Just As You Are
Author - lafleurdumal85
Rating: R
Length - 6,751 words
Warnings - sexual references, temporary girl!Cas
Summary - Written as a birthday present for thelemonmeringuelife. Castiel quizzes Sam on Dean's ideal woman. Shortly afterwards, Dean meets a beautiful and mysterious girl called Thursday in a bar. Are the two events related? What do you think?
Disclaimer - Not my sandbox, I just play here.
“Sam, I need to ask you something.”
Sam glanced up, letting his book fall closed when he saw the grave expression on Castiel’s face. “Sure, Cas. What’s up?”
Castiel sat down on the bed opposite him, his elbows on his knees, his fingers steepled under his chin. He was silent for so long that Sam started to think he’d forgotten. “Cas?”
The angel blinked and looked up at him. “Dean likes women, doesn’t he?”
Sam’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Well...”
“I mean, he’s sexually attracted to women.”
Sam thought for a minute. “Yeah. I think he may have, you know, experimented a couple of times, but... he does tend towards...”
Castiel nodded, his eyes downcast.
Sam was starting to feel distinctly awkward; it wasn’t like he was oblivious to the subtext of this conversation. Castiel was in love with his idiot of a brother. It had been strange and heartbreaking to watch. This... being, this creature older than the world itself, powerful and mysterious and strange, letting himself fall, letting himself get hurt and muddied and lost, all because Dean had needed him. He let Dean drag him about and poke fun at him, watching the human with a child’s guileless curiosity, wanting to understand, wanting to help in any way Dean would let him. Never mind that he was a hardened warrior capable of bringing down the wrath of Heaven on anyone he wanted to.
The thing was that Dean loved Castiel, too, though Sam suspected that he was the only one who had figured that out. He didn’t know if Dean would ever get it. He was afraid that his brother was just too damaged. Dean could love, but only in a way that put him in the role of protector, guardian, sacrificial lamb. Sam didn’t know if his brother was capable of being truly vulnerable, or of valuing himself enough to allow the kind of love Castiel wanted. Sam felt sad for both of them, performing their awkward dance of jealousy and longing and frustration, neither of them capable of expressing what they wanted, and maybe he’d been around Dean too long and had forgotten how to talk about feelings, but he just didn’t know what to do about it. He felt like maybe he should attempt to say something comforting or reassuring, but he wasn’t quite sure how the angel would take it, so he remained silent.
“Tell me about them,” Castiel said finally. “The women Dean likes. Tell me about them.”
“Uh... I...”
Castiel sighed, clearly impatient with Sam’s lack of comprehension. “I mean that I don’t always... there is much about humanity that eludes me. I ... don’t understand the import you place on physical forms. I see you all as souls; things like age and gender and the conventions of physical beauty do not concern me. I can’t... sometimes Dean expresses appreciation for something and I fail to understand what makes that thing more attractive than another. But it matters to him, doesn’t it? Dean values certain types of physical form in humans above others. Is that not the case?”
Sam nodded slowly. “I guess...”
“I wish to know. Tell me what draws Dean in. What is it that he finds sexually appealing in females?”
Well, this had to be the weirdest conversation Sam had had in a good long while. He started to object, but then he looked at the sad, appealing look on Castiel’s face, and his resolve crumbled. If the angel was determined to torture himself, who was Sam to stand in his way?
Sam sighed wearily. “Well, as a rule he likes them curvy...”
...
Dean had only been at the bar for about five minutes when he saw her. After that, it was pretty much impossible for him to see anything else. He’d only stopped by the place for a quick drink and, hopefully, a quick distraction. He’d never for the life of him thought he’d find a girl like that in Hicksville, Kentucky.
She was sat at a table by herself, endless curves poured into a slinky black dress, cut low enough to show off her perfect breasts, but not so low that she looked cheap. She had long, chestnut brown hair, and honeyed skin, and the kind of softly pouting lips that made Dean think all kinds of sinful things.
Dean assessed the situation. It was weird for a girl like that to be in a bar by herself; she could be there with someone. But then from the way her foot was tapping nervously beneath the table, he imagined not. Dean flattered himself that he was pretty good at evaluating women by now, and at a guess he’d say this one was newly single and had gotten dressed up tonight to get herself some rebound sex.
Enter, Dean Winchester.
He was just about to make his way over when he was beaten to it by another guy, all sleazy charm in his black leather jacket, leaning over the woman’s table to whisper something in her ear. Dean couldn’t hear what went down, but she angrily recoiled and spoke sharply to the guy, who scowled and stalked away. As he passed, Dean heard him mutter something about psycho prick teases. Dean’s confidence faltered a little; maybe this girl was waiting for her boyfriend after all. He looked at her through his eyelashes. Pity. She really was just about perfect.
She raised her pint glass to her lips and took a long swig of beer. It was... kind of inelegant to be honest, but it just made Dean find her all the more appealing. She banged the glass back down on the table and looked up, directly at Dean, fixing him with big blue eyes. Dean’s stomach dropped a couple of notches. Damn. The woman dropped her gaze briefly, like she was shy, but then she looked up at Dean again, stared at him, her eyes boring into him like she was trying to...
Dean’s mouth was suddenly dry. Still, if that wasn’t a come-on, he didn’t know what was. He knocked back the rest of his scotch and pushed away from the bar.
“Mind if I join you?” Dean asked in what he hoped was his seductive voice. He was uncustomarily nervous.
The corner of the woman’s mouth twitched a little. “I was hoping you might.”
Her voice was soft and just a little husky. It made heat pool low in Dean’s stomach. He sat down across from her. “I’m Dean.”
The woman looked at him gravely. “Yes.”
Dean suppressed a smile. “You got a name?”
Her eyes widened a little. “My... my name? Oh. My name is... Thursday.”
Dean nodded appreciatively. “Well, Thursday, it is lovely to meet you.” He wasn’t an idiot, he knew a fake name when he heard one. Still, if Mystery Woman wanted to play sexy strangers, Dean was cool with that.
“I was starting to feel concerned that you wouldn’t approach me,” Thursday said. “I was waiting for some time.”
Dean was a little taken aback; girls weren’t usually so... blunt. And there was something about the way Thursday was staring up at him unblinkingly with those big blue eyes. It was... Dean shook his head.
“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked.
Thursday’s eyes flickered to his lips, and back up again. She nodded seriously. Dean held out a hand and Thursday got to her feet, but she wobbled so unsteadily on her high heels that Dean had to wrap an arm around her so she didn’t fall.
“These things are an abomination,” Thursday said darkly, glaring down at her shoes like she wanted to blast them out of existence. “They’re painful, and you can’t walk in them and... Dean, why on earth would you want women to wear these things?” She looked up at him appealingly, like he was personally responsible for the invention of high heels.
“Hey, you chose to wear them, lady!” Dean protested, helping her up onto a barstool.
Thursday sighed. “I suppose I did. You must forgive me, Dean; my usual attire is a little more, um, casual.”
Dean grinned. He liked this girl; there was just something about her. He liked her formal, stilted way of talking, and the way she puckered her brow slightly like she was having to concentrate on something really hard. He also kind of liked that she couldn’t walk in her fancy shoes. That meant she was probably a jeans and t-shirt kind of girl at heart, which suited him just fine. There was nothing worse than a woman who was high-maintenance. He ordered them both a scotch on the rocks, and grinned appreciatively when Thursday knocked hers back in one.
“Careful,” he told her. “That’s powerful stuff.”
She rolled her eyes. “I think I’m more than capable of handling my alcohol intake, Dean.”
He loved the way she said his name, like she enjoyed the feel of it in his mouth.
Dean ordered them more drinks, and turned around to find that Thursday was gazing intently at her own breasts. He looked away to hide a smile. He couldn’t blame her - she had an impressive rack and he’d be staring at them, too, if he thought he could get away with it.
“So, Thursday, what do you do?”
Thursday blinked and looked up at him. “Hm? Oh! What do I... do?” Um, well, for a while I was in the, um, army.”
“No shit!”
“And now, I... well, I do some research. And I travel. What do you do?”
“I’m a talent scout for a reality TV show,” Dean replied smoothly.
