as the son of Chaos and Order is from Wizard of the Grove by Tanya Huff
2. Tiamat’s body is destroyed by the gods to make the Earth in Yokai’s Hunger (or Yami ni Tooboe, Mune ni Toge) by Naono Bohra
3. Demonic chupacabras are from Meg Cabot’s Insatiable
4. Title is from Falling by Florence & the Machine
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: mild blasphemy
Spoilers: S6 through 6.22
Word Count: 6300
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: The quality of the souls Gods use for power matters. Cas’ trouble controlling the souls of Eve’s twisted, hungry creatures that he’d stolen from Purgatory is only growing and he’s endangering the world he’d tried so desperately to save with no idea what to do to stop himself.
A/N: I find SPN's meta absolutely fascinating, especially the idea that lots of souls make gods from the season finale and my absolute favorite bit: that someday Death will reap God. The point of this entire fic was pretty much to play with the meta. Oh, and to make Dean and Cas have sex. Can't forget that part. :)
Dean decides the only thing to do once you're human again after your brother gets you turned into a vampire is to get drunk or get laid. Maybe both.
So he hits the nearest bar, by himself. He finds that beer is much more forthcoming than sex, and far less effort, so he sticks with that. He stays until he's well and truly smashed before stumbling his way out to his car. The cool night air does nothing to clear his head and even he can tell he shouldn't be driving right now so he folds his arms against the roof above the driver’s side door and leans his forehead against the cold metal.
"You know you shouldn't be driving like this," a voice as cool as the chilled night air says. A familiar voice.
Dean looks up to see Cas standing across from him on the passenger side of the car.
"Who says I was going to," Dean retorts, annoyed that Cas takes his time to show up when they need him but appears out of the blue exactly when he's not wanted just to tell Dean things he already knows.
Cas says nothing. Dean studies him silently for a moment in return, thinking over how crappy his life's gotten in the past few weeks. He's pretty sure that Lisa's never going to talk to him again. He'd suspected there'd been something off about Sam for awhile. Just the way he's been acting lately - just the other day, Dean had jokingly called him a bitch. He'd waited for Sam to return the jibe and call him a jerk like normal, but instead he’d just given Dean a little smirk as he'd let the moment deliberately pass by before changing the subject - and now that he'd let Dean get turned, Dean's absolutely sure of it. And Cas…
Cas has been stone-faced and distant since Dean's last seen him - no, since God had brought him back to life back at Stull right after Lucifer had destroyed him with a single snap of his fingers. Dean had simply figured that once his grace had been restored, all that burgeoning humanity Cas had felt before was just gone.
"So I take it God's still at large?"
Cas glances away, the only sign that this question affects him. "I haven't given Him much thought recently."
"What? I thought you were his heavenly stalker."
"My faith in my Father has… waned, in light of certain matters," Cas responds, picking his words carefully.
"No shit?" Dean says. "And here I thought your faith had been restored after he brought you back that last time."
"No," Cas answers, looking him right in the eye. "I was brought back because of you."
"What? Me?" Dean repeats, flabbergasted. "You can't be serious."
"I have recently been… enlightened to the fact that it was the piece of my grace embedded in your soul that keeps bringing me back."
Dean just stares at him. "There's a who in my what now?" he asks. "Why the hell did you put your who in my what now?"
Cas stares at him for a moment, trying to parse that statement. Dean admits it's a little off, for which he's blaming the alcohol.
"Dean, you were on the rack for thirty years. The demons did more in that time than just torture you. Your soul, when I dragged it out of Hell, was in tatters and large pieces of it had been carved away. I had to place a piece of my grace within your soul to keep it intact when I restored it to your body. I hadn't realized that this would be a side effect."
Dean takes a moment to process this. He wishes he could say he was more surprised, but his life being what it is, he's really not. "So you weren't kidding about that profound bond thing, huh."
"No, I was not."
"And the resurrection thing, that's, like, a side effect? Are there any other side effects I should know about? Am I going to spout wings out of my ass one day? And is this why my chest feels kind of funny and tight like I have heartburn when you're not around?"
"No," Cas answers. He pauses. "You miss me?"
"Shut up. The beer made me say that."
"Right."
"Give me an analogy I can work with here."
"The bond between you and I… it is akin to soul mates," Cas says, "only stronger."
