Aeternus Eternus...Part 4
Aeternus Eternus (Memories of you and me) Part 4...
Part 1 HERE...
Castiel lay on the bed, still naked and entwined with Dean, too sated and lethargic to move. He watched idly as the shadows on the curtain lengthened in the afternoon sun. A ghost of a smile danced on his lips as he felt Dean move next to him, shifting in his sleep.
He didn't really have any idea how they had ended up here, lying together naked, and for the moment satisfied. With everything that had happened in the last year, he never dared hope that Dean felt that way about him. He hadn't even understood what it was he felt himself, what he wanted, until he had felt the first brush of Dean's lips against his own.
For a brief moment he had felt what it was like to find home. Something he hadn't felt for so long he had almost forgotten what it was like. He wondered how long that feeling could stay with him, how long he could lay here next to Dean and pretend it could always be this way.
He closed his eyes and let himself settle in the moment, holding onto it, feeling the warmth of Dean next to him, the gentle brush of his hair, the beat of his heart. He ran his hand gently along Dean's arm, careful not to wake him. Feeling the heat of Dean's skin against his vessel's fingers, feeling it travel to his very core and nestle against his grace, memorising every facet of the moment, of the touch, in an effort to blanket himself from what was to come.
He felt Dean stir next to him some time later. He wasn't sure how long they had been lying there, finding himself fascinated by the lost time. He watched as Dean opened his eyes, rubbing the sleep from them before he looked back at Castiel. Dean smiled, slow and soft in a way Castiel hadn’t seen before, and Castiel felt his own lips tip into a smile in response. They lay in silence for a moment longer, both putting off having to move and deal with the angels in Detroit.
Dean sighed. "So, Detroit huh."
"Detroit," Castiel echoed in response, knowing it was inevitable they would have to decide on what their next move would be.
"Any ideas on how we find these angels?" Dean asked, rolling over on his back to stare up at the ceiling.
"Maybe."
"Feel like sharing?" Dean asked.
Castiel propped an elbow under himself, staring down at Dean, his hand idly running across Dean's stomach, not in any hurry to discuss his ideas.
"I guess we could just follow ourselves around and see if they show up? But what if we don't see them in time?" Dean continued when Castiel didn't elaborate.
"I could try a spell, see if I can find them before they get to Detroit," Castiel said, paying more attention to the slight hollow at the base of Dean's sternum than the conversation.
"You strong enough for that?"
Castiel shrugged. He probably was.
"Will they know you're spying on them?"
"Probably."
"So they'd know we were coming. I'd rather have the element of surprise, we don't even know how many of them there are, or who. I mean what if we drop in and its Raphael? Death wasn't really specific."
Castiel didn't answer.
He could feel Dean watching him but didn't look up, too absorbed with tracing random patterns with his fingers, absently wondering what the skin on Dean's stomach tasted like.
"Hey, I said what if it's Raphael?"
"He wasn't on Earth at this time," Castiel answered vaguely.
"You sure?"
Castiel finally looked up. "Yes. From what the others told me when I returned to Heaven, Raphael was in Heaven leading Michael's army while Michael met Lucifer at Stull, the angel's Death was referring to must be following Michael's orders," he answered, going back to tracing patterns on Dean's stomach.
He watched, amused, as Dean seemed temporarily distracted.
"What are you thinking then?" Dean asked, his voice catching slightly.
"Of a way we could get them to come to us."
"Yeah. How?"
"I always hide myself with wards, it's how I've stayed off Raphael's and the others radar. Even when I was powerless at the end I still had wards up."
"Yeah ok, how does that help us?" Dean asked, as he arched almost imperceptibly into Castiel's touch without realising.
"I drop them."
"You what?" Dean asked, grabbing Castiel's hand, forcing him to stop caressing.
"I drop them, all my wards. They'll come after me. They probably knew I was with you in Detroit, if I do it right they will think it's the past me and come for us," Castiel replied.
"Ok, then what?"
"We kill them," Castiel said simply, giving in to the curiosity, and leaning down to slowly run his tongue over Dean's stomach.
"Sounds like a plan then," Dean replied huskily, fully distracted by Castiel's touch now that they had a plan.
Castiel smiled against Dean's skin, looking up curiously as his tongue flickered around Dean's navel, marvelling in the response the touch elicited.
Dean growled under his breath, snatching Castiel's hand away. Castiel let himself be pinned to the bed beneath Dean's weight, thoroughly lost in amused satisfaction and arousal.
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The sun was just rising when Dean woke for a second time. Castiel was still asleep next to him. He had looked tired again last night before Dean had fallen asleep. A stab of guilt hit Dean as he wondered if spending a couple hours in teasing, tantalizing, damn hot and thoroughly enjoyable sex, had been the best idea, given the angel's injury.
He slid out of bed trying not to disturb Castiel. He stood naked, watching the angel for a moment, before reluctantly heading to the shower, collecting his clothes as he went. The scent of sex, of Castiel, lingered on him. He closed the door, dumping his clothes on the floor.
He looked at his reflection in the tiny mirror above the basin. He ran a hand across his stubble. He needed a shave, but didn't have a razor. He splashed cold water on his face, before resting his hands on the basin, his head slumping, as he tried to fight the hollow feeling building inside.
For awhile last night he had forgotten everything that had happened. Had forgotten his worries and fear about what was still to come. It was all back now. If anything it was worse after the contentment, the gratification, of indulging in all the want and desire that had been twisting him in knots for so long. The cold water trickled down his neck making him shiver. He breathed out slowly, trying to control his emotions.
When he came back out, the bed was empty. He stared at it for a moment, feeling as forsaken and empty as the mess of tangled sheets. There was a slight shift in the air as Castiel appeared behind him. He turned around to see him holding a jug of holy oil and a bag from White Castle, the smell of oil and burgers mingling together.