Thursday smiled. “And you... you find that women go for that story?”
Dean raised an eyebrow. So she was interesting and beautiful and smart. If Dean wasn’t careful, Thursday was going to turn into a bit more than a distraction.
“Okay,” he said. “Busted. Truth is, I don’t have anything in the way of steady employment. Me and my brother, we... well, I guess you could say we travel, too. Live by the skins of our teeth. We try to help people, you know?”
Thursday laid a hand over his; her skin was surprisingly warm. “Don’t underestimate yourself, Dean. I’m sure the work you do is very important.”
Dean blinked. “Uh, thanks.”
Thursday downed her second glass of scotch. God, what was it about this girl? There was something uncanny about her, something that made Dean feel unsettled and safe at the same time. He was starting to regret that the poltergeist case he and Sam had been working was wrapped up; he wondered whether his brother would mind staying in town for a few more days. Judging by the way Sam had been bitching about the poor Internet connection, he doubted it. Maybe Dean would be forced to play the big brother card.
“Do you wanna go somewhere?” he asked.
Thursday blinked at him. “You mean back to your motel room with you?”
“Well, we don’t have... Would you like to?” Dean was a little floored by Thursday’s directness.
She pressed her lips together. She lowered her eyes, then looked back up at him, almost nervously. “Dean, do you find me sexually attractive?”
Dean gave a short, nervous laugh. “I... hell, yeah.”
She gave a little perfunctory nod. “That’s good. I would like to go with you. Very much.”
Dean gave Thursday his arm, but she shook her head. She kicked off her shoes and left them under her barstool. “I refuse to wear these draconian torture devices any longer. My objective in wearing them has been achieved.”
She padded barefoot towards the exit, and Dean winced a little because the floor wasn’t exactly clean, and there could easily be broken glass. “Hey,” he called. “Are you just gonna leave them there?”
Thursday looked at him over her shoulder, and gave a little shrug. “I won’t be needing them now.”
Dean followed her out, wondering why it was that he had a thing for weird girls all of a sudden.
It was cold outside, and Thursday was barefoot and without a jacket. Dean tried to give her his, but she said that she never felt the cold. She slipped her hand into his, and she really did run a little on the hot side. It was nice. He wondered what it would feel like to have all that soft, warm skin pressed up against his. She smiled at him, like she knew exactly what he was thinking. She looked otherworldly in the flickering streetlights.
They reached the Impala, and Thursday ran one of her hands over the hood, like a caress.
“You like my car?” Dean asked, pleased.
“Of course I do. I like it very much.” She looked up at him, and she was so close that he should have been able to see her flaws, but there weren’t any. She was perfect, and being this close to her was making Dean dizzy. He couldn’t remember when he’d last felt like this about a girl. Her lips looked so soft...
“Dean,” she breathed. “I... I have to tell you-”
Dean silenced her with a kiss. He didn’t care what it was she had to tell him; everything else could wait. Thursday melted against him, all softness and eagerness, and her mouth was blissfully hot. She tasted of something sweet and golden, and the conviction darted through Dean, a confirmation of the thought that had been hovering in the back of his mind since he’d met Thursday that this girl isn’t human. It was okay, though. Dean knew it was crazy, that he was the last person who should be seduced into this kind of thing, and this was such a rookie mistake it was ridiculous, but there was something so familiar and safe and good about Thursday, and he was too far gone to care.
Thursday grabbed the lapels of his jacket and spun them both around so that she was pressing Dean up against the car, kissing him like it was the end of the world, and he didn’t think he could get away now even if he wanted to. Yeah, definitely not human. Dean ran his fingers through her hair, stooping a little to kiss her neck, and she smelled like o-zone and electricity, like the air just before a thunderstorm. It was a scent he recognized.
Realization shot through Dean so suddenly that it made his skin tingle. “Cas?”
Thursday stiffened in his arms, and then pulled back slowly. Her face looked like it had been frozen.
“Cas?” Dean said again, outrage and incredulity creeping into his voice.
“Dean.”
Dean scrambled to get away. “What the hell, dude? What the hell are you doing? Who is that, huh? What poor girl have you possessed? Who is she, huh?”
“Dean...”
“ And... and what the hell have you done with... with the Jimmy suit? Fuck, you haven’t just left it have you?”
“Dean!”
Dean had a sudden hysterical vision of Castiel having several bodies in a freezer somewhere, and going through them every morning to decide which one he wanted to wear that day. “You can’t just... what the hell were you trying to do to me?”
“Dean!” Castiel fixed him with a steely gaze, her mouth a hard line, practically crackling with angelic imperiousness, and seriously, how had Dean not realized earlier? “Dean, please let me explain.”
“Fine,” Dean barked. He folded his arms across his chest. “Go right ahead and explain why you’ve taken over some poor girl in order to... to trick me into... into asking you home with me.”
For the first time, Castiel had the decency to look a little abashed. “I was going to explain,” she said quietly. “I was about to tell, you, but then you... distracted me.”
“I distracted you?”
“With your mouth. You have a distracting mouth. I’ve often thought so, but I’ve never had the chance to put it to the test before.”
Dean took a minute to process what he was hearing. Castiel had thought about his mouth before tonight. Castiel had thought about it enough to want to put him to the test. Holy shit. “Is... is that what this is about?” Dean rasped. “You wanted to... with me?”
“Yes,” Castiel admitted candidly.
“And what about her?” Dean demanded, righteous indignation a convenient cover for how floored he was. “Did she know what she was signing up for when you possessed her, huh?”
“There is no her,” Castiel said calmly. “Only me.”
“What?”
Castiel sighed, like Dean was being very tiresome, and he really should understand, he just wasn’t trying hard enough. Dean hated when Cas did that. “Do you remember what happened to me at Chuck’s house when Lucifer was raised? Well, Jimmy Novak’s soul passed on that night. When I was able to return, the body I inhabited was no longer a vessel: it was mine alone. And you saw for yourself how the humanity of it inhibited me, how it ate away at my grace. That body was destroyed at Stull Cemetery.”
“But-”
Castiel held up a hand to silence him. It was a graceful, feminine motion, but so undeniably Castiel.
“I returned to you in the form you were familiar with. It was a form I had grown to... be comfortable in. But my... I suppose you would call it a promotion, it allowed me to take any corporeal form I desired. I did not have to reassume the likeness of Jimmy Novak, but I did so for convenience’s sake.”
“Like Gabriel!” Dean said. “Like how he could shift into any form he wanted to.”
“Exactly.”
“So you just decided to...” Dean took a step towards Castiel, feeling a little bit shaky. “Cas, what the hell?”
Castiel looked away, wrapping her arms around herself in a gesture that was strangely vulnerable.
“Cas...” Dean reached out and gently cupped the side of her face, turning her back towards him. Castiel didn’t resist, and she really could have been a human girl in that moment. “Cas, why did you do it?”
Castiel smiled at him sadly. “If my reasons aren’t directly obvious, perhaps we should return to the motel. You’re getting cold. I’ll explain everything then, I promise, and then you can... come to a decision.”
Dean thought it all sounded rather ominous, but he saw no reason to disagree. He instinctively went to open the passenger door for her, before remembering that this was still Castiel, an angel who had been a soldier of Heaven for aeons, and who would probably think it was very strange if Dean started being all chivalrous.
They drove in silence. Dean kept covertly glancing over at Castiel, who was gazing impassively out of the window, like the sudden transition from trenchcoat-wearing tax accountant to Victoria’s Secret model was no big deal at all. Well, there had better be a damn good explanation, because Dean sure as hell couldn’t figure it out.
He tried to focus on the road, but then he noticed that Cas was poking experimentally at her cleavage, a look of amazement on her face.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“These really are quite fascinating.”
Dean rolled his eyes. “Congratulations, you’ve finally discovered breasts. It’s a little weird that they’re your own, but...”
Castiel gave him an appraising look. “I expect I’d find them interesting if you had them.”
Dean nearly crashed the car. “What the hell, dude? Okay, we are putting a stop to this weird ass conversation right the hell now.”
