Fic: Firestarter 2/6 (Supernatural; Dean/Castiel, Superhero AU, R)
Fic Title: Firestarter (Art Masterpost)
Author: misachan
Fandom/Genre: Supernatural (Superhero AU)
Pairing(s): Dean/Castiel (also featuring Sam, Balthazar, Uriel, Gabriel and Alastair)
Rating: R
Word Count: 6414
Warnings: Brief descriptions of violence, minor character death
Summary: Dean Winchester was raised to be a hero, fighting alongside his father to protect the innocents of Lawrence City. Was he ever glad his old man wasn't alive to see him now. A Supernatural superhero AU.
*
Dean paused at the shuttered up newsstand, taking the second to catch his breath. It was just past midnight and the patrol so far had been pretty quiet; the temperature had been dropping the past few nights and there weren't as many people out on the streets. He doubted he'd get any real action for a couple hours yet, when the clubs downtown let out.
Dean leaned against the stand and looked up. The buildings in this area weren't all that tall but fog was doing a good job of obscuring the roofs - which didn't mean Dean didn't know his very determined tail was still up there somewhere, just that he couldn't see the guy. “Dude,” Dean called out. “Are we gonna do this all night? This is starting to be a problem for me.”
He heard that sound of wings and before he could blink Castiel was right there, inches from his face. “Fuck,” Dean said, involuntarily taking a step back. “Don't do that.”
“How long have you known I was following you?”
Dean sighed. “About three hours now. How long have you been at it?” Castiel looked away. “Yeah, that's what I thought. Why're you following me?”
“I'm evaluating you. I didn't think you'd detect me, you didn't the first time.”
“I didn't know to look for you the first time. And I had other things on my mind.” Dean dared taking a step closer. “So, what's it gonna be? You gonna kill me now?”
Castiel took just long enough answering that Dean felt a bead of sweat slide down his back, cold night or not. “No.”
“Good,” Dean said, the word shaking more than he'd expected. “Look, if you're gonna follow me around, at least be useful about it. I could use some backup a hell of a lot more than a stalker.”
Castiel's brow furrowed. “You want me to...assist you?”
“Yeah. At least that way if you're hanging around you won't be in my way.” The idea had come to Dean at about the two hour mark; he wasn't sure if the angel would go for it, but at least if he did Dean would have the guy in front of him instead of waiting for the smite from on high.
Castiel studied Dean for what felt like ages. “All right. I'm willing to be your partner in....”
“We're not partners.” The words came out in a snarl; Castiel took a step back, clearly not sure where any of that had come from. Hell, Dean wasn't all that sure himself. “This is a team up, at best. This....” Dean let out a long breath. “My dad was my patrol partner,” he said, studying a crack in the pavement. “Or I was his, really, I was the sidekick. The only person I'd ever call my partner is Sam when he's old enough. I barely know you. And you're gonna kill me someday, so it's not like this is a long term thing.”
“I haven't killed you yet.”
“Yeah, I'm just being honest with myself here.” Dean took a step back, looking Castiel up and down with a critical eye. What he was wearing couldn't pass as a costume, just a normal gray hoodie and jeans, but it wasn't like Dean was decked out in anything better. “We gotta cover up your face,” he finally said. “Everyone wears masks, that's just how it goes. And you gotta have...I don't know, a symbol, some kind of power show. Everyone knows my mask, and if they don't I got the hellfire.”
Castiel's brows had been furrowing closer and closer together the entire time Dean had been talking. “What...kind of symbol?”
Dean shrugged. “I don't know. You're an angel, work off that.”
Castiel tilted his head again for a moment, then he stepped close to Dean, pressing two fingers against Dean's temple before he could even think to react. For an instant Dean thought he might have annoyed Castiel into killing him after all, but after a few seconds all that happened was Castiel stepping back with what sounded alarmingly close to a chuckle. “Your mythology is fascinating.” He lifted his chin up, closing his eyes for a moment, then white light obscured his face like a glowing mask with more light arching over his shoulders like wings made of lightning. “Would this do?”
It took Dean a full second to realize he'd been spoken to and a few extra to remember how speech worked well enough to respond. “Yeah. Yeah, guess that'd do.” The lighting wings even looked like they had feathers; it was all Dean could do to keep himself from touching them to find out for sure. “That's um...that's not what I thought they would look like from their shadows.”
“It's a reasonable facsimile,” Castiel said. “We exist in more dimensions than you do.” He nodded to Dean. “Shall we begin, then?”
***
Guy came in handy, Dean had to give him that much credit. The club crowds were even rowdier than usual that night but with Castiel there Dean could face down groups he'd never dream of taking on by himself, those big rumbles he's normally not even thinking about without at least five other people at his back. It was amazing how much firepower real superpowers brought to the table; twice Dean saw crooks break their fists on Castiel's face, with the angel not doing more than rolling with the punch and looking bored. The teleportation or flying or whatever it was he did knocked everyone they fought off balance; no one with that power set had been active in Lawrence for decades and none of the criminals they'd tied up in neat bows for the cops that night had known how to counter it. It was almost like fighting a speedster; Castiel could seem to be everywhere at once, in your sights one instant and behind you watching you punch empty air the next.
Dean was so screwed. He'd hoped that inviting Castiel to join him on patrol would let him know some of the angel's weaknesses but the first time he saw Castiel pick a three hundred pound mugger up with one hand and toss him across an alley Dean knew there was no winning this fight. As the night wore on he'd given up trying to calculate how strong Castiel was. At least as strong as a demon, and even the weakest of those could pop Dean's head like a grape if they ever decided that sounded like a good time. Dean knew Castiel had been serious when he'd said he was here to kill Dean but he'd hoped he would at least have a puncher's chance.
It was just before dawn and they were catching their breath after mopping up a gang of jewel thieves - well, Dean was catching his breath, Castiel hadn't broken a sweat all night. Dean pushed his cowl up over his face and draped his arms over the fire escape. “You can tone down the light show now, we should be done for the night.” Castiel tilted his head, like he didn't understand what Dean meant for a moment, then the glow shimmered away. Dean couldn't help staring at Castiel, trying to see an echo of all that power in his now ordinary face, then he forced himself to look down into the alley below. “So what's the deal with you guys, anyway?”
“I don't understand what you mean.”
Dean sighed. “You guys call yourself angels but you're not really, right? You're from...I don't know, space or something.”
“Another dimension, to be more specific. Similar but different from the demons. And we didn't start calling ourselves angels, humans named us that when they first met us.”
“Yeah, well.” Dean flicked a dry leaf away from the railing. “You guys didn't exactly fall all over yourselves correcting us.”
Castiel only shrugged. “It was expedient.”
“But what is your deal? Why are you guys even here?”
“We've been at war with the demons for longer than your race has mastered language. It's been at a stalemate for a very long time - they open new fronts, we contain them. We believe they've been eradicated, one escapes and gathers reinforcements.”
Dean was surprised Castiel had told him that much. Seeing the guy so frustrated almost made Dean forget what he was talking to. “Thanks for deciding to bring all that here.”
“We aren't the ones who brought this conflict to your world, Dean. Thank your friends for that.” Dean turned away, his face burning. When Castiel spoke again his tone was softer. “This world is a crosspoint. The walls between the dimension we're standing in and the one the demons call Hell are very thin. The demons want to erase that wall, for their realm to devour the others. For every where to be Hell. Your world is unfortunate enough to be a very good starting point.”