"I take it you're feeling better?" Dean asked.
"My strength is slowly returning, though it will take some time until I am able to take us back to our own time."
"You know the wining and dining usually happens before you get someone in the sack," Dean said, trying unsuccessfully to lighten the mood. He took the bag from Castiel when all he got was a confused stare.
Dean unwrapped the bacon and egg burger Castiel had brought for him. He ate in silence as Castiel stood watching him with a guarded expression. There had been a time not that long ago that Dean wouldn't have been able to read it. Now he knew what Castiel was hiding behind that carefully constructed facade.
Castiel had his game face back on. That stony, determined look that said he meant business. The one he had on when he faced down Lucifer, the one Dean had no doubt he would have when he faced Raphael. The expression he had when he was doing what he had to do, no matter how much it might be tearing him up inside.
He had once thought Castiel an emotionless, heartless bastard. He knew better now, and that knowledge made watching the weariness, the sorrow and regret that flitted around the edge of his demeanour all the more heartbreaking.
It took everything Dean had not to shake Castiel by the shoulders, and beg him to just leave, to leave this shithole of a world behind, to not destroy himself for it, for Dean. He knew that Castiel was incapable of doing that though. Dean understood, he hated it, but he understood it. He had spent his life sacrificing so much of himself for those he loved as well. It was who they were.
As Dean finished his artery clogging breakfast, they ran over the details of their plan, making sure that had what they needed. Angel blades, holy oil, bags full of stupid, audacious luck. Neither said much, avoiding the fact that even after they dealt with the angels in Detroit, they still had to get back to their own time, and deal with an even bigger problem.
Castiel handed Dean one of the three angel blades he had taken during the attack in the hotel room before they were thrown back in time. Their hands brushed against each other as he did, sending a shiver up and down Dean's spine. He looked up at Castiel, a multitude of words clamouring on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't voice any of them. He swallowed past the lump in his throat, letting his fingers linger against Castiel's for a moment, before stashing the blade away in his jacket. Castiel took the other two blades and picked up the holy oil.
"Ready?" Dean asked.
Castiel nodded in reply and headed outside. Dean took one last glance around the room. He felt like he was leaving a part of himself behind in it as he closed the door, following Castiel to the car.
They drove in silence, every now and then Dean glanced over at the angel who was staring stoically at the road ahead. His hands tingled with pent up, anxious energy. Dean had finally won the argument to drive rather than Castiel simply zapping them to Detroit. The angel still wasn't at full strength and needed to conserve himself for the fight ahead.
"Cas, back at the motel room, before Raphael turned up, you asked if I ever regretted the choices I've made," Dean asked.
Castiel turned to look at him. Dean licked his lips, wondering if he really wanted to ask this.
"Do you? I mean, if you hadn't rebelled, things would have been so much easier for you."
"No." Castiel said simply."It wouldn't have been easier."
Dean glanced at him before looking back to the road.
"For so long I was drowning in doubts, struggling to understand what the right thing to do was. Dean, choosing to fight by your side is not what I regret."
"Then what do you regret?"
"I was regretting that I was losing you," Castiel replied, catching Dean's eyes for a moment, before Dean was forced to look back at the road.
Dean swallowed thickly, not sure what to say. He glanced back at Castiel. "You never will," he said quietly, trying to convey every emotion he felt in the few short syllables.
Castiel's lips tilted in an almost smile that was full of equal parts sorrow and peace.
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When they reached Detroit they parked a block away from where they knew Lucifer was holed up, far enough out of the way to stay out of sight from their past selves, but close enough to keep an eye on the place. Dean glanced at the clock on the dash. In a few minutes, his past self and Sam would walk into the building he could just see down the street. They had decided that just after Lucifer took Sam would be the best time to put their plan into action.
The muscles in Dean's jaw were taut. It was taking everything he had not to storm into the building and stab Lucifer in the heart, as futile an act as that would be. If it had been that simple he would have done it the first time.
He waited anxiously and impatiently, watching the minutes tick by on the clock. Ten minutes to go. He looked across the street to where Castiel was standing, almost hidden in the shadows. The angel was dead still with his head slightly tilted, looking down the street at the building where Lucifer was. Dean wondered if he was using some sort of super angel sense to see what was happening inside.
Dean fidgeted with the phone in his pocket he had bought when they had stopped for gas on the drive to Detroit. Nine minutes to go. He pulled the phone out and punched in Chuck's number, hoping he had remembered it right.
"Hello?" Chuck answered.
"Chuck, its Dean. Ah, future me, I guess."
"Oh, hi Dean."
Dean could hear shuffling on the other end of the line. He imagined Chuck sitting on his messed up couch in a ratty old robe.
"Chuck, have you seen it?" He asked hesitantly, his eyes still on Castiel.
The line was silent for a moment. "You mean what happens at Stull?"
"No. What happens after that...Do you know what happens to Cas, how this will all end?"
More silence. "I'm sorry, Dean," Chuck said eventually, "I don't know."
Dean sighed. He didn't really know if he had expected Chuck to know anything or not. Maybe he had been hoping someone else would have the answers, someone else would understand the mess of thoughts jumbling through his head. Maybe he wanted to know if there was another way, if Castiel's crazy purgatory plan would work, or if it would all be for nothing.
"Thanks anyway Chuck," Dean said hanging up.
He looked at the clock again. One minute to go. He got out of the car and walked across to stand next to Castiel. The angel glanced at him briefly before they both turned to look down the street. Watching, waiting.
A moment later, they watched Dean and Sam walk across the street. They watched as Sam yelled out to Lucifer.
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Chuck sat on his couch, the phone still in his hand, listening to the dial tone after Dean had hung up.
"Yes, I've seen it," he said to the empty room. "I'm sorry Dean."
