Dean/Castiel Fic: Voluntary Offerings, Part II

[hollycomb]

He wakes up to sunlight beating in through the motel room windows and Castiel's hand on his face, stroking him awake. Dean rolls onto his back with a groan and blinks, rubs his eyes. He needs a shower. Or a drink. Something to clear his head. Castiel is wearing one of his flannel shirts, buttoned up neatly.

“Your brother is here,” Castiel says with uncanny calm. Dean chokes on his breath and sits up like he's thrashing through water. He looks around the room, but doesn't see Sam anywhere.

“Not here,” Castiel says, frowning at his confusion. “In town. He arrived this morning with the demon who -“

“The demon who he travels with,” Dean mimics irritably. “You can say her name, you know. Ruby. Or 'that bitch,' or whatever works for you.”

“You don't like to be reminded that he's in the company of a demon.”

“You know what I don't like? I don't like to be psychoanalyzed first thing in the morning. Fuck!”

He shuts himself in the bathroom and takes a long shower, tries not to think about Sam and the fact that they're now directly competing for jobs. Meanwhile, they're both taking comfort in someone who wants the other brother dead. Castiel won't say it out loud, but he wants to kill Sam, who was once so easily on his side, and leave Dean behind on earth, not knowing what the fuck hit him. He wants him to be grateful to live in a world without his brother, and to call it something other than hell. Dean wonders what Sam tells Ruby when she gives him the same friendly advice: this would be a whole lot easier without your brother around.

When he's out of the shower he shaves and brushes his teeth, soaks in the remaining steam. He listens for sounds of Castiel out in the room, and has a panicked suspicion that he's gone. He yanks open the door and sees him waiting by the front window.

“I won't be able to come with you when you see your brother,” Castiel says.

“Fine,” Dean mumbles, though he really doesn't want to face Ruby and Sam alone.

“They are currently in a diner ten miles down the road on the left. It's called Hurley's. Go there, but don't tell them everything.”

“Like I was going to,” Dean says. It's horrible, not being able to trust Sam with everything anymore. It's only because Ruby is around all the time. Sam is still good, he's just stubborn and stupid enough to be dangerous.

“Dean,” Castiel say sharply when he's halfway out the door. He groans and turns back.

“This is important,” Castiel says. His face is like stone again, though there is an undercurrent that Dean wants to ride all the way to the floor. He had a dream last night, after the shenanigans, that they fucked in the backseat of his car.

“I know it's important,” he says, though he still hasn't gotten his head around exactly what's going on with this particular seal, except that Lilith wants it broken and Castiel doesn't. There's no telling what Ruby wants, and Sam by proxy.

“Don't let your emotions get the better of you,” Castiel says, and Dean narrows his eyes.

“Oh, right,” he says, thinking of Castiel the night before, watching with fevered breath while Dean sucked on his fingers. “I'll try to keep that in mind.”

He slams the motel room door shut behind him, and tries to figure out why he's so pissed off, then remembers that he's going to meet Sam.

Hurley's diner is a greasy-looking truck stop that is surprisingly clean inside. Dean doesn't know why the hell he's so nervous. It's just his brother. They're just in a fight, bad timing here at the end of the world, but nothing is wrecked for good. When he finally spots Sam sitting at a booth in the corner, he's caught off guard by his grin, and by the fact that Ruby isn't with him. He stands in place for a minute and wonders if a trickster or a time warp or a genie is involved.

"Where's Ruby?" he asks when he sits down. Sam cocks his head and bats his eyelashes.

"Good to see you, too, Dean," he says.

Dean grunts. They saw each other just a few days ago in Peoria, though it wasn't much of a reunion.

"Sorry, I've just gotten used to seeing her humping your leg every second of every goddamn day." Dean's face gets hot when he hears himself. He looks around for the waitress, hoping she'll be pretty. Flirting would be a nice distraction. A seventy-year-old man with tinted glasses and an apron sees him searching and approaches the table. So much for that idea. Dean orders a gigantic breakfast, can't remember the last time he felt this hungry. Sam only asks for more coffee, which annoys the shit out of Dean.

"I thought it would be better if Ruby left before you got here," Sam says. "Considering how things went last time."

"How the hell did you know I'd be here?" Dean asks.

"I dunno, Dean." Sam scoffs. "How'd you know?"

Dean rolls his eyes. Fine. They've been claimed by powerful opposing forces, they're taking orders and probably being set up. It was bound to happen sooner or later. Nothing they can't handle.

"What are you doing in town?" Dean asks.

"Like you don't know."

"Actually, I don't. So you've got the upper hand. Congratulations."

"Dean!"

It's disturbing, how he's actually missed the way his brother gets whiny like this. He hides his smile with his coffee cup.

"I'm not trying to get the upper hand," Sam says. "We both want the same thing."

"And what, exactly, has Ruby told you that you want this week?"

