The Matchmaking Inn (1/3) (Castiel/Dean, Gabriel/Sam | R)
Title: The Matchmaking Inn (1/3)
Rating: R
Pairings: Dean/Castiel, Gabriel/Sam
Word: 3762
Warnings/Labels: Consent Issue, post series AU
Spoilers: 5x08
Beta: paper_legends, mulder200, sweetsyren (any remaining mistakes are my own)
A/N: A few bits of this were original written for comment_fic
Summary: There was something odd, supernatural, going on at the Inn that overlooks the sea with its winding gardens and reputation for people meeting their future spouse there. So naturally the Winchesters investigate when the pass through the town after destroying a demon that had a taste for local politics.
“It is with true love as it is with ghosts; everyone talks about it, but few have seen it” - François de la Rochefoucauld
Normally, the Winchester MO is stay at a crappy motel and eat at questionable diner nearby. Only this time it wasn't that crappy of a motel and the nearest food place in their price and what Dean will eat without bitching range is a IHOP.
The IHOP is quiet and rather empty and for this, Sam will forever be grateful, because it means no one else is hearing this.
"Will you stop hogging the maple syrup?" Gabriel is complaining, from where he sits next to Sam. Gabriel is not allowed to sit next to or directly across from Dean. It leads to bad things.
Sam can't see it since he's reading the paper (or trying to) but he knows Dean is rolling his eyes. Because he knows Dean.
"Dude, just snap your fingers and get your own," Dean tells him. "Cas, you should try this on your pancakes."
Poor Castiel. Sam glances up and sees Cas eying his pancakes the way children do vegetables. "I don't need to eat," Cas says in the tone of one who's reminded everyone of this before but would like to bring it up again. Just in case no one heard him the first few times.
Sam cuts into his omelette with his fork and peruses the paper for their next job. Well, his and Dean's next job. Sometimes he can't believe they're back to this after everything - but it's easier to deal with this then Lucifer not being a threat anymore (and boy is he glad neither him nor Dean said yes to any parties concerned considering the kiss Michael gave Lucifer that day on the battle field). Or the new danger of the day coming from Zachariah - the true father of lies - and his band of fugitive angels.
But the Winchester brothers are back to hunting, this time with two hundred percent more angel sidekicks. Though Sam wishes, Gabriel wouldn't offer his help so much. It makes Sam want things that are better left in the past with the war.
"Just put the syrup on your pancakes, little brother," Gabriel laughs. "You'll like it. Have I ever steered you wrong?"
Castiel levels a look at him. "Babylon."
Gabriel rolls his eyes and drapes a arm behind Sam on the seat. "With food."
"What happened in Babylon?" Sam asks despite himself.
Castiel flushes and Dean goes a little wide-eyed. "Okay, now I want to know too," Dean says, holding his fork a little too tightly..
"I'll tell you later," Gabriel promises, eating his pancake that somehow acquired both chocolate and maple syrup while they were talking.
"You will not," Castiel insists, which just makes Gabriel laugh.
Dean glares at Gabriel, then at Sam. "Make him behave, Sam."
Sam glares right back. "Oh yeah, because I've got that sort of power," he shakes his head and goes back to the paper.
There's no reports of strange deaths, or animals, nothing that seems to need the attention of hunters. Sam flips the paper over, ignoring the sounds of Dean and Gabriel coaxing Castiel into eating his pancakes. Sam told them to get the angel chocolate chip pancakes. Cas never turns down chocolate. He's almost as bad as Gabriel in that regard.
This page of the paper is mostly community and business news -- there is a picture of a large, rather beautiful old mansion overlooking the sea. He glances at the caption: "Summerset Inn - the Matchmaking Inn". His brows wrinkles and he reads the article underneath.
"Guys?" he says when he finishes. "I think I've found our next job."
***
The Inn sits over looking the ocean on the outskirts of the small town. The Impala makes its way up the winding road, and the first thing Dean thinks is this place looks too perfect.
"It's a old mansion build in the 1900," Sam is telling everyone whose listening, which is mostly Castiel. Gabriel has headphones on and is munching on a candy bar. Dean himself is only half listening. "Amelia Cartwright had it built as a wedding present to her husband."
Dean rolls his eyes. "Yeah, touching. Now tell me again why you think we're going to find anything here but over priced rooms and food?"
Sam makes what Dean thinks of as bitchface number 43, half disapproval and half anger. Well if you'd shut up and listen, it seems to say. "The amount of people that swear they find their 'true love' here is amazing, Dean."
"Uh, Sammy, people normally come to places like this with someone they're already kinda fond of," Dean points out.