“How do they plan to do that, anyway?”
Castiel almost smiled. “The same way they have in every likely world they've found. They find someone to do it for them.” When Castiel's eyes cut toward him Dean wished he could slip through the fire escape grating and melt away. “Every time you open a portal you weaken the walls. You haven't done permanent damage yet but you need to stop.”
Dean clenched his hands around the railing until he felt his fingers start to go numb. “I can't.”
Castiel sighed. “Why do you serve them, Dean? What have they offered you? Usually their victims are promised wealth or power or a place of privilege in the world they're creating. I don't believe any of that would be enough to sway you.”
“Dude, you've known me a day.”
“Am I wrong?” When Dean didn't answer Castiel pressed his advantage. “So what did they promise you?”
Dean shook his head. “You wouldn't understand.”
Castiel stared him down for a few a more seconds, then looked back down into the alley. “Know they lie, Dean. They always lie.”
“Drop it.” Dean was not going to cry in front of this thing. It took a few minutes to get his emotions back under control, but he made damn sure his next words came out steady. “What's the deal with the thing around your neck? Is that where the powers come from, like those power ring guys?”
“Are you trying to discern my weaknesses, Dean?” Castiel didn't sound the slightest bit alarmed by that - hell, Dean thought he actually sounded amused. He held up the little vial, the light in it almost bright enough to make Dean look away. “This is a spark of Grace. A shard of my true form. And no, it's not a power source, it's merely symbolic. Think of it as a mark of office, or a badge.”
Dean reached one hand toward the little vial, expecting Castiel pull it away until the last instant. The smooth crystal was warm to the touch. “So that's you in there?”
“A piece of me.”
Dean let the vial drop and wondered when this conversation had gotten so weird. “Why do you look like people if you're made of light?”
“We can't operate in this dimension in our true forms, we can exist but not interact. We need to take human vessels.”
“Vessels.” Castiel's head turned in surprise at the disgust in Dean's voice. “So you are wearing some poor idiot.” Dean couldn't believe he'd touched any part of this thing. “You're no better than the demons.”
“That's not true.” Dean didn't know if Castiel really believed that or if he just really wanted Dean to believe it. “Demons steal their bodies. We don't act without permission, we can't.”
“You really want me to believe this guy you're in agreed to this?”
“Yes.”
“What did he agree to, huh? You're all high and mighty about me working for the demons, what did you promise this guy?”
“I didn't....”
“When you're done playing around and finally kill me, does that schmoe get to go back to his life?” Castiel looked away. “That's what I thought.”
Castiel was quiet for a long time, long enough for the dawn to start breaking. “What would you have me say, Dean?”
Dean didn't know himself. “This guy you're walking around in. He married? Got a kid or two who'll never see him again?”
Castiel's lips went thin. “I don't know.”
It was a strange change, Castiel not being able to meet his eyes. “If my dad was alive you'd be the kind of thing he'd hunt.” Dean drummed his fingers against the railing. “Not that it would do any good, big thing made of light and all.”
“We can die.” Castiel turned to look at him, head tilted. “Is that what you would like, Dean?”
Dean was spared from having to answer by movement in the alley below. “Hey, look,” he said, tapping Castiel's arm. “Looks like the night's not over after all.” There were three men conferring below, not affiliated with any of the big groups from what Dean could see. The building across the way was a bank, one of those little credit unions, and one of the guys had just placed what looked alarmingly like a bomb right at the back door. “Let's go, we're on.”
Castiel was ahead of him, his face hidden again and the light wings arching over his shoulders. Before Dean could blink Castiel was down in the alleyway tapping one of the thieves on the shoulder. “You shouldn't do that.” The thief took a swing at Castiel, landing a solid punch right in the mouth. Dean winced in sympathy when the man reeled back holding his wrist.
Dean jumped down to join the fight, flooring the goon who'd hung back. One down. Castiel had the other one well in hand so Dean straightened back up, looking for the third. Dean turned around right into the barrel of a gun. He hadn't even noticed they were armed. Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Dean had time to take one step back before the thief smiled and fired.
Dean closed his eyes. He heard three shots, bang-bang-bang.
It took a second to realize there no pain. He opened his eyes to see Castiel standing in front of him; Castiel grabbed the thief's wrist and twisted, the sharp crack turning Dean's stomach. “Leave this place,” Castiel said, hurling the thief into his three friends. “Leave this city. Do not ever let me find you here again.” The three thieves hesitated for a second, looking at each other to see if anyone would work up the nerve to try something, then Castiel took a step forward.
That was all he needed. The three broke and fled, dragging their injured buddy after them when he fell. Castiel turned away, putting one hand on Dean's shoulder. “Are you hurt?”
That was when Dean saw the blood streaming down Castiel's chest. “Shit. I mean...yeah, I'm fine, Cas, just....” He touched one of the bullet holes, his hand coming back bloody. “Are you okay?”
Castiel looked down, as if he'd only just noticed. “I'm fine. It'll heal shortly.”
“Why did you do that?”
“If someone is going to pass judgment on you it will be me and no one else.” He looked up at the lightening sky. “It's time for us to part, I think.”
“Hey,” Dean said as Castiel was turning away. “Look, I...I don't want you dead, okay? I just want everyone to leave us alone.”
Castiel nodded. “I wish we could.”
“Yeah.” Dean heard that wing flutter sound start and grabbed Castiel's arm before he could disappear. “Same time tonight. Don't be late.”
“Why?”
“You're gonna run around in that body, you gotta earn it,” Dean said, poking his shoulder. “You know my reason for doing this, now that's yours. You got me?”
Castiel lifted his chin, a hint of a smile on his face. “Tonight, then.” Then there was that sound of wings and Castiel was gone.
***
“I can't help but notice that Dean Winchester is still alive.”
Castiel should have known this progress report wouldn't be as short as he might have hoped. “Uriel, if you have something you want to say just come out with it.”
“I was just making an observation. You're much more easily offended lately.”
Castiel supposed that was true. “I have more trouble discerning when you're joking than when we're home.”
“Not that he's very funny there, either.” Castiel gave Balthazar a warning glance as Uriel let out that low chuckle he was learning meant his brother was far from amused. Not that Balthazar paid either of them any heed, being on Earth just seemed amplify his taste for irreverence. “But it is a good point, why is Winchester still kicking around?”
“Castiel likes him. We're here talking in broad daylight because he has a full night planned helping Winchester cleanse the streets of sinners and ne'er do wells.”
“I do enjoy that,” Castiel admitted. “It's...uncomplicated. There's a clear, black and white goal to be met and you see the immediate results of your actions. It reminds me of the way the garrison used to hunt demons directly instead of all...this,” he said, gesturing around them.
“You were born to be a foot soldier,” Uriel said, and if he meant it as an insult Castiel wasn't inclined to take it as one. And as if to take any sting out of his words Uriel clapped him on the shoulder. “And before you lecture me about telling you how to run your missions, let me be the first to say I don't care how long you play with Winchester. Indulge in all the hobbies you like, just check in with our superiors on schedule so they don't contact me to find you.”
Castiel crossed his arms over his knees, looking down into the alley below to distract himself from the heat crawling up his cheeks. “Thank you for covering for me.”