Sam shakes his head and sets his mouth in ready-to-storm-out mode. Dean would pinch his cheek if he thought he could get away with it.

"There's a seal here," Sam says. "It's being maintained by some artifacts. As long as those artifacts are intact, the seal can never be broken. We just have to get to them before Lilith does. Think about it, Dean. Even if Lilith somehow manages to break every other seal, as long as we have these things in our possession, we've got power over her. Ruby's been trying to figure how we could lock them down permanently --"

"Let me guess," Dean says. "By using black magic."

His food arrives, and the waiter gives him a long look before turning back to the counter.

"No," Sam whispers sharply. "That would defeat the whole purpose." His eyes wander down to Dean's plate, which is overflowing with bacon, sausage, pancakes, eggs and toast.

"Hungry?" Dean asks. Sam grins, and Dean's ribs ache.

"I'll have one piece," Sam says, reaching for some bacon. If things were normal, Dean would slap his hand away and tell him to order his own, but it's been a long time and he'd give his brother anything he asked for, except what he wants most of all. Dean can't trust Ruby and he can't allow Sam to turn into something she's molded. He watches him eat the bacon and lick the grease from his lips.

"Has Castiel done anything suspicious yet?" Sam asks. There was a time when he believed Dean's special friend was an angel. Almost immediately upon hearing about him, he defended Castiel while Dean doubted him. Then they met, and things went awry.

"No," Dean says. Not unless letting me suck his dick counts, Sammy. "He's been a perfect angel."

"Ha ha."

"So what's the plan for finding these artifacts?" Dean asks. Castiel promised he could help, but maybe he only intended to lead Dean to Sam.

"Ruby has an idea."

"Of course she does."

"Like your guy didn't tell you where to find them?"

"My guy?" Dean snorts, though that's not too far off the mark.

"Whatever he is," Sam mumbles.

"You're just jealous."

"Huh?"

"Mine's prettier."

Sam gives him a wildly disbelieving look for just a moment, then breaks into laughter. Dean smirks down at his toast. He feels like he does when Castiel touches him, weightless and forgiven. The only difference is that, with Sam, he can't forget that he's always in danger of losing this feeling forever.

"We could meet at this museum on the outskirts of town," Sam says. "It's halfway to Mesilla, called the Gadsden Museum. It's dedicated to Albert Jennings Fountain -- I guess your guardian angel filled you in on him?"

"Sure did."

"This is assuming, you know." Sam ducks his eyes, scratches at his elbow. "That you want to work together."

"Sammy," Dean says, sharp enough to get his eyes up fast. "You know that's all I fucking want. The only thing."

"Got a funny way of showing it," Sam mutters. He takes another piece of bacon and eats half of it in one bite.

"Yeah, well." Dean digs into his pancakes, points his fork at Sam. "You've got a funny way of fighting evil with evil, but you don't see me complaining."

Sam narrows his eyes and chuffs in disbelief.

"Actually, you do complain. A lot."

"S'figure of speech," Dean says with a mouth full of pancakes. He watches Sam try not to grin, then kicks him under the table until he laughs. He'd almost forgotten what this was like, the reason he went to hell in the first place, the reason for everything.

*

Dean is antsy on the way back to the motel, thinking about his meeting with Sam and Ruby. They'll meet at the museum at sundown and begin the search for the artifacts. Dean hopes that Castiel will have some information for him when he gets to the room, because he feels lost, and like there is more going on here than he's been told.

He hears voices when he comes to the motel room door, and he draws his gun. He presses his ear to the door, but can't make out any words, though he recognizes Castiel's voice speaking calmly. His heart is pounding when he throws the door open, and he can't decide if he wants to find Castiel betraying him, because it would prove Sam right and dissolve the rift between them, or if he wants to find him as he was when he left, maybe not innocent but at least good.

Castiel is standing on the other side of the room with his arms crossed, and he looks up from a conversation with two people Dean doesn't recognize. One is a chubby woman in her forties with soccer mom hair, and the other is a skinny old man wearing a sweater vest.

"Um." Dean stands in the doorway and tries to figure out which scenario he's come upon. "Okay."

"Dean," Castiel says, as if he's glad he's here. "Did you meet with your brother?"

"Yeah," Dean says. "Who the hell are they?" He shuts the door behind him and walks into the room.

"These are my brothers," Castiel says, gesturing to them proudly, like they're works of art. Dean wonders why they didn't go the usual route of possessing attractive people. Maybe the type who prays to be visited by an angel isn't usually all that cute. Castiel must have snagged the last one, lucky for Dean.

"Have they got names?" Dean asks.

"You are not permitted to know them," the soccer mom says. Dean holds up his hands, tries not to laugh.

"Ho-kay," he says. "My mistake."

All three angels stare at Dean until he's uncomfortable. He looks at Castiel, raises his eyebrows.

"Did I interrupt something?" he asks. "You want me to go?"

"It might be best," the old man says. He's got the voice of a chain smoker, and his teeth are even worse.