"Not this place. Most of the accounts are from people that were stranded over night because of snow or floods, people on business conferences, those that came alone wanting a quiet weekend on the beach -- and all of them had something "odd" happen. Mix up with room keys, phones dialing each other, drinks sent to the wrong table," Sam goes on. "And the really weird thing about this Inn? The owner claims it’s the ghost of Amelia. Her husband died not long after they were married and the mansion was finished so they claim she "tries to help the living find the person that can make them happiest".
Dean groans and shakes his head. Are they really this hard up for jobs? Jobs have been thin on the ground since the End of the World didn't actually end the world. All the things that go bump in the night and the mid-day are licking their wounds and regrouping. But, they've been managing. "Sam, it's probably all bullshit."
"Maybe, but they offer free two nights stay to paranormal teams and a reward for any evidence found of Amelia's ghost," Sam tells him with a wide grin. "So even if it is bullshit..."
"We get a two free nights on decent beds and payment for making up bullshit," Dean laughs and pats Sam on the shoulder after he pulls into a parking spot.
Castiel frowns at Dean in the rear view mirror. "That would be dishonest, Dean. We aren't a paranormal team."
Dean sighs and resists the urge to bang his head on the stirring wheel. "C'mon Cas, you know this is small potatoes compared to the cons me and Sam used to pull off and still do on jobs," he shift in the seat to look at Cas directly.
"I know," Cas says, but he's staring at the Inn with a worried look.
"You don't have to hang around all the time," Dean says, then realizes how that sounds. But not soon enough to keep the look of pain from flashing through Cas' eyes. "I mean if you don't want to. I know with Zach on the loose out there..." Dean ignores the sound of Sam climbing out of the Impala and shutting the door behind him.
Cas shakes his head. "My place is by your side."
He always says that when they have these conversations. And it makes Dean feel...he doesn't know. He doesn't want to look at it too closely. But he knows that he doesn't want Cas staying out of duty. He wants Cas to... "I'm a nobody now, Cas. I've got no big purpose to fill. I'm nothing."
"You are not nothing --" Cas starts, but Dean cuts him off quickly.
He doesn't want to hear how he's still a vessel, still a important bloodline. "So what do you think of Sam's Inn?"
Cas' shoulders slump just slightly, even with his grace back almost full strength, he's still more human that he started. "I -- I have a bad feeling about this."
"He's right, this place feels off," Gabriel agrees, pulling the headphones off. He tosses them in the air and they disappear. "Why don't you two kids get us rooms while me and Sammy check out the grounds. I want to check on the ley lines around the mansion."
Dean's back stiffens at the words. Ghosts and magic? Fuck. "I still say the ghost is bullshit.
"There is still the presence of magic here," Castiel points out. "It could be residual."
Gabriel nods, looking thoughtful for a moment. "Could be. Spots like this were popular party spots," the Archangel and Trickster grins wide, sharp, and inhuman. "Lots of blood, sex, and magic. Ah those were the days."
Cas' expression is a combination between exasperation and disapproval. "Gabriel."
"Oh don't look at me like that. It makes you look like Uriel and none of us want that," Gabriel says before he snaps his fingers. In a blink he's outside the car, grinning at Sam.
"Son of bitch," Dean growls, finally unbuckling his seat belt. "I told him to start using the damn door."
Cas' lips twitch. "He only does it to get a "rise" out of you, Dean."
Dean sighs and pushes open his door. The air is cool and smells like an odd combination of flowers from the garden and the ocean. The sound of the waves is a constant backdrop. "Whatever. C'mon Cas, let's get us some rooms. Let me do all the talking okay? You just stand there and give her those puppy eyes of yours."
"I do not posses the eyes of a puppy," Cas protests as he follows Dean. The gravel crunches under their shoes and not for the first time Dean wonders how Cas' keeps those dress shoes from wearing out.
"Dude, you know what I mean," Dean laughs pulling his duffel out of the trunk.
Cas' smile reaches his eyes, bright and happy. "Perhaps I just don't understand the reference."
Dean snorts and tosses a bag to Cas. "Yeah, and this Inn is just trying to give Cupid and his brothers a hand."
"It better not. He might attempt to hug it," Cas says solemnly.
Dean almost drops the other bag laughing.
***
Castiel sits on the edge of the bed, eyes tracking Dean as he paces. Dean is ranting about Gabriel and it's a familiar topic.
"I still don't trust him going along with us on hunts. I know he helped us save the world, but still I don't like him. He's a self centered ass - Archangel or not," Dean grumbles, running a hand through his hair. "I don't like how he's always around Sam."
Castiel doesn't tell Dean that Gabriel helps them because he loves humanity in a way Castiel himself doesn't understand. He also doesn't tell Dean that their brothers used to lie together during the war and commit carnal acts.
Instead, he watches the strong lines of Dean's throat. He watches the muscles shift under the fabric of his shirt and remembers touching - remaking this man. He remembers touching Dean's soul and wonders how Gabriel can stand the limitations of physical touch.