Uriel waved that away. “I don't like anyone breathing down my neck about missions either.” His expression grew serious. “But don't play too long. These are dangerous times. I won't be able to relax until we're back home.” He let out a deep sigh. “And now it's time for me to go back on the clock, as the humans would say.”
“What is your mission, Uriel? You haven't said anything about it.”
“More confidential than yours, I'm afraid. Did you know there's a betting pool going on about when you'll finally rid us of Winchester? Balthazar introduced the concept to the garrison.”
Castiel turned to glare but Balthazar only shrugged. “What can I say? The humans do have the occasional good idea.”
“Are you in on it?” Castiel asked, turning back to Uriel and deciding to ignore Balthazar entirely for the moment.
“Indeed I am.”
“What was your bet?”
“Oh, it's bad luck to talk about it.” Castiel thought he saw the smile slip away from his face for a moment, then Uriel put his hand on Castiel's shoulder again. “Although in this one instance I'll be glad not to win.” With that he flew off to whatever business was concerning him, leaving Castiel to ponder what on earth that might mean.
He didn't consider it very long, giving it up as another misreceived joke. “You've been quiet,” he said, hoping Balthazar would take the opening as intended. He'd known Balthazar more than long enough to recognize when his brother had trouble to talk through.
“We found another one.”
It felt like when those criminals had shot him a few days earlier. “No.”
Balthazar nodded. “In a warehouse in the industrial district. No body, charred impression of wings, just like all the others. Looked to be there around three or four days,” he said, giving Castiel a very significant look.
Castiel looked away, not able to return it. “I can't believe there's a connection.”
“Cassie, don't be an idiot, of course there's a connection.”
“Portals were being opened before any of the murders started.”
“By our count there's been twelve portals and six of us dead, and each time a murder happened it was the same time as an opening. First it was one for every three, then one for every two and lately it's been a solid one for one. Look at that and tell me there's no connection.”
Castiel wanted to deny that terrible logic and couldn't. “But none of the murders have been anywhere near the portal openings.” That was the most vexing detail; a portal released enough energy that it could kill one of them if place properly. “Did you find a weapon at the site?”
“No,” Balthazar admitted, shaking his head. “We still don't know how they're doing it. But I'm starting to develop a working theory as to who.”
“It's not Dean.” No evidence Balthazar could show him would ever convince him of that. “He's not a murderer. He's not capable of it.”
“Capable of opening portals to Hell but not murder? He is an unusual one.”
“I know how that sounds. It's true nonetheless.”
Balthazar rolled his eyes, the clearest you're being an idiot look on his face Castiel knew he would ever see. “Whether he did himself or not, he's part of this. End him and wrap up your mission so you can help me with mine.”
It took a very long time for Castiel to bring himself to answer. “I can't. Stop,” he said, throwing up one hand to cut off any more argument. “I know what you're about to say and I know you're right but I still can't. There's something I'm missing with Dean. He's not acting out of free will but I don't know how the demons are compelling him. I can't make any judgment until I do.”
He wished Balthazar would be angry at him. It would be easier than seeing his normally reckless brother this afraid. “What he's doing is killing us, Castiel.”
“Not him.” Castiel drummed his fingers on the ledge, considering that. “The demon perhaps, but not him.”
Balthazar's eyebrows shot up. “The demon? We've never found one that powerful.”
Castiel could only shrug. “It's a possibility.”
Balthazar shook his head. “If there's even a chance of it being Winchester we have to act.”
Balthazar said we but Castiel heard the you loud and clear. “But what if we're wrong?” He remembered Dean facing him that first night, terror and self-loathing hiding behind that paper-thin bravado. “I can't sacrifice him for a theory. Not even at these stakes.” Castiel closed his eyes. “I've never met someone in more pain than Dean Winchester.”
“And you have to save him.”
“If I can.” He flexed his hand, staring down at his borrowed palm. “I've had my perspective...challenged recently,” he said softly. “I have some things I need to prove, even if only to myself.” He looked up at Balthazar. “Can you forgive me for that?”
Balthazar just rolled his eyes. “Don't be stupid,” he said and Castiel could feel him concede defeat. “I wish I'd gotten your assignment and you mine. Winchester would have been done with in a day.”
“Perhaps that's why you didn't,” Castiel said. Balthazar put a tremendous amount of effort into looking offended. “And I'd be terrible at yours. You're the best in the garrison at discovering things you shouldn't.” Castiel almost added that so many of the thieves he and Dean had stopped over the past few days would do well to take lessons from Balthazar but realized his brother probably wouldn't appreciate the compliment. “Be careful.”
“I'm not the one spending all my time with demon spawn,” he countered, and Castiel heard the You too buried there. He sat with Castiel for a few more minutes before flying off, leaving Castiel to watch the sunset alone.
***
It was actually bugging Dean a little now much he liked patrolling with Castiel. With the angel flying them around they could cover the whole city in one night, doing even better than when he and his dad would split up to try the same thing. He'd dusted off the souped up police scanner they used to use back then and nine times out of ten he and Cas had the crooks cuffed and ready for pick up before the cops even made it on the scene. The night before they'd even busted up one of Doc Benton's underground labs; the mad scientists of the world weren't the type you ever took on without backup, too many goons hopped up on who knew what chemicals. With Castiel there the job had been a breeze.
Dean had introduced the angel to beer after that. It felt weird, getting drunk with his own executioner, but wrapping up a mad scientist for Lawrence City's Finest felt worthy of a toast. Not that he'd managed to get Castiel drunk. Dean thought he might spring for whiskey next time and see how well that worked.
That he was even thinking along the lines of next time threw Dean. That first night Dean hadn't been sure Castiel would show; it had almost been a dare, trying to see how much he could sass the guy before Castiel incinerated him already. Dean usually slept during the day but he hadn't been able to close his eyes, wondering what had possessed him to invite Castiel to be within arm's reach of him for another night.
It wasn't until Castiel did indeed fly in at dusk as promised that it hit Dean how fucking disappointed he would have been if the angel hadn't shown.
It was getting hard for Dean to remember that he shouldn't get used to this. “Cas, you see anything?” There'd been chatter on the scanner about suspicious people in the park but the place looked quiet.
“No.”
“Yeah?” Castiel was squinting at the statue of Columbus near the playground and from the look on his face it sure looked like something was up. Or maybe Castiel just wasn't a big fan of Columbus, hell if Dean knew. “So what's up, then?”
“I hear something.” He stalked around the statue, head to the side like a hunting dog trying to find a bird.
“Hear what?”
“A heartbeat.” Castiel's hand shot out and before Dean could blink Cas dragged out a masked henchman in a green and purple uniform.
Dean groaned. It would figure the Trickster's goons wouldn't even give him a full week of peace. “Seriously? You guys again?”
The collared henchman tried to squirm free, resorting to spitting at Castiel when he couldn't break the angel's grip. “We tell you to get out of town and you recruit help? Are you tryin' to tick the boss off?”
Castiel shook him. “Tell the rest to come out of hiding.”
The henchman grinned. “If you say so.” He pulled something out of his pocket and tossed it before Castiel could stop him; on the bright side it was just a flash grenade, which was the best of a few dozen bad possibilities.
It just came with the very big downside that when by the time he was able to shake off the disorientation and spots clouding his vision Dean saw he was surrounded by at least fifteen costumed henchmen. “What is your boss's problem with me?”