"No," Castiel says when Dean takes a step back. "Stay."

The woman mutters something in a language Dean doesn't recognize and Castiel shoots her a look. The old man sighs and sits on the bed.

"How was your meeting with your brother?" Castiel asks. It doesn't escape Dean that he fails to add "and the demon he travels with" or any variation thereof. Maybe the others don't know. Maybe he's doing Dean the favor of keeping his brother's secret from them.

"It was good, actually." Dean is surprised to hear himself say so, but it's true. "We're going out at sundown to look for -- you know." Dean isn't sure how much he should divulge in front of these brothers. He wonders how much they know about what went on in this motel room last night. A flush that raises the temperature of the room spreads from his neck down to his chest.

"Perhaps you should accompany him, Castiel," the woman says. "I do not think he could best his brother in a physical fight."

"Like hell I couldn't!" Dean bellows without thinking, and they all turn to stare at him, the woman with fury, the old man with amusement, and Castiel with his mouth hanging open.

"And anyway we won't be fighting," Dean mutters. "He's -- we want the same thing. We want the seal to stay closed and the artifacts secured."

"He will claim that he knows a way to secure them," the old man says. "Do not listen to him. Only we can ensure that the artifacts are never destroyed."

"He will be insistent upon preserving the artifacts himself, and you may have to battle him physically," the woman says. "This is more important than your sentimentality for what was once your brother."

"Excuse me?" Dean shouts. He jerks his eyes to Castiel's to warn him that this crazy bitch is asking for trouble. "He's still my brother, oh nameless one. And you don't have to tell me how fucking important this is."

The old man chuckles, and Dean whirls on him.

"Something funny, gramps?" he snaps, and the man laughs harder. The woman speaks to Castiel in the language she used before, something like Latin but with a different lilt than what Dean has heard Sam speak during exorcisms.

"Oh, you underestimate them," the old man says through his laughter. He winks when Dean looks at him. "And it's not quite up to us, anyway, is it?"

"He understands the importance of securing the artifacts," Castiel says. "I have -- told him. He will not let his brother take them." He gives Dean a long look after saying so.

"This is unprecedented," the woman says.

"Everything commanded by God once was," Castiel says.

"I was not speaking about God's orders," the woman says. She walks out of the room and the old man gets up with a sigh to follow. He looks back at Castiel before leaving, and they seem to communicate without speaking. Castiel makes an overwhelmed gesture, nods.

"Brothers, eh?" Dean says when they're gone. He reaches out to clamp his hand onto Castiel's shoulder and then thinks better of it, pulls back.

"This is very important, Dean," Castiel says tightly. He's staring into space, seems distracted.

"So you said, about ten thousand times already. I get it okay? I'll get the gun, I'll get the bones, I'll bring them back to you."

"The bond between you and your brother is central to this conflict," Castiel says. "Both sides will try to take advantage of your weakness for each other."

"Sam's not exactly on Lucifer's side."

Castiel sits down on the bed, looks exhausted.

"He was kind to you at the diner?"

"Yeah, of course he was."

"Despite what happened the last time you met?"

"Nothing happened. We disagree on our method. He's still Sam. He's in trouble, I know that, but I'm going to get him out of it. He'll catch on to Ruby soon, she's not smart enough to run this trick much longer, and then I'll step in, guns a'blazin' --"

"Dean." Castiel is finally looking at him, his blue eyes shaded to gray in the dim room. "Be wary of anything that comes easily."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"If your brother was affable and retiring -- if he continues to be so -- it may be a ploy to get your guard down --"

"Look." Dean cuts him off there, can't hear any more without throwing punches. "I'm getting pretty fucking sick and fucking tired of having people tell me what to think about him. You don't know him. I don't care who the fuck you are, nobody knows him like me." The idea that the peace they had in the diner was some sort of con is the worst kind of sacrilege, unthinkable.

"But can't you see, Dean?" Castiel asks, his voice still mild, hands opening. "It's because you feel this way that you are more blind to him than anyone."

"You know what?" Dean's bloods goes thin with rage, and he wants to break something apart with his bare hands. Castiel looks so sad and tired and it's only making things worse.

"Just leave me to deal with it," he says on his way to the door. "My brother is my responsibility. Don't talk to me about him, don't even think about him. You protect your magic seal and mind your own fucking business."

"You are my business," Castiel says, so quiet Dean is surprised he can hear it over the slamming of the door. Maybe he imagined it. Maybe the angel is in his head now, always. It's still possible that Sam is right, that he's not an angel at all.

It's not possible that Castiel is right. Sam would not lie to him with a smile and act like everything is okay. Never mind that he's done it before. This is different. Things have changed.

In the car, Dean can't even remember what he's trying to convince himself to believe. Things are all turned around, positively backward. He squeezes the steering wheel like it's keeping him afloat and drives on the highway toward nothing. He's got a long time before sundown, but it's good to be alone with his only constant, the one thing he can rely on.