Dean takes off his long sleeved outer shirt and tosses it on his duffel. "We should have just gotten one room. It's not like you angels need to sleep," Dean says suddenly. "It was weird though the way she insisted they didn't have any rooms with two beds left and we'd have to share. Sam called this morning and this place isn't even half full. It's almost like..."
He trails off and Castiel looks at him expectantly. Dean doesn't finish his sentence though. "It's almost like what Dean?"
Dean is smiling at him in a loose, happy way that fills Castiel with both joy and uncertainty. He's standing less than a foot from where Cas sits on the edge of the bed, limbs more relaxed than Cas as seen since he remade Dean.
"Dean, are you feeling well?" Cas asks.
Dean laughs and lifts his arms slowly above his head.
Stretching.
"I feel fan-fucking-tastic," Dean tells him, shifting his stance as he drops his arms.
Castiel eyes cannot help but watch Dean's muscles move under the layers of fabric. His fingers twitch, and the overwhelming, terrifying urge to touch has returned. Dean fingers run over his stomach, brush against his hip, rub across his shoulder -- touching himself everywhere Cas' fingers long to travel again.
He'd known it was wrong when he'd done it. Fingers mapping out newly created skin. Hand pressed too long, too possessively to Dean's arm and he hadn't wanted to let his charge go.
Dean is raising his arms again, taking his t-shirt with him this time. It's done slowly, revealing a ever growing band of bare skin. And as Dean does so, his soul seems a little brighter to Castiel. As if Dean's stripping the covering from it as he does the clothes from his body.
The t-shirt winds up on the floor.
"Dean," Castiel says - protests. "Something is wrong."
Dean's eyes dilate at the sound of his own name. "Yeah," he agrees. "One of us is wearing too many clothes."
His fingers go to his jeans, and it seems Dean has deemed he is the one wearing too many clothes. Castiel knows he should protest again, should stop Dean, and should leave the room.
The sound of the zipper dragging down is impossibly loud. Castiel feels pinned by it, like a butterfly.
Dean licks his lips, then his fingers before sliding his hands into his jean. Into his underwear. His head falls back as he moans at his own touch.
Castiel wants to mark that throat with his human teeth, while he presses his hand to the mark on Dean's arm. He doesn't know what this is gripping him - no he knows but he didn't think lust could feel like this. Desire and lust shouldn't burn as brightly as the wish to touch his soul - his grace to Dean's.
The jeans slid down, revealing more of Dean's skin, more of his soul. Castiel's fingers curl in the bedspread beneath him.
Dean is beautiful inside and out. And Castiel loves him. Father help him, he loves this man.
"Dean," he pleads. He wasn't built to know this, to cope with this. He wishes -- he wants --
Dean steps out of his jeans and underwear, his own lust evident. He closes the distance between them, stopping a hair-breath away. Almost touching but not quite.
"I know," Dean tells him. "You can have it. You can have me, Cas."
Castiel shivers.
Then he reaches out with his hand, with his grace, and pulls Dean to him.
***
When Sam wakes up his head is foggy and he feels like he's been asleep for days. He's sticky, sore, his left hip feels slightly raw, but he feels better than he has in ages. Like someone plugged him into a battery.
But Sam's more than content to just stay in bed, eyes closed, feeling lazy, safe and complacent despite the energy thrumming through him. The bed under him is soft with even softer sheets. A strong leg is draped over his and soft hair tickles his nose. There's a warm arm flung across his stomach, fingers idly brushing that raw place on his hip.
The skin is too warm to be human. His addled brain thinks Ruby for a second, and he's confused. Ruby's skin had always been cold, ice. He never felt this safe, and the arm and leg are male. He's felt this content and safe before, during the war...
Oh, he thinks happily, stupidly, Gabriel.
His mind shifts in a way that's painful. Like bright light after darkness.
Something clicks into place and he shudders as if the blankets have been ripped off. His eyes open.
Sam slams the shut again but doesn't manage to contain the groan. He's sore, oh God.
The arm around his waist tightens just slightly.
"What did you do?" Sam hisses, because they said they weren't going to do this anymore. It had been stress relief, it had been to keep Lucifer the fuck out of his head. But they don't do this anymore. No matter how much Sam misses it.
He opens his eyes again and Gabriel is looking at him.
It's so close to one of Castiel's confused head-tilty looks that Sam has a moment of panic, before the look disappears into anger and disappointment -- or something like it. He closes his eyes, and Sam thinks for a moment he's just going to blink out and leave Sam alone with his questions and soreness.
"This wasn't me," Gabriel tells him, his voice oddly empty.
Sam believes him, knew Gabriel hadn't done anything before he'd even spoken, because it's this Inn and they were all stupid and let their guard down.
He still shoves Gabriel away. At least he tries to.
Gabriel's fingers are still on Sam's hip.