The henchmen didn't answer as they closed in, either wielding chains or brass knuckles or sometimes both. Dean heard that wing flutter and Castiel was there behind him; they went back to back as the henchmen started to circle them. “Fall back to the alley we passed,” Dean whispered to him, trying to keep an eye on everyone at once. “We'll bottleneck them.” He felt Castiel's hand on his shoulder and shook his head. “We have to run it, we want them to follow us.”
Castiel clearly wasn't thrilled about that plan but didn't say anything against it. Dean closed his eyes and reached deep down, calling up the hellfire. “All right jackasses,” he said, making the flame wreathe around his fists. “You all wanna dance, let's go.” They swarmed forward the way crowds of henchmen always did; Castiel floored three with one blow and Dean made five of his own duck with a sheet of hellfire.
They had their opening already. “Go!” Dean said, giving Castiel a shove forward. Cas sprinted forward a few steps, picking up two henchmen and hurling them into some of their friends to clear the path. Once that was done Castiel sidestepped enough to let Dean past him; Dean knew Cas was faster than him on his worst day and he'd keep the mob from getting too close.
When he reached the back of the alley Dean spun on his heel, urging the flames higher; Cas realized what he was doing and ducked, letting Dean fire two gouts of hellfire over his head. Over the henchmen's heads too, of course, but close enough to make some of them drop and roll out of reflex.
It started going wrong once the last of the henchmen decided it would be a better plan to cut their losses. Dean had to be very careful to manage his hellfire; he was starting to think it might actually be a little bit alive. It fought him when he used it - it took all of his concentration to keep it under control, to make it follow his orders. It always wanted more, wanted to burn, wanted to cause screams and to make flesh scald off bone. The more he used it and the more portals he opened the louder that voice got, like there was a demon growing in his blood egging him on.
When the last henchmen fled Dean felt the hellfire boil over. Through a black and red haze Dean saw Castiel stalk out of the alley, looking for any stragglers and Dean hoped he stayed gone long enough for this to pass. He stumbled to the back wall of the alley and tried to remember how to breathe. The fire covered both his arms, scorching the pavement in a circle under his feet and Dean knew this had a while to go before it got better.
“Dean?” he heard, like a whisper from very far away. “Where are you? I thought you were behind me.”
“Stay back!” Dean put one hand up and saw little tongues of flame reach out from his fingers. “You gotta stay away.”
Castiel reappeared at the mouth of the alley, his head cocked to the side like a confused golden retriever. “What happened? Were you attacked?”
Dean shook his head, little sparks flying from his hair and igniting the ancient posters decorating the walls. “Overdid it,” he forced out. “Gotta...gotta give me a few seconds to get it back under control.” Another gout of flame erupted from him, doubling him over; hellfire rarely hurt anymore but when it lit him up like a roman candle this way it was every bit as agonizing as the first day it had infected him.
When his vision cleared up he saw Castiel walking toward him. “I said stay back, are you stupid?”
“No,” he said, not breaking his stride.
“Cas, man, please. I don't want to burn you.”
Castiel was in the circle of the flames now, the hero disguise discarded and his clothes starting to smolder. “It takes much more than a common demon to burn me,” he said, putting one hand on Dean's shoulder as if to prove his point. “Now look at me,” he said, tipping Dean's chin up and keeping his hand there until it sank in that he really had touched Dean's bare skin without burning. “Focus on me.”
Dean tried. It seemed to make the hellfire angry. When his knees buckled he felt Castiel hold him up. “Dean, I can help you control it if you'll let me. Will you?”
Dean nodded. He felt Castiel strip off his jacket - his clothes never burned, not even when the hellfire was at its worst - and roll up the sleeve of his t-shirt. “I'm going to mark you,” he said, his voice strange and distorted. “Will you allow that?” Dean nodded again and he felt Castiel's hand press against his shoulder.
It had been so long since someone had been able to touch him that hit him like an electric shock before Castiel even did anything. “Look at me,” Castiel murmured again and this time Dean was able to meet his eyes. “Good,” he said. “Focus on me.”
Dean couldn't have looked at anything else if he'd tried. Castiel's irises wreathed with white light, those shadow wings he'd first seen that night spreading across the alley. Dean felt the skin on his shoulder tingle, then he felt cold energy spread through him, filling his veins the same way as the hellfire. It felt like standing in a cold rain. “Almost finished,” Castiel said, and Dean could feel his vision start to clear. “There,” he breathed, and Dean felt the hellfire snap back under control like a rubber band breaking.
Dean hadn't felt this clear headed in months. When Castiel started to pull away Dean held his hand against his shoulder. Cas was so close Dean could feel him breathing. The last time someone had been able to get this close to him had been before he met Alastair. “What'd you do?”
“It's not...the most elegant solution but it should hold.” Dean let him step back and craned his neck to see the handprint shaped brand on his shoulder. “Was that painful?”
Dean traced one finger along the edge of the brand. “Trust me, Cas, this is nowhere near the list of bad things that have happened to me over the past year.” He wondered if he'd imagined Castiel shivering just a little bit when he'd touched the brand but didn't feel up to asking about it. “Thanks.” Dean let himself sink down against the alley wall, waving Castiel away when he offered a hand up. “I'm all right. Just wiped.”
Castiel nodded and took a step back, fidgeting like he didn't know where to look or what to do with his hands. “I...I'll make sure the criminals have truly scattered.”
Dean let him trail off into a weird, awkward pause and watched him get halfway down the alley. “They have my brother.” He could tell Castiel had turned to look back at him but Dean didn't feel up to meeting his eyes just then. “They told me that if I agreed to work for them for a year I'd get him back, that's what they promised me.”
Castiel seemed to need to ponder that for a few moments, then he came back to sit on the ground next to Dean. “No human can survive this long in Hell, Dean.”
Dean shook his head. “They have him in a...containment field, they called it. Believe me, that's the first thing I asked too. He's been out like a light this whole time.”
“And you believe them?”
“I've seen him.”
“And you believe them?”
“I have to.” Dean buried his face in his hands. “And you don't have to say it, 'cause trust me, I have my doubts all the time but I have to. If there's even a one percent chance they're on the level and Sam is really okay I have to believe them.” Dean looked up into the overcast sky; these were the worst nights to patrol, no moon or stars. Just the featureless sky sitting low and claustrophobic over everyone. “That's how it is. So if you helped me out tonight to get me to talk, hey, congratulations.”
“I didn't.” Dean realized he must have been radiating bullshit because Castiel reached out to physically force Dean to look at him. “I didn't. I'd hoped you would tell me eventually,” he allowed, “but assisting you wasn't in furtherance of that. You were in pain and I knew I could help.”
Castiel's hand was warm. Dean wondered if angels ran a little hotter than run of the mill humans. “Yeah, well,” he said, pulling away. “Now you know.” He let out a heavy sigh. “If your major plan was to, I don't know, pull me back from the dark side or whatever I gotta break it to you that it's not gonna work. This isn't something you can talk me out of, or shame me into behaving or whatever you angels do for lost causes. If it was just my own life I'd risk it but I won't risk Sam's. I promised them a year and that's what they're getting.” Dean could feel his heart pounding so hard he thought it might break a rib. “So if your orders are to get me to stop or kill me you'd better save us both some time and kill me right now.”
Dean closed his eyes and waited for the blow to fall. He hoped Cas would be able to do it without making it hurt.
Instead he heard that faint flutter of wings and opened his eyes to find himself alone.