He tossed the phone amongst the pile of papers and empty bottles on the table in front of him. He looked across the room to the computer screen, bright in the dimly lit room, the cursor blinking on an empty page. He had an ending to write, that wasn't really an ending.
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Castiel glanced at Dean, the hunter's entire attention was on the building, every muscle in his body held rigid. Castiel could feel the power of Lucifer despite the distance between them, the air cold and weighty with his presence. He looked back down the street, his heart heavy, knowing what was about to happen, and the effect it had had on Dean the first time.
Castiel felt the seconds pass, listened to the tense sound of Dean's breaths. He closed his eyes. He imagined he could almost feel Lucifer’s triumphant pleasure as Sam offered himself to him in desperate hope, sacrificing himself to put an end to the apocalypse.
The sense of dread, of power in the air intensified. Castiel opened his eyes, unable not to witness what was happening. Brilliant white light streamed from a window, temporarily lighting the empty street, and then it was gone. Lucifer had his true vessel.
Castiel looked across at Dean, who was still staring at the building where his brother had just been lost. His face was a tormented mask of pain, as he witnessed it again, just as helpless to stop it as he had been before. Castiel could see unshed tears shimmering in Dean’s eyes.
Castiel wished there was something he could do, but there wasn't. He put a hand on Dean's shoulder, giving him a moment.
"It's time Dean," he said quietly a few minutes later, as he felt Lucifer leave the building.
Dean nodded once, looking back at Castiel with a haunted look that just about broke the angel, before turning away.
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Dean turned his back, not able to watch as his past self walked out of that building alone. He took the jug of holy oil Castiel held out to him, and concentrated on what he had to do, trying to push the sense of loss and helplessness aside. There was nothing he could have done to stop Lucifer taking Sam. His brother's sacrifice had saved them all, and he tried to hold onto that.
Dean finished with the oil and looked over to Castiel, as the angel finished drawing sigils in his own blood on the hood of the Camaro. Dean nodded as he pulled out the angel blade. They were as ready as they were going to be.
Dean stepped back into the shadows of the buildings. He watched, distracted from his troubled thoughts, as Castiel started to speak in Enochian. The angel's voice low and deep, the ancient words rhythmic and enthralling in a way that Dean couldn't quite describe.
Nothing appeared to be happening, but Dean knew that Castiel was taking down his wards at the same time as he wove a spell to hide his grace, to make himself appear as weak and lost as the angel had been at this time.
As Castiel uttered the last words in Enochian he stumbled forward, leaning both hands on the hood of the car. Dean had to forcibly stop himself from stepping out of the shadows to go to the angel. Castiel seemed to steady himself, his head bowed, he drew in a deep breath.
"Come and get me," Castiel growled, low and dangerous.
Even across the street, Dean could see the fierce, almost frightening look in Castiel's eyes as he looked up.
A second passed, maybe two. Dean could feel his heart beating hard in his chest. He held his breath in anticipation. The sound of wings echoed loudly in the street, as three, four, and then five angels appeared, converging on Castiel. Castiel stepped away from the car, facing them as he slowly drew his sword from the sleeve of his coat.
Dean watched as the angels advanced on Castiel, waiting to be certain every angel that had been sent after their past selves had arrived. The angels were getting closer to Castiel, forcing him backwards until he was trapped between the building and a wall of angels. Dean couldn't wait any longer, saying a silent prayer to a God he thought probably couldn't care less, that this was all of the angel's tasked with stopping their past selves from reaching Stull, he stepped out of the shadows.
"You looking for us?" he asked with cold satisfaction as five angels turned towards him, caught off guard.
Dean smiled. He flicked his lighter and tossed it, igniting the holy oil that encircled all five angels, as well as himself and Castiel. Before the angels could react, Dean saw Castiel move, thrusting his blade through the back of the nearest angel, the tip of it erupting from his chest as he screamed, blue white light emanating around it.
Dean moved forward, hoping to capitalise on the angels’ momentary disorientation. Castiel was moving too, fast and sure. Dean thrust out with his angel blade at an angel in a young blond vessel that was distracted by Castiel. The angel saw him at the last second though, and Dean's blow grazed the angel's ribs instead of becoming a killing stroke.
The angel stumbled, grace streaming from his wound. His counter strike caught Dean across the upper arm, ignoring the wound Dean moved in closer, grabbing the still staggering angel by the throat as he stabbed upwards, driving the sword between the angel’s ribs. He felt ash rain down on him as the angel died.
Dean looked over at Castiel briefly. He had already killed another angel and was turning to face one of the remaining angels, while the other approached Dean. In a swirl of motion Dean saw the other angel knock the blade from Castiel's hand. Dean lost track of him though, as the other angel approaching him circled between them, taking Dean's attention as he ducked a blow, causing him to stumble and fall.
"Dean!" he heard Castiel yell.
Dean looked up at the angel towering over him, sword raised as he leant in for a killing blow. He suddenly seemed to flicker. Not hesitating Dean stabbed upwards killing the angel. He was on his feet and looking for Castiel before the dead angel had hit the ground.
Castiel had one hand on the hood of the Camaro, on the angel banishing sigils he had drawn earlier. Trapped by the holy oil, the angel was flickering, caught between the restraint of the oil and the banishment. Castiel pulled the other blade from his coat and threw it at the last angel. Twisting in the air, it embedded itself in remaining angel's chest. The angel flickered as he dropped to his knees, the ash outline of his wings joining the four others on the street.
Dean drew in gasping breaths, looking in numb shock at the bodies of the angels, the whole fight over in barely even five minutes. He looked up at Castiel, the smile on his lips freezing as Castiel slumped against the car.
Dean rushed over, hands holding the angel, eyes searching for wounds.
"I'm fine Dean. Just tired."