"Stronger, right." Dean thinks that's an understatement. "It's strong enough to bring you back from being exploded into a million tiny pieces. Twice." Dean can't help wondering what else it's going to do, and Cas doesn't seem to be inclined to fill him in. "So, we're like angel married, minus the sex part?" he concludes.
"In a sense," Cas agrees.
"In a sense, my fucking ass," Dean grouses. He rounds the car and grabs Cas by the tie, leading him towards the alley behind the bar. "I think we're going to be putting the kibosh on that without the sex part."
"What? Dean, I don't understand what you mean," Cas says, confused. He is following after Dean without qualm none the less.
"What's not to understand? I'm here, you're here, we're angel married and I need to get laid. Any more questions?"
"Dean, are you sure-" Cas begins, reaching up a hand toward Dean's forehead to sober him up.
"Don't you dare," Dean says, grabbing Cas' hand and directing it downwards instead to splay across the front of his jeans. "You can say yes or you can say no, but we're doing this my way."
"Yes," Cas practically growls and leans forward to capture Dean's lips in a wanton kiss. Dean gets the feeling he’s wanted to do this for awhile. He knew there was more to the staring than Cas’ lack of social graces.
Dean had always figured that Cas would be a bumbling virgin, not sure what to do with his hands, using too much tongue when they kissed. He finds quite the opposite is true - Cas is so distracted finding skin as his hands roam up under Dean's shirt and dip down below his waistband and his mouth devours Dean's own that it makes it somewhat difficult for Dean to undo his belt buckle and get this show on the road.
This isn't the first time that Dean's messed around with guys. There's been more than a couple mutual handjobs and blowjobs scattered throughout his past, but outright sex with a man has been has been few and far between. Doesn't mean he doesn't know exactly what he's doing, though, and how he wants it tonight - hard, rough, Cas' cock up his ass.
Cas, despite being so tangled up in touching as much of Dean's skin as possible, offers no argument there, doesn't resist Dean directing him exactly how he wants him. And it's perfect, Dean thinks - bent at the waist, his forearms braced against the brick alley wall as Cas drives into him from behind, causing his cheek to brush the rough brick with each thrust.
Dean groans his appreciation. "Fuck yeah, Cas, harder!"
Cas complies. He has one hand wrapped firmly around Dean's cock, jerking it in time with each thrust, the other digging into Dean's hip hard enough to leave bruises.
Dean loves every minute of it.
It ends far too soon, Dean shooting his load all over Cas' hand and the brick wall, his muscles clenching tight around Cas’ cock as Cas lets out a guttural groan and follows him over into orgasm.
Dean remains still for a moment, resting his forehand against his hand where it’s still braced on the wall, trying to catch his breath. When Cas steps back, Dean follows, turning around as he tucks himself back inside his pants and redoing his belt buckle. Cas just stands there, wordlessly staring, so Dean does the same for him. He suspects Cas’ lack of initiative has more to do with him not realizing what to do next than exhaustion since the angel isn't even breathing hard.
"I guess you have things in Heaven to get back to," Dean hints.
"Yes," Cas answers although he doesn't disappear.
Dean sighs. "You get what this is, right? I don't give a shit about whatever profound bond we have. I'm cool with having sex with you, but that's all. Lisa and I…" Dean starts, but he doesn't want to try and explain the disaster that is him and relationships, not to mention his latest cock up that’s ended things with Lisa. "You need to know that my life is just too fucked up to try for anything more."
Cas nods. "But sex is acceptable, right?" he reiterates.
"Sure, fine. Drop by whenever you're feeling like a booty call."
Cas' eyes narrow as he processes Dean's phrasing, but he seems to get the message. "I will hold you to that," he says before finally vanishing.
Cas is true to his word. He shows up a number of times and Dean is more than happy to get down and dirty with him.
When Cas drops by to confirm his brother's missing his soul? Dean blows him in Bobby's spare room.
Cas kisses Meg to make him jealous? Dean rides him in his motel room.
It turns out Cas is really the mastermind behind the alternate reality farce? They fuck in the backseat of the Impala, Cas' tie wrapped firmly around Dean's wrists.
Everything is fine and dandy in Dean’s eyes, at least until Cas has to fuck it all up by working with demons.
*
Cas had suspected that Dean wouldn't approve of his plans. This is why he kept them to himself for so long. Still, even after Dean, Sam, and Bobby had trapped him with holy oil, he hadn't anticipated what Dean would say next.