- On To Chapter 3 -
- Back To Masterpost -
- Back To Chapter 1 -
Author: misachan
Fandom/Genre: Supernatural (Superhero AU)
Pairing(s): Dean/Castiel (also featuring Sam, Balthazar, Uriel, Gabriel and Alastair)
Rating: R
Word Count: 6414
Warnings: Brief descriptions of violence, minor character death
Summary: Dean Winchester was raised to be a hero, fighting alongside his father to protect the innocents of Lawrence City. Was he ever glad his old man wasn't alive to see him now. A Supernatural superhero AU.
*
Dean paused at the shuttered up newsstand, taking the second to catch his breath. It was just past midnight and the patrol so far had been pretty quiet; the temperature had been dropping the past few nights and there weren't as many people out on the streets. He doubted he'd get any real action for a couple hours yet, when the clubs downtown let out.
Dean leaned against the stand and looked up. The buildings in this area weren't all that tall but fog was doing a good job of obscuring the roofs - which didn't mean Dean didn't know his very determined tail was still up there somewhere, just that he couldn't see the guy. “Dude,” Dean called out. “Are we gonna do this all night? This is starting to be a problem for me.”
He heard that sound of wings and before he could blink Castiel was right there, inches from his face. “Fuck,” Dean said, involuntarily taking a step back. “Don't do that.”
“How long have you known I was following you?”
Dean sighed. “About three hours now. How long have you been at it?” Castiel looked away. “Yeah, that's what I thought. Why're you following me?”
“I'm evaluating you. I didn't think you'd detect me, you didn't the first time.”
“I didn't know to look for you the first time. And I had other things on my mind.” Dean dared taking a step closer. “So, what's it gonna be? You gonna kill me now?”
Castiel took just long enough answering that Dean felt a bead of sweat slide down his back, cold night or not. “No.”
“Good,” Dean said, the word shaking more than he'd expected. “Look, if you're gonna follow me around, at least be useful about it. I could use some backup a hell of a lot more than a stalker.”
Castiel's brow furrowed. “You want me to...assist you?”
“Yeah. At least that way if you're hanging around you won't be in my way.” The idea had come to Dean at about the two hour mark; he wasn't sure if the angel would go for it, but at least if he did Dean would have the guy in front of him instead of waiting for the smite from on high.
Castiel studied Dean for what felt like ages. “All right. I'm willing to be your partner in....”
“We're not partners.” The words came out in a snarl; Castiel took a step back, clearly not sure where any of that had come from. Hell, Dean wasn't all that sure himself. “This is a team up, at best. This....” Dean let out a long breath. “My dad was my patrol partner,” he said, studying a crack in the pavement. “Or I was his, really, I was the sidekick. The only person I'd ever call my partner is Sam when he's old enough. I barely know you. And you're gonna kill me someday, so it's not like this is a long term thing.”
“I haven't killed you yet.”
“Yeah, I'm just being honest with myself here.” Dean took a step back, looking Castiel up and down with a critical eye. What he was wearing couldn't pass as a costume, just a normal gray hoodie and jeans, but it wasn't like Dean was decked out in anything better. “We gotta cover up your face,” he finally said. “Everyone wears masks, that's just how it goes. And you gotta have...I don't know, a symbol, some kind of power show. Everyone knows my mask, and if they don't I got the hellfire.”
Castiel's brows had been furrowing closer and closer together the entire time Dean had been talking. “What...kind of symbol?”
Dean shrugged. “I don't know. You're an angel, work off that.”
Castiel tilted his head again for a moment, then he stepped close to Dean, pressing two fingers against Dean's temple before he could even think to react. For an instant Dean thought he might have annoyed Castiel into killing him after all, but after a few seconds all that happened was Castiel stepping back with what sounded alarmingly close to a chuckle. “Your mythology is fascinating.” He lifted his chin up, closing his eyes for a moment, then white light obscured his face like a glowing mask with more light arching over his shoulders like wings made of lightning. “Would this do?”
It took Dean a full second to realize he'd been spoken to and a few extra to remember how speech worked well enough to respond. “Yeah. Yeah, guess that'd do.” The lighting wings even looked like they had feathers; it was all Dean could do to keep himself from touching them to find out for sure. “That's um...that's not what I thought they would look like from their shadows.”
“It's a reasonable facsimile,” Castiel said. “We exist in more dimensions than you do.” He nodded to Dean. “Shall we begin, then?”
***
Guy came in handy, Dean had to give him that much credit. The club crowds were even rowdier than usual that night but with Castiel there Dean could face down groups he'd never dream of taking on by himself, those big rumbles he's normally not even thinking about without at least five other people at his back. It was amazing how much firepower real superpowers brought to the table; twice Dean saw crooks break their fists on Castiel's face, with the angel not doing more than rolling with the punch and looking bored. The teleportation or flying or whatever it was he did knocked everyone they fought off balance; no one with that power set had been active in Lawrence for decades and none of the criminals they'd tied up in neat bows for the cops that night had known how to counter it. It was almost like fighting a speedster; Castiel could seem to be everywhere at once, in your sights one instant and behind you watching you punch empty air the next.
Dean was so screwed. He'd hoped that inviting Castiel to join him on patrol would let him know some of the angel's weaknesses but the first time he saw Castiel pick a three hundred pound mugger up with one hand and toss him across an alley Dean knew there was no winning this fight. As the night wore on he'd given up trying to calculate how strong Castiel was. At least as strong as a demon, and even the weakest of those could pop Dean's head like a grape if they ever decided that sounded like a good time. Dean knew Castiel had been serious when he'd said he was here to kill Dean but he'd hoped he would at least have a puncher's chance.
It was just before dawn and they were catching their breath after mopping up a gang of jewel thieves - well, Dean was catching his breath, Castiel hadn't broken a sweat all night. Dean pushed his cowl up over his face and draped his arms over the fire escape. “You can tone down the light show now, we should be done for the night.” Castiel tilted his head, like he didn't understand what Dean meant for a moment, then the glow shimmered away. Dean couldn't help staring at Castiel, trying to see an echo of all that power in his now ordinary face, then he forced himself to look down into the alley below. “So what's the deal with you guys, anyway?”
“I don't understand what you mean.”
Dean sighed. “You guys call yourself angels but you're not really, right? You're from...I don't know, space or something.”
“Another dimension, to be more specific. Similar but different from the demons. And we didn't start calling ourselves angels, humans named us that when they first met us.”
“Yeah, well.” Dean flicked a dry leaf away from the railing. “You guys didn't exactly fall all over yourselves correcting us.”
Castiel only shrugged. “It was expedient.”
“But what is your deal? Why are you guys even here?”
“We've been at war with the demons for longer than your race has mastered language. It's been at a stalemate for a very long time - they open new fronts, we contain them. We believe they've been eradicated, one escapes and gathers reinforcements.”
Dean was surprised Castiel had told him that much. Seeing the guy so frustrated almost made Dean forget what he was talking to. “Thanks for deciding to bring all that here.”
“We aren't the ones who brought this conflict to your world, Dean. Thank your friends for that.” Dean turned away, his face burning. When Castiel spoke again his tone was softer. “This world is a crosspoint. The walls between the dimension we're standing in and the one the demons call Hell are very thin. The demons want to erase that wall, for their realm to devour the others. For every where to be Hell. Your world is unfortunate enough to be a very good starting point.”