"Let me up. I want a shower. I want to find Dean and Cas. And I want answers," Sam shoves again.
Gabriel lets him, expression closed off. "Dean and Castiel are still next door. We -- should give them some time. Your brother isn't pleased with himself, and neither am I."
Sam climbs to his feet and pauses to glare accusingly at Gabriel. "You're reading minds."
"He's my brother," Gabriel says imperiously as if that explains everything. He's staring at Sam's hip in an intent way that makes Sam feel on display. And shit he is -- Sam flees to the bathroom.
He's turning on the shower when he catches sight of it in the mirror. Red and raised on his left hip - Gabriel's hand print. Sam sits down heavily on the toilet seat.
***
Sam and Dean spent the first half of the day scouring the town for answers (or to be honest sitting in the Impala staring at the ocean), the angels apparently doing the same. They don't talk about what happened, but Dean wears a half-guilty, half-pissed face, and he keeps glancing at Sam like he wants to ask something.
But he doesn't. Sam tries not to think the worst. Because Dean is his brother.
They all meet up at a diner far from the Inn and its gardens, and Dean picks at his food. Sam eats and wishes Gabriel would at least try to steal one of his fries so this would feel normal. Gabriel doesn't order anything but coffee, and Castiel just watches Dean - but that part isn't new.
"Nobody knows nothin'," Dean grumbles.
"I'll check out the library and local records with Sam," Gabriel says finally breaking the silence, giving orders, something Sam knows he hates doing. How many times had he told Sam that, how much he hated sending his brothers to die while he lived on. "Castiel, you and Dean finish talking to the locals."
Dean scowls. "I don't see any good reason why we shouldn't just leave this place and never look back," he hisses. Sam rather agrees, because dealing with this means dealing with the mark on his hip. He presses his own fingers it through the thick fabric of his jeans and it burns bright for a moment.
Beside him Gabriel inhales sharply.
"I want to find out what did this," Gabriel's voice is a rough low vibration that makes the glasses on the table shakes. Sam hears the unspoken words. Gabriel wants to know what took away his control, what made him touch Sam after he'd made it clear that Sam wasn't something he wanted anymore. Gabriel leans across, his eyes locked onto Dean. "Don't you?"
Dean's eyes fall to the chipped tabletop. "Yes," he finally agrees.
Cas makes a distressed noise and Sam's certain that he's touching Dean's leg under the table. "Gabriel..."
"We'll go back to the Inn at the end of the day," Gabriel's tone doesn't allow for argument.
Dean nods then, almost in approval. "This time we stay in the common areas, we stay on our guard. This is still a hunt." Sam watches him turn his head towards Castiel. "You going to be okay with this Cas?"
Castiel nods and Sam wonders if Dean even sees how much Cas loves him. "I am, Dean. We let our guard down last night. It won't happen again."
"I guess we're agreed then," Sam says, really trying to ignore the look his brother is giving Castiel.
"Good." Gabriel leans back and steals a fry from Sam's plate. "Now who wants a milk shake before we go? Because I do."
Dean rolls his eyes, but Cas heads him off at the pass so to speak and orders Dean a piece of pie when the waitress comes back by. Dean smiles and Cas lights up a little.
Gabriel orders Sam a milkshake even though he didn't say he wanted one. Though, yeah, Sam does. It's chocolate and it's good enough that he can ignore the pornographic sounds Gabriel is making. Gabriel's lips are wrapped around the straw and Sam looks away quickly. It's almost good enough that Sam can forget the sounds he makes when Gabriel's mouth is wrapped around parts of him.
Dean and Cas leave -- and they do leave first almost as if Gabriel had been waiting them out.
"Are we going to talk about it?" Sam finally asks.
Gabriel's jaw tightened. "I can't remove it."
Sam blinks. "What?"
Gabriel's fingers brush across thick denim over where his mark - his hand print - sits on Sam's hip. It's almost like he can't help it. Like it's taken everything in him not to touch before now. "I'm sorry," it's said so softly, Sam barely hears it. "I know you don't want this."
Sam opens his mouth, to protest that it was Gabriel that didn't want it, when he realizes he's not sure if Gabriel means the sex or the mark. He swallows. "Gabriel."
"Pitter Patter, Sammy, we're burning daylight. I want to know everything there is to know about little Amelia and that house before we step foot in it again," Gabriel says as if he didn't hear Sam. He throws a handful of twenties on the table, more than enough to cover the bill and then some, and then slides from the booth.
With a sigh, Sam follows. "You could just time travel."
"Time Travel gives me headaches and the bends," Gabriel sniffs as they walk about of the dinner. "Or is that scuba diving? I can never remember."
Sam snorts. "Are you going to help me research or just distract me?"
"Isn't that helping?"
Sam gives him a deadpan look. "Yes. It's the most helpful thing ever."