Ignoring Castiel's insistence that he was okay, Dean kept looking for wounds. He couldn't see any new ones. His hands slid inside Castiel’s jacket before the angel could stop him, feeling for the wound Raphael had inflicted. Dean felt Castiel flinch when his fingers found it. It wasn't bleeding again, but from the pain on Castiel's face he could tell that it wasn't okay either. The fight had drained him of what strength he had as he was still trying to heal.
"Cas?"
"It won't kill me."
Dean's lips were held in a tight line as he studied Castiel, trying to determine if the angel was hiding how serious the injury was.
"I won't be taking us back anytime soon either," Castiel said quietly, resting his weight against the hood of the car.
Deciding that Castiel didn't actually look to be in any danger of dying right now, Dean leant against the hood next to him.
"So, what now?" Dean asked.
"Now, you go back to your own time," came a familiar and all too chilling voice.
Dean was on his feet, eyes searching the shadows as Death walked out of them, the shadows seeming to cling to him for a moment. Dean instinctively placed himself between Death and the injured angel, even though he was sure there wasn't a single thing he could do to actually protect him. Death looked at him, amused or sad, Dean couldn't quite tell.
Dean glanced over his shoulder at Castiel, the angel hadn't moved, he was still half slumped against the car, looking up wearily at Death. Dean turned back to Death, who was looking down at the ashy remains of angel wings that swirled around his feet.
"It doesn't get any easier does it?" Death asked looking up at the angel.
"No," Castiel answered quietly, still holding Death's gaze.
"I assume you're not thinking of doing anything stupid? You have done what you were brought he for," Death said, looking at Dean now.
Dean turned his head to look down the street. He knew that right now, he, Bobby and Castiel were only a couple of blocks away, watching TV's through a shop window. That he was about to call Chuck and follow Lucifer and Michael to Stull. That Bobby and Castiel would follow him.
He briefly thought of the idea he had a few days ago to confront the Castiel from this time to try and stop him from ever making the deal with Crowley. As much as part of him wanted to do it, to stop the angel from ever contemplating opening the door to purgatory, he knew he couldn't do that either, he glanced back at Death, it unlikely that Death would allow it anyway, or God, who had apparently brought them back here to make sure everything played out the way it already had.
Dean could feel Castiel watching him. He closed his eyes briefly before looking back at the angel. He honestly didn't know if the sad and weary look in Castiel's eyes was a plea for him to do it, to stop him, or if was asking him to let Castiel stop the archangel from rebooting the apocalypse all over again, and making all the sacrifices they had all made today pointless. Maybe it was both.
"No, I'm not," Dean answered, not taking his eyes of Castiel, as he felt as though he was tearing himself in two.
He wouldn't stop Castiel, he couldn't, of a multitude of choices it was the horribly inevitable one. Castiel would stop Raphael, and in doing so, Dean would, in all likelihoods, lose him.
Dean and Castiel stared at each other, for a moment forgetting Death patiently watching them. Dean knew the anguish and despair he was feeling was written all over his face, but he didn't have the energy to hide it, not when it was mirrored so plainly in the angel’s eyes as well.
Castiel sighed, his shoulders slumping even further, "I have to do it Dean," he said quietly.
"I know," Dean replied, nodding his head slightly. "But I can't let you do it alone either."
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Death watched the exchange between Dean and Castiel impassively. He had already known what choice they would both make. It was horribly predictable being Death sometimes.
He watched as Castiel leaned against the car amidst a swirl of grace that still seeped from his wound beyond human sight. He could see past the vessel that the angel wore, and thought it strange how much that body seemed a part of him now. He thought the angel was probably almost as comfortable in the folds of the tan coat as he was in his true form that pulsed around him, vibrant crystal blue, all strength and complex fragility rolled into one.
When they had spoken to him at the pizzeria they had been at odds, so tied to each other, yet they had themselves tied in knots. The short time they had had together, a brief pause before the end, had apparently straightened a few of those knots out.
He briefly wondered if either of them had any idea how much God had been interfering lately. He doubted it, which was probably for the best. Dean was probably stupidly stubborn enough to hunt even God himself down, if he thought for a moment he had been the cause of any harm to Castiel.
Death was mildly amused by the idea of God being smote by an insignificant human in love with an angel, and holding one hell of a grudge.
While the hunter and angel were still staring at each other, apparently having one of those moments they were fond of, Death reached out a tendril of his power, gently capturing the flow of energy from Castiel's wound and knitting it back into his true form. The angel flinched slightly from the touch, but otherwise didn't react.
Death took a moment to study the angel as he healed him. He really was a curious creature. He wondered if God knew what He was doing. He thought it odd that these creatures put so much faith in God, whether they wanted to or not, when His grand plans left the best of His creations so broken.
"It's time to go back," Death said when he was done healing Castiel.
Castiel looked at him for a moment, before reaching a hand out to Dean's shoulder and transporting himself and the hunter back through time. Death stood staring at the spot where they had stood for a long time.
"Well, you made the train jump tracks, doesn't mean it's not still going to crash," Death said when Chuck stepped out of the shadows behind him some time later.
Chuck shrugged, "It's out of my hands now".
"You keep saying that, but you are pathologically incapable of not interfering, you keep smudging the edges. All you'll end up with is dirty hands," Death said as he turned to look at Chuck."You know jumping them back in time was cheating."
"It's not cheating, I'm God. Besides, he asked for a sign, I gave him an extra week with Dean," Chuck said with a shrug. "If you think I interfere too much, why did you just heal Castiel?"
"Because I didn't feel like waiting for you."
"Hmm, but time means nothing to you."
Death looked away, trying not to take the bait Chuck was dangling before him. "You know what is going to happen to him, to them," he couldn't help but ask though.
"Of course," Chuck answered matter of factly.
"And you don't care?"
"Do you?" Chuck asked instead of answering.
Death stared at Chuck, wondering if it would be worth the effort to reap God ahead of time.