He comes to Lisa’s hospital room with one intention - to save her life. He doesn’t think it will do much to redeem him in Dean’s eyes, but at least, he figures, their relationship can’t get any worse and it might lessen some of the doubt that’s been nagging at him.
He’s surprised when Dean asks him to erase her memory. Ben’s too.
Cas doesn’t ask any questions. He simply does it - just like everything else Dean’s ever asked of him.
Afterwards, Dean goes to get a cup of coffee while he wakes for Lisa to wake up so he can say one last tortured goodbye, although she won’t understand it the way he does. Cas follows after him, watches as Dean scrubs a weary hand over his face.
“That memory thing is a pretty handy trick,” Dean comments. “It’s too bad you can’t do that with the memories of you and me.”
“Would you-” Cas begins to ask, but Dean cuts him off, his face hardening like he just remembered exactly why he can’t trust Cas.
“Don’t even think about,” he growls, stalking out of the room.
Cas wasn’t about to. What he was actually going to ask is if Dean would have wanted him to take his memory away before, right after Sam had been dragged into the Pit - if that would have given him a real shot at staying with Lisa the first time, having a normal life.
He doesn’t need to ask Dean anyway. He’s fairly certain the answer would have been no.
*
Cas never gives up on God, not really. He keeps hoping - praying - until the very last moment that God will show up and say Castiel, what have you done? and stop him or maybe even this was my plan all along and absolve him from his doubts.
He is, of course, disappointed. For ten seconds or more, he feels the wave of disappointment wash over him as he finishes the incantation and the gates to Purgatory open wide and God isn’t there. Then the souls start flowing into him and his father is the furthest thing from his mind.
*
Dean, unsurprisingly, refuses to bow down in worship. Sam and Bobby won’t either.
Cas narrows his eyes and reaches out a hand.
“I gave you a choice,” he reasons, voice firm, if slightly regretful. He knows this is necessary if he wants to keep the Winchesters and their allies out of his way while he puts an end Heaven’s civil war. They have a unique talent for managing to get in the way of even the most powerful of beings which is something Cas just can’t afford right now. He can always resurrect them again later, when the timing suits him.
His palm glows briefly, hot and brilliant for a single second before the souls inside him erupt into anarchy. There’re responding to something deep inside of him that before would have caused him to pause, think perhaps this is not the right thing to do. The souls can sense his hesitancy and they start to rage, refusing him their power, beating against the confines of his grace.
Cas falters and falls to his knees, sucks in a shaky breath. He can see Dean inch towards him out of the corner of his eye, and the chaos inside him only increases the closer Dean gets.
“Stop,” Cas chokes out, whether to himself - the souls inside of him - or Dean, he’s not sure. All he knows is he needs to get as far away from Dean - from the source of these feelings - as possible, so he screws his eyes shut tight and disappears.
He falls back into existence on a sandy beach on the other side of the continent, right at the shoreline. Cool water laps around his hands as he curls his fingers into the damp sand, soaks into the cuffs of his coat and the knees of his pants.
He sucks in a ragged breath as the chaos inside his grace finally starts to subside.
Atropos appears behind him. One minute he’s alone on the beach, the only being for miles, and the next he can feel her presence there with him. Cas takes one more deep breath of the salty marine air before climbing to feet that shake slightly beneath him and turns to face her.
“What have you done?” she demands, brandishing her ledger in one hand as the breeze whips her neatly arranged hair into tangles around her face. She’s standing farther up on the dry beach by a crest of sand dunes.
“I did what I had to do,” Cas answers. His voice sounds steadier than he feels.
“I warned you before,” she says, “there are rules. There is an order to things. You can’t just create souls out of thin air.”
“I didn’t,” Cas answers truthfully.
“No, this time you stole them instead.”
Cas shrugs. “There was no one to stop me from doing so.”
Atropos’ lips form a thin, hard line, her version of a frown. “This has never been done before. You have no idea of the consequences if you continue to hold on to them without proper mastery of their power.”
“Is that a threat?”
“It’s the truth.”
“I am not afraid of your sisters,” Cas returns.
Atropos shakes her head. “That’s not who you should be worried about,” she replies. “These souls are not yours to control, Castiel. If you keep using them and fail to master them, you could be endangering the very fabric of creation itself.”
Cas is confident. “That won’t be a problem. I am the new God. There’s nothing I can’t do.”
Atropos sighs. “You have no idea how this world works, do you? If I can’t convince you, there is a man you should talk to.”
“Who?” Cas asks.