"You and me at the end of the world," he says to the car, but he's really talking to the ghost of Sam who lives in the passenger seat, slumped and smiling and ready to follow him anywhere.

*

The Gadsden Museum is a large brick building that reminds Dean of a high school in Texas where he and Sam hunted a poltergeist three years ago. He parks in the back and notices a white rental car on the other side of the lot. Ruby would pick white. Hilarious. Funnier still that they drive rentals instead of just hot wiring something.

"What's wrong?" Sam asks when Dean finds them waiting in the shadows of the museum's side entrance, under a glowing fire exit sign.

"Nothing." Dean makes an offended face. Everything, Sammy. Catch up.

"Where's your angel?" Ruby asks. She glances nervously over Dean's shoulder, and Dean wishes Castiel was standing back there, wearing the trench coat and that look of hellfire he reserves for Ruby.

"I'm sure you'd love to know." Dean gives her a poisonously sarcastic smile. She sniffs in annoyance.

"Let's try to keep the carnage to a minimum," Sam says, stepping between them.

"Of course, shit!" Dean says. "That's the company motto, right? Winchester & Winchester: Let's Try To Keep the Carnage to a Minimum."

"Are you drunk?" Ruby asks.

"You wish."

They break into the museum without much effort, just a tweak to the security system and the slide of a knife across an ancient window lock. Dean follows Sam and Ruby to a glass case full of the effects of the late Alfred Jennings Fountain: combs, knives, a gold pocket watch. They're only interested in his compass, which Ruby believes will lead them to the bones of he and his son, maybe even the Winchester rifle that disappeared along with them, though that's less likely. If it was a truly powerful weapon, it's probably in the hands of one of the demons who killed him, or another demon who killed those demons.

“What the hell was that?” Dean barks when he sees Ruby pocket something else from the display. She freezes, surprised that he was watching out of the corner of his eye.

“What is it?” Sam asks, frowning at her.

“A charm,” Ruby says. “A protective charm.” She gives Sam a meaningful look that makes Dean's eyes burn.

“Oh,” Sam says. He shakes his head. “Right. The charm.”

“Sam,” Dean says tightly, hoping he hasn't forgotten their language. Sam shoots him a dark look, still can't lie when he gets called out like that.

“It has to do with the way we'll keep Lilith away from the artifacts forever,” Sam says.

“Yeah, well,” Dean says, his heart sinking. “We'll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

They get flashlights and shovels from Dean's car and head out toward the desert, following the fluttering silver arrow on the compass. If Sam wasn't here, Dean would be almost certain that it's all a game, Ruby leading him out to the middle of nowhere to kill him. He's got her knife sheathed inside his right pant leg, and he'd finish her off right now if he thought Sam would ever forgive him for it.

"So this guy was a big time hunter," Dean says as they walk, the silence making him uneasy. The compass is glowing slightly, but it might just be a trick of the moonlight.

"Yeah," Sam says. "But he had a day job and a normal family."

Dean suppresses a groan. As if that sort of thing is possible outside of the Old West. Part of him still hopes that when all of this is over, Sam will retire from hunting and lead a relatively normal life. The longer he plays pupil to Ruby, the slimmer the chance of that happening becomes.

"Castiel told me Fountain was a lawyer," Dean says. He punches Sam's arm. "How about that?"

"Yeah, I know," Sam mutters. It's become pretty clear to Dean that Sam doesn't even believe he'll survive the year, let alone go on to resume his legal education and marry a leggy blond. Dean doesn't let it bother him. He can believe enough for the both of them.

"Here," Ruby says when they've come to the edge of a steep ravine. "I'm pretty sure this is where it's pointing."

"Pretty sure?" Dean says. "Let me guess, we have to climb all the way down there in order to find out?"

"I'll go first if that makes you feel better," Ruby says. She pushes the compass into Dean's hand and begins working her way down into the ravine. She's wearing tight jeans and platform sandals, but it doesn't take her long to reach the bottom, her demon-fueled strength working in the possessed girl's skinny arms and legs.

"She hasn't sustained any major damage, has she?" Dean asks. "The girl Ruby's riding on your little adventure?"

"No," Sam says. He looks at Dean like he suddenly doesn't know who he is. "How about your angel? I seem to recall you telling me that you stabbed his host in the heart by way of introduction."

"He's fine," Dean says shakily, though he's not sure. "He's got -- powers."

Sam scoffs and begins to climb down to meet Ruby, who is shouting at them to hurry up. Dean starts to protest, wanted a little more time with his brother out of the demon's earshot, but it's useless. She has a power over him that, at least for now, Dean can't touch. He knew he'd lose Sam to a girl eventually, but hell if he ever expected her to be possessed by a dead witch.

"Take your time, Dean," Ruby taunts as he finally comes to the bottom of the ravine. He out of breath, and his hands are scratched and bleeding in places, his jeans ripped at both knees.

