Fic: The Throne
Title: The Throne Pt 1
Author: joidianne4eva
Recipient: baterina_1234
Pairing: Dean/Cas
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: None
Spoilers: Set in season 5
Word Count: 15, 608
Notes: Thanks to my patient and amazing beta indigoclay . Words in bold and Italics are memories, those in simple bold are mindspeak. This was written for deancastiel 's Everlasting Birthday Challenge. Happy Birthday, baterina_1234
Prompt: Michael!Dean. [Set Season 5] Dean wakes up with a whole new set of memories as Michael the Archangel. When the heck did he say yes? He keeps it a secret. Eventually, Cas finds out.
After Sam left, Dean was so tired it felt like it had soaked into his very bones. He was tired of everything. The apocalypse, the constant fights to keep Sam safe even when his little brother seemed well and determined to send his whole life to hell in a freaking fruit basket!
Dean was tired of Castiel’s constant faith in him because how the fuck did you have faith in someone as broken as he was? Cas had seen what he’d become after Alastair’s rack, heard the screams of souls as he ripped into them never once thinking that these had once been someone’s father, son, mother. How did an angel have faith in someone who was no better than a demon?
He was definitely tired of the dick ass angels that kept telling him to say yes to Michael. He didn’t even KNOW the guy! Only heard the words of groveling idiots, case in point Zachariah. who wanted him to step back and let the archangel use his body like a truck at the monster derby. He’d seen those fucking trucks they never came out in one piece! So yeah, Dean Winchester was officially tired and for the first time in his life he was making a decision without the thoughts of everyone around him breaking into his head. Dean slept.
The world burned, fire flooding from its core and wrapping it in a blaze of red and gold, the ether twirled and swayed as it created something where there had only before existed darkness. The Seraphim swept through the heavens their voices rising above the crackle of the flames in the endless litany of “Holy, Holy!” as the other angels peered curiously at the spectacle.
Michael watched as his father carefully swept the flames away and in their wake raised endless lands. He felt the love poured into the rocks and the soil and the earth responded in kind, reaching back with shards of broken light fragments that had hues that Michael called colors, and organic material that clumped together in familial units to form structures that would provide shelter and food for those to come. He watched as each of these things reached towards the heavens in mimicry of praise and he smiled, for it was good.
Dean gasped, eyes wide and searching the room his hand already curled around Ruby’s blade. He had never been book smart like Sam, he had lived on his instincts and thanked fuck each time his lack of indecision had kept him from being gutted by whatever baddie of the week he hunted. Right now his instincts were screaming at him. Climbing from the bed slowly he stood and turned in a tight circle, a hint of black drew his eyes to the ceiling and Dean froze as he looked up. The brush marked pattern of eight wings clearly outlined in soot and ash seemed to mock him. Dean blinked “Well fuck!”
Right, perspective he needed some perspective on this because either Zachariah had come up with new asshattery or he was loosing his fucking mind!
Cas had said that angels needed the permission of the vessel to use them as a meat suit and as far he was concerned there was no freaking way that he would have said yes to Michael. Not after the last time he almost broke.
If there was one thing Cas’ butt kicking had taught him - other than to not piss off the nerd angels - it was that having Michael in the drivers seat was not the way to stop the apocalypse. Hell it would be more like throwing gasoline on flames and watching it burn the world to the ground!
Then why the ever loving fuck was he dreaming the guy’s memories?! Because yeah denial could only get you so far and Dean had never been particularly interested in the beginning of the world as long as he wasn’t the one responsible for its end.
Rising from the motel bed he sighed as he made his way to the bathroom, there was a stain on his jacket from a wendigo that he was pretty sure he could get out, well as long as it wasn’t blood but he hadn’t been curious enough to find out
“Hello Dean,” a voice breathed, inches away from his neck, he was pretty certain that Cas pulled this crap just to piss him off. There was no way a creature that had existed before time couldn’t get the concept of personal space. Glancing up he realized that yeah just as he’d expected, the angel was so close that if he turned suddenly he’d probably end up hitting the guy in the face with his jacket. It was a funny thought but not one he was interested in following through, at least not today.
Turning he choked, Jimmy’s former body was clear but beyond the familiar image stood an ethereal being. Wisps of light and flame coalesced to give it form, six limbs branching off from its body, two of which were wrapped about what appeared to be the thing’s face another two swept the floor at its feet, it was overshadowed by an inferno of light and ether that spread beyond the far wall and twisted and coiled in a manner that gave the impression of wings.
Staring at the thing in awe Dean found he couldn’t breathe, he had died thousands of ways in hell so he knew the familiar feeling of fluid flooding his lungs, it wasn’t the worst way to die. He had been roasted, starved, skinned and poisoned. So drowning didn’t make even a blip on his fucked radar. But the sensations were different, more intense as if something within his body was trying to overwhelm him. Moving and twisting to make itself at home and yet, at the same time, latching on to him preventing his escape into the dark of unconsciousness. The last thing he saw before he lost himself was a pair of eyes as blue as the sky.