Castiel sighed, and resumed staring out of the window. A couple of minutes later, she cupped both breasts in her hands and jiggled them, laughing softly.
Dean reached over and pulled her hands away. “Would you cut it out? You can play with your new lady parts when we get back, but not while I’m trying to drive. It’s... distracting.”
Dean couldn’t be sure, but he thought Castiel was sulking.
Their motel room was dark when they got back; Sam had gone out to see some play that sounded downright awful, and Dean doubted he’d be back for a while.
“Okay,” he said, closing the door behind them. “Explain.”
Castiel’s eyes looks surreally blue in the dim light. Dean wished he could purge himself of the ghost of desire he felt for her still, even though he knew it was Cas, even though he knew he’d been tricked. That was something he couldn’t allow, something he’d never allowed himself. He wasn’t about to start now.
“You really don’t know,” Castiel breathed. “Dean, I did it for you.”
“For... me?”
“We don’t talk about it. I wasn’t sure how to talk about it. But I... I’ve become aware that what we feel for one another isn’t... usual. I mean that people who are friends, or even people in the same family, they don’t have the same feelings that you and I share for one another. I know that you feel it as well, but we don’t... we don’t talk about it. You want me for yourself, and you want to be sure of me, and you want us to be... for each other only. Like lovers are.”
Dean’s mouth had gone very dry.
“It took me some time to realize,” Castiel continued. “I’m not... versed in understanding human emotions and desires. But I want you to be mine alone, as well, and when you’re with other women... I don’t like it.”
“It never means anything,” Dean whispered.
“Exactly. You should be with someone who knows you and loves you, and wants to make you happy. Dean, I want to be with you in that capacity. I don’t want you to throw yourself away anymore. I want to be the one giving you pleasure, and I know you’ve thought about it, too. You’ve thought about me, and what it would be like with me, and how you want-”
“Stay the hell out of my head!”
“This has nothing to do with mind reading,” Castiel protested. Your soul has made an irreversible imprint on me, and if you feel something for me I can’t help... I just know. You are mine.”
Dean was caught between wanting to run away and wanting... wanting to just give in and blurt out everything he’d been thinking and wanting and needing, and forget all the reasons why it was impossible, because here was Cas standing in front of him saying that he - she - wanted it too.
“But you like women,” Cas said. “And I didn’t exactly fit the criteria. I realized that this had been holding you back from pursuing a more physical relationship with me, so I sought to rectify the situation. I modelled myself into someone you would desire, as well as someone you loved.”
Dean laughed, a little hysterically. Because really, Castiel was insane. An insane, completely clueless angel, who had absolutely no fucking idea. As if that was the reason Dean had been holding back.
“You do want me now, don’t you?” Cas took a step towards him, and Dean could feel the heat radiating off her now. Had the other Cas, his Cas, been this warm? Dean had never let himself get close enough to find out. And then, Castiel had worn a lot of layers back then. Dean... missed the trenchcoat.
“I know you felt desire for me in the bar. You wanted me.”
“You... you did all this so I’d... because you thought... you thought I wouldn’t... Because you want us to be together.”
“Yes,” Cas replied, matter-of-fact, like Dean was being a bit of an idiot for not getting it already.
“Cas, you shouldn’t change for people. Especially not your gender. I mean, that’s not how it works.”
Castiel laughed a little. “But it doesn’t matter to me. Dean, I’m an angel: I have no gender. Neither of the forms you’ve seen me in are me. I am not concerned about my own physicality. But I do care about you, and I want you, and I want to experience this with you. So if this body is more acceptable to you, I am content with that.”
Something painful was happening in Dean’s chest. The main thing he was conscious of was that he didn’t deserve it. He knew that Castiel wasn’t innocent or untainted, he knew Cas had faults, but it was still... undeserved. Castiel was an angel. An angel who had saved Dean, given him back his life, helped to heal him, stuck by him through everything. Dean was so small and weak and human, and it was all too much that Cas would do all this for him.
“I would do anything for you,” Castiel said softly. “I thought that would have been obvious.”
“What did I say about staying out of my mind?” Dean rasped.
“I apologize,” Castiel breathed, ghosting kisses over Dean’s jaw line. She was so close now, and Dean could feel his restraint slipping. He brushed his fingers down her bare arms, and Cas took that as in invitation to move closer, pressing up against him, kissing him so that Dean could taste the otherworldly sweetness of it again, and he thought that if kissing felt this good, he wasn’t sure how he’d be able to cope with anything more.
Castiel walked him backwards until his legs hit the edge of the bed, and he went down, Cas on top of him. Her hair brushed against his face, and she was soft and pliable in his arms.
“Don’t fight it anymore,” she said, her voice catching slightly. “Please don’t keep pushing me away, Dean. I want you to show me everything.”
Dean pulled her down again, his hands running over her throat, her back, her breasts, and Cas was making soft little noises of repletion as she kissed him. She was gorgeous. She was everything he’d ever wanted in a woman, everything he’d dreamed of, and it was all so fucking wrong.
“I can’t,” he gasped, in spite of his body telling him very clearly that he definitely could. He scrambled to get out from underneath the angel. “I’m sorry, Cas, I... this is wrong. I can’t do it.”
She looked so confused, and Dean’s heart clenched a little. “But... but this is... is there something wrong with this body? I thought you liked it.”
Dean shook his head. “It’s not that - the body is gorgeous, you’ve... done a great job. I congratulate you on your craftsmanship. It’s not the body, it’s... it’s you.”
Castiel’s beautiful face crumpled in disappointment. “I... I see. Please forgive me, Dean, I thought that... I must have made a mistake when evaluating your feelings for me. I won’t... it won’t happen again.”
She tried to get up, but Dean held her back. It was like grabbing hold of a statue; all of Castiel’s former malleability was gone, and she was the rigid, all-powerful angel once more.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” Dean said, feeling slightly desperate with the knowledge that if Cas wanted to leave and never come back, there wasn’t a damn thing he could do to stop it. She wouldn’t look at him. “I didn’t mean it like that. Just... let me try and explain, okay?”
Castiel blinked and turned her head away, and it was a gesture that was so undeniably Cas that Dean couldn’t help pressing a kiss to the back of her hand.
“You’re being very contradictory,” Castiel told him. “I don’t understand.”
“Just... just listen, okay?”
“Dean, I-”
Dean grabbed her around the waist and tugged her back onto the bed, climbing on top of her to hold her in place. An instinctual part of him was telling him that he shouldn’t be throwing a girl around like that, and he had to remind himself again that this was Cas, who could probably kick his ass into the middle of next week in any form.
“Listen,” he said again. “I mean that... that everything you said before was true. About, you know, how I feel. About you. But you were dead wrong about why I didn’t do anything about it. You really think it’d bother me that much that you were a dude? I’m not exactly unversed in that department, you know. It’s because you’re... you’re special. And I can’t lose you. Cas, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I ruin everything I touch. I try my best, and I give my all, and it still falls to pieces. It’s never enough, you know? And I do something stupid, or I say the wrong thing, and I screw it up. I always screw it up. And they always leave in the end. So if you’re... it’s kinda hard to understand, but sometimes sex is just sex, and it’s fun, and it doesn’t mean anything, and that’s okay. But when you mix it with... with really caring about the other person, it’s... it makes things change. The combination can be dangerous, especially when I’m involved, and I... I don’t want that to happen with you, because I need you. Cas, I need you, and I can’t help it, and I can’t be without you, but I’m so scared I’m gonna screw this up like everything else, and you’ll leave me. I can’t risk that.”
Castiel’s expression softened. “You underestimate me, Dean. I have towers of strength that you cannot possibly comprehend. I can carry any burden you have, and I won’t be deterred. Hasn’t everything we have been through together taught you that I am with you, and that I would never forsake you? You are my charge. I held your soul in my hands, and I breathed life back into you, and I loved you. I cannot guarantee that I will be good at this. I will probably make mistakes, and you will probably be frustrated with me, but I am willing to learn. I want to share your life with you. I didn’t leave when you insulted me and pushed me away and rejected everything I offered to you - why would I walk away now?”
Dean’s voice had stopped working. “Can I really do this?” he whispered.