Part 5 HERE...
Part 1 HERE...
Castiel lay on the bed, still naked and entwined with Dean, too sated and lethargic to move. He watched idly as the shadows on the curtain lengthened in the afternoon sun. A ghost of a smile danced on his lips as he felt Dean move next to him, shifting in his sleep.
He didn't really have any idea how they had ended up here, lying together naked, and for the moment satisfied. With everything that had happened in the last year, he never dared hope that Dean felt that way about him. He hadn't even understood what it was he felt himself, what he wanted, until he had felt the first brush of Dean's lips against his own.
For a brief moment he had felt what it was like to find home. Something he hadn't felt for so long he had almost forgotten what it was like. He wondered how long that feeling could stay with him, how long he could lay here next to Dean and pretend it could always be this way.
He closed his eyes and let himself settle in the moment, holding onto it, feeling the warmth of Dean next to him, the gentle brush of his hair, the beat of his heart. He ran his hand gently along Dean's arm, careful not to wake him. Feeling the heat of Dean's skin against his vessel's fingers, feeling it travel to his very core and nestle against his grace, memorising every facet of the moment, of the touch, in an effort to blanket himself from what was to come.
He felt Dean stir next to him some time later. He wasn't sure how long they had been lying there, finding himself fascinated by the lost time. He watched as Dean opened his eyes, rubbing the sleep from them before he looked back at Castiel. Dean smiled, slow and soft in a way Castiel hadn’t seen before, and Castiel felt his own lips tip into a smile in response. They lay in silence for a moment longer, both putting off having to move and deal with the angels in Detroit.
Dean sighed. "So, Detroit huh."
"Detroit," Castiel echoed in response, knowing it was inevitable they would have to decide on what their next move would be.
"Any ideas on how we find these angels?" Dean asked, rolling over on his back to stare up at the ceiling.
"Maybe."
"Feel like sharing?" Dean asked.
Castiel propped an elbow under himself, staring down at Dean, his hand idly running across Dean's stomach, not in any hurry to discuss his ideas.
"I guess we could just follow ourselves around and see if they show up? But what if we don't see them in time?" Dean continued when Castiel didn't elaborate.
"I could try a spell, see if I can find them before they get to Detroit," Castiel said, paying more attention to the slight hollow at the base of Dean's sternum than the conversation.
"You strong enough for that?"
Castiel shrugged. He probably was.
"Will they know you're spying on them?"
"Probably."
"So they'd know we were coming. I'd rather have the element of surprise, we don't even know how many of them there are, or who. I mean what if we drop in and its Raphael? Death wasn't really specific."
Castiel didn't answer.
He could feel Dean watching him but didn't look up, too absorbed with tracing random patterns with his fingers, absently wondering what the skin on Dean's stomach tasted like.
"Hey, I said what if it's Raphael?"
"He wasn't on Earth at this time," Castiel answered vaguely.
"You sure?"
Castiel finally looked up. "Yes. From what the others told me when I returned to Heaven, Raphael was in Heaven leading Michael's army while Michael met Lucifer at Stull, the angel's Death was referring to must be following Michael's orders," he answered, going back to tracing patterns on Dean's stomach.
He watched, amused, as Dean seemed temporarily distracted.
"What are you thinking then?" Dean asked, his voice catching slightly.
"Of a way we could get them to come to us."
"Yeah. How?"
"I always hide myself with wards, it's how I've stayed off Raphael's and the others radar. Even when I was powerless at the end I still had wards up."
"Yeah ok, how does that help us?" Dean asked, as he arched almost imperceptibly into Castiel's touch without realising.
"I drop them."
"You what?" Dean asked, grabbing Castiel's hand, forcing him to stop caressing.
"I drop them, all my wards. They'll come after me. They probably knew I was with you in Detroit, if I do it right they will think it's the past me and come for us," Castiel replied.
"Ok, then what?"
"We kill them," Castiel said simply, giving in to the curiosity, and leaning down to slowly run his tongue over Dean's stomach.
"Sounds like a plan then," Dean replied huskily, fully distracted by Castiel's touch now that they had a plan.
Castiel smiled against Dean's skin, looking up curiously as his tongue flickered around Dean's navel, marvelling in the response the touch elicited.
Dean growled under his breath, snatching Castiel's hand away. Castiel let himself be pinned to the bed beneath Dean's weight, thoroughly lost in amused satisfaction and arousal.
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The sun was just rising when Dean woke for a second time. Castiel was still asleep next to him. He had looked tired again last night before Dean had fallen asleep. A stab of guilt hit Dean as he wondered if spending a couple hours in teasing, tantalizing, damn hot and thoroughly enjoyable sex, had been the best idea, given the angel's injury.
He slid out of bed trying not to disturb Castiel. He stood naked, watching the angel for a moment, before reluctantly heading to the shower, collecting his clothes as he went. The scent of sex, of Castiel, lingered on him. He closed the door, dumping his clothes on the floor.
He looked at his reflection in the tiny mirror above the basin. He ran a hand across his stubble. He needed a shave, but didn't have a razor. He splashed cold water on his face, before resting his hands on the basin, his head slumping, as he tried to fight the hollow feeling building inside.
For awhile last night he had forgotten everything that had happened. Had forgotten his worries and fear about what was still to come. It was all back now. If anything it was worse after the contentment, the gratification, of indulging in all the want and desire that had been twisting him in knots for so long. The cold water trickled down his neck making him shiver. He breathed out slowly, trying to control his emotions.
When he came back out, the bed was empty. He stared at it for a moment, feeling as forsaken and empty as the mess of tangled sheets. There was a slight shift in the air as Castiel appeared behind him. He turned around to see him holding a jug of holy oil and a bag from White Castle, the smell of oil and burgers mingling together.
"I take it you're feeling better?" Dean asked.