Gabriel laughs, and his hand brushes against Sam's hip again. Sam doesn't say a word.
Rating: R
Pairings: Dean/Castiel, Gabriel/Sam
Word: 3762
Warnings/Labels: Consent Issue, post series AU
Spoilers: 5x08
Beta: paper_legends, mulder200, sweetsyren (any remaining mistakes are my own)
A/N: A few bits of this were original written for comment_fic
Summary: There was something odd, supernatural, going on at the Inn that overlooks the sea with its winding gardens and reputation for people meeting their future spouse there. So naturally the Winchesters investigate when the pass through the town after destroying a demon that had a taste for local politics.
“It is with true love as it is with ghosts; everyone talks about it, but few have seen it” - François de la Rochefoucauld
Normally, the Winchester MO is stay at a crappy motel and eat at questionable diner nearby. Only this time it wasn't that crappy of a motel and the nearest food place in their price and what Dean will eat without bitching range is a IHOP.
The IHOP is quiet and rather empty and for this, Sam will forever be grateful, because it means no one else is hearing this.
"Will you stop hogging the maple syrup?" Gabriel is complaining, from where he sits next to Sam. Gabriel is not allowed to sit next to or directly across from Dean. It leads to bad things.
Sam can't see it since he's reading the paper (or trying to) but he knows Dean is rolling his eyes. Because he knows Dean.
"Dude, just snap your fingers and get your own," Dean tells him. "Cas, you should try this on your pancakes."
Poor Castiel. Sam glances up and sees Cas eying his pancakes the way children do vegetables. "I don't need to eat," Cas says in the tone of one who's reminded everyone of this before but would like to bring it up again. Just in case no one heard him the first few times.
Sam cuts into his omelette with his fork and peruses the paper for their next job. Well, his and Dean's next job. Sometimes he can't believe they're back to this after everything - but it's easier to deal with this then Lucifer not being a threat anymore (and boy is he glad neither him nor Dean said yes to any parties concerned considering the kiss Michael gave Lucifer that day on the battle field). Or the new danger of the day coming from Zachariah - the true father of lies - and his band of fugitive angels.
But the Winchester brothers are back to hunting, this time with two hundred percent more angel sidekicks. Though Sam wishes, Gabriel wouldn't offer his help so much. It makes Sam want things that are better left in the past with the war.
"Just put the syrup on your pancakes, little brother," Gabriel laughs. "You'll like it. Have I ever steered you wrong?"
Castiel levels a look at him. "Babylon."
Gabriel rolls his eyes and drapes a arm behind Sam on the seat. "With food."
"What happened in Babylon?" Sam asks despite himself.
Castiel flushes and Dean goes a little wide-eyed. "Okay, now I want to know too," Dean says, holding his fork a little too tightly..
"I'll tell you later," Gabriel promises, eating his pancake that somehow acquired both chocolate and maple syrup while they were talking.
"You will not," Castiel insists, which just makes Gabriel laugh.
Dean glares at Gabriel, then at Sam. "Make him behave, Sam."
Sam glares right back. "Oh yeah, because I've got that sort of power," he shakes his head and goes back to the paper.
There's no reports of strange deaths, or animals, nothing that seems to need the attention of hunters. Sam flips the paper over, ignoring the sounds of Dean and Gabriel coaxing Castiel into eating his pancakes. Sam told them to get the angel chocolate chip pancakes. Cas never turns down chocolate. He's almost as bad as Gabriel in that regard.
This page of the paper is mostly community and business news -- there is a picture of a large, rather beautiful old mansion overlooking the sea. He glances at the caption: "Summerset Inn - the Matchmaking Inn". His brows wrinkles and he reads the article underneath.
"Guys?" he says when he finishes. "I think I've found our next job."
***
The Inn sits over looking the ocean on the outskirts of the small town. The Impala makes its way up the winding road, and the first thing Dean thinks is this place looks too perfect.
"It's a old mansion build in the 1900," Sam is telling everyone whose listening, which is mostly Castiel. Gabriel has headphones on and is munching on a candy bar. Dean himself is only half listening. "Amelia Cartwright had it built as a wedding present to her husband."
Dean rolls his eyes. "Yeah, touching. Now tell me again why you think we're going to find anything here but over priced rooms and food?"
Sam makes what Dean thinks of as bitchface number 43, half disapproval and half anger. Well if you'd shut up and listen, it seems to say. "The amount of people that swear they find their 'true love' here is amazing, Dean."
"Uh, Sammy, people normally come to places like this with someone they're already kinda fond of," Dean points out.
"Not this place. Most of the accounts are from people that were stranded over night because of snow or floods, people on business conferences, those that came alone wanting a quiet weekend on the beach -- and all of them had something "odd" happen. Mix up with room keys, phones dialing each other, drinks sent to the wrong table," Sam goes on. "And the really weird thing about this Inn? The owner claims it’s the ghost of Amelia. Her husband died not long after they were married and the mansion was finished so they claim she "tries to help the living find the person that can make them happiest".