“I wish you would.”
“Cas... would you change back?”
She frowned. “But... I don’t understand.”
Dean gave a shaky smile and climbed off of her. “Look, I know it’s crazy. I mean, I know neither of these bodies is you, you’re some... heavenly laser beam of death, or whatever, and I’ll probably never see what you actually look like, but...” He sighed. “The thing is that right now, you’re perfect. Seriously. You’re the woman of my dreams. But you’re... you’re not the man I fell in love with.”
Castiel quirked an eyebrow in surprise. “You would... prefer the tax accountant?”
Dean laughed. “God help me, but yes. I want the tax accountant. I miss him.” He shook his head and rubbed a hand over his eyes. His life was insane.
When he looked back again, Castiel was sat there looking like Jimmy Novak: dark suit, rumpled hair, and the stupid, battered, wonderful trenchcoat. He smiled at Dean. “Better?”
He didn’t get to say anything more, because Dean was kissing him, and pushing him back down onto the bed, and fulfilling Castiel’s request of showing him everything.
It was definitely better.
...
Sam kind of hated himself.
He was so happy that Dean and Castiel had finally figured each other out - his life would be drastically improved by a decrease in angsty man pain. They deserved it. After everything that had happened, they deserved to be loved, and to be at peace. Sam was really, really happy for them.
It was just - and here Sam was really starting to feel like a whiney bitch - it was just that he was starting to feel like a third wheel. Was this how it was going to be from now on? Dean Winchester and his epic (albeit slightly blasphemous, but who was in a position to judge them?) love story with the angel Castiel, and Dean’s little brother who tags along and who no one really cares about?
Because it sucked. And it wasn’t like Sam didn’t get why. He’d pretty much been screwed from the start. No matter what he did, there was something dangerous about him, something broken, and no one in their right mind would want to get involved with him, once they knew who he really was. Only evil things ever wanted Sam, and even then he’d just been a means to an end. It was never about him. Jessica had loved him, once upon a time, but there had been so much about him she’d never been told. She wouldn’t have given him the time of day, he thought miserably, if she’d known.
Sam was being a self-pitying jerk, and he needed to just come to terms with the fact that he was a pariah and no one would ever love him, and get over it. He hated himself for being jealous of Dean and Cas.
They’d been really good about it. They’d never done anything couple-y that would make him feel uncomfortable, they always tried to make him feel included... in fact, the only thing that had changed was that Dean got a separate room when Cas was around. And that wasn’t exactly a bad thing - Sam got to watch what he wanted on TV for a change, and he didn’t have to put up with Dean’s dirty laundry being left everywhere. But in a way, their efforts to put him at ease made it worse. It meant that they were aware that he’d be left out if they didn’t make an effort. Like they felt sorry for him.
Sam had taken to making excuses to go out by himself, trips to the library or the hardware supply store, just so that he didn’t have to be there with Dean and Castiel, watching them make an effort, knowing that he was left out, feeling in the way.
He really kind of hated himself right now.
He’d gone out to get more beer this time. They were investigating a possible haunting in Ohio, and at least they’d ended up in a town with a cinema this time. Sam figured he might go see a movie before heading back. There was sure to be something on that he could watch; Sam’s standards were not as high as they used to be. He’d welcome any distraction from the hollow feeling in his chest right now.
“Sam? Oh my god, Sam!”
Sam turned around. Then he looked down. “Becky?”
Becky Rosen made a little squeaking noise. “Sam! Oh my god, it’s so good to see you! What are you doing here?”
Sam blinked at her, completely taken aback. He honestly hadn’t thought he’d ever see Becky again, and she was exactly how he remembered her: a bright, excitable blonde in a plaid shirt. He was quite surprised she hadn’t tried to grope him yet, because she kind of looked like she wanted to.
“There’s this old house on the edge of town, a couple of people have gone missing; we thought we should check it out.”
“The Ouerbacker place, of course!” Becky exclaimed. “That’s why I’m here, too!”
Sam frowned in confusion. “Huh?”
She smiled at him shyly. “Well... I’ve kind of been doing this for the past few months. I mean, since Chuck ended things.”
“You... you mean you’re a hunter?” Sam lowered his voice in case they were overheard. It wasn’t a busy town, but you never knew.
Becky shrugged. “Kinda. To be honest, I don’t do a whole lot of field work. But you know... after everything that happened, after I knew the truth... I couldn’t just leave it, you know?”
Sam felt his heart sink a little. “Oh, Becky, I’m so sorry.”
She giggled. “What do you mean, you’re sorry? Sam, this is the best decision I ever made! I mean, do you have any idea how dull my life was before? I was a receptionist in a call center. The highlight of my life was this online community I was part of revolving around these amazing books about two brothers who saved the world. And that was it. I mean, I didn’t do anything special, I wasn’t making a difference... I was so bored. And now I know it’s real. It’s real, and I could be part of it, and I could help people. And now I am. I’m making a difference, and yeah, it’s scary and dangerous, but it’s... I’m making a difference, you know? I’m doing something really, really important, and that’s... it’s worth it. I love it.”
Sam was surprised by how touched he was, and by the sudden surge of protectiveness he felt towards Becky. He didn’t want her to go through what he and Dean had been through. He didn’t want to see her broken.
Becky reached over and gave his arm a little squeeze. “Sam, I’m okay. This is what I want, and I’m happy. I do know what I’m doing, you know. Besides, it’s not like I do a whole lot of field work. I mean, I’ve met a few hunters who have been teaching me about weaponry and stuff, but I mostly do research. You know, I picked up a lot from the books; I’m pretty good at spotting things. And I’ve set up the forum, too.”
“The forum?”
“Yeah, Huntersunited.com! It’s mostly a messaging board for hunters to pass on tips and advice, and share information. It’s all anonymous, of course, but it’s actually really popular! I knew that spending so much time on the Internet would prove useful one day. You guys should check it out!”
“So you’re really okay?”
Becky laughed. “Of course I am! How about you? What have you guys been up to?”
Sam shrugged. “Oh, you know... the usual. Haven’t started any apocalypses lately, so can’t complain. And... and Dean and Cas have finally gotten over themselves and admitted they’re into each other, so at least I get to have my own room now.”
Becky’s face crumpled in sympathy. “Oh, Sam, I’m so sorry.”
Sam grinned. “Becky, I’m not in love with Dean.”
“I know you’re not. I mean, obviously I think it’s a tragic shame.” She grinned up at him cheekily. “But, you know, once I actually met you guys, I knew. In my defence, Chuck’s books were very homoerotic.”
Sam laughed. “I’ll take your word for it. So... why are you sorry?”
“Because I... I know how it feels. I mean, when I was at school, my best friend was a girl called Laura, and we did absolutely everything together. But then in Sophomore year she got a boyfriend, and it wasn’t like she dumped me or anything, and we still hung out all the time, but it was... awkward sometimes. And I had braces and glasses, and no boys ever asked me out, and I felt like no one was ever going to want me, and I was really happy for Laura, but I wanted someone, too. Someone who was mine. I mean, I know you’re not a sixteen-year-old girl, but...” She shrugged, embarrassed.
Sam was embarrassed, too. He was totally a sixteen year old girl.
“Anyway,” Becky said, “I should probably get going. I mean, you probably have stuff to do, so... Oh, Sam, it was really good to see you. Stay in touch, okay? And let me know if there’s anything I can do to help you guys.”
Sam watched her walk away, a little surprised by how good it had been to see her again. It seemed like he was full of surprising feelings as far as Becky was concerned. Becky, who’d learned about Sam through a set of books she’d thought were fiction, and had idolised him. Becky, who knew everything he’d done, and still thought he was amazing. Crazy Becky, who’d set up an online forum for hunters, and who had chosen this life because somehow she’d found something to admire in what they did. Becky, who had supported him through everything.
Before he knew it, Sam was running to catch up with her.
“Hey, Becky, wait up!”
She turned around, surprised. “Sam?”
“Do you... do you maybe wanna go get a coffee with me?”
Her face lit up like Sam had just made her whole week, and he started to think that maybe he wasn’t so impossible to love, after all.