"My strength is slowly returning, though it will take some time until I am able to take us back to our own time."
"You know the wining and dining usually happens before you get someone in the sack," Dean said, trying unsuccessfully to lighten the mood. He took the bag from Castiel when all he got was a confused stare.
Dean unwrapped the bacon and egg burger Castiel had brought for him. He ate in silence as Castiel stood watching him with a guarded expression. There had been a time not that long ago that Dean wouldn't have been able to read it. Now he knew what Castiel was hiding behind that carefully constructed facade.
Castiel had his game face back on. That stony, determined look that said he meant business. The one he had on when he faced down Lucifer, the one Dean had no doubt he would have when he faced Raphael. The expression he had when he was doing what he had to do, no matter how much it might be tearing him up inside.
He had once thought Castiel an emotionless, heartless bastard. He knew better now, and that knowledge made watching the weariness, the sorrow and regret that flitted around the edge of his demeanour all the more heartbreaking.
It took everything Dean had not to shake Castiel by the shoulders, and beg him to just leave, to leave this shithole of a world behind, to not destroy himself for it, for Dean. He knew that Castiel was incapable of doing that though. Dean understood, he hated it, but he understood it. He had spent his life sacrificing so much of himself for those he loved as well. It was who they were.
As Dean finished his artery clogging breakfast, they ran over the details of their plan, making sure that had what they needed. Angel blades, holy oil, bags full of stupid, audacious luck. Neither said much, avoiding the fact that even after they dealt with the angels in Detroit, they still had to get back to their own time, and deal with an even bigger problem.
Castiel handed Dean one of the three angel blades he had taken during the attack in the hotel room before they were thrown back in time. Their hands brushed against each other as he did, sending a shiver up and down Dean's spine. He looked up at Castiel, a multitude of words clamouring on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't voice any of them. He swallowed past the lump in his throat, letting his fingers linger against Castiel's for a moment, before stashing the blade away in his jacket. Castiel took the other two blades and picked up the holy oil.
"Ready?" Dean asked.
Castiel nodded in reply and headed outside. Dean took one last glance around the room. He felt like he was leaving a part of himself behind in it as he closed the door, following Castiel to the car.
They drove in silence, every now and then Dean glanced over at the angel who was staring stoically at the road ahead. His hands tingled with pent up, anxious energy. Dean had finally won the argument to drive rather than Castiel simply zapping them to Detroit. The angel still wasn't at full strength and needed to conserve himself for the fight ahead.
"Cas, back at the motel room, before Raphael turned up, you asked if I ever regretted the choices I've made," Dean asked.
Castiel turned to look at him. Dean licked his lips, wondering if he really wanted to ask this.
"Do you? I mean, if you hadn't rebelled, things would have been so much easier for you."
"No." Castiel said simply."It wouldn't have been easier."
Dean glanced at him before looking back to the road.
"For so long I was drowning in doubts, struggling to understand what the right thing to do was. Dean, choosing to fight by your side is not what I regret."
"Then what do you regret?"
"I was regretting that I was losing you," Castiel replied, catching Dean's eyes for a moment, before Dean was forced to look back at the road.
Dean swallowed thickly, not sure what to say. He glanced back at Castiel. "You never will," he said quietly, trying to convey every emotion he felt in the few short syllables.
Castiel's lips tilted in an almost smile that was full of equal parts sorrow and peace.
................................
When they reached Detroit they parked a block away from where they knew Lucifer was holed up, far enough out of the way to stay out of sight from their past selves, but close enough to keep an eye on the place. Dean glanced at the clock on the dash. In a few minutes, his past self and Sam would walk into the building he could just see down the street. They had decided that just after Lucifer took Sam would be the best time to put their plan into action.
The muscles in Dean's jaw were taut. It was taking everything he had not to storm into the building and stab Lucifer in the heart, as futile an act as that would be. If it had been that simple he would have done it the first time.
He waited anxiously and impatiently, watching the minutes tick by on the clock. Ten minutes to go. He looked across the street to where Castiel was standing, almost hidden in the shadows. The angel was dead still with his head slightly tilted, looking down the street at the building where Lucifer was. Dean wondered if he was using some sort of super angel sense to see what was happening inside.
Dean fidgeted with the phone in his pocket he had bought when they had stopped for gas on the drive to Detroit. Nine minutes to go. He pulled the phone out and punched in Chuck's number, hoping he had remembered it right.
"Hello?" Chuck answered.
"Chuck, its Dean. Ah, future me, I guess."
"Oh, hi Dean."
Dean could hear shuffling on the other end of the line. He imagined Chuck sitting on his messed up couch in a ratty old robe.
"Chuck, have you seen it?" He asked hesitantly, his eyes still on Castiel.
The line was silent for a moment. "You mean what happens at Stull?"
"No. What happens after that...Do you know what happens to Cas, how this will all end?"
More silence. "I'm sorry, Dean," Chuck said eventually, "I don't know."
Dean sighed. He didn't really know if he had expected Chuck to know anything or not. Maybe he had been hoping someone else would have the answers, someone else would understand the mess of thoughts jumbling through his head. Maybe he wanted to know if there was another way, if Castiel's crazy purgatory plan would work, or if it would all be for nothing.
"Thanks anyway Chuck," Dean said hanging up.
He looked at the clock again. One minute to go. He got out of the car and walked across to stand next to Castiel. The angel glanced at him briefly before they both turned to look down the street. Watching, waiting.
A moment later, they watched Dean and Sam walk across the street. They watched as Sam yelled out to Lucifer.
................................
Chuck sat on his couch, the phone still in his hand, listening to the dial tone after Dean had hung up.
"Yes, I've seen it," he said to the empty room. "I'm sorry Dean."