Michael stood and watched as the Seraphim gathered in a cluster, their song muted as each lent grace and prayer to the formation of the newest Seraph. He did not like the feeling of impatience that twisted within his grace. He should have more faith in his father than in time.
Finally the seraphim parted to reveal a lone angel in their midst. The small seraph was encompassed by its wings, each wrapped even more tightly than the next shielding it from the rest of the host.
“Castiel,” Michael called.
The name had been poured into his essence by the Father and he knew that it belonged to the little one before him.
The ether parted and Michael smiled at the first glimpse of sparkling blue. Reaching out tentatively with his wings he brushed against the other. Castiel’s grace latched onto his own and the Seraph’s wings flared as his voice rang out pure and faithful in the silence that had fallen. The other Seraphim quickly took up the melody and the heavens were filled once again with the sound of “Holy, holy!”
The second time Dean awoke it was to a pissed off angel glaring at him from his bedside, and that shit wasn’t even fucking fair. For a second there he thought he was gonna pull a Ripley, but whatever had just tried to hijack his body was long gone ‘cause Dean couldn’t feel anybody but him in there which led back to this, at least he couldn’t see the other Cas anymore because that shit was freaky. And yeah he wasn’t even going to pretend that hadn’t been Castiel’s true form, what he really wanted to know was how the hell did he still have eyes?
“Christ, Cas personal space!” He snapped glaring at the other man, but Castiel was unmoved.
“What have you done, Dean?” The angel growled.
Dean sat up, he wasn’t prepared to have this out with Castiel lying on his back.
“I aint done shit, dude!”
“You are covered in the grace of one of my brothers!” Cas responded, body vibrating with anger just as it had in the alley before.
“Kinky!” Dean snorted, that little hint of info narrowed down how he was gonna find out who had tried to take him for a joyride, cause there was no way he wasn’t gonna hunt them down for it.
“This is not a matter of frivolity Dean!” Cas was close to shouting and a less than careful part of Dean wondered how far he could push the angel before he lost control of his vessel and resorted to his true voice.
Then again he had paid a security deposit on the room, so having Cas blow out all the windows in a bitch fit might not be a good idea.
Flipping off the enraged angel, he stretched.
“Don’t see what you’re getting all up in arms about I aint been around no angels but your annoying ass,” he groused “Not like I’m gonna set up shop with dicks like Zachy boy anyway.”
Cas’s face was set in what Dean had labeled ‘Does this puny human truly believe he can fool me?’ aka bitchface number 4. And Christ if an angel of the lord was perfecting Sam’s bitchfaces the world was probably really gonna end.
“You fainted Dean it is not a normal occurrence,” Cas persisted and Dean glared.
“You mean passed out Cas.”
“No, you lost consciousness for an extended period of time Dean, you fainted,”
“Guys don’t faint Cas,”
“Such gender distinctions are blatantly irrelevant Dean and simply a construct of your masculinity” Castiel explained slowly as if Dean was the dumb one.
“Yeah, yeah,” Dean grumbled as he turned away and picked up the jacket from where it lay on the floor “You cant remember personal space, but this you know.”
“Dean we must figure out which of my brethren has touched you,” Cas stated.
Dean sighed, with the way Cas nagged he was starting to freaking suspect that the angel was really a woman under all the glowy shit. “You make it sound like I’m running some sort of angel whorehouse,”
Cas froze, eyes darting away from Dean’s. And that, that was pretty much gold.
“’Cause I’m more of a one angel type of guy,” Dean smirked.
“I am not interested in your vices Dean,” Cas snapped body rigid and Dean’s eyebrow hiked.
What could have? Oh Anna. And yes another classic Dean Winchester moment. Open mouth insert foot, at least Sammy wasn’t here to laugh his Sasquatch ass off about it. Dean was gonna pretend that simple thought hadn’t made his gut clench in misery.
“So what did you want anyway?” Dean prodded, time to get Cas’s mind off whatever murderous thoughts was running through it.
“I believe I have located Raphael’s vessel.” Cas stated eyes still glued to the far wall.
“You wanna gank an archangel?” Dean questioned; at the look the angel settled on him he added “That’s badass of you Cas!”
“It is not imperative that we confront Raphael at the moment. It is necessary to know which of my brethren’s grace lays on you Dean.”
Dean bit his lip not to laugh at that one, cause no matter how high and mighty Cas made it sound, he was still throwing a tantrum over the fact that one of his brothers had played with what he believed was his. Not that he had much objection since he was pretty sure he’d made it clear that Cas’ ass was his.
“Hold up, isn’t Raphael supposed to be some sort of a healer? I mean he seem pretty smite happy so far.”
Castiel glanced at him and for a second the angel’s wide blue eyes were bathed with anguish before the emotionless mask slammed into place.
“He was once,” Cas whispered.
