'Fic: On Wings Of Steel 4/5 (Supernatural; Dean/Castiel, Steampunk AU, Explicit)
Title: On Wings Of Steel ( Art Masterpost)
Author: misachan
Fandom: Supernatural; Streampunk AU
Pairing(s): Dean/Castiel
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 2536
Content Notes: Explicit sex, violence, minor character death
Summary: They may serve on the same airship but Dean knows regular crew and the elite who wear the Seraphim Star aren't supposed to have anything to do with each other.
It's a regulation Dean's more than willing to break.
*
The day crawled. Drop lengths were unpredictable; once they'd spent a full week hovering above cloud cover, almost running through the coal stores and sending two of the shovelers to the infirmary. Dean knew there was no reason to think this would be a short mission but his instincts nagged at him. Cas hadn't been carrying on like this had been routine and something in Dean shied away from imagining what might have been heavy enough to scare him into Dean's bed.
It took until the next night for those unformed fears to crystallize. Those years he'd been lost to the Fields Dean had spent a lot of nights staring up at the stars, knowing that somewhere in the world Sam might be staring up at the same ones. Stationed on this ship Dean had flown under a lot of sky and even before that their father had taught he and Sam how to navigate by them, a trick he'd picked up during his own time in the service. Looking up into the night from over the mouth of the Mississippi and again over the Rockies might show the same stars but they would be very different skies.
About once a week Dean had vivid nightmares about this particular sky. “Ellen,” he said, grabbing her by the wrist as she passed him to get to the barracks. “You know where we are right now?”
He didn't take his eyes from the stars but he felt her start, stopping mid-step. Instead of answering right away she squeezed his hand tight. “Think you know.”
He did. Only one good thing had ever happened to him under this sky. “The hell are we doing here?”
“Might not have noticed, but there's a war going on.” She tugged on his arm, forcing him to look at her. “They've dropped down there before, you know.”
Dean hoped he was only this transparent to Ellen. He didn't much care for the idea that everyone on this damned ship could see into his head right now. “Haven't noticed.” Which wasn't strictly true, but Yeah, and how many of them come back? were words he could barely think about, let alone say.
Ellen stepped in front of him. “Don't you dare do anything stupid. The last thing I need is your father haunting me for letting you throw your life away twice.”
That was almost enough to make Dean crack a smile. “Think we both know that's not his style. And the first time you couldn't have stopped me.”
“Only because you didn't give me the chance. Don't make me tie you to your bunk.”
“Lay off, Ellen, I'm fine.”
“Bullshit someone who doesn't know you. Now promise you're going to act like you have a brain in your head.”
Dean rolled his eyes but she wouldn't let him off the hook. “I'm not throwing my life away. Promise.”
She narrowed her eyes, then looked around as if searching for eavesdroppers. “Good,” she said, stepping close enough to whisper. “You need any help, you call me.”
Dean broke into a real smile that he immediately smothered, just in case anyone really was watching. “You got it. Thanks.”
She shrugged. “Hey. Got used to that bunch, I guess.” She cast one more cautious look over her shoulder. “The whole group didn't go, if you hadn't heard.”
That Dean hadn't heard at all; he hadn't seen any of the unit all day. “The hell?”
Ellen nodded. “Officers only.” She squeezed his hand again and disappeared down the ladder, leaving Dean alone with his thoughts on the deck.
Dean's thoughts had never made the best company. Officers only. That meant Cas, he was the captain, and Balthazar, he was the outflyer and the second. Two was the minimum number who could go on any drop, Dean knew that.
Dean remembered Cas' lips against his. He'd been wrecked by losing Rachel, it didn't take much imagination to picture him arguing for essential personnel only. Especially if he thought there was a good chance this would be a one way trip.
Dean forced himself to the edge of the deck and looked into the swirling clouds past the edge until his stomach clenched up. The cloud cover below was too thick for anyone on the ground to spot them. Dean knew he couldn't have a hope to see Cas this high up but it somehow made things worse that Castiel couldn't look up and see the stars.
Dean backed up and curled up behind one of the bulkheads, heat from the steam pipes chasing some of the chill away.