Rating: R
Length - 6,751 words
Warnings - sexual references, temporary girl!Cas
Summary - Written as a birthday present for thelemonmeringuelife. Castiel quizzes Sam on Dean's ideal woman. Shortly afterwards, Dean meets a beautiful and mysterious girl called Thursday in a bar. Are the two events related? What do you think?
Disclaimer - Not my sandbox, I just play here.
“Sam, I need to ask you something.”
Sam glanced up, letting his book fall closed when he saw the grave expression on Castiel’s face. “Sure, Cas. What’s up?”
Castiel sat down on the bed opposite him, his elbows on his knees, his fingers steepled under his chin. He was silent for so long that Sam started to think he’d forgotten. “Cas?”
The angel blinked and looked up at him. “Dean likes women, doesn’t he?”
Sam’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Well...”
“I mean, he’s sexually attracted to women.”
Sam thought for a minute. “Yeah. I think he may have, you know, experimented a couple of times, but... he does tend towards...”
Castiel nodded, his eyes downcast.
Sam was starting to feel distinctly awkward; it wasn’t like he was oblivious to the subtext of this conversation. Castiel was in love with his idiot of a brother. It had been strange and heartbreaking to watch. This... being, this creature older than the world itself, powerful and mysterious and strange, letting himself fall, letting himself get hurt and muddied and lost, all because Dean had needed him. He let Dean drag him about and poke fun at him, watching the human with a child’s guileless curiosity, wanting to understand, wanting to help in any way Dean would let him. Never mind that he was a hardened warrior capable of bringing down the wrath of Heaven on anyone he wanted to.
The thing was that Dean loved Castiel, too, though Sam suspected that he was the only one who had figured that out. He didn’t know if Dean would ever get it. He was afraid that his brother was just too damaged. Dean could love, but only in a way that put him in the role of protector, guardian, sacrificial lamb. Sam didn’t know if his brother was capable of being truly vulnerable, or of valuing himself enough to allow the kind of love Castiel wanted. Sam felt sad for both of them, performing their awkward dance of jealousy and longing and frustration, neither of them capable of expressing what they wanted, and maybe he’d been around Dean too long and had forgotten how to talk about feelings, but he just didn’t know what to do about it. He felt like maybe he should attempt to say something comforting or reassuring, but he wasn’t quite sure how the angel would take it, so he remained silent.
“Tell me about them,” Castiel said finally. “The women Dean likes. Tell me about them.”
“Uh... I...”
Castiel sighed, clearly impatient with Sam’s lack of comprehension. “I mean that I don’t always... there is much about humanity that eludes me. I ... don’t understand the import you place on physical forms. I see you all as souls; things like age and gender and the conventions of physical beauty do not concern me. I can’t... sometimes Dean expresses appreciation for something and I fail to understand what makes that thing more attractive than another. But it matters to him, doesn’t it? Dean values certain types of physical form in humans above others. Is that not the case?”
Sam nodded slowly. “I guess...”
“I wish to know. Tell me what draws Dean in. What is it that he finds sexually appealing in females?”
Well, this had to be the weirdest conversation Sam had had in a good long while. He started to object, but then he looked at the sad, appealing look on Castiel’s face, and his resolve crumbled. If the angel was determined to torture himself, who was Sam to stand in his way?
Sam sighed wearily. “Well, as a rule he likes them curvy...”
...
Dean had only been at the bar for about five minutes when he saw her. After that, it was pretty much impossible for him to see anything else. He’d only stopped by the place for a quick drink and, hopefully, a quick distraction. He’d never for the life of him thought he’d find a girl like that in Hicksville, Kentucky.
She was sat at a table by herself, endless curves poured into a slinky black dress, cut low enough to show off her perfect breasts, but not so low that she looked cheap. She had long, chestnut brown hair, and honeyed skin, and the kind of softly pouting lips that made Dean think all kinds of sinful things.
Dean assessed the situation. It was weird for a girl like that to be in a bar by herself; she could be there with someone. But then from the way her foot was tapping nervously beneath the table, he imagined not. Dean flattered himself that he was pretty good at evaluating women by now, and at a guess he’d say this one was newly single and had gotten dressed up tonight to get herself some rebound sex.
Enter, Dean Winchester.
He was just about to make his way over when he was beaten to it by another guy, all sleazy charm in his black leather jacket, leaning over the woman’s table to whisper something in her ear. Dean couldn’t hear what went down, but she angrily recoiled and spoke sharply to the guy, who scowled and stalked away. As he passed, Dean heard him mutter something about psycho prick teases. Dean’s confidence faltered a little; maybe this girl was waiting for her boyfriend after all. He looked at her through his eyelashes. Pity. She really was just about perfect.
She raised her pint glass to her lips and took a long swig of beer. It was... kind of inelegant to be honest, but it just made Dean find her all the more appealing. She banged the glass back down on the table and looked up, directly at Dean, fixing him with big blue eyes. Dean’s stomach dropped a couple of notches. Damn. The woman dropped her gaze briefly, like she was shy, but then she looked up at Dean again, stared at him, her eyes boring into him like she was trying to...
Dean’s mouth was suddenly dry. Still, if that wasn’t a come-on, he didn’t know what was. He knocked back the rest of his scotch and pushed away from the bar.
“Mind if I join you?” Dean asked in what he hoped was his seductive voice. He was uncustomarily nervous.
The corner of the woman’s mouth twitched a little. “I was hoping you might.”
Her voice was soft and just a little husky. It made heat pool low in Dean’s stomach. He sat down across from her. “I’m Dean.”
The woman looked at him gravely. “Yes.”
Dean suppressed a smile. “You got a name?”
Her eyes widened a little. “My... my name? Oh. My name is... Thursday.”
Dean nodded appreciatively. “Well, Thursday, it is lovely to meet you.” He wasn’t an idiot, he knew a fake name when he heard one. Still, if Mystery Woman wanted to play sexy strangers, Dean was cool with that.
“I was starting to feel concerned that you wouldn’t approach me,” Thursday said. “I was waiting for some time.”
Dean was a little taken aback; girls weren’t usually so... blunt. And there was something about the way Thursday was staring up at him unblinkingly with those big blue eyes. It was... Dean shook his head.
“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked.
Thursday’s eyes flickered to his lips, and back up again. She nodded seriously. Dean held out a hand and Thursday got to her feet, but she wobbled so unsteadily on her high heels that Dean had to wrap an arm around her so she didn’t fall.
“These things are an abomination,” Thursday said darkly, glaring down at her shoes like she wanted to blast them out of existence. “They’re painful, and you can’t walk in them and... Dean, why on earth would you want women to wear these things?” She looked up at him appealingly, like he was personally responsible for the invention of high heels.
“Hey, you chose to wear them, lady!” Dean protested, helping her up onto a barstool.
Thursday sighed. “I suppose I did. You must forgive me, Dean; my usual attire is a little more, um, casual.”
Dean grinned. He liked this girl; there was just something about her. He liked her formal, stilted way of talking, and the way she puckered her brow slightly like she was having to concentrate on something really hard. He also kind of liked that she couldn’t walk in her fancy shoes. That meant she was probably a jeans and t-shirt kind of girl at heart, which suited him just fine. There was nothing worse than a woman who was high-maintenance. He ordered them both a scotch on the rocks, and grinned appreciatively when Thursday knocked hers back in one.
“Careful,” he told her. “That’s powerful stuff.”
She rolled her eyes. “I think I’m more than capable of handling my alcohol intake, Dean.”
He loved the way she said his name, like she enjoyed the feel of it in his mouth.
Dean ordered them more drinks, and turned around to find that Thursday was gazing intently at her own breasts. He looked away to hide a smile. He couldn’t blame her - she had an impressive rack and he’d be staring at them, too, if he thought he could get away with it.
“So, Thursday, what do you do?”
Thursday blinked and looked up at him. “Hm? Oh! What do I... do?” Um, well, for a while I was in the, um, army.”
“No shit!”
“And now, I... well, I do some research. And I travel. What do you do?”
“I’m a talent scout for a reality TV show,” Dean replied smoothly.