“You’ve probably heard of him,” she answers. “His name is Zeus.”
*
Cas finds Zeus, somewhat unsurprisingly, in Athens, Georgia. He’s seated at a booth in a nondescript diner, wearing a brightly colored shirt and eating a fairly large breakfast, very greasy and with a lot of meat. Just the way Dean likes his own breakfasts, Cas idly notes.
"Fancy meeting you here," Zeus remarks.
"Atropos sent me to speak with you. She said you could help me control these souls."
Zeus studies him sternly for a moment. "No, she told you I could tell you why they're so difficult to control. Actually being about to master them, on the other hand… now that is up to you.
"Our story begins," he says after pausing to take a bite of pancake, "at the beginning of time. Once, the Earth was just an empty ocean with only Chaos and Order to call it home and the stars in the sky to watch over it. Together, Chaos and Order - she prefers to call herself Tiamat while he's never been big on names - they had a son by the name of Death - nice guy. Not sure you've ever met him. Very big on appeasing both his parents. After all, everybody - even Gods - die, but death rarely makes sense.
"Alone, they created more children - Tiamat gave birth to the Fates and Chaos created Eve and the Titans. The Titans grew bored with an ocean empty of everything but algae. They destroyed Tiamat's body and reshaped it into the continents, then created the Gods and let them run rampant over their new Earth in order to amuse them. The Fates, of course, didn’t like this at all. They couldn’t undo what was done to their mother so they retaliated by reforming Chaos' body into the Afterworld and doing their best to instill order and control onto all forms of life in their new reality.
"Now this is when it gets interesting, when the soul comes into play. Who can say who created the soul? Some think it was formed as Tiamat’s lifeblood, her power, seeped out of her broken body and into the ocean. No wonder the soul is so powerful, eh? Took a few hundred million years for life to evolve into mankind and into the kind of soul-power to be worth something, though. But the Gods… they fought over it from the first moment they discovered what it was and what it could do."
"Is there a point to this story?" Cas intercedes.
"I'm getting there, I'm getting there. A few million years go by. Some of us realize there are better ways to collect souls than to barter, coerce, or outright steal them. We started storing them away for safekeeping in our own little divisions of the Afterlife. But your boy God, he really takes the cake. He finds that the quality of the soul, it matters. Pure souls, righteous souls, his true believers, they give their power over much more easily than any other kind. They don't try to fight you for control, the way your souls from purgatory are so keen on doing now. So God, he filters the best of the best into Heaven and lets the demons and the pagan gods have the rest."
"I don't believe you. No one is more powerful than my Father. God is the one who created Heaven and Hell, the Earth, and life itself. I was there when the first creature crawled out of the sea. I heard him say-"
"Oh, I'm sure you did. That little announcement went out over a celestial broadcast. God didn’t do it though."
"You're implying that I wasn't standing there, watching it happen. I remember-"
"Again, I'm sure you do. Just… I wouldn't exactly say you were standing there, more like looking down from afar. Very much from afar. Your boy God never exactly wanted Heaven and Hell to be evenly matched in a fight, so he created soldiers to protect his righteous out of the very stars themselves. And you angels, drinking up all that power - why, you're practically gods yourselves. You can heal, you can destroy a demon with a single touch, you can even bring the dead back to life. Even you, Castiel, running on the fumes from the one single soul you had left when you fell, the one trapped with you in your vessel after your brother cut you off from Heaven - you did things some pagan gods could never hope to accomplish."
“I don’t understand what this means,” Cas says.
“It’s simple, kid. You may be a new god, but your not the new God. This kind of thing has happened before - just not so quickly on your scale, or with a batch of souls from Purgatory. Now Eve, she was one sick puppy. The souls she collected were just like her. Not only do you have to learn how to control them, but they don’t want to do a thing you try to use them for, or at least not for anything good. Those souls hunger for one thing and that is death and destruction. If you don’t give them what they want or figure out how to keep them on a tight leash, you’re the one they’re going to consume and, hopefully, you won’t take this whole dimension with you when they do.”
*
Cas doesn’t give much thought to Zeus’ words. He has work to do.
He goes hunting for angels. Raphael’s followers flee Heaven, and Cas must range over the entirety of the Earth to find them. He smites any of Crowley’s demons that get in his way. Just because he worked with Crowley doesn’t mean he will take pity on any demons he finds. The souls from Purgatory may hunger for this kind of destruction, but that doesn’t make them any easier to control.