Just not enough of it.
***
Dean startled awake, his neck stiff and aching. The first thing he noticed was that the propulsion engines were running, the thrumming beneath him marred by an almost unnoticeable hitch he'd been trying to soothe out of them for months now. The sky above was still full black, the hunter's moon high; Dean guessed it couldn't be much past midnight.
The next thing he noticed was the sound of Balthazar and Michael arguing. “Let me go back. We're not far past the drop point, you know I can....”
“That is enough.” Dean peeked his head over the bulkhead; he could see the two of them roughly in profile, the deck otherwise deserted. Balthazar looked winded but otherwise fine and Dean couldn't suppress the rush of hate that he was the one standing on that deck. “You know the regulations.”
“You can't stop me from jumping.”
“No, but I can give orders to have you shot out of the sky,” Michael said, nodding up to the gun turrets. Dean saw Balthazar's hands ball into fists. “Don't make me.”
Even from where he was Dean could see Balthazar shaking with the effort keep from decking his commander. “Please,” he said, and Dean felt that surge of rage melt away. Dean would expect the ship to come to life and sing before ever getting to hear the snide angel beg. “This is a quick recovery.”
“This is a salvage,” Michael said and Balthazar flinched back like he'd been slapped. “And we do those when it's clear.” He took one step closer. “Do we understand each other?”
Balthazar's lips curled up. “Yes, sir.”
Michael tipped his chin up, examining Balthazar for a long, piercing moment. “You knew this moment was coming, soldier. It's been a very long time in coming.” Dean felt like his stomach was stuffed with coal. “That doesn't mean we don't grieve, but it means we fight on.”
Balthazar's fists were clenched so tight Dean was surprised he couldn't see blood. “Yes, sir,” he said again, the defiance gone from his voice now.
Michael tilted his head to the side, eyes narrowed, then he nodded and spun on his heel like a bannerman in a parade. Balthazar watched him until Michael disappeared below deck, then Dean saw the angel cast a long glance over the side of the ship.
Dean had to give the guy a grudging amount of credit because he could see instantly Balthazar was going to try to jump anyway. Dean didn't know if the turrets really were manned - they usually weren't this late into the third shift, the low visibility made it not worth the manpower - but Dean didn't put it past Michael to send snipers up there to make sure his threat had teeth. Balthazar started pacing and Dean crept out, waiting for Balthazar to step closer, his breath forming little clouds of steam in the frigid air.
Balthazar sent one last glance up at the turrets as he popped the release on his wings and that was Dean's cue; he sprang out from hiding and tackled Balthazar to the deck, dragging him back behind the bulkhead before the startled angel could even put up a fight. “Shhh,” he said, clamping one hand over Balthazar's mouth. “The hell is wrong with you?”
Balthazar looked so shocked Dean would have laughed himself sick under any other circumstance. “How are you always around?” he said when Dean backed up.
“Born lucky that way. What happened?”
Balthazar's jaw set for a second, like he was going to not tell Dean just out of spite, but then the fight drained out of him like blood from a wound. “Went bad,” he said, not looking at Dean.
“Yeah, gathered that. He alive?”
Balthazar pressed his lips into a line, then nodded. “Good chance of it, anyway.”
“Okay. Okay.” Dean let out a long, long breath. “What do we do now?”
Balthazar shook his head. “You heard the commander,” he said, some of his usual contempt creeping back into his voice. “This is a salvage mission now. We wait for the weather to clear then a team goes down to get back these,” he said, flexing the wings. “Can't let this fall into enemy hands, after all.”
“Look, if you're not gonna help....”
“I was deserting.”
Dean sat back on his heels. Balthazar's hands were shaking and Dean didn't think that had anything to do with the chill. “You switching sides?”
Balthazar's head snapped up. “Don't be an idiot. I know that's hard for you.” He closed his eyes as he leaned his head against the bulkhead. “I'm just done with all this,” he said, gesturing around him. “And you know there's only one way we get to leave the Corps.”
“You didn't strike me as the type.”
“Well, it would have looked convincing,” he said, a faint almost-smile on his face. “I didn't think I would get a better chance.”