“How do they plan to do that, anyway?”
Castiel almost smiled. “The same way they have in every likely world they've found. They find someone to do it for them.” When Castiel's eyes cut toward him Dean wished he could slip through the fire escape grating and melt away. “Every time you open a portal you weaken the walls. You haven't done permanent damage yet but you need to stop.”
Dean clenched his hands around the railing until he felt his fingers start to go numb. “I can't.”
Castiel sighed. “Why do you serve them, Dean? What have they offered you? Usually their victims are promised wealth or power or a place of privilege in the world they're creating. I don't believe any of that would be enough to sway you.”
“Dude, you've known me a day.”
“Am I wrong?” When Dean didn't answer Castiel pressed his advantage. “So what did they promise you?”
Dean shook his head. “You wouldn't understand.”
Castiel stared him down for a few a more seconds, then looked back down into the alley. “Know they lie, Dean. They always lie.”
“Drop it.” Dean was not going to cry in front of this thing. It took a few minutes to get his emotions back under control, but he made damn sure his next words came out steady. “What's the deal with the thing around your neck? Is that where the powers come from, like those power ring guys?”
“Are you trying to discern my weaknesses, Dean?” Castiel didn't sound the slightest bit alarmed by that - hell, Dean thought he actually sounded amused. He held up the little vial, the light in it almost bright enough to make Dean look away. “This is a spark of Grace. A shard of my true form. And no, it's not a power source, it's merely symbolic. Think of it as a mark of office, or a badge.”
Dean reached one hand toward the little vial, expecting Castiel pull it away until the last instant. The smooth crystal was warm to the touch. “So that's you in there?”
“A piece of me.”
Dean let the vial drop and wondered when this conversation had gotten so weird. “Why do you look like people if you're made of light?”
“We can't operate in this dimension in our true forms, we can exist but not interact. We need to take human vessels.”
“Vessels.” Castiel's head turned in surprise at the disgust in Dean's voice. “So you are wearing some poor idiot.” Dean couldn't believe he'd touched any part of this thing. “You're no better than the demons.”
“That's not true.” Dean didn't know if Castiel really believed that or if he just really wanted Dean to believe it. “Demons steal their bodies. We don't act without permission, we can't.”
“You really want me to believe this guy you're in agreed to this?”
“Yes.”
“What did he agree to, huh? You're all high and mighty about me working for the demons, what did you promise this guy?”
“I didn't....”
“When you're done playing around and finally kill me, does that schmoe get to go back to his life?” Castiel looked away. “That's what I thought.”
Castiel was quiet for a long time, long enough for the dawn to start breaking. “What would you have me say, Dean?”
Dean didn't know himself. “This guy you're walking around in. He married? Got a kid or two who'll never see him again?”
Castiel's lips went thin. “I don't know.”
It was a strange change, Castiel not being able to meet his eyes. “If my dad was alive you'd be the kind of thing he'd hunt.” Dean drummed his fingers against the railing. “Not that it would do any good, big thing made of light and all.”
“We can die.” Castiel turned to look at him, head tilted. “Is that what you would like, Dean?”
Dean was spared from having to answer by movement in the alley below. “Hey, look,” he said, tapping Castiel's arm. “Looks like the night's not over after all.” There were three men conferring below, not affiliated with any of the big groups from what Dean could see. The building across the way was a bank, one of those little credit unions, and one of the guys had just placed what looked alarmingly like a bomb right at the back door. “Let's go, we're on.”
Castiel was ahead of him, his face hidden again and the light wings arching over his shoulders. Before Dean could blink Castiel was down in the alleyway tapping one of the thieves on the shoulder. “You shouldn't do that.” The thief took a swing at Castiel, landing a solid punch right in the mouth. Dean winced in sympathy when the man reeled back holding his wrist.
Dean jumped down to join the fight, flooring the goon who'd hung back. One down. Castiel had the other one well in hand so Dean straightened back up, looking for the third. Dean turned around right into the barrel of a gun. He hadn't even noticed they were armed. Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Dean had time to take one step back before the thief smiled and fired.
Dean closed his eyes. He heard three shots, bang-bang-bang.
It took a second to realize there no pain. He opened his eyes to see Castiel standing in front of him; Castiel grabbed the thief's wrist and twisted, the sharp crack turning Dean's stomach. “Leave this place,” Castiel said, hurling the thief into his three friends. “Leave this city. Do not ever let me find you here again.” The three thieves hesitated for a second, looking at each other to see if anyone would work up the nerve to try something, then Castiel took a step forward.
That was all he needed. The three broke and fled, dragging their injured buddy after them when he fell. Castiel turned away, putting one hand on Dean's shoulder. “Are you hurt?”
That was when Dean saw the blood streaming down Castiel's chest. “Shit. I mean...yeah, I'm fine, Cas, just....” He touched one of the bullet holes, his hand coming back bloody. “Are you okay?”
Castiel looked down, as if he'd only just noticed. “I'm fine. It'll heal shortly.”
“Why did you do that?”
“If someone is going to pass judgment on you it will be me and no one else.” He looked up at the lightening sky. “It's time for us to part, I think.”
“Hey,” Dean said as Castiel was turning away. “Look, I...I don't want you dead, okay? I just want everyone to leave us alone.”
Castiel nodded. “I wish we could.”
“Yeah.” Dean heard that wing flutter sound start and grabbed Castiel's arm before he could disappear. “Same time tonight. Don't be late.”
“Why?”
“You're gonna run around in that body, you gotta earn it,” Dean said, poking his shoulder. “You know my reason for doing this, now that's yours. You got me?”
Castiel lifted his chin, a hint of a smile on his face. “Tonight, then.” Then there was that sound of wings and Castiel was gone.
***
“I can't help but notice that Dean Winchester is still alive.”
Castiel should have known this progress report wouldn't be as short as he might have hoped. “Uriel, if you have something you want to say just come out with it.”
“I was just making an observation. You're much more easily offended lately.”
Castiel supposed that was true. “I have more trouble discerning when you're joking than when we're home.”
“Not that he's very funny there, either.” Castiel gave Balthazar a warning glance as Uriel let out that low chuckle he was learning meant his brother was far from amused. Not that Balthazar paid either of them any heed, being on Earth just seemed amplify his taste for irreverence. “But it is a good point, why is Winchester still kicking around?”
“Castiel likes him. We're here talking in broad daylight because he has a full night planned helping Winchester cleanse the streets of sinners and ne'er do wells.”
“I do enjoy that,” Castiel admitted. “It's...uncomplicated. There's a clear, black and white goal to be met and you see the immediate results of your actions. It reminds me of the way the garrison used to hunt demons directly instead of all...this,” he said, gesturing around them.
“You were born to be a foot soldier,” Uriel said, and if he meant it as an insult Castiel wasn't inclined to take it as one. And as if to take any sting out of his words Uriel clapped him on the shoulder. “And before you lecture me about telling you how to run your missions, let me be the first to say I don't care how long you play with Winchester. Indulge in all the hobbies you like, just check in with our superiors on schedule so they don't contact me to find you.”
Castiel crossed his arms over his knees, looking down into the alley below to distract himself from the heat crawling up his cheeks. “Thank you for covering for me.”