Michael could see the tremors that raced through Raphael’s grace as he stared at Azazel’s fallen form and for the first since he had burst into existence he doubted his Father’s words. He knew, they all knew that this was not Raphael’s nature. The archangel had stood on the waysides of battlefields, even as his brethren raged wars, waiting for the tainted, the sick, the dying. Raphael’s grace would burn away any hint of impurity and even when he had stretched himself beyond the hosts generosity he would not cease. Not when a single of his brothers were hurt.
Yet now he was being ordered to cast out one of the very brothers he had healed countless times, one with whom he had mixed grace. How could their Father ask this of Raphael, whose nature was only to heal? How could he ask him to cast away Azazel from the host from him when it went against the archangel’s very nature?
What Father, or God as the humans called him, would forgive such primitive creatures and yet pass judgment on sons that had basked in his grace? As the bonds snapped in place Michael turned away from the indifferent mask that had settled upon Raphael’s face. He would not, could not, watch this. He couldn’t watch as the Father he had loved cast away one of his brothers and broke another.
Dean blinked, once again in the motel room staring at Castiel as the angel glared at the far wall. A twinge of pain drew his attention to his bleeding palm where he had sliced it open with his nails. Whoever had sent these memories had surely fucked up ‘cause this wasn’t exactly convincing him of God’s infallibility. Not after seeing the way the act had broken both Raphael and Michael. Not after feeling the guy’s pain as his silence condemned both his brothers.
Sighing he wiped the blood on a patch of sheet before turning back to Cas. “So what’s our next move then?”
“I do not know Dean.” Cas stated face drawn in displeasure as if the simple human act of feeling lost was…Dean mentally slapped himself. Of course feeling lost would affect Castiel; he had probably never experienced it before his rebellion.
“Can’t you just mojo me up and see whose been doing the dirty touching?” Dean prodded, trying to evade the looming chick flick moment.
“I cannot.” Cas sighed “Not unless it was one of the Seraphim, the host is too vast for me to identify who has committed such a trespass with my fading grace.”
Ignoring the almost pout on Cas’ face took a helluva lot of Dean’s self control; but he’d just gotten the opening he needed to check whether the memories were bogus or if he’d somehow gotten himself an archangel hitchhiker.
“Seraphim, why them?”
“They are my brothers Dean,” Cas explained slowly as if Dean was an annoying child.
“I thought the angels were your brothers,”
“They are,” Cas confirmed “We were created by the same father.”
“I’m sensing a pretty big but in there somewhere Cas,”
Castiel glanced at Dean once before turning back to the window. “There are different types of angels, Dean. The host serves various purposes and so we are created with a variety of duties and abilities.”
“So you’re a Seraphim then?” Dean asked intentionally using the wrong word even as his mind screamed Seraph at him.
“I am a Seraph, Seraphim implies more than one.”
“So what’s your duty? And I swear to God Cas if you’re heaven’s holy tax accountant I am laughing my ass off.”
Castiel glared at him before sniffing disdainfully “The Seraphim exist to protect the throne.”
“Whoa, whoa, hold on a damn second! Then what the heck were you doing in hell? I’m pretty sure the big guy didn’t misplace something like that down there.”
Cas’ lack of reply set of alarm bells in Dean’s head.
“You don’t know do you?”
The angel turned to him, blue eyes wide and guileless “It was the Father’s will Dean, who am I to question?”
“You rebelled Cas, as far as I’m concerned that’s a pretty big question mark right there.”
“I have rebelled against my brothers not my Father. And I have done it for you Dean.”
And what the fuck was he supposed to say to that? Great! Just what he freaking needed, a guilt trip! At least this time it was unintentional.
“Wait, so what about the others who fell like Anna, was that questioning God?”
Cas flinched at the name, before shaking his head, the move so human and involuntary it made Dean’s head hurt.
“I cannot fathom Annael’s reasoning; however none of the Seraphim have ever fallen from grace.”
Michael cared for each of his brothers equally, he had placed none in higher favor than the other, he was sure of it. His adoration was given to his Father and only he was held in higher regard than the entirety of the host. It was surprising then that it in the midst of the anger and fury that raged within him - while he battled and cast out those that supported the rebellion that Lucifer had carefully orchestrated - he still felt the tear in his grace so clearly as he banished his brother from the host’s presence. Blocking the screams of the fallen and falling Michael gathered Gabriel’s grace closer as the messenger shook by his side. He could not recall when his brothers had become more necessary than the glory of Heaven and his Father’s praise.
Dean blinked as his vision returned to normal and dismissed the aching pain within his chest. He could hear the unsaid “yet” behind Cas’ statement and Michael’s memories of how important the host was to each angel made him feel sick with sorrow. Shaking his head he shoved the jacket into his duffle before grabbing the motel and car keys.
“So since the grace thing’s a bust you still up to kicking some archangel ass?” he questioned.
Castiel cocked his head for a moment before nodding and following Dean from the motel room.