“You saw the drop was to the Fields and decided to desert there?”
“Can you think of a better place? No one would question.” He shook his head. “I should have realized.”
“Realized what?” Although Dean thought he knew, Michael's words rattling around his skull like a loose bolt. “What did that jackass mean when he said you 'knew this was coming'?”
“Cassie's been a dead man walking since he pulled you out. Didn't you know that?” There was an edge to Balthazar's voice, like getting to be a jerk to Dean was the only bright side he could find. “Once we start defying orders it's only a matter of time.”
“Michael said Cas never got those orders.”
Balthazar just gave him a look. “The General's not an idiot.”
Dean knew where the officer barracks were. He could get there without any problems. “You saying this was a field execution?”
Balthazar shrugged. “I'm saying we've been doing more Class A missions than any other unit. You find someone else who's been dropped into the Fields twice and I'll call him a liar.” He closed his eyes again. “Now leave me alone.”
“Yeah, no. Tell me what happened.”
“Not much to tell,” he said, picking a loose button from his uniform and spinning it on the deck. “I missed the rendezvous, he went looking for me. He's not supposed to do that.”
““You're the idiot, then. After what happened with Rachel did you think there was any chance he wouldn't?"
Balthazar could only shrug again. “Hoped he would show a little more smarts.”
Yeah, good luck there. “Why'd you come back up?”
“Spotlight found me, if I didn't they would have known I was running. That would have sparked an investigation, would have threatened everyone.”
Dean could see that. He hadn't really thought Balthazar had been turning traitor but once that rumor started there would be no silencing it. It would be only natural then to start going down the line. “How do you know he's alive?”
“Managed it once before, didn't he?” Balthazar rubbed his forehead, like the ordeal of talking to Dean was giving him a headache. “What will it take for you to stop haunting me?”
Dean didn't answer. The realization of what he had to do had gripped him so tightly for a second he hadn't realized Balthazar had asked him a question. “Can you make sure the aft deck is clear in...I don't know, two hours?”
Balthazar frowned. “What idiotic notion do you have now?”
Man, you got no idea. “They're gonna have you on a leash, you can't get down there. Not easily, anyway. Just get that deck cleared.”
“I...think I can create a distraction, yeah,” he said, one eyebrow quirked up.
“Good. Good,” he said, his mind already miles below.
“He's dead as far as they're concerned up here, you know. Officially.”
Dean heard the unspoken warning: Don't come back. “What are you gonna do?”
There was something very close to a smile on the angel's face. “Wait for another chance.” He looked around, as if looking for eavesdroppers. “You'll be on a leash, too.”
“Let me worry about that.”
Balthazar stared at him for a long moment, then shook his head. “I don't understand anything about you, Winchester.”
“I get that a lot. Two hours.”
Balthazar nodded, slipping below deck as Dean watched. He counted off fifteen minutes, then he got up stretching and shaking off the deck grit like he'd just fallen asleep again. As soon as he was down the ladder urgency crept back under his skin; he rushed past his bunk and crossed to the other side of the engine corps barracks. It took a couple of seconds of lingering outside Ellen's cabin door to work up the nerve to knock.
Dean heard the whirr-click of the gear lock before he even finished. “All right Dean, get in here.”
Dean poked his head inside. “How'd you know it was me?” he said, slipping inside as the door started to slide closed again.
Ellen was sitting fully dressed on her bunk, Jo beside her in a chair with her feet up on a porthole ledge. “Who else would it be?” Jo answered for her, greeting Dean with a little wave.
“So what's the plan?” Ellen said, like they'd all discussed this ahead of time.
Dean chewed the inside of his lip for a second. Instinct told him not to get anyone involved, this was court martial material at best.
But he needed the help. Cas needed the help. And it wasn't like Ellen and Jo were ever going to let him walk out of here without saying something now anyway. “There might be guys up in the turrets. In about two hours I need them taken care of. Occupied, whatever.”
Ellen raised her eyebrows, then glanced over at Jo. “Ask for a big favor, why don't you?” Before Dean could say anything to that she said, “But I think we can manage. Anything else you need?”
Dean smiled. “You still friends with the weapons locker guard?”