"It's not like thousands of Lilith's minions are searching for these bones or anything," Ruby says. She yanks a shovel out of Sam's hand and goes to the spot in the center of the ravine where the compass, now resting on a boulder, points to with shuttering insistence.

"Thousands of Lilith's minions and you're the one who knew to steal the compass," Dean says. "Funny how that worked out."

"I'm not one of her minions, you goddamn --"

"Enough!" Sam says. Dean is going to continue, but Sam puts one big hand on his shoulder, squeezes. "Let's just dig these things up and get out of here, alright?"

"Yeah," Dean mutters, taking the other shovel. "That's the alternate company motto, eh? Winchester & Winchester: Let's Just Dig These Things Up And --"

"We get it!" Ruby snaps, glowering up from the hole she's working on. Sam is grinning, and Dean looks at him, shrugs.

"Not as catchy, I guess."

They dig for over an hour, Dean periodically checking his watch and groaning. Ruby asks him if he's got a date or something, and a brief dirt flinging fight breaks out before Sam steps in. Dean feels oddly lighthearted, digging up dead folks with his brother at his side, a little sarcastic banter with the evil succubus who is ruining his life. It's the first semi-normal evening he's spent in awhile. He buries the echo of Castiel's warning and tells himself this doesn't feel easy, and that even if it did, Sam is not calculating to make it that way. He can't help keeping Dean calm and happy and hopeful in spite of whatever circumstances they've wandered into. It's what he does best.

The bones of Alfred Jennings Fountain and his son are buried together, but there's no rifle in the shallow grave. Out of breath from the effort of digging and piecing the corpses back together to make sure they haven't missed a bone, Dean, Sam and Ruby sit together on a flat rock near the grave, sucking in air and staring at the skeletons.

"Shouldn't they have scattered the bones everywhere?" Dean asks. "To make it harder to break the seal?"

"They didn't know the bones were incorporated into the creation of the seal," Ruby says. "It's something that Fountain engineered, an insurance policy."

"What, he wanted the seal broken?" Dean asks.

"Well, yeah. Until it is, he and his son's souls are trapped inside. That was the goal of the posse who came after him. He had this." Ruby pulls the charm she took from the museum out of her pocket. It's small and looks like it's made from iron, shaped into a compact, ornate cross.

"This is what made him near invincible," Sam says, taking it. "It lost its power when he died, but if we burn it with the bones, it'll release the souls of Fountain and his son from the seal."

"Uh, yeah." The night darkens around Dean like a wire has been tripped. "And the seal will break."

"No, because his rifle hasn't been destroyed," Ruby says.

"Do you know for sure?" Dean asks. He glares at her, and then Sam, whose eyes have gone big the way they do when she convinces him they can save someone.

"We're almost positive," Sam says.

"Goddammit, Sam, that's not good enough!" Dean stands up as his voice booms in echoes around the ravine. "I'm sorry about these people's souls, but there will be a lot more souls in danger if that seal gets broken."

"Dean, it's just one seal!" Sam holds out his hands, and Dean can't believe this is happening, really and truly never thought that it would.

"It's important," Dean says. He looks up at the mouth of the ravine and swallows hard. He's got no idea how he's going to get these bones out safely and without their help, and would really love to see Castiel standing up with there a plan. He waits, but no one comes. Ruby stands up and unties a fat pouch from her belt.

"You're so shortsighted," she says to Dean. "If we burn the bones, the rifle will still protect the sanctity of the seal. Not only is the gun lost, it's probably still protected by whatever magic allowed it to help Fountain kill demons."

"Probably?" Dean shouts. "And what if it's not? What if Lilith already has it, and the only thing that's keeping that seal shut is these bones?"

"Then the damn thing opens!" Sam says, and it burns right through Dean's chest, leaves him hollow.

"It's not the end of the world," Sam says. "This is the only seal we know of that actually has two souls trapped inside it. They're people Dean, and they've been suffering for over a hundred years. I know there's only two of them, but it was just you down there in hell and -- and -- I think maybe you got out because, because I was a little selfish, but I don't regret it, so --"

"Wait a fucking minute." Dean's jaw is so tight he can barely force the words out. Ruby actually looks frightened, or maybe she just really wishes Sam hadn't said that.

"What do you mean you were selfish? Sam. What did you do?"

Sam's mouth opens, shuts. He's got his pity magnet face on but Dean isn't budging, hasn't even blinked.

"I think that -- whatever he is, I wanted to believe he was an angel, too, Dean -- I think I might have -- summoned him. I messed with some pretty serious shit, Dean. I -- I was willing to do anything. But I don't regret it. Because you're here. Even if you hate me, even if we've screwed up the world a little. We'll fix it, because you're here."