Dean groans and shakes his head. Are they really this hard up for jobs? Jobs have been thin on the ground since the End of the World didn't actually end the world. All the things that go bump in the night and the mid-day are licking their wounds and regrouping. But, they've been managing. "Sam, it's probably all bullshit."
"Maybe, but they offer free two nights stay to paranormal teams and a reward for any evidence found of Amelia's ghost," Sam tells him with a wide grin. "So even if it is bullshit..."
"We get a two free nights on decent beds and payment for making up bullshit," Dean laughs and pats Sam on the shoulder after he pulls into a parking spot.
Castiel frowns at Dean in the rear view mirror. "That would be dishonest, Dean. We aren't a paranormal team."
Dean sighs and resists the urge to bang his head on the stirring wheel. "C'mon Cas, you know this is small potatoes compared to the cons me and Sam used to pull off and still do on jobs," he shift in the seat to look at Cas directly.
"I know," Cas says, but he's staring at the Inn with a worried look.
"You don't have to hang around all the time," Dean says, then realizes how that sounds. But not soon enough to keep the look of pain from flashing through Cas' eyes. "I mean if you don't want to. I know with Zach on the loose out there..." Dean ignores the sound of Sam climbing out of the Impala and shutting the door behind him.
Cas shakes his head. "My place is by your side."
He always says that when they have these conversations. And it makes Dean feel...he doesn't know. He doesn't want to look at it too closely. But he knows that he doesn't want Cas staying out of duty. He wants Cas to... "I'm a nobody now, Cas. I've got no big purpose to fill. I'm nothing."
"You are not nothing --" Cas starts, but Dean cuts him off quickly.
He doesn't want to hear how he's still a vessel, still a important bloodline. "So what do you think of Sam's Inn?"
Cas' shoulders slump just slightly, even with his grace back almost full strength, he's still more human that he started. "I -- I have a bad feeling about this."
"He's right, this place feels off," Gabriel agrees, pulling the headphones off. He tosses them in the air and they disappear. "Why don't you two kids get us rooms while me and Sammy check out the grounds. I want to check on the ley lines around the mansion."
Dean's back stiffens at the words. Ghosts and magic? Fuck. "I still say the ghost is bullshit.
"There is still the presence of magic here," Castiel points out. "It could be residual."
Gabriel nods, looking thoughtful for a moment. "Could be. Spots like this were popular party spots," the Archangel and Trickster grins wide, sharp, and inhuman. "Lots of blood, sex, and magic. Ah those were the days."
Cas' expression is a combination between exasperation and disapproval. "Gabriel."
"Oh don't look at me like that. It makes you look like Uriel and none of us want that," Gabriel says before he snaps his fingers. In a blink he's outside the car, grinning at Sam.
"Son of bitch," Dean growls, finally unbuckling his seat belt. "I told him to start using the damn door."
Cas' lips twitch. "He only does it to get a "rise" out of you, Dean."
Dean sighs and pushes open his door. The air is cool and smells like an odd combination of flowers from the garden and the ocean. The sound of the waves is a constant backdrop. "Whatever. C'mon Cas, let's get us some rooms. Let me do all the talking okay? You just stand there and give her those puppy eyes of yours."
"I do not posses the eyes of a puppy," Cas protests as he follows Dean. The gravel crunches under their shoes and not for the first time Dean wonders how Cas' keeps those dress shoes from wearing out.
"Dude, you know what I mean," Dean laughs pulling his duffel out of the trunk.
Cas' smile reaches his eyes, bright and happy. "Perhaps I just don't understand the reference."
Dean snorts and tosses a bag to Cas. "Yeah, and this Inn is just trying to give Cupid and his brothers a hand."
"It better not. He might attempt to hug it," Cas says solemnly.
Dean almost drops the other bag laughing.
***
Castiel sits on the edge of the bed, eyes tracking Dean as he paces. Dean is ranting about Gabriel and it's a familiar topic.
"I still don't trust him going along with us on hunts. I know he helped us save the world, but still I don't like him. He's a self centered ass - Archangel or not," Dean grumbles, running a hand through his hair. "I don't like how he's always around Sam."
Castiel doesn't tell Dean that Gabriel helps them because he loves humanity in a way Castiel himself doesn't understand. He also doesn't tell Dean that their brothers used to lie together during the war and commit carnal acts.
Instead, he watches the strong lines of Dean's throat. He watches the muscles shift under the fabric of his shirt and remembers touching - remaking this man. He remembers touching Dean's soul and wonders how Gabriel can stand the limitations of physical touch.