- On To Chapter 5 -
- Back To Masterpost -
- Back to Chapter 3 -
Author: misachan
Fandom: Supernatural; Streampunk AU
Pairing(s): Dean/Castiel
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 2536
Content Notes: Explicit sex, violence, minor character death
Summary: They may serve on the same airship but Dean knows regular crew and the elite who wear the Seraphim Star aren't supposed to have anything to do with each other.
It's a regulation Dean's more than willing to break.
*
The day crawled. Drop lengths were unpredictable; once they'd spent a full week hovering above cloud cover, almost running through the coal stores and sending two of the shovelers to the infirmary. Dean knew there was no reason to think this would be a short mission but his instincts nagged at him. Cas hadn't been carrying on like this had been routine and something in Dean shied away from imagining what might have been heavy enough to scare him into Dean's bed.
It took until the next night for those unformed fears to crystallize. Those years he'd been lost to the Fields Dean had spent a lot of nights staring up at the stars, knowing that somewhere in the world Sam might be staring up at the same ones. Stationed on this ship Dean had flown under a lot of sky and even before that their father had taught he and Sam how to navigate by them, a trick he'd picked up during his own time in the service. Looking up into the night from over the mouth of the Mississippi and again over the Rockies might show the same stars but they would be very different skies.
About once a week Dean had vivid nightmares about this particular sky. “Ellen,” he said, grabbing her by the wrist as she passed him to get to the barracks. “You know where we are right now?”
He didn't take his eyes from the stars but he felt her start, stopping mid-step. Instead of answering right away she squeezed his hand tight. “Think you know.”
He did. Only one good thing had ever happened to him under this sky. “The hell are we doing here?”
“Might not have noticed, but there's a war going on.” She tugged on his arm, forcing him to look at her. “They've dropped down there before, you know.”
Dean hoped he was only this transparent to Ellen. He didn't much care for the idea that everyone on this damned ship could see into his head right now. “Haven't noticed.” Which wasn't strictly true, but Yeah, and how many of them come back? were words he could barely think about, let alone say.
Ellen stepped in front of him. “Don't you dare do anything stupid. The last thing I need is your father haunting me for letting you throw your life away twice.”
That was almost enough to make Dean crack a smile. “Think we both know that's not his style. And the first time you couldn't have stopped me.”
“Only because you didn't give me the chance. Don't make me tie you to your bunk.”
“Lay off, Ellen, I'm fine.”
“Bullshit someone who doesn't know you. Now promise you're going to act like you have a brain in your head.”
Dean rolled his eyes but she wouldn't let him off the hook. “I'm not throwing my life away. Promise.”
She narrowed her eyes, then looked around as if searching for eavesdroppers. “Good,” she said, stepping close enough to whisper. “You need any help, you call me.”
Dean broke into a real smile that he immediately smothered, just in case anyone really was watching. “You got it. Thanks.”
She shrugged. “Hey. Got used to that bunch, I guess.” She cast one more cautious look over her shoulder. “The whole group didn't go, if you hadn't heard.”
That Dean hadn't heard at all; he hadn't seen any of the unit all day. “The hell?”
Ellen nodded. “Officers only.” She squeezed his hand again and disappeared down the ladder, leaving Dean alone with his thoughts on the deck.
Dean's thoughts had never made the best company. Officers only. That meant Cas, he was the captain, and Balthazar, he was the outflyer and the second. Two was the minimum number who could go on any drop, Dean knew that.
Dean remembered Cas' lips against his. He'd been wrecked by losing Rachel, it didn't take much imagination to picture him arguing for essential personnel only. Especially if he thought there was a good chance this would be a one way trip.
Dean forced himself to the edge of the deck and looked into the swirling clouds past the edge until his stomach clenched up. The cloud cover below was too thick for anyone on the ground to spot them. Dean knew he couldn't have a hope to see Cas this high up but it somehow made things worse that Castiel couldn't look up and see the stars.
Dean backed up and curled up behind one of the bulkheads, heat from the steam pipes chasing some of the chill away.
Just not enough of it.