Uriel waved that away. “I don't like anyone breathing down my neck about missions either.” His expression grew serious. “But don't play too long. These are dangerous times. I won't be able to relax until we're back home.” He let out a deep sigh. “And now it's time for me to go back on the clock, as the humans would say.”
“What is your mission, Uriel? You haven't said anything about it.”
“More confidential than yours, I'm afraid. Did you know there's a betting pool going on about when you'll finally rid us of Winchester? Balthazar introduced the concept to the garrison.”
Castiel turned to glare but Balthazar only shrugged. “What can I say? The humans do have the occasional good idea.”
“Are you in on it?” Castiel asked, turning back to Uriel and deciding to ignore Balthazar entirely for the moment.
“Indeed I am.”
“What was your bet?”
“Oh, it's bad luck to talk about it.” Castiel thought he saw the smile slip away from his face for a moment, then Uriel put his hand on Castiel's shoulder again. “Although in this one instance I'll be glad not to win.” With that he flew off to whatever business was concerning him, leaving Castiel to ponder what on earth that might mean.
He didn't consider it very long, giving it up as another misreceived joke. “You've been quiet,” he said, hoping Balthazar would take the opening as intended. He'd known Balthazar more than long enough to recognize when his brother had trouble to talk through.
“We found another one.”
It felt like when those criminals had shot him a few days earlier. “No.”
Balthazar nodded. “In a warehouse in the industrial district. No body, charred impression of wings, just like all the others. Looked to be there around three or four days,” he said, giving Castiel a very significant look.
Castiel looked away, not able to return it. “I can't believe there's a connection.”
“Cassie, don't be an idiot, of course there's a connection.”
“Portals were being opened before any of the murders started.”
“By our count there's been twelve portals and six of us dead, and each time a murder happened it was the same time as an opening. First it was one for every three, then one for every two and lately it's been a solid one for one. Look at that and tell me there's no connection.”
Castiel wanted to deny that terrible logic and couldn't. “But none of the murders have been anywhere near the portal openings.” That was the most vexing detail; a portal released enough energy that it could kill one of them if place properly. “Did you find a weapon at the site?”
“No,” Balthazar admitted, shaking his head. “We still don't know how they're doing it. But I'm starting to develop a working theory as to who.”
“It's not Dean.” No evidence Balthazar could show him would ever convince him of that. “He's not a murderer. He's not capable of it.”
“Capable of opening portals to Hell but not murder? He is an unusual one.”
“I know how that sounds. It's true nonetheless.”
Balthazar rolled his eyes, the clearest you're being an idiot look on his face Castiel knew he would ever see. “Whether he did himself or not, he's part of this. End him and wrap up your mission so you can help me with mine.”
It took a very long time for Castiel to bring himself to answer. “I can't. Stop,” he said, throwing up one hand to cut off any more argument. “I know what you're about to say and I know you're right but I still can't. There's something I'm missing with Dean. He's not acting out of free will but I don't know how the demons are compelling him. I can't make any judgment until I do.”
He wished Balthazar would be angry at him. It would be easier than seeing his normally reckless brother this afraid. “What he's doing is killing us, Castiel.”
“Not him.” Castiel drummed his fingers on the ledge, considering that. “The demon perhaps, but not him.”
Balthazar's eyebrows shot up. “The demon? We've never found one that powerful.”
Castiel could only shrug. “It's a possibility.”
Balthazar shook his head. “If there's even a chance of it being Winchester we have to act.”
Balthazar said we but Castiel heard the you loud and clear. “But what if we're wrong?” He remembered Dean facing him that first night, terror and self-loathing hiding behind that paper-thin bravado. “I can't sacrifice him for a theory. Not even at these stakes.” Castiel closed his eyes. “I've never met someone in more pain than Dean Winchester.”
“And you have to save him.”
“If I can.” He flexed his hand, staring down at his borrowed palm. “I've had my perspective...challenged recently,” he said softly. “I have some things I need to prove, even if only to myself.” He looked up at Balthazar. “Can you forgive me for that?”
Balthazar just rolled his eyes. “Don't be stupid,” he said and Castiel could feel him concede defeat. “I wish I'd gotten your assignment and you mine. Winchester would have been done with in a day.”
“Perhaps that's why you didn't,” Castiel said. Balthazar put a tremendous amount of effort into looking offended. “And I'd be terrible at yours. You're the best in the garrison at discovering things you shouldn't.” Castiel almost added that so many of the thieves he and Dean had stopped over the past few days would do well to take lessons from Balthazar but realized his brother probably wouldn't appreciate the compliment. “Be careful.”
“I'm not the one spending all my time with demon spawn,” he countered, and Castiel heard the You too buried there. He sat with Castiel for a few more minutes before flying off, leaving Castiel to watch the sunset alone.
***
It was actually bugging Dean a little now much he liked patrolling with Castiel. With the angel flying them around they could cover the whole city in one night, doing even better than when he and his dad would split up to try the same thing. He'd dusted off the souped up police scanner they used to use back then and nine times out of ten he and Cas had the crooks cuffed and ready for pick up before the cops even made it on the scene. The night before they'd even busted up one of Doc Benton's underground labs; the mad scientists of the world weren't the type you ever took on without backup, too many goons hopped up on who knew what chemicals. With Castiel there the job had been a breeze.
Dean had introduced the angel to beer after that. It felt weird, getting drunk with his own executioner, but wrapping up a mad scientist for Lawrence City's Finest felt worthy of a toast. Not that he'd managed to get Castiel drunk. Dean thought he might spring for whiskey next time and see how well that worked.
That he was even thinking along the lines of next time threw Dean. That first night Dean hadn't been sure Castiel would show; it had almost been a dare, trying to see how much he could sass the guy before Castiel incinerated him already. Dean usually slept during the day but he hadn't been able to close his eyes, wondering what had possessed him to invite Castiel to be within arm's reach of him for another night.
It wasn't until Castiel did indeed fly in at dusk as promised that it hit Dean how fucking disappointed he would have been if the angel hadn't shown.
It was getting hard for Dean to remember that he shouldn't get used to this. “Cas, you see anything?” There'd been chatter on the scanner about suspicious people in the park but the place looked quiet.
“No.”
“Yeah?” Castiel was squinting at the statue of Columbus near the playground and from the look on his face it sure looked like something was up. Or maybe Castiel just wasn't a big fan of Columbus, hell if Dean knew. “So what's up, then?”
“I hear something.” He stalked around the statue, head to the side like a hunting dog trying to find a bird.
“Hear what?”
“A heartbeat.” Castiel's hand shot out and before Dean could blink Cas dragged out a masked henchman in a green and purple uniform.
Dean groaned. It would figure the Trickster's goons wouldn't even give him a full week of peace. “Seriously? You guys again?”
The collared henchman tried to squirm free, resorting to spitting at Castiel when he couldn't break the angel's grip. “We tell you to get out of town and you recruit help? Are you tryin' to tick the boss off?”
Castiel shook him. “Tell the rest to come out of hiding.”
The henchman grinned. “If you say so.” He pulled something out of his pocket and tossed it before Castiel could stop him; on the bright side it was just a flash grenade, which was the best of a few dozen bad possibilities.
It just came with the very big downside that when by the time he was able to shake off the disorientation and spots clouding his vision Dean saw he was surrounded by at least fifteen costumed henchmen. “What is your boss's problem with me?”