Thursday smiled. “And you... you find that women go for that story?”
Dean raised an eyebrow. So she was interesting and beautiful and smart. If Dean wasn’t careful, Thursday was going to turn into a bit more than a distraction.
“Okay,” he said. “Busted. Truth is, I don’t have anything in the way of steady employment. Me and my brother, we... well, I guess you could say we travel, too. Live by the skins of our teeth. We try to help people, you know?”
Thursday laid a hand over his; her skin was surprisingly warm. “Don’t underestimate yourself, Dean. I’m sure the work you do is very important.”
Dean blinked. “Uh, thanks.”
Thursday downed her second glass of scotch. God, what was it about this girl? There was something uncanny about her, something that made Dean feel unsettled and safe at the same time. He was starting to regret that the poltergeist case he and Sam had been working was wrapped up; he wondered whether his brother would mind staying in town for a few more days. Judging by the way Sam had been bitching about the poor Internet connection, he doubted it. Maybe Dean would be forced to play the big brother card.
“Do you wanna go somewhere?” he asked.
Thursday blinked at him. “You mean back to your motel room with you?”
“Well, we don’t have... Would you like to?” Dean was a little floored by Thursday’s directness.
She pressed her lips together. She lowered her eyes, then looked back up at him, almost nervously. “Dean, do you find me sexually attractive?”
Dean gave a short, nervous laugh. “I... hell, yeah.”
She gave a little perfunctory nod. “That’s good. I would like to go with you. Very much.”
Dean gave Thursday his arm, but she shook her head. She kicked off her shoes and left them under her barstool. “I refuse to wear these draconian torture devices any longer. My objective in wearing them has been achieved.”
She padded barefoot towards the exit, and Dean winced a little because the floor wasn’t exactly clean, and there could easily be broken glass. “Hey,” he called. “Are you just gonna leave them there?”
Thursday looked at him over her shoulder, and gave a little shrug. “I won’t be needing them now.”
Dean followed her out, wondering why it was that he had a thing for weird girls all of a sudden.
It was cold outside, and Thursday was barefoot and without a jacket. Dean tried to give her his, but she said that she never felt the cold. She slipped her hand into his, and she really did run a little on the hot side. It was nice. He wondered what it would feel like to have all that soft, warm skin pressed up against his. She smiled at him, like she knew exactly what he was thinking. She looked otherworldly in the flickering streetlights.
They reached the Impala, and Thursday ran one of her hands over the hood, like a caress.
“You like my car?” Dean asked, pleased.
“Of course I do. I like it very much.” She looked up at him, and she was so close that he should have been able to see her flaws, but there weren’t any. She was perfect, and being this close to her was making Dean dizzy. He couldn’t remember when he’d last felt like this about a girl. Her lips looked so soft...
“Dean,” she breathed. “I... I have to tell you-”
Dean silenced her with a kiss. He didn’t care what it was she had to tell him; everything else could wait. Thursday melted against him, all softness and eagerness, and her mouth was blissfully hot. She tasted of something sweet and golden, and the conviction darted through Dean, a confirmation of the thought that had been hovering in the back of his mind since he’d met Thursday that this girl isn’t human. It was okay, though. Dean knew it was crazy, that he was the last person who should be seduced into this kind of thing, and this was such a rookie mistake it was ridiculous, but there was something so familiar and safe and good about Thursday, and he was too far gone to care.
Thursday grabbed the lapels of his jacket and spun them both around so that she was pressing Dean up against the car, kissing him like it was the end of the world, and he didn’t think he could get away now even if he wanted to. Yeah, definitely not human. Dean ran his fingers through her hair, stooping a little to kiss her neck, and she smelled like o-zone and electricity, like the air just before a thunderstorm. It was a scent he recognized.
Realization shot through Dean so suddenly that it made his skin tingle. “Cas?”
Thursday stiffened in his arms, and then pulled back slowly. Her face looked like it had been frozen.
“Cas?” Dean said again, outrage and incredulity creeping into his voice.
“Dean.”
Dean scrambled to get away. “What the hell, dude? What the hell are you doing? Who is that, huh? What poor girl have you possessed? Who is she, huh?”
“Dean...”
“ And... and what the hell have you done with... with the Jimmy suit? Fuck, you haven’t just left it have you?”
“Dean!”
Dean had a sudden hysterical vision of Castiel having several bodies in a freezer somewhere, and going through them every morning to decide which one he wanted to wear that day. “You can’t just... what the hell were you trying to do to me?”
“Dean!” Castiel fixed him with a steely gaze, her mouth a hard line, practically crackling with angelic imperiousness, and seriously, how had Dean not realized earlier? “Dean, please let me explain.”
“Fine,” Dean barked. He folded his arms across his chest. “Go right ahead and explain why you’ve taken over some poor girl in order to... to trick me into... into asking you home with me.”
For the first time, Castiel had the decency to look a little abashed. “I was going to explain,” she said quietly. “I was about to tell, you, but then you... distracted me.”
“I distracted you?”
“With your mouth. You have a distracting mouth. I’ve often thought so, but I’ve never had the chance to put it to the test before.”
Dean took a minute to process what he was hearing. Castiel had thought about his mouth before tonight. Castiel had thought about it enough to want to put him to the test. Holy shit. “Is... is that what this is about?” Dean rasped. “You wanted to... with me?”
“Yes,” Castiel admitted candidly.
“And what about her?” Dean demanded, righteous indignation a convenient cover for how floored he was. “Did she know what she was signing up for when you possessed her, huh?”
“There is no her,” Castiel said calmly. “Only me.”
“What?”
Castiel sighed, like Dean was being very tiresome, and he really should understand, he just wasn’t trying hard enough. Dean hated when Cas did that. “Do you remember what happened to me at Chuck’s house when Lucifer was raised? Well, Jimmy Novak’s soul passed on that night. When I was able to return, the body I inhabited was no longer a vessel: it was mine alone. And you saw for yourself how the humanity of it inhibited me, how it ate away at my grace. That body was destroyed at Stull Cemetery.”
“But-”
Castiel held up a hand to silence him. It was a graceful, feminine motion, but so undeniably Castiel.
“I returned to you in the form you were familiar with. It was a form I had grown to... be comfortable in. But my... I suppose you would call it a promotion, it allowed me to take any corporeal form I desired. I did not have to reassume the likeness of Jimmy Novak, but I did so for convenience’s sake.”
“Like Gabriel!” Dean said. “Like how he could shift into any form he wanted to.”
“Exactly.”
“So you just decided to...” Dean took a step towards Castiel, feeling a little bit shaky. “Cas, what the hell?”
Castiel looked away, wrapping her arms around herself in a gesture that was strangely vulnerable.
“Cas...” Dean reached out and gently cupped the side of her face, turning her back towards him. Castiel didn’t resist, and she really could have been a human girl in that moment. “Cas, why did you do it?”
Castiel smiled at him sadly. “If my reasons aren’t directly obvious, perhaps we should return to the motel. You’re getting cold. I’ll explain everything then, I promise, and then you can... come to a decision.”
Dean thought it all sounded rather ominous, but he saw no reason to disagree. He instinctively went to open the passenger door for her, before remembering that this was still Castiel, an angel who had been a soldier of Heaven for aeons, and who would probably think it was very strange if Dean started being all chivalrous.
They drove in silence. Dean kept covertly glancing over at Castiel, who was gazing impassively out of the window, like the sudden transition from trenchcoat-wearing tax accountant to Victoria’s Secret model was no big deal at all. Well, there had better be a damn good explanation, because Dean sure as hell couldn’t figure it out.
He tried to focus on the road, but then he noticed that Cas was poking experimentally at her cleavage, a look of amazement on her face.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“These really are quite fascinating.”
Dean rolled his eyes. “Congratulations, you’ve finally discovered breasts. It’s a little weird that they’re your own, but...”
Castiel gave him an appraising look. “I expect I’d find them interesting if you had them.”
Dean nearly crashed the car. “What the hell, dude? Okay, we are putting a stop to this weird ass conversation right the hell now.”