Dean stares at his brother for a long time, perfectly still while Sam breathes hard and blinks tears. He lets himself wonder for a moment if he would have done the same thing, screwed the world over just to bring his brother back. He hates himself a little when he realizes that maybe he wouldn't have. He would go to hell, ten thousand times with no hope of leaving, but he wouldn't send the world there just to ease his own pain. It's done nothing but cheat and disappoint him, but he was raised trying to save it and that's all he knows how to do.

"I'm just glad Dad's not alive to see this," Dean says. He turns back to the bones, because he can't look at his brother right now, but they're gone. Ruby follows his gaze and gasps.

"What did you do?" Dean asks, drawing the knife from its sheath.

"Stop," Sam begs, his voice snapped in two. "She didn't."

"I didn't touch them!" Ruby says. "I swear."

"That means a hell of a lot, coming from you."

"Dean, it's over," Sam says, like he's relieved that the bones got up and walked away while their backs were turned. "This is -- maybe we shouldn't have come, but I thought --"

"Just go." Dean is going to do something truly violent and soon. He needs to get out of this ravine. He needs to get away from his brother.

"Dean --"

"I don't know who you are anymore." He can't look at him when he admits this, can't say his name. "She wanted to break this seal and you were going to let her."

"It's not that simple!" Ruby shouts. "You get half the story from that bounty hunter who calls himself an angel and you think you know everything!"

"Get her away from me, I swear to God." Dean sits back down and puts his head in his hands. He's failed all around. The bones are gone. Sam is right in front of him but lost. The angel he keeps expecting to rush in and salvage things might be a golem Sam recruited from hell.

He hears the sound of boots scaling rock and glances up just enough to see his brother working his way up the ravine. He's still crying but trying to hide it. Ruby watches him get halfway up and looks back to Dean.

"You're not always right," she says. "Try to keep that in mind."

"I'm going to kill you," Dean says, as evenly as he can manage. "With your own fucking knife."

"Please." Ruby rolls her eyes. "If that were true you'd have done it by now."

Dean watches her climb up to meet Sam, who is staring down at him, his face wrecked under the moonlight. Maybe he was expecting a hug and Dean's gratitude for doing God knows what to get him out of hell. There was a second or two when Dean considered offering both. What stopped him was Castiel's warning.

This is not supposed to be easy.

*

It takes Dean almost an hour to climb out of the ravine. He keeps slipping, his hands raw and throbbing, and he's getting more and more angry that Castiel hasn't shown up to help him. Maybe it was all a distraction. Maybe the "angels" are back in Las Cruces working on the end times. When he finally reaches the flat landscape of the desert, he's lost track of who's conning him and why. He just wants to get back to his motel room, down half the bottle of tequila and sleep forever.

Getting back to the car takes another hour, and he's stumbling by the time he finally finds it. There are tire tracks where Sam and Ruby's white rental was parked. Maybe he shouldn't have come down so hard on his brother. Maybe he should let him shake the world like a snow globe and watch things fall where they may, but he's too haunted by his father and the angel and all the people Lilith has killed so far. He knows that if he ends up haunted by Sam, his voice will overpower all the others, though last time he was dead the whole world went quiet.

He's so tired of thinking about when and how the two of them will die, he can barely keep his eyes open. He drives back to Las Cruces, stupidly slow. He's afraid to return to Castiel and tell him that he lost the bones, but he doesn't have anywhere else to go. He wonders sometimes if that's why Sam stays with Ruby, and if that's why he didn't kill her when he had the chance. So his brother won't be lonely.

It's two o'clock in the morning by the time he reaches the motel. He parks and sits in his car for awhile, guilty about the dirt and sand he's gotten on the front seat. Tomorrow he'll wash her, inside and out. Just the thought makes him feel better already, and he sits for a little while longer, pretending he's not afraid to face Castiel.

When he finally goes to the room, the door is unlocked. He staggers inside and fills up with knee-buckling relief when he finds Castiel sitting on the bed and wringing his hands, nobody else around. He locks the door behind him and walks past Castiel without looking at him, unscrews the tequila bottle and takes a sip. He winces as it goes down, tries not to cough.

"Don't you want some water?" Castiel asks.

"I fucked up, dude." Dean puts the bottle down hard. "The bones. I don't know what happened. Maybe Ruby --"

"We've ensured that they will never be destroyed," Castiel says. "You did well, Dean."

"Wait. What?"

"You discovered them and exposed them to the light of the moon. We did the rest. Here, let me get you something better to drink."

"So, wait." Dean watches him go to the bathroom and fill a Dixie cup with tap water. "Does this mean -- we're done? This seal can't be broken, so to hell with it if the others are?"

"Hopefully." Castiel hands him the water and touches his dirty cheek. It's enough to send shock waves down through him, though they're dull and buried under his exhaustion.

"Hopefully? That's all you got?"

"Lilith will at least try to work a way around Fountain's protective measures. Until then, we must stop her from breaking other seals."