He tossed the phone amongst the pile of papers and empty bottles on the table in front of him. He looked across the room to the computer screen, bright in the dimly lit room, the cursor blinking on an empty page. He had an ending to write, that wasn't really an ending.
................................
Castiel glanced at Dean, the hunter's entire attention was on the building, every muscle in his body held rigid. Castiel could feel the power of Lucifer despite the distance between them, the air cold and weighty with his presence. He looked back down the street, his heart heavy, knowing what was about to happen, and the effect it had had on Dean the first time.
Castiel felt the seconds pass, listened to the tense sound of Dean's breaths. He closed his eyes. He imagined he could almost feel Lucifer’s triumphant pleasure as Sam offered himself to him in desperate hope, sacrificing himself to put an end to the apocalypse.
The sense of dread, of power in the air intensified. Castiel opened his eyes, unable not to witness what was happening. Brilliant white light streamed from a window, temporarily lighting the empty street, and then it was gone. Lucifer had his true vessel.
Castiel looked across at Dean, who was still staring at the building where his brother had just been lost. His face was a tormented mask of pain, as he witnessed it again, just as helpless to stop it as he had been before. Castiel could see unshed tears shimmering in Dean’s eyes.
Castiel wished there was something he could do, but there wasn't. He put a hand on Dean's shoulder, giving him a moment.
"It's time Dean," he said quietly a few minutes later, as he felt Lucifer leave the building.
Dean nodded once, looking back at Castiel with a haunted look that just about broke the angel, before turning away.
................................
Dean turned his back, not able to watch as his past self walked out of that building alone. He took the jug of holy oil Castiel held out to him, and concentrated on what he had to do, trying to push the sense of loss and helplessness aside. There was nothing he could have done to stop Lucifer taking Sam. His brother's sacrifice had saved them all, and he tried to hold onto that.
Dean finished with the oil and looked over to Castiel, as the angel finished drawing sigils in his own blood on the hood of the Camaro. Dean nodded as he pulled out the angel blade. They were as ready as they were going to be.
Dean stepped back into the shadows of the buildings. He watched, distracted from his troubled thoughts, as Castiel started to speak in Enochian. The angel's voice low and deep, the ancient words rhythmic and enthralling in a way that Dean couldn't quite describe.
Nothing appeared to be happening, but Dean knew that Castiel was taking down his wards at the same time as he wove a spell to hide his grace, to make himself appear as weak and lost as the angel had been at this time.
As Castiel uttered the last words in Enochian he stumbled forward, leaning both hands on the hood of the car. Dean had to forcibly stop himself from stepping out of the shadows to go to the angel. Castiel seemed to steady himself, his head bowed, he drew in a deep breath.
"Come and get me," Castiel growled, low and dangerous.
Even across the street, Dean could see the fierce, almost frightening look in Castiel's eyes as he looked up.
A second passed, maybe two. Dean could feel his heart beating hard in his chest. He held his breath in anticipation. The sound of wings echoed loudly in the street, as three, four, and then five angels appeared, converging on Castiel. Castiel stepped away from the car, facing them as he slowly drew his sword from the sleeve of his coat.
Dean watched as the angels advanced on Castiel, waiting to be certain every angel that had been sent after their past selves had arrived. The angels were getting closer to Castiel, forcing him backwards until he was trapped between the building and a wall of angels. Dean couldn't wait any longer, saying a silent prayer to a God he thought probably couldn't care less, that this was all of the angel's tasked with stopping their past selves from reaching Stull, he stepped out of the shadows.
"You looking for us?" he asked with cold satisfaction as five angels turned towards him, caught off guard.
Dean smiled. He flicked his lighter and tossed it, igniting the holy oil that encircled all five angels, as well as himself and Castiel. Before the angels could react, Dean saw Castiel move, thrusting his blade through the back of the nearest angel, the tip of it erupting from his chest as he screamed, blue white light emanating around it.
Dean moved forward, hoping to capitalise on the angels’ momentary disorientation. Castiel was moving too, fast and sure. Dean thrust out with his angel blade at an angel in a young blond vessel that was distracted by Castiel. The angel saw him at the last second though, and Dean's blow grazed the angel's ribs instead of becoming a killing stroke.
The angel stumbled, grace streaming from his wound. His counter strike caught Dean across the upper arm, ignoring the wound Dean moved in closer, grabbing the still staggering angel by the throat as he stabbed upwards, driving the sword between the angel’s ribs. He felt ash rain down on him as the angel died.
Dean looked over at Castiel briefly. He had already killed another angel and was turning to face one of the remaining angels, while the other approached Dean. In a swirl of motion Dean saw the other angel knock the blade from Castiel's hand. Dean lost track of him though, as the other angel approaching him circled between them, taking Dean's attention as he ducked a blow, causing him to stumble and fall.
"Dean!" he heard Castiel yell.
Dean looked up at the angel towering over him, sword raised as he leant in for a killing blow. He suddenly seemed to flicker. Not hesitating Dean stabbed upwards killing the angel. He was on his feet and looking for Castiel before the dead angel had hit the ground.
Castiel had one hand on the hood of the Camaro, on the angel banishing sigils he had drawn earlier. Trapped by the holy oil, the angel was flickering, caught between the restraint of the oil and the banishment. Castiel pulled the other blade from his coat and threw it at the last angel. Twisting in the air, it embedded itself in remaining angel's chest. The angel flickered as he dropped to his knees, the ash outline of his wings joining the four others on the street.
Dean drew in gasping breaths, looking in numb shock at the bodies of the angels, the whole fight over in barely even five minutes. He looked up at Castiel, the smile on his lips freezing as Castiel slumped against the car.
Dean rushed over, hands holding the angel, eyes searching for wounds.
"I'm fine Dean. Just tired."