Castiel sighed, and resumed staring out of the window. A couple of minutes later, she cupped both breasts in her hands and jiggled them, laughing softly.
Dean reached over and pulled her hands away. “Would you cut it out? You can play with your new lady parts when we get back, but not while I’m trying to drive. It’s... distracting.”
Dean couldn’t be sure, but he thought Castiel was sulking.
Their motel room was dark when they got back; Sam had gone out to see some play that sounded downright awful, and Dean doubted he’d be back for a while.
“Okay,” he said, closing the door behind them. “Explain.”
Castiel’s eyes looks surreally blue in the dim light. Dean wished he could purge himself of the ghost of desire he felt for her still, even though he knew it was Cas, even though he knew he’d been tricked. That was something he couldn’t allow, something he’d never allowed himself. He wasn’t about to start now.
“You really don’t know,” Castiel breathed. “Dean, I did it for you.”
“For... me?”
“We don’t talk about it. I wasn’t sure how to talk about it. But I... I’ve become aware that what we feel for one another isn’t... usual. I mean that people who are friends, or even people in the same family, they don’t have the same feelings that you and I share for one another. I know that you feel it as well, but we don’t... we don’t talk about it. You want me for yourself, and you want to be sure of me, and you want us to be... for each other only. Like lovers are.”
Dean’s mouth had gone very dry.
“It took me some time to realize,” Castiel continued. “I’m not... versed in understanding human emotions and desires. But I want you to be mine alone, as well, and when you’re with other women... I don’t like it.”
“It never means anything,” Dean whispered.
“Exactly. You should be with someone who knows you and loves you, and wants to make you happy. Dean, I want to be with you in that capacity. I don’t want you to throw yourself away anymore. I want to be the one giving you pleasure, and I know you’ve thought about it, too. You’ve thought about me, and what it would be like with me, and how you want-”
“Stay the hell out of my head!”
“This has nothing to do with mind reading,” Castiel protested. Your soul has made an irreversible imprint on me, and if you feel something for me I can’t help... I just know. You are mine.”
Dean was caught between wanting to run away and wanting... wanting to just give in and blurt out everything he’d been thinking and wanting and needing, and forget all the reasons why it was impossible, because here was Cas standing in front of him saying that he - she - wanted it too.
“But you like women,” Cas said. “And I didn’t exactly fit the criteria. I realized that this had been holding you back from pursuing a more physical relationship with me, so I sought to rectify the situation. I modelled myself into someone you would desire, as well as someone you loved.”
Dean laughed, a little hysterically. Because really, Castiel was insane. An insane, completely clueless angel, who had absolutely no fucking idea. As if that was the reason Dean had been holding back.
“You do want me now, don’t you?” Cas took a step towards him, and Dean could feel the heat radiating off her now. Had the other Cas, his Cas, been this warm? Dean had never let himself get close enough to find out. And then, Castiel had worn a lot of layers back then. Dean... missed the trenchcoat.
“I know you felt desire for me in the bar. You wanted me.”
“You... you did all this so I’d... because you thought... you thought I wouldn’t... Because you want us to be together.”
“Yes,” Cas replied, matter-of-fact, like Dean was being a bit of an idiot for not getting it already.
“Cas, you shouldn’t change for people. Especially not your gender. I mean, that’s not how it works.”
Castiel laughed a little. “But it doesn’t matter to me. Dean, I’m an angel: I have no gender. Neither of the forms you’ve seen me in are me. I am not concerned about my own physicality. But I do care about you, and I want you, and I want to experience this with you. So if this body is more acceptable to you, I am content with that.”
Something painful was happening in Dean’s chest. The main thing he was conscious of was that he didn’t deserve it. He knew that Castiel wasn’t innocent or untainted, he knew Cas had faults, but it was still... undeserved. Castiel was an angel. An angel who had saved Dean, given him back his life, helped to heal him, stuck by him through everything. Dean was so small and weak and human, and it was all too much that Cas would do all this for him.
“I would do anything for you,” Castiel said softly. “I thought that would have been obvious.”
“What did I say about staying out of my mind?” Dean rasped.
“I apologize,” Castiel breathed, ghosting kisses over Dean’s jaw line. She was so close now, and Dean could feel his restraint slipping. He brushed his fingers down her bare arms, and Cas took that as in invitation to move closer, pressing up against him, kissing him so that Dean could taste the otherworldly sweetness of it again, and he thought that if kissing felt this good, he wasn’t sure how he’d be able to cope with anything more.
Castiel walked him backwards until his legs hit the edge of the bed, and he went down, Cas on top of him. Her hair brushed against his face, and she was soft and pliable in his arms.
“Don’t fight it anymore,” she said, her voice catching slightly. “Please don’t keep pushing me away, Dean. I want you to show me everything.”
Dean pulled her down again, his hands running over her throat, her back, her breasts, and Cas was making soft little noises of repletion as she kissed him. She was gorgeous. She was everything he’d ever wanted in a woman, everything he’d dreamed of, and it was all so fucking wrong.
“I can’t,” he gasped, in spite of his body telling him very clearly that he definitely could. He scrambled to get out from underneath the angel. “I’m sorry, Cas, I... this is wrong. I can’t do it.”
She looked so confused, and Dean’s heart clenched a little. “But... but this is... is there something wrong with this body? I thought you liked it.”
Dean shook his head. “It’s not that - the body is gorgeous, you’ve... done a great job. I congratulate you on your craftsmanship. It’s not the body, it’s... it’s you.”
Castiel’s beautiful face crumpled in disappointment. “I... I see. Please forgive me, Dean, I thought that... I must have made a mistake when evaluating your feelings for me. I won’t... it won’t happen again.”
She tried to get up, but Dean held her back. It was like grabbing hold of a statue; all of Castiel’s former malleability was gone, and she was the rigid, all-powerful angel once more.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” Dean said, feeling slightly desperate with the knowledge that if Cas wanted to leave and never come back, there wasn’t a damn thing he could do to stop it. She wouldn’t look at him. “I didn’t mean it like that. Just... let me try and explain, okay?”
Castiel blinked and turned her head away, and it was a gesture that was so undeniably Cas that Dean couldn’t help pressing a kiss to the back of her hand.
“You’re being very contradictory,” Castiel told him. “I don’t understand.”
“Just... just listen, okay?”
“Dean, I-”
Dean grabbed her around the waist and tugged her back onto the bed, climbing on top of her to hold her in place. An instinctual part of him was telling him that he shouldn’t be throwing a girl around like that, and he had to remind himself again that this was Cas, who could probably kick his ass into the middle of next week in any form.
“Listen,” he said again. “I mean that... that everything you said before was true. About, you know, how I feel. About you. But you were dead wrong about why I didn’t do anything about it. You really think it’d bother me that much that you were a dude? I’m not exactly unversed in that department, you know. It’s because you’re... you’re special. And I can’t lose you. Cas, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I ruin everything I touch. I try my best, and I give my all, and it still falls to pieces. It’s never enough, you know? And I do something stupid, or I say the wrong thing, and I screw it up. I always screw it up. And they always leave in the end. So if you’re... it’s kinda hard to understand, but sometimes sex is just sex, and it’s fun, and it doesn’t mean anything, and that’s okay. But when you mix it with... with really caring about the other person, it’s... it makes things change. The combination can be dangerous, especially when I’m involved, and I... I don’t want that to happen with you, because I need you. Cas, I need you, and I can’t help it, and I can’t be without you, but I’m so scared I’m gonna screw this up like everything else, and you’ll leave me. I can’t risk that.”
Castiel’s expression softened. “You underestimate me, Dean. I have towers of strength that you cannot possibly comprehend. I can carry any burden you have, and I won’t be deterred. Hasn’t everything we have been through together taught you that I am with you, and that I would never forsake you? You are my charge. I held your soul in my hands, and I breathed life back into you, and I loved you. I cannot guarantee that I will be good at this. I will probably make mistakes, and you will probably be frustrated with me, but I am willing to learn. I want to share your life with you. I didn’t leave when you insulted me and pushed me away and rejected everything I offered to you - why would I walk away now?”
Dean’s voice had stopped working. “Can I really do this?” he whispered.