***
Dean startled awake, his neck stiff and aching. The first thing he noticed was that the propulsion engines were running, the thrumming beneath him marred by an almost unnoticeable hitch he'd been trying to soothe out of them for months now. The sky above was still full black, the hunter's moon high; Dean guessed it couldn't be much past midnight.
The next thing he noticed was the sound of Balthazar and Michael arguing. “Let me go back. We're not far past the drop point, you know I can....”
“That is enough.” Dean peeked his head over the bulkhead; he could see the two of them roughly in profile, the deck otherwise deserted. Balthazar looked winded but otherwise fine and Dean couldn't suppress the rush of hate that he was the one standing on that deck. “You know the regulations.”
“You can't stop me from jumping.”
“No, but I can give orders to have you shot out of the sky,” Michael said, nodding up to the gun turrets. Dean saw Balthazar's hands ball into fists. “Don't make me.”
Even from where he was Dean could see Balthazar shaking with the effort keep from decking his commander. “Please,” he said, and Dean felt that surge of rage melt away. Dean would expect the ship to come to life and sing before ever getting to hear the snide angel beg. “This is a quick recovery.”
“This is a salvage,” Michael said and Balthazar flinched back like he'd been slapped. “And we do those when it's clear.” He took one step closer. “Do we understand each other?”
Balthazar's lips curled up. “Yes, sir.”
Michael tipped his chin up, examining Balthazar for a long, piercing moment. “You knew this moment was coming, soldier. It's been a very long time in coming.” Dean felt like his stomach was stuffed with coal. “That doesn't mean we don't grieve, but it means we fight on.”
Balthazar's fists were clenched so tight Dean was surprised he couldn't see blood. “Yes, sir,” he said again, the defiance gone from his voice now.
Michael tilted his head to the side, eyes narrowed, then he nodded and spun on his heel like a bannerman in a parade. Balthazar watched him until Michael disappeared below deck, then Dean saw the angel cast a long glance over the side of the ship.
Dean had to give the guy a grudging amount of credit because he could see instantly Balthazar was going to try to jump anyway. Dean didn't know if the turrets really were manned - they usually weren't this late into the third shift, the low visibility made it not worth the manpower - but Dean didn't put it past Michael to send snipers up there to make sure his threat had teeth. Balthazar started pacing and Dean crept out, waiting for Balthazar to step closer, his breath forming little clouds of steam in the frigid air.
Balthazar sent one last glance up at the turrets as he popped the release on his wings and that was Dean's cue; he sprang out from hiding and tackled Balthazar to the deck, dragging him back behind the bulkhead before the startled angel could even put up a fight. “Shhh,” he said, clamping one hand over Balthazar's mouth. “The hell is wrong with you?”
Balthazar looked so shocked Dean would have laughed himself sick under any other circumstance. “How are you always around?” he said when Dean backed up.
“Born lucky that way. What happened?”
Balthazar's jaw set for a second, like he was going to not tell Dean just out of spite, but then the fight drained out of him like blood from a wound. “Went bad,” he said, not looking at Dean.
“Yeah, gathered that. He alive?”
Balthazar pressed his lips into a line, then nodded. “Good chance of it, anyway.”
“Okay. Okay.” Dean let out a long, long breath. “What do we do now?”
Balthazar shook his head. “You heard the commander,” he said, some of his usual contempt creeping back into his voice. “This is a salvage mission now. We wait for the weather to clear then a team goes down to get back these,” he said, flexing the wings. “Can't let this fall into enemy hands, after all.”
“Look, if you're not gonna help....”
“I was deserting.”
Dean sat back on his heels. Balthazar's hands were shaking and Dean didn't think that had anything to do with the chill. “You switching sides?”
Balthazar's head snapped up. “Don't be an idiot. I know that's hard for you.” He closed his eyes as he leaned his head against the bulkhead. “I'm just done with all this,” he said, gesturing around him. “And you know there's only one way we get to leave the Corps.”
“You didn't strike me as the type.”
“Well, it would have looked convincing,” he said, a faint almost-smile on his face. “I didn't think I would get a better chance.”
“You saw the drop was to the Fields and decided to desert there?”