"Right." Dean lets out his breath, relieved. There's still work to do. As long as he's at least semi-distracted from what is happening to his brother, he won't lose his mind. He drinks the water and looks up at Castiel, can't decide if he's relieved or worried that he's only sure he's an angel when their eyes lock together like this.

"You did well," Castiel says again.

"Did Sam summon you?" Dean asks.

"No, Dean. God called for me. Partially in response to what your brother was doing in your absence. He was going down a dark road. You can still help him. That's why you're here."

He traces the line of Dean's jaw with his thumb, and draws his hand over his cheek to cup his face. Dean tries to keep his eyes open, can't. He turns into Castiel's hand and sighs against it.

"Do not be distressed," Castiel says. "Now was not the time to reclaim him. But the time will come."

Dean has the feeling he's being lied to. He's already been informed that if he fails to save his brother, it will be handled less diplomatically by the angels. But he wants to believe Castiel, to hold onto him and shudder helpless under his hands, and he hopes to God that Ruby doesn't make Sam feel this way, because if she does he'll never get between them.

"Come here," Castiel says, pulling Dean up from the bed. He lets himself be pulled. Castiel brings him into the bathroom and leans him against the wall, turns the shower on. He takes their clothes off in symmetrical fashion: unbuttons Dean's shirt, then his own. Dean leans forward to kiss him while he's working on his belt. He tastes like candy, sugar and fake citrus, and he must have eaten from the bag they bought in Dodge City for lunch. Dean breathes hard into his mouth and strokes clumsy hands through his hair, whines with gratitude when Castiel's arms wind around his back.

Dean has never really turned himself over to anyone, but he tells himself now that he's so tired he doesn't have a choice. It's been a long day. A pretty fucked up year. He lets Castiel help him into the shower and draw him under the water. When his soapy hands rub up the back of Dean's neck and down over his shoulders, he just shuts his eyes and tries not to hum with contentment.

"Much has been asked of you," Castiel says, running a hand across Dean's chest. He's got one arm still braced tight behind the small of his back, holding him up.

"It's okay," Dean says, though it's not really. He feels hypnotized, dizzy with arousal. Castiel reaches up to wash his face, careful and thorough like he's restoring a holy painting. Dean shuts his eyes and leans into the water to rinse the soap away, feels the dirt run off of him like a blessing has been bestowed.

"I was kind of pissed off at you earlier," Dean says, wiping his eyes clear.

"I know."

"You could have helped me out there."

"You were strong enough to do what we needed without my help."

Dean didn't feel particularly strong when he was wandering through the desert, biting his lip to keep from breaking into a Sam-related sob fest. He feels even weaker now, lolling in Castiel's grip and dropping his head to his shoulder to rest against his wet skin. He shudders when Castiel's fingers move slowly down his back. He's hard enough to feel his heartbeat in the head of his cock, but too surrendered to do anything but wait for Castiel's direction.

"You're so important, Dean," he says. He licks Dean's ear, and his hand slides down over his ass, pulling him apart before rubbing back up again. Dean moans and spreads his legs, his heels squeaking against the plastic tub.

"You're everything," Castiel says before biting a hot row of kisses down his neck.

"Don't tell me that." Dean tips his head to the side so Castiel can get a better angle. He sucks at the space between Dean's neck and shoulder like Dean asked for it out loud.

"What does this feel like for you?" Dean asks. "I want to know, I want you to tell me."

Castiel pushes him onto the wall of the shower and leans all his weight against him. Dean absorbs it gratefully and waits for his answer.

"I don't know to describe the way things feel," Castiel says. "It's not something I've ever had to do."

"Try," Dean begs, and he wraps a hand around Castiel's erection to inspire him. Castiel lets his mouth fall open and his head rock back, then recovers enough to put his face against the side of Dean's head, his hips twitching just slightly into the rhythm of Dean's hand.

"It feels like," he breathes, hot in Dean's ear. "Like being born. Like dying."

"You don't know what that feels like." Dean smirks into his hair, kind of likes the answer anyway. "And it ain't like dying. Trust me."

"It is," Castiel says, pulling back. He touches Dean's face again, can't seem to stop doing that. Dean doesn't really mind. "It's so -- it's -- it's -- ah, wait." He puts his hand on Dean's wrist to stop him from finishing him off. Dean smirks, and Castiel laughs, maybe for the first time ever.

"This is the most important thing I've ever done," he says. He looks kind of stoned, which gives Dean a ridiculous feeling of accomplishment.

"Getting jerked off by me in a shower?"

"You, Dean," he says. He cards his fingers through Dean's wet hair so that it spikes up between them. "You're my -- and. I didn't know it would be like this."

"Me either," Dean says. His ribs hurt and it feels good but there's something building in him that has to come out. "And I want -- I want --"

Castiel nods in understanding and turns to shut the shower off. He gropes for a towel and dries Dean's hair, his shoulders and back, chest and stomach. Dean mashes his lips together to keep from begging when he rubs the towel over his cock, light and careful like it's especially fragile.