The henchmen didn't answer as they closed in, either wielding chains or brass knuckles or sometimes both. Dean heard that wing flutter and Castiel was there behind him; they went back to back as the henchmen started to circle them. “Fall back to the alley we passed,” Dean whispered to him, trying to keep an eye on everyone at once. “We'll bottleneck them.” He felt Castiel's hand on his shoulder and shook his head. “We have to run it, we want them to follow us.”
Castiel clearly wasn't thrilled about that plan but didn't say anything against it. Dean closed his eyes and reached deep down, calling up the hellfire. “All right jackasses,” he said, making the flame wreathe around his fists. “You all wanna dance, let's go.” They swarmed forward the way crowds of henchmen always did; Castiel floored three with one blow and Dean made five of his own duck with a sheet of hellfire.
They had their opening already. “Go!” Dean said, giving Castiel a shove forward. Cas sprinted forward a few steps, picking up two henchmen and hurling them into some of their friends to clear the path. Once that was done Castiel sidestepped enough to let Dean past him; Dean knew Cas was faster than him on his worst day and he'd keep the mob from getting too close.
When he reached the back of the alley Dean spun on his heel, urging the flames higher; Cas realized what he was doing and ducked, letting Dean fire two gouts of hellfire over his head. Over the henchmen's heads too, of course, but close enough to make some of them drop and roll out of reflex.
It started going wrong once the last of the henchmen decided it would be a better plan to cut their losses. Dean had to be very careful to manage his hellfire; he was starting to think it might actually be a little bit alive. It fought him when he used it - it took all of his concentration to keep it under control, to make it follow his orders. It always wanted more, wanted to burn, wanted to cause screams and to make flesh scald off bone. The more he used it and the more portals he opened the louder that voice got, like there was a demon growing in his blood egging him on.
When the last henchmen fled Dean felt the hellfire boil over. Through a black and red haze Dean saw Castiel stalk out of the alley, looking for any stragglers and Dean hoped he stayed gone long enough for this to pass. He stumbled to the back wall of the alley and tried to remember how to breathe. The fire covered both his arms, scorching the pavement in a circle under his feet and Dean knew this had a while to go before it got better.
“Dean?” he heard, like a whisper from very far away. “Where are you? I thought you were behind me.”
“Stay back!” Dean put one hand up and saw little tongues of flame reach out from his fingers. “You gotta stay away.”
Castiel reappeared at the mouth of the alley, his head cocked to the side like a confused golden retriever. “What happened? Were you attacked?”
Dean shook his head, little sparks flying from his hair and igniting the ancient posters decorating the walls. “Overdid it,” he forced out. “Gotta...gotta give me a few seconds to get it back under control.” Another gout of flame erupted from him, doubling him over; hellfire rarely hurt anymore but when it lit him up like a roman candle this way it was every bit as agonizing as the first day it had infected him.
When his vision cleared up he saw Castiel walking toward him. “I said stay back, are you stupid?”
“No,” he said, not breaking his stride.
“Cas, man, please. I don't want to burn you.”
Castiel was in the circle of the flames now, the hero disguise discarded and his clothes starting to smolder. “It takes much more than a common demon to burn me,” he said, putting one hand on Dean's shoulder as if to prove his point. “Now look at me,” he said, tipping Dean's chin up and keeping his hand there until it sank in that he really had touched Dean's bare skin without burning. “Focus on me.”
Dean tried. It seemed to make the hellfire angry. When his knees buckled he felt Castiel hold him up. “Dean, I can help you control it if you'll let me. Will you?”
Dean nodded. He felt Castiel strip off his jacket - his clothes never burned, not even when the hellfire was at its worst - and roll up the sleeve of his t-shirt. “I'm going to mark you,” he said, his voice strange and distorted. “Will you allow that?” Dean nodded again and he felt Castiel's hand press against his shoulder.
It had been so long since someone had been able to touch him that hit him like an electric shock before Castiel even did anything. “Look at me,” Castiel murmured again and this time Dean was able to meet his eyes. “Good,” he said. “Focus on me.”
Dean couldn't have looked at anything else if he'd tried. Castiel's irises wreathed with white light, those shadow wings he'd first seen that night spreading across the alley. Dean felt the skin on his shoulder tingle, then he felt cold energy spread through him, filling his veins the same way as the hellfire. It felt like standing in a cold rain. “Almost finished,” Castiel said, and Dean could feel his vision start to clear. “There,” he breathed, and Dean felt the hellfire snap back under control like a rubber band breaking.
Dean hadn't felt this clear headed in months. When Castiel started to pull away Dean held his hand against his shoulder. Cas was so close Dean could feel him breathing. The last time someone had been able to get this close to him had been before he met Alastair. “What'd you do?”
“It's not...the most elegant solution but it should hold.” Dean let him step back and craned his neck to see the handprint shaped brand on his shoulder. “Was that painful?”
Dean traced one finger along the edge of the brand. “Trust me, Cas, this is nowhere near the list of bad things that have happened to me over the past year.” He wondered if he'd imagined Castiel shivering just a little bit when he'd touched the brand but didn't feel up to asking about it. “Thanks.” Dean let himself sink down against the alley wall, waving Castiel away when he offered a hand up. “I'm all right. Just wiped.”
Castiel nodded and took a step back, fidgeting like he didn't know where to look or what to do with his hands. “I...I'll make sure the criminals have truly scattered.”
Dean let him trail off into a weird, awkward pause and watched him get halfway down the alley. “They have my brother.” He could tell Castiel had turned to look back at him but Dean didn't feel up to meeting his eyes just then. “They told me that if I agreed to work for them for a year I'd get him back, that's what they promised me.”
Castiel seemed to need to ponder that for a few moments, then he came back to sit on the ground next to Dean. “No human can survive this long in Hell, Dean.”
Dean shook his head. “They have him in a...containment field, they called it. Believe me, that's the first thing I asked too. He's been out like a light this whole time.”
“And you believe them?”
“I've seen him.”
“And you believe them?”
“I have to.” Dean buried his face in his hands. “And you don't have to say it, 'cause trust me, I have my doubts all the time but I have to. If there's even a one percent chance they're on the level and Sam is really okay I have to believe them.” Dean looked up into the overcast sky; these were the worst nights to patrol, no moon or stars. Just the featureless sky sitting low and claustrophobic over everyone. “That's how it is. So if you helped me out tonight to get me to talk, hey, congratulations.”
“I didn't.” Dean realized he must have been radiating bullshit because Castiel reached out to physically force Dean to look at him. “I didn't. I'd hoped you would tell me eventually,” he allowed, “but assisting you wasn't in furtherance of that. You were in pain and I knew I could help.”
Castiel's hand was warm. Dean wondered if angels ran a little hotter than run of the mill humans. “Yeah, well,” he said, pulling away. “Now you know.” He let out a heavy sigh. “If your major plan was to, I don't know, pull me back from the dark side or whatever I gotta break it to you that it's not gonna work. This isn't something you can talk me out of, or shame me into behaving or whatever you angels do for lost causes. If it was just my own life I'd risk it but I won't risk Sam's. I promised them a year and that's what they're getting.” Dean could feel his heart pounding so hard he thought it might break a rib. “So if your orders are to get me to stop or kill me you'd better save us both some time and kill me right now.”
Dean closed his eyes and waited for the blow to fall. He hoped Cas would be able to do it without making it hurt.
Instead he heard that faint flutter of wings and opened his eyes to find himself alone.
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