Eve’s creatures are another matter entirely.
He would like to destroy as many of them as he comes across, but the souls react even more poorly to his commands when he tries to harm their brethren. Destroying angels and demons is difficult enough with the souls simply resisting. When he tries to turn their power on creatures of their own kind, it is nearly impossible to force them into submission, much less to use their power as his own.
He finds it frustrating.
He is burning through this power faster than he intended just trying to get these souls to bend to his will. 1/978,092 may seem like such a small fraction of the power at his disposal, but he’s only had these souls for a matter of weeks, and it’s unlikely he’ll be getting more.
He starts to believe that maybe Zeus is right. This doesn’t mean he has any idea what to do about it.
*
He tests himself by visiting Dean.
Dean is sleeping fitfully, tossing and turning beneath the sheets. In the other bed, Sam is sleeping in a deep stupor, undisturbed by Dean’s movement across the room. If the mostly empty whiskey bottle on the nightstand beside his bed is anything to go by, Cas suspects that Sam is dealing with his memories of Hell the same why Dean had.
“Dean,” Cas whispers, standing beside the foot of his bed. Dean starts violently awake at the sound of Cas’ voice with a muttered curse. Cas supposes he can’t blame him. The last time they saw each other, Cas had intended to kill him, after all.
“Shit, Cas, what the hell?” Dean grumbles, dragging a hand through his already well mussed hair as he pushes the blankets back and sits up. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“I…” Cas starts.
“Going to give it another try?” Dean challenges.
“No. Before - I didn’t mean to… These souls-“ He’s having a harder time than he thought he would explaining this. He’s sure Dean wouldn’t want the long version, so he tries to make it as simple as possible. “They are causing problems.”
“I told you-“ Dean starts in an angry voice, but Cas shakes his head, cutting him off.
“I didn’t come here to fight.”
“Then what did you come here for?”
“I just wanted to see you.”
“You - what?” Dean shakes his head in exasperation. “Jesus, Cas,” he breaths. He has never dealt well with the abrupt way Cas speaks.
Dean swings his legs over the side of the bed and pats the mattress beside him. “Just, come sit down,” he says.
Cas’ chest clenches in his chest as he sinks down onto the firm mattress. He’s not sure if it’s the souls or his own reaction. They don’t touch, but Cas is close enough that he can feel the warmth of Dean’s skin radiating from him.
“Can I ask you something?” Dean asks after a long pause.
Cas doesn’t answer, simply inclines his head.
“Did you leave Sam’s soul behind on purpose?”
“No. I hadn’t known it was missing until you told me. It might have been hasty of me not to check, but I wasn’t lying when I told you it took a battalion to rescue you and give me sufficient time to repair the damage to your soul. I barely had time to make it out with what parts of your brother that I could.”
“But I thought you had to do that grace thing to my soul to patch it up or whatever. Didn’t you even try to do the same for him?”
“Your situation and Sam’s were entirely different. You were on the rack. The torture wasn’t just for the sake of enjoyment. Demons have to carve energy away from the souls in their keeping in order to consume the soul’s power. Pieces of your soul were physically missing. What Sam went through was horrific with Michael and Lucifer taking their frustrations out on his soul, but they weren’t actually using his energy and his soul remains whole. In that sense at least.”
“And the souls in Heaven? What do you do to them?”
“They give themselves over willingly. It is a much less… invasive process.”
Dean still looks uncomfortable at the very thought.
“They don’t mind, Dean. They lend us their strength when we need it and in return we protect them, give them a place to relive their most cherished memories.”
“But are they… in pieces too?”
“No, Dean. Souls in Heaven get much better treatment than anywhere else. They stay whole and content for thousands of years until they are needed. “
“I just… you have my friends there. My family.”
“I understand.”
Dean is clearly struggling with the implications of celestial power. He was the Righteous Man for a reason - his sense of ethics have always been unerring and he’s always held those close to him to the same standard, although he’s always been willing to forgive them in the past when they struggle. Cas wonders if Dean sees him differently now, as no more than one of the predatory monsters that he hunts daily.
But no. Dean’s hand reaches out across the blanket to rest on Cas’ knee as if he knows what he’s thinking.
“I’m sorry,” Cas says.
“You fucked up. It happens. But you’re family and you’re worth fighting for. Things are complicated now, but we’ll find a way. We always do.”