Dean takes off his long sleeved outer shirt and tosses it on his duffel. "We should have just gotten one room. It's not like you angels need to sleep," Dean says suddenly. "It was weird though the way she insisted they didn't have any rooms with two beds left and we'd have to share. Sam called this morning and this place isn't even half full. It's almost like..."
He trails off and Castiel looks at him expectantly. Dean doesn't finish his sentence though. "It's almost like what Dean?"
Dean is smiling at him in a loose, happy way that fills Castiel with both joy and uncertainty. He's standing less than a foot from where Cas sits on the edge of the bed, limbs more relaxed than Cas as seen since he remade Dean.
"Dean, are you feeling well?" Cas asks.
Dean laughs and lifts his arms slowly above his head.
Stretching.
"I feel fan-fucking-tastic," Dean tells him, shifting his stance as he drops his arms.
Castiel eyes cannot help but watch Dean's muscles move under the layers of fabric. His fingers twitch, and the overwhelming, terrifying urge to touch has returned. Dean fingers run over his stomach, brush against his hip, rub across his shoulder -- touching himself everywhere Cas' fingers long to travel again.
He'd known it was wrong when he'd done it. Fingers mapping out newly created skin. Hand pressed too long, too possessively to Dean's arm and he hadn't wanted to let his charge go.
Dean is raising his arms again, taking his t-shirt with him this time. It's done slowly, revealing a ever growing band of bare skin. And as Dean does so, his soul seems a little brighter to Castiel. As if Dean's stripping the covering from it as he does the clothes from his body.
The t-shirt winds up on the floor.
"Dean," Castiel says - protests. "Something is wrong."
Dean's eyes dilate at the sound of his own name. "Yeah," he agrees. "One of us is wearing too many clothes."
His fingers go to his jeans, and it seems Dean has deemed he is the one wearing too many clothes. Castiel knows he should protest again, should stop Dean, and should leave the room.
The sound of the zipper dragging down is impossibly loud. Castiel feels pinned by it, like a butterfly.
Dean licks his lips, then his fingers before sliding his hands into his jean. Into his underwear. His head falls back as he moans at his own touch.
Castiel wants to mark that throat with his human teeth, while he presses his hand to the mark on Dean's arm. He doesn't know what this is gripping him - no he knows but he didn't think lust could feel like this. Desire and lust shouldn't burn as brightly as the wish to touch his soul - his grace to Dean's.
The jeans slid down, revealing more of Dean's skin, more of his soul. Castiel's fingers curl in the bedspread beneath him.
Dean is beautiful inside and out. And Castiel loves him. Father help him, he loves this man.
"Dean," he pleads. He wasn't built to know this, to cope with this. He wishes -- he wants --
Dean steps out of his jeans and underwear, his own lust evident. He closes the distance between them, stopping a hair-breath away. Almost touching but not quite.
"I know," Dean tells him. "You can have it. You can have me, Cas."
Castiel shivers.
Then he reaches out with his hand, with his grace, and pulls Dean to him.
***
When Sam wakes up his head is foggy and he feels like he's been asleep for days. He's sticky, sore, his left hip feels slightly raw, but he feels better than he has in ages. Like someone plugged him into a battery.
But Sam's more than content to just stay in bed, eyes closed, feeling lazy, safe and complacent despite the energy thrumming through him. The bed under him is soft with even softer sheets. A strong leg is draped over his and soft hair tickles his nose. There's a warm arm flung across his stomach, fingers idly brushing that raw place on his hip.
The skin is too warm to be human. His addled brain thinks Ruby for a second, and he's confused. Ruby's skin had always been cold, ice. He never felt this safe, and the arm and leg are male. He's felt this content and safe before, during the war...
Oh, he thinks happily, stupidly, Gabriel.
His mind shifts in a way that's painful. Like bright light after darkness.
Something clicks into place and he shudders as if the blankets have been ripped off. His eyes open.
Sam slams the shut again but doesn't manage to contain the groan. He's sore, oh God.
The arm around his waist tightens just slightly.
"What did you do?" Sam hisses, because they said they weren't going to do this anymore. It had been stress relief, it had been to keep Lucifer the fuck out of his head. But they don't do this anymore. No matter how much Sam misses it.
He opens his eyes again and Gabriel is looking at him.
It's so close to one of Castiel's confused head-tilty looks that Sam has a moment of panic, before the look disappears into anger and disappointment -- or something like it. He closes his eyes, and Sam thinks for a moment he's just going to blink out and leave Sam alone with his questions and soreness.
"This wasn't me," Gabriel tells him, his voice oddly empty.
Sam believes him, knew Gabriel hadn't done anything before he'd even spoken, because it's this Inn and they were all stupid and let their guard down.
He still shoves Gabriel away. At least he tries to.
Gabriel's fingers are still on Sam's hip.
"Let me up. I want a shower. I want to find Dean and Cas. And I want answers," Sam shoves again.
