La Couleur des Aubes Tristes - a Destiel one-shot
Title : La Couleur des Aubes Tristes
Author : Seven Nana
Characters : Dean Winchester & Castiel
Pairing : Destiel
Rating : +17 for virgins.
Summary : AU. Dean is just a sound designer trainee for a movie... But when the staff caught an angel and show him as a freak from a circus, a strange madness fall over the stage.
NOTE : Still need beta's help. I'm absolutely not proud because I think this fic should be longer than that... But... Try to enjoy ♥ + translation of the title at the end of the text (it's french). Picture by me.
We all know that monsters are real. They look at you since the darkness, but also in the light.
The ghosts, the vampires and the werewolves were rooted out from ours horror books. The demons and the angels are not legends anymore.
1
In the Impala, Dean increased the volume from the cassette player : he wanted to hear the air collapsing under James Hetfield’s voice, only his threaten but sensual voice. His fingers began to tap the wheel, following the stirring rhythm. Dean loved how the refrain seep in his ears : as a sound designer trainee, he was obviously sensitive to the music.
It was already the third movie he contributed to, and he was glad every times he think that, soon, he will color the movies with heavy metal songs or rock melodies. In fact, when he watched a slasher film, Dean always let the end credits scrolling, listening to the song which closing the movie as a bonus : it was a little pleasure.
Dean did not really understood the context of the movie : surely another feature film to promote the war between human being and supernatural things. For an obscure reason, it was pretty fashionable. But why he should care about people with fake wings or fake black eyes ? Dean was only here to listen professionals talking about music marrying picture. That was all.
But actually, it was pretty hard to work when everybody was euphoric, unbridled or dreamy. Especially when it was not about your business. After all, Dean was just a trainee here, with a pity experience and too much hope. At last, he always found an advantage with his good-looking face and his honeyed smile. The man tried to approach two women near the coffee machine, asking what happened this tomorrow.
‘You do not know ? They said that the directors caught something precious : an angel !’
Dean choked with his own drink and looked at the girls.
‘Are you kidding me ?’
The second one shrugged.
‘We have not yet seen the creature : but since seven a.m., they occupied a lodge, barricading it and tagging symbols on the door. We must to not disturb them, but Carl is an occult fanatic and told everybody that the symbols are in enochian… I do not know what language is, from Heaven he added.’ the girl laughed, ‘anyway, they seemed to serve as an angel’s trap. Believe it or not, we will see this afternoon maybe.’
Dean frowned : even if he already knew that werewolves and banshees were real, especially when the departmental police was never able to explain the reasons of why his brother has died, however, he never thought that angels could be a part of his world. They all know that they are not legend : an angel is not a little cherub, naked and chubby, on a cloud. Actually, they were more like monsters : even if not everyone was able to see their true form, no one doubted about their strength. So, capturing one was a real feat.
Dean has never met one. Anyway, they were not humans and with such powers, they cannot be always goods after his point of view.
---
The earphones in his ears, Dean took a look to the play list intended to be used during the movie. While he was listening Kansas, nostalgia of old rock bands soaked his palate. He mumbled the lyrics of Play the Game Tonight and did not notice that Matt, his associate, just went into the room. Matt was a great buddies even if he preferred modern bands -they often squabbled over it like two lions cub-, he worked on this second movie and was quite serious. The young man shook Dean’s shoulder for pull his out of his noisy dreams.
‘Dean. Dean ! Have you seen him ?’, he stamped, totally excited with his eyes full of stars.
‘See who ?’
‘The angel, of course ! Well, the bosses do not want to overhead us dawdling around the lodge too long. Holy shit, man : you have to go and see him, anyway !’
Dean chuckled, he looked down the paper again. What the point exactly ?
‘For what ? His fluffy wings and his angelic mug ? I am sure that I know prettier blond girls.’
‘Well, in fact, we cannot see his wings. I do not know : I might sound so rubbish, but he have… an aura or sort of, you know.’
Dean thought that the so incredible creature must looked like a simple man. It was an easy logic : if the angel stayed quiet and did nothing : he surely looked as a dull man, after all. The presumed-aura was seen only because they know who he is.
Matt give him a friendly slap on his back and added :
‘By the way : he is not blond.’
2
The long day finally ended. Dean did not none conversation without a biblical vocabulary. Even the swear-word "Oh my God" resonated differently, especially when little smirks appeared or fiery blushing. At last, Dean could swear without the feeling that a child of God look daggers at him. He sang as if blasphemy was not a sin while he tidying up the office. He does not care either if he spoke with the singer who was adapting the voice of the Devil. He does not care either if he hummed that Hell is better than Heaven, even if he did not trust himself.
Dean sang along when he took the last file. He has to bring it to the art director’s office, but in his way, he stopped in front of this strange door : this door covered of huge drawings in white. The weirdest geometry he has even seen. The curious man pushed the garishly made-up gate : he just wanted to give a glance.