Cas has always admired Dean’s easy forgiveness and loves him for it. “Dean, I…”
“Shh,” Dean hushes him. “Don’t say it.”
There’s a pause, the only sound in the room the soft whirl of the air conditioner.
“Me too,” Dean adds.
Cas hangs his head in gratitude.
*
Well, shit, Dean thinks. That sums up his day pretty nicely.
He and Sam had been on a hunt, demonic omens in Montana. That’d been the first thing to go wrong. The cattle deaths and missing children turned out to be a pack of chupacabras rather than the demons they’d suspected, and of course they hadn’t figured this out until they’d stumbled onto the beasts feasting on a recent kill. Of course they weren’t prepared for a pack wild animals but with sharper claws and razor sharp teeth - all they had were guns loaded with rock salt, Ruby’s knife, and Dean’s trusty .45 caliber gun. A machete would have been better, or actual shotgun rounds.
Still, they’d tried to make due, but the thing about a pack is that they don’t quietly sit still while you try and kill them. They tend to fight back as a group, and when that doesn’t work, they flee. Which is exactly what the rest of the pack had done after Dean and Sam had managed to off two of them.
Except, of course, this day being what it is, they flee into the center of town. In two different directions. Worried about what the creatures will do to any unsuspecting people they come across, Dean and Sam split up to go after them. Dean had cornered his pair in an abandoned alley. He’d managed to slice the throat of one of beasts, but not before its dangerous claws had shredded his abdomen.
So there Dean is, alone, bleeding out on the pavement, an enraged chupacabra about to finish him off.
He’s thinking right about now would be a good time for a rescue, and suddenly, there Cas is, standing between him and certain death. He figures it’s pretty lucky he has a God for a boyfriend/someone he shares a profound bond with. Whichever. He’s never been picky about terminology.
“You will not hurt him,” Cas says, reaching out a hand to smite the chupacabra. The thing actually has the sense to look scared and Dean wonders if the damn things aren’t just a little bit sentient after all.
Cas is putting on a pretty spectacular lightshow, his black wings whipping wildly behind him, a dark contrast to the brilliant white light of his newfound power. It takes a moment for Dean to realize that Cas is bend double, one hand still outstretched, for him to see that Cas is having real trouble and he’s not trying to impress him as he’d first assumed. By the time he’s finished and the chupacabra has been properly smited, Cas is on his knees, one arm braced against the ground to hold him steady.
“Damnit Cas,” Dean swears, struggling to his feet and limping the few feet to Cas’ bent form. Dean had seen this happen the last time Cas’ had used to his powers - to try and kill him, and he’s still not exactly happy about that - and Cas had alluded to the souls not being so good for him, but Dean hadn’t realized it was this bad. He braces himself against Cas’ shoulder with one hand, the other he keeps clutched tightly to the deep lacerations on his stomach.
“You’re bleeding,” Cas says expressionlessly, staring at the blood dripping to the pavement inches from his hand.
“It’ll keep until we can get to a hospital,” Dean says. Since the more pressing matter had been the chupacabra about to wrap its jaws around Dean’s throat, he’s got time to worry about Cas.
“No,” Cas says, pushing himself to his feet. The hand he reaches out to Dean’s forehead shakes slightly, but when he draws it away, Dean’s wounds are completely healed.
Dean keeps his hand resting on Cas’ shoulder. Cas leans heavily against him. “Dude, are you okay? What the hell happened? It’s not like that was anything more than an ordinary chupacabra. Not even an Alpha.”
“It seems,” Cas says, “that I am not as in control here as I thought.”
“You mean the souls…”
“Yes.”
“Cas,” Dean breaths, pulling him close, “what do we do?”
One of Cas’ shoulders lifts in a small shrug. “I’m not sure,” he admits. Cas leans his forehead against Dean’s and sighs, eyes fluttering closed.
Dean tips Cas’ face up with a knuckle under his chin and claims his lips in a tender kiss. The kiss stays tame for a moment until Cas parts his lips and slips his tongue into Dean’s mouth. It quickly heats up from there. Dean is just about to dip his hand under Cas’ belt when Cas breaks away, breathing heavy.
“What’s wrong?” Dean asks.
“Every time I touch you,” Cas gasps, “I feel as if I’m falling apart.”
“Yeah. Me too,” Dean answers, voice just as wreaked, though he clearly doesn’t understand Cas’ meaning because Cas shakes his head.