Gabriel lets him, expression closed off. "Dean and Castiel are still next door. We -- should give them some time. Your brother isn't pleased with himself, and neither am I."
Sam climbs to his feet and pauses to glare accusingly at Gabriel. "You're reading minds."
"He's my brother," Gabriel says imperiously as if that explains everything. He's staring at Sam's hip in an intent way that makes Sam feel on display. And shit he is -- Sam flees to the bathroom.
He's turning on the shower when he catches sight of it in the mirror. Red and raised on his left hip - Gabriel's hand print. Sam sits down heavily on the toilet seat.
***
Sam and Dean spent the first half of the day scouring the town for answers (or to be honest sitting in the Impala staring at the ocean), the angels apparently doing the same. They don't talk about what happened, but Dean wears a half-guilty, half-pissed face, and he keeps glancing at Sam like he wants to ask something.
But he doesn't. Sam tries not to think the worst. Because Dean is his brother.
They all meet up at a diner far from the Inn and its gardens, and Dean picks at his food. Sam eats and wishes Gabriel would at least try to steal one of his fries so this would feel normal. Gabriel doesn't order anything but coffee, and Castiel just watches Dean - but that part isn't new.
"Nobody knows nothin'," Dean grumbles.
"I'll check out the library and local records with Sam," Gabriel says finally breaking the silence, giving orders, something Sam knows he hates doing. How many times had he told Sam that, how much he hated sending his brothers to die while he lived on. "Castiel, you and Dean finish talking to the locals."
Dean scowls. "I don't see any good reason why we shouldn't just leave this place and never look back," he hisses. Sam rather agrees, because dealing with this means dealing with the mark on his hip. He presses his own fingers it through the thick fabric of his jeans and it burns bright for a moment.
Beside him Gabriel inhales sharply.
"I want to find out what did this," Gabriel's voice is a rough low vibration that makes the glasses on the table shakes. Sam hears the unspoken words. Gabriel wants to know what took away his control, what made him touch Sam after he'd made it clear that Sam wasn't something he wanted anymore. Gabriel leans across, his eyes locked onto Dean. "Don't you?"
Dean's eyes fall to the chipped tabletop. "Yes," he finally agrees.
Cas makes a distressed noise and Sam's certain that he's touching Dean's leg under the table. "Gabriel..."
"We'll go back to the Inn at the end of the day," Gabriel's tone doesn't allow for argument.
Dean nods then, almost in approval. "This time we stay in the common areas, we stay on our guard. This is still a hunt." Sam watches him turn his head towards Castiel. "You going to be okay with this Cas?"
Castiel nods and Sam wonders if Dean even sees how much Cas loves him. "I am, Dean. We let our guard down last night. It won't happen again."
"I guess we're agreed then," Sam says, really trying to ignore the look his brother is giving Castiel.
"Good." Gabriel leans back and steals a fry from Sam's plate. "Now who wants a milk shake before we go? Because I do."
Dean rolls his eyes, but Cas heads him off at the pass so to speak and orders Dean a piece of pie when the waitress comes back by. Dean smiles and Cas lights up a little.
Gabriel orders Sam a milkshake even though he didn't say he wanted one. Though, yeah, Sam does. It's chocolate and it's good enough that he can ignore the pornographic sounds Gabriel is making. Gabriel's lips are wrapped around the straw and Sam looks away quickly. It's almost good enough that Sam can forget the sounds he makes when Gabriel's mouth is wrapped around parts of him.
Dean and Cas leave -- and they do leave first almost as if Gabriel had been waiting them out.
"Are we going to talk about it?" Sam finally asks.
Gabriel's jaw tightened. "I can't remove it."
Sam blinks. "What?"
Gabriel's fingers brush across thick denim over where his mark - his hand print - sits on Sam's hip. It's almost like he can't help it. Like it's taken everything in him not to touch before now. "I'm sorry," it's said so softly, Sam barely hears it. "I know you don't want this."
Sam opens his mouth, to protest that it was Gabriel that didn't want it, when he realizes he's not sure if Gabriel means the sex or the mark. He swallows. "Gabriel."
"Pitter Patter, Sammy, we're burning daylight. I want to know everything there is to know about little Amelia and that house before we step foot in it again," Gabriel says as if he didn't hear Sam. He throws a handful of twenties on the table, more than enough to cover the bill and then some, and then slides from the booth.
With a sigh, Sam follows. "You could just time travel."
"Time Travel gives me headaches and the bends," Gabriel sniffs as they walk about of the dinner. "Or is that scuba diving? I can never remember."
Sam snorts. "Are you going to help me research or just distract me?"
"Isn't that helping?"
Sam gives him a deadpan look. "Yes. It's the most helpful thing ever."
Gabriel laughs, and his hand brushes against Sam's hip again. Sam doesn't say a word.