“Can you think of a better place? No one would question.” He shook his head. “I should have realized.”
“Realized what?” Although Dean thought he knew, Michael's words rattling around his skull like a loose bolt. “What did that jackass mean when he said you 'knew this was coming'?”
“Cassie's been a dead man walking since he pulled you out. Didn't you know that?” There was an edge to Balthazar's voice, like getting to be a jerk to Dean was the only bright side he could find. “Once we start defying orders it's only a matter of time.”
“Michael said Cas never got those orders.”
Balthazar just gave him a look. “The General's not an idiot.”
Dean knew where the officer barracks were. He could get there without any problems. “You saying this was a field execution?”
Balthazar shrugged. “I'm saying we've been doing more Class A missions than any other unit. You find someone else who's been dropped into the Fields twice and I'll call him a liar.” He closed his eyes again. “Now leave me alone.”
“Yeah, no. Tell me what happened.”
“Not much to tell,” he said, picking a loose button from his uniform and spinning it on the deck. “I missed the rendezvous, he went looking for me. He's not supposed to do that.”
““You're the idiot, then. After what happened with Rachel did you think there was any chance he wouldn't?"
Balthazar could only shrug again. “Hoped he would show a little more smarts.”
Yeah, good luck there. “Why'd you come back up?”
“Spotlight found me, if I didn't they would have known I was running. That would have sparked an investigation, would have threatened everyone.”
Dean could see that. He hadn't really thought Balthazar had been turning traitor but once that rumor started there would be no silencing it. It would be only natural then to start going down the line. “How do you know he's alive?”
“Managed it once before, didn't he?” Balthazar rubbed his forehead, like the ordeal of talking to Dean was giving him a headache. “What will it take for you to stop haunting me?”
Dean didn't answer. The realization of what he had to do had gripped him so tightly for a second he hadn't realized Balthazar had asked him a question. “Can you make sure the aft deck is clear in...I don't know, two hours?”
Balthazar frowned. “What idiotic notion do you have now?”
Man, you got no idea. “They're gonna have you on a leash, you can't get down there. Not easily, anyway. Just get that deck cleared.”
“I...think I can create a distraction, yeah,” he said, one eyebrow quirked up.
“Good. Good,” he said, his mind already miles below.
“He's dead as far as they're concerned up here, you know. Officially.”
Dean heard the unspoken warning: Don't come back. “What are you gonna do?”
There was something very close to a smile on the angel's face. “Wait for another chance.” He looked around, as if looking for eavesdroppers. “You'll be on a leash, too.”
“Let me worry about that.”
Balthazar stared at him for a long moment, then shook his head. “I don't understand anything about you, Winchester.”
“I get that a lot. Two hours.”
Balthazar nodded, slipping below deck as Dean watched. He counted off fifteen minutes, then he got up stretching and shaking off the deck grit like he'd just fallen asleep again. As soon as he was down the ladder urgency crept back under his skin; he rushed past his bunk and crossed to the other side of the engine corps barracks. It took a couple of seconds of lingering outside Ellen's cabin door to work up the nerve to knock.
Dean heard the whirr-click of the gear lock before he even finished. “All right Dean, get in here.”
Dean poked his head inside. “How'd you know it was me?” he said, slipping inside as the door started to slide closed again.
Ellen was sitting fully dressed on her bunk, Jo beside her in a chair with her feet up on a porthole ledge. “Who else would it be?” Jo answered for her, greeting Dean with a little wave.
“So what's the plan?” Ellen said, like they'd all discussed this ahead of time.
Dean chewed the inside of his lip for a second. Instinct told him not to get anyone involved, this was court martial material at best.
But he needed the help. Cas needed the help. And it wasn't like Ellen and Jo were ever going to let him walk out of here without saying something now anyway. “There might be guys up in the turrets. In about two hours I need them taken care of. Occupied, whatever.”
Ellen raised her eyebrows, then glanced over at Jo. “Ask for a big favor, why don't you?” Before Dean could say anything to that she said, “But I think we can manage. Anything else you need?”
Dean smiled. “You still friends with the weapons locker guard?”
- On To Chapter 5 -
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- Back to Chapter 3 -