“I mean that much more literally,” he whispers against Dean’s skin. Dean’s hand curls around the back of his neck. He means it as a comfort but apparently it’s Cas’ tipping point since he makes a frustrated noise and disappears right out of Dean’s embrace.
*
Cas reappears in a familiar park, seated on a bench he’s revisited many times. It’s just before sunset here, the little bit of sunlight left turning golden as it filters through the trees.
Dean’s touch had slowly grown into an agony, and he hadn’t been able to think straight. All he could do was fling himself as far away from Dean as possible and hope that he’d be able to breath easy again without the souls tainting his judgment. He had never anticipated how strongly their natures would affect him. He wonders if the souls that Crowley had given him had done the same thing, if every bad decision he’d made in the last year, the ones which he’d known had been wrong but had managed to convince himself that the ends justified the means, could be attributed back to those souls. He thinks that Crowley had probably handpicked the worst of the worse to give to him. And he hadn’t even noticed, hadn’t even cared.
Now, of course, he’s paying for it. He knows Dean is willing to help him find a way to “de-nuke” himself, Sam too, but he has no idea where to start, can’t tell if he’d stay in control long enough to even finish the research.
“You are troubled,” a richly accented voice says a few feet away from him. Cas walked the planet for thousands of years and watched over it from above for millennia more, but he’s never heard an accent like that before. He glances up to see a woman standing in the grass a few feet away from him.
Cas assumes that the few other people in the park at this hour - all of them human - see a pretty young woman in a floral printed dress. He, however, can see the crown of bone white horns growing from her forehead, the way her fingers and the toes of her bare feet taper into delicate claws, and the way her incandescent eyes shift rapidly through all the colors of the rainbow. Yellow and purple clover and white lacy flowers spring up in her footsteps as she approaches him.
He can feel the power radiating off her, stronger than anything he’s ever felt before.
“You’re Tiamat,” he accurately assumes.
“Yes,” she says. When she smiles at him, he catches a glimpse of sharp teeth. “May I sit?” she asks, indicating the bench beside him with a sweep of her hand.
“Of course,” Cas says. He studies her for a long moment, can’t stop himself from asking, “What are you doing here?”
“You are troubled,” she repeats in her enchanting lilt. She reaches out a hand to rest on his cheek. Her touch burns like the heat of the sun, or molten lava. “You are too pure for the souls you have consumed. They have resided too long with the daughter of Chaos to be of any use to you, yet you cannot rid yourself of them without my help.”
“Is that my only option?” Cas asks.
Her multihued eyes settle into a vibrant orange for a moment before shifting back to a rapidly changing prism of colors.
“You would have to become as dark as Eve in order to control them, a scourge on the world like Chaos’ other creatures. This is not a thing you want, I think.”
“If you dislike Chaos’ creatures so much, why don’t you destroy them?”
“Chaos and I are too evenly matched. Any disagreement between us would end only in the destruction of this planet.”
“Yet you mean to help me,” Cas states.
She waves her hand dismissively. “This will not cause a conflict.” Her eyes settle into a light indigo for a few seconds. “Zeus informed you that if you fail to master these souls, you could destroy my world, did he not? It is my right to protect myself.”
Cas considers his options, limited as they are. Let Tiamat take away this power he hasn’t been able to control or destroy the world he had been trying to save when he’d obtained them. He thinks he can trust her. To be honest, he’s too desperate not to.
“Do it,” he says.
She nods in approval as she reaches out a hand and places it on his chest, right above his heart. Her touch leaves him gasping. All the souls, every last one of them, even those from Heaven, are gone, leaving his grace dwindled and empty, much like it was the first time he fell. When it’s over, she stands and turns to face him.
“Here,” she says, holding a familiar Nokia cell phone out to him. “You will need this.”
Cas takes the phone and flips it open, rubs his thumb across the tiny LCD screen. He looks up to thank Tiamat, but she’s already gone. He closes his eyes and sits alone for a long moment. It’s finally over.
He glances down at the cell phone in his hand. A moment later he dials the only phone number he knows by heart.
“Dean?” he says. “Can you come pick me up?”
.end
1. Death as the son of Chaos and Order is from Wizard of the Grove by Tanya Huff
2. Tiamat’s body is destroyed by the gods to make the Earth in Yokai’s Hunger (or Yami ni Tooboe, Mune ni Toge) by Naono Bohra
3. Demonic chupacabras are from Meg Cabot’s Insatiable
4. Title is from Falling by Florence & the Machine