They seem to arrive in the bed without the use of their feet. Dean doesn't even know what dimension he's in anymore. Castiel looks sunburned all over, water still beaded on his shoulders and dripping from his hair. Dean thinks he might regret this but can't shake the feeling that he's going to die if he doesn't have Castiel inside him, as deep as he can get him and as long as he can stand it and soon.

"I've wanted this," Castiel says as he slicks himself with burn ointment from a travel size bottle Dean managed to fumble from the pocket of his jacket, which is crumpled on the floor by the bed along with most of his earthly possessions. Dean could get off just watching him touch himself and listening to him admit that he wants this, but getting off is only a secondary objective at this point. He needs contact, needs to get so close it hurts, and he thinks that once he's had Castiel inside him he'll finally know for sure where he came from, who he really is.

"Don't hold back," Dean growls as Castiel slides into him, setting lights off behind Dean's eyelids, his whole body tense and on fire. He can't decide if this is terrifying or comforting or just so fucking good that it defies description.

"I --" Castiel starts to say. He catches his breath when Dean flexes around him. "I don't think I'd even know how to hold back."

Dean knows this should scare him, but he only pulls Castiel closer and pushes a whimpered sigh into his mouth. He trusts him. It's clear now, waves of something he doesn't even know how to name filling him like the rolling tip of an orgasm that never breaks. He feels guilty now for trying to make Castiel describe what he does to him. Dean has no words, not even dirty talk, can hardly muster a moan. Their breath mingles as Castiel begins to move inside him, and it's enough, warm and wet, their lips bumping together when they lose even the coordination required to kiss. Dean keeps his eyes open and watches Castiel's flicker shut. If he had any words for this he would break into song. As it is, he just comes all over both their chests, and squeezes himself around Castiel as it shudders out of him, until he hears something he doesn't even recognize as a scream, his ears ringing, senses blown out, vision spotted. Castiel's cock pulses inside him, and Dean clings to the thought of that hot come filling him up, left behind like another mark. Dean's muscles contract greedily as he begins to pull out, and they roll onto their sides, Castiel still inside him. Dean gets no glimpse of the vessel this time. The angel stares back at him, in awe.

Dean gets him water. He doesn't notice until he tries walking that he's sore as hell in a completely unfamiliar way, but it doesn't bother him. Come drips down his leg and he wipes it off with the sheets like it's nothing new. Castiel drinks a Dixie cup full of water and Dean brings him more.

"You okay?" Dean asks. Castiel breathes out something like a laugh. Dean touches his sweaty cheek, strokes his thumb just under his eye. Castiel stares at him in the same grateful way he did when he brought water.

"I'm okay," he says.

"Do you want to sleep?" Dean asks.

"Yes. Tomorrow we'll leave Las Cruces."

"Where do we go next?"

"I'm awaiting orders." Castiel lies back on the pillows and reaches for Dean. He slides onto him obligingly, kind of likes this part, too. Who the hell'd have thought. Castiel smells like bed sheets and soap and candy and everything in the world that's worth saving. Also like sex, and like Dean.

"You heard of Vegas?" Dean asks.

"I don't think so."

"Good." Dean grins and settles onto him, considers TV and tequila but is really too tired to reach for anything else. "I'll educate you."

Castiel rolls toward him, trying to keep his eyes open and barely succeeding. Dean wonders why they sent him and not one of his brothers.

"Did they warn you about me?" Dean asks. "Or that -- this might happen?"

"This?"

"This," Dean says, putting his hand on Castiel's shoulder, over the spot where he left a hand print on Dean. "That you and your vessel might end up getting carnal because of our -- bond, or whatever."

Castiel shakes his head and draws closer. He loses the battle with his eyelids but still attempts to answer.

"It's not a concern to anyone but humans," he says, his voice getting thicker with every word. "Especially when it's an act of love."

Dean watches him finally sink into sleep, and pulls a hand through his hair, hoping he'll wake up again. He's so tired he can't even muster the energy to try for sleep, though he knows the dreams of hell won't come as long as Castiel is stretched out beside him.

He watches shadows from the parking lot slide across the ceiling and thinks about the people out there who have no idea what's at stake with every single day. He's glad, maybe selfishly, glad even that Sam and Ruby think Castiel is some sort of impostor. He loves Dean, he said so, an act of love, and he's not going anywhere. If it has to be a secret, Dean can live with that. Most of his life has been secret so far.

Dean dreams of all the things that he wants to hear out loud. God chose you, you're worthy, He sent you this gift, you can keep him if you serve God well. In the dream, it's Sam who is telling him these things.

“What about you?” Dean asks. He's not sure if he's asking why he can't have Sam, too, or just trying to figure out what will become of him now.

Sam smiles, all smug and sad, like he knows something Dean doesn't.

“I'll be around,” he promises, and for Dean, for now, it's good enough.

*

Continued