“I wish you would.”
“Cas... would you change back?”
She frowned. “But... I don’t understand.”
Dean gave a shaky smile and climbed off of her. “Look, I know it’s crazy. I mean, I know neither of these bodies is you, you’re some... heavenly laser beam of death, or whatever, and I’ll probably never see what you actually look like, but...” He sighed. “The thing is that right now, you’re perfect. Seriously. You’re the woman of my dreams. But you’re... you’re not the man I fell in love with.”
Castiel quirked an eyebrow in surprise. “You would... prefer the tax accountant?”
Dean laughed. “God help me, but yes. I want the tax accountant. I miss him.” He shook his head and rubbed a hand over his eyes. His life was insane.
When he looked back again, Castiel was sat there looking like Jimmy Novak: dark suit, rumpled hair, and the stupid, battered, wonderful trenchcoat. He smiled at Dean. “Better?”
He didn’t get to say anything more, because Dean was kissing him, and pushing him back down onto the bed, and fulfilling Castiel’s request of showing him everything.
It was definitely better.
...
Sam kind of hated himself.
He was so happy that Dean and Castiel had finally figured each other out - his life would be drastically improved by a decrease in angsty man pain. They deserved it. After everything that had happened, they deserved to be loved, and to be at peace. Sam was really, really happy for them.
It was just - and here Sam was really starting to feel like a whiney bitch - it was just that he was starting to feel like a third wheel. Was this how it was going to be from now on? Dean Winchester and his epic (albeit slightly blasphemous, but who was in a position to judge them?) love story with the angel Castiel, and Dean’s little brother who tags along and who no one really cares about?
Because it sucked. And it wasn’t like Sam didn’t get why. He’d pretty much been screwed from the start. No matter what he did, there was something dangerous about him, something broken, and no one in their right mind would want to get involved with him, once they knew who he really was. Only evil things ever wanted Sam, and even then he’d just been a means to an end. It was never about him. Jessica had loved him, once upon a time, but there had been so much about him she’d never been told. She wouldn’t have given him the time of day, he thought miserably, if she’d known.
Sam was being a self-pitying jerk, and he needed to just come to terms with the fact that he was a pariah and no one would ever love him, and get over it. He hated himself for being jealous of Dean and Cas.
They’d been really good about it. They’d never done anything couple-y that would make him feel uncomfortable, they always tried to make him feel included... in fact, the only thing that had changed was that Dean got a separate room when Cas was around. And that wasn’t exactly a bad thing - Sam got to watch what he wanted on TV for a change, and he didn’t have to put up with Dean’s dirty laundry being left everywhere. But in a way, their efforts to put him at ease made it worse. It meant that they were aware that he’d be left out if they didn’t make an effort. Like they felt sorry for him.
Sam had taken to making excuses to go out by himself, trips to the library or the hardware supply store, just so that he didn’t have to be there with Dean and Castiel, watching them make an effort, knowing that he was left out, feeling in the way.
He really kind of hated himself right now.
He’d gone out to get more beer this time. They were investigating a possible haunting in Ohio, and at least they’d ended up in a town with a cinema this time. Sam figured he might go see a movie before heading back. There was sure to be something on that he could watch; Sam’s standards were not as high as they used to be. He’d welcome any distraction from the hollow feeling in his chest right now.
“Sam? Oh my god, Sam!”
Sam turned around. Then he looked down. “Becky?”
Becky Rosen made a little squeaking noise. “Sam! Oh my god, it’s so good to see you! What are you doing here?”
Sam blinked at her, completely taken aback. He honestly hadn’t thought he’d ever see Becky again, and she was exactly how he remembered her: a bright, excitable blonde in a plaid shirt. He was quite surprised she hadn’t tried to grope him yet, because she kind of looked like she wanted to.
“There’s this old house on the edge of town, a couple of people have gone missing; we thought we should check it out.”
“The Ouerbacker place, of course!” Becky exclaimed. “That’s why I’m here, too!”
Sam frowned in confusion. “Huh?”
She smiled at him shyly. “Well... I’ve kind of been doing this for the past few months. I mean, since Chuck ended things.”
“You... you mean you’re a hunter?” Sam lowered his voice in case they were overheard. It wasn’t a busy town, but you never knew.
Becky shrugged. “Kinda. To be honest, I don’t do a whole lot of field work. But you know... after everything that happened, after I knew the truth... I couldn’t just leave it, you know?”
Sam felt his heart sink a little. “Oh, Becky, I’m so sorry.”
She giggled. “What do you mean, you’re sorry? Sam, this is the best decision I ever made! I mean, do you have any idea how dull my life was before? I was a receptionist in a call center. The highlight of my life was this online community I was part of revolving around these amazing books about two brothers who saved the world. And that was it. I mean, I didn’t do anything special, I wasn’t making a difference... I was so bored. And now I know it’s real. It’s real, and I could be part of it, and I could help people. And now I am. I’m making a difference, and yeah, it’s scary and dangerous, but it’s... I’m making a difference, you know? I’m doing something really, really important, and that’s... it’s worth it. I love it.”
Sam was surprised by how touched he was, and by the sudden surge of protectiveness he felt towards Becky. He didn’t want her to go through what he and Dean had been through. He didn’t want to see her broken.
Becky reached over and gave his arm a little squeeze. “Sam, I’m okay. This is what I want, and I’m happy. I do know what I’m doing, you know. Besides, it’s not like I do a whole lot of field work. I mean, I’ve met a few hunters who have been teaching me about weaponry and stuff, but I mostly do research. You know, I picked up a lot from the books; I’m pretty good at spotting things. And I’ve set up the forum, too.”
“The forum?”
“Yeah, Huntersunited.com! It’s mostly a messaging board for hunters to pass on tips and advice, and share information. It’s all anonymous, of course, but it’s actually really popular! I knew that spending so much time on the Internet would prove useful one day. You guys should check it out!”
“So you’re really okay?”
Becky laughed. “Of course I am! How about you? What have you guys been up to?”
Sam shrugged. “Oh, you know... the usual. Haven’t started any apocalypses lately, so can’t complain. And... and Dean and Cas have finally gotten over themselves and admitted they’re into each other, so at least I get to have my own room now.”
Becky’s face crumpled in sympathy. “Oh, Sam, I’m so sorry.”
Sam grinned. “Becky, I’m not in love with Dean.”
“I know you’re not. I mean, obviously I think it’s a tragic shame.” She grinned up at him cheekily. “But, you know, once I actually met you guys, I knew. In my defence, Chuck’s books were very homoerotic.”
Sam laughed. “I’ll take your word for it. So... why are you sorry?”
“Because I... I know how it feels. I mean, when I was at school, my best friend was a girl called Laura, and we did absolutely everything together. But then in Sophomore year she got a boyfriend, and it wasn’t like she dumped me or anything, and we still hung out all the time, but it was... awkward sometimes. And I had braces and glasses, and no boys ever asked me out, and I felt like no one was ever going to want me, and I was really happy for Laura, but I wanted someone, too. Someone who was mine. I mean, I know you’re not a sixteen-year-old girl, but...” She shrugged, embarrassed.
Sam was embarrassed, too. He was totally a sixteen year old girl.
“Anyway,” Becky said, “I should probably get going. I mean, you probably have stuff to do, so... Oh, Sam, it was really good to see you. Stay in touch, okay? And let me know if there’s anything I can do to help you guys.”
Sam watched her walk away, a little surprised by how good it had been to see her again. It seemed like he was full of surprising feelings as far as Becky was concerned. Becky, who’d learned about Sam through a set of books she’d thought were fiction, and had idolised him. Becky, who knew everything he’d done, and still thought he was amazing. Crazy Becky, who’d set up an online forum for hunters, and who had chosen this life because somehow she’d found something to admire in what they did. Becky, who had supported him through everything.
Before he knew it, Sam was running to catch up with her.
“Hey, Becky, wait up!”
She turned around, surprised. “Sam?”
“Do you... do you maybe wanna go get a coffee with me?”
Her face lit up like Sam had just made her whole week, and he started to think that maybe he wasn’t so impossible to love, after all.