Ignoring Castiel's insistence that he was okay, Dean kept looking for wounds. He couldn't see any new ones. His hands slid inside Castiel’s jacket before the angel could stop him, feeling for the wound Raphael had inflicted. Dean felt Castiel flinch when his fingers found it. It wasn't bleeding again, but from the pain on Castiel's face he could tell that it wasn't okay either. The fight had drained him of what strength he had as he was still trying to heal.
"Cas?"
"It won't kill me."
Dean's lips were held in a tight line as he studied Castiel, trying to determine if the angel was hiding how serious the injury was.
"I won't be taking us back anytime soon either," Castiel said quietly, resting his weight against the hood of the car.
Deciding that Castiel didn't actually look to be in any danger of dying right now, Dean leant against the hood next to him.
"So, what now?" Dean asked.
"Now, you go back to your own time," came a familiar and all too chilling voice.
Dean was on his feet, eyes searching the shadows as Death walked out of them, the shadows seeming to cling to him for a moment. Dean instinctively placed himself between Death and the injured angel, even though he was sure there wasn't a single thing he could do to actually protect him. Death looked at him, amused or sad, Dean couldn't quite tell.
Dean glanced over his shoulder at Castiel, the angel hadn't moved, he was still half slumped against the car, looking up wearily at Death. Dean turned back to Death, who was looking down at the ashy remains of angel wings that swirled around his feet.
"It doesn't get any easier does it?" Death asked looking up at the angel.
"No," Castiel answered quietly, still holding Death's gaze.
"I assume you're not thinking of doing anything stupid? You have done what you were brought he for," Death said, looking at Dean now.
Dean turned his head to look down the street. He knew that right now, he, Bobby and Castiel were only a couple of blocks away, watching TV's through a shop window. That he was about to call Chuck and follow Lucifer and Michael to Stull. That Bobby and Castiel would follow him.
He briefly thought of the idea he had a few days ago to confront the Castiel from this time to try and stop him from ever making the deal with Crowley. As much as part of him wanted to do it, to stop the angel from ever contemplating opening the door to purgatory, he knew he couldn't do that either, he glanced back at Death, it unlikely that Death would allow it anyway, or God, who had apparently brought them back here to make sure everything played out the way it already had.
Dean could feel Castiel watching him. He closed his eyes briefly before looking back at the angel. He honestly didn't know if the sad and weary look in Castiel's eyes was a plea for him to do it, to stop him, or if was asking him to let Castiel stop the archangel from rebooting the apocalypse all over again, and making all the sacrifices they had all made today pointless. Maybe it was both.
"No, I'm not," Dean answered, not taking his eyes of Castiel, as he felt as though he was tearing himself in two.
He wouldn't stop Castiel, he couldn't, of a multitude of choices it was the horribly inevitable one. Castiel would stop Raphael, and in doing so, Dean would, in all likelihoods, lose him.
Dean and Castiel stared at each other, for a moment forgetting Death patiently watching them. Dean knew the anguish and despair he was feeling was written all over his face, but he didn't have the energy to hide it, not when it was mirrored so plainly in the angel’s eyes as well.
Castiel sighed, his shoulders slumping even further, "I have to do it Dean," he said quietly.
"I know," Dean replied, nodding his head slightly. "But I can't let you do it alone either."
................................
Death watched the exchange between Dean and Castiel impassively. He had already known what choice they would both make. It was horribly predictable being Death sometimes.
He watched as Castiel leaned against the car amidst a swirl of grace that still seeped from his wound beyond human sight. He could see past the vessel that the angel wore, and thought it strange how much that body seemed a part of him now. He thought the angel was probably almost as comfortable in the folds of the tan coat as he was in his true form that pulsed around him, vibrant crystal blue, all strength and complex fragility rolled into one.
When they had spoken to him at the pizzeria they had been at odds, so tied to each other, yet they had themselves tied in knots. The short time they had had together, a brief pause before the end, had apparently straightened a few of those knots out.
He briefly wondered if either of them had any idea how much God had been interfering lately. He doubted it, which was probably for the best. Dean was probably stupidly stubborn enough to hunt even God himself down, if he thought for a moment he had been the cause of any harm to Castiel.
Death was mildly amused by the idea of God being smote by an insignificant human in love with an angel, and holding one hell of a grudge.
While the hunter and angel were still staring at each other, apparently having one of those moments they were fond of, Death reached out a tendril of his power, gently capturing the flow of energy from Castiel's wound and knitting it back into his true form. The angel flinched slightly from the touch, but otherwise didn't react.
Death took a moment to study the angel as he healed him. He really was a curious creature. He wondered if God knew what He was doing. He thought it odd that these creatures put so much faith in God, whether they wanted to or not, when His grand plans left the best of His creations so broken.
"It's time to go back," Death said when he was done healing Castiel.
Castiel looked at him for a moment, before reaching a hand out to Dean's shoulder and transporting himself and the hunter back through time. Death stood staring at the spot where they had stood for a long time.
"Well, you made the train jump tracks, doesn't mean it's not still going to crash," Death said when Chuck stepped out of the shadows behind him some time later.
Chuck shrugged, "It's out of my hands now".
"You keep saying that, but you are pathologically incapable of not interfering, you keep smudging the edges. All you'll end up with is dirty hands," Death said as he turned to look at Chuck."You know jumping them back in time was cheating."
"It's not cheating, I'm God. Besides, he asked for a sign, I gave him an extra week with Dean," Chuck said with a shrug. "If you think I interfere too much, why did you just heal Castiel?"
"Because I didn't feel like waiting for you."
"Hmm, but time means nothing to you."
Death looked away, trying not to take the bait Chuck was dangling before him. "You know what is going to happen to him, to them," he couldn't help but ask though.
"Of course," Chuck answered matter of factly.
"And you don't care?"
"Do you?" Chuck asked instead of answering.
Death stared at Chuck, wondering if it would be worth the effort to reap God ahead of time.
Part 5 HERE...