The sigils multiplied inside the room : stretching out speechless incantations from the damned and noble sentences in a forgotten language. Moreover, a lot of oblate cardboard covered the windows, so the half-light could outline every pallid seals.. They all formed artistic bars of a cage in white which surrounding a lonely prisoner in the middle of the lodger. Dean was quite right : the creature looked as a common man. No wings, not even a single feather on him or on the floor. Instead of a kind and compassionate, a withdrawn and sad expression darkened his face. It was understandable : heavy chains -surely coming from a boat- locked up his wrists, as his ankles were fasten to the chair’s feet : a mysterious circus freak. Even if he wore a suit, the angel presented a pity bearing : he was barefoot, with untidy hair and his spine was curved. With a slight movement of the head, he cast an eye over his visitor. So blue, so abyssal : as the tears he could not shed drowned his pupils.
‘Are you the famous angel ?’
‘Yes, I guess I am.’
Dean has excepted for an heavenly tone, maybe girly and mellifluous, but on the contrary, his voice was deep like his vocal cords was made in stone. After every vowel, it seemed as his breath was smashed to pieces in air. The God’s servant seemed to not be a good conversationalist but Dean could not leave the room like that. He asked, in a random mood :
‘Do you have any name ?’
The blue became lighter, looking like a early winter sky.
‘Yes ; my name is Castiel. What is yours, man ?’
‘I am Dean.’
It was very disturbing how Castiel was staring at him, maybe swinging between the disgust or the curiosity, Dean did not know what the angel was thinking about. Does he could read his mind ? What a creature like him can do, exactly ? Moreover, how they consider humans ? This thought scared Dean who made a step behind.
‘I-I have to go.’
The angel stayed quiet, nodding but not really disappointed.
‘I understand.’, alone again, Castiel diverted toward the wall. It was already over.
3
As he looked in the small lounge a thing with the same blue of angel’s gaze, Dean waiting for the answer on the phone. After the second intonation, the mumble of a voice cut the waiting.
‘Who is calling ?’
‘Hey Bobby, it is me, Dean.’
After some short reunions -the two men were too proud to really expressing their joy-, the young man dared asking his insistent question.
‘I know it is late and everything, but you have always yours books about creatures and others folklores, right ? Have you something about the angels ?’
‘You always told me that I was a stupid religious alcoholic for believing in those things, you are drunk enough to be interested ?’
A slight laugh : Bobby knew that Dean spoke frankly since his childhood, insulting any thing, even if he loved it. Bobby not held it against him, because somehow, he was the same.
‘Anyway, I think I had something…’
While the knower turned the pages, he asked to Dean if he has met an angel. The young man gave him a vague response : of course Castiel was an angel, but believed it as a normal thing ? As he has seen him, the creature was nothing but a beast in cage, an number for a supernatural circus.
‘I am not really sure : first, what are they like ?’
‘I know no one who could see their true form : but when they come down on Earth, they use vessels : a human with a special blood and his permission, it is called Angelic Possession. So, we cannot really see them. If the body is not really intact : it just become really stronger. About their functions, the author told nothing but quoting the Bible, I guess it is the best reference. So, they are warriors from Heaven, messengers and everything else.’
‘About their powers ? What can they do ?’
‘According to the writer, an angel is able to teleport, appear in dreams, heal any wound and even bring someone from the dead… They can use Telepathy, read minds… It is enough for you ?’
‘… I guess… Which book I can read about angels… Not something creepy as yours ?’
‘A normal book, huh ? Open the Bible, idjit.’
Dean thought it was the most logical when Bobby hung up. Bringing the lost from the dead ? The name of Sam floating for a while in his mind but the young man but he deleted it.
4
Five nights passed with an excessive curiosity with every biblical citation and angelic allusion. He do not feel shame at all, actually, it was like a strange obsession has touched everybody : it was a kind of divine powers ? However, the worst : every time Dean saw something blue, he could not help himself but compare the color with Castiel’s iris. They were blue but not a slight of aggressive grey, not a sight of wild green : just blue as sky. Very clear but not too much to be ghostly. And deep, deep as an abyssal sea of tropics. The most freeze tropics. Wait. Dean stopped in front of postcard from New Zealand that Matt left on his table. What he was thinking about ? And why he was so haunted by these eyes ?
The picture feel from his fingers when his owner went in the office. Matt had already a very white skin, but when he looked at Dean, his face seemed to be made with paper. Worst, ghost’s silk covered his cheeks.
‘Dude… Have you seen a monster ?’
‘Do you remember when someone was looking for Carl, the cameraman, yesterday ?’, Dean nodded, ‘We thought he was sick. In fact, he is, but it is not a cold or whatever ! Dean, all the left side of his body is paralyzed !’
‘Did he fall or… ?’, Matt’s only answer was to shrugging, almost shacking. By the way, he added, his face still pale :
‘That is not all : Zoë, the little make up designer, is blind since this morning. And, like for Carl, we do not know why…’
Then an awkward silence hung over them. Matt sat down on the edge of the office, frowning and shared his fears.
‘Do you think it could be the angel ?’
His question made him jump.
‘Cas-- What ? The angel ? Why him ?’, of course, he had exactly the same suspicion but preferred to hear another mouth telling this.
‘I know that angels are not supposed to do that : but I’ve heard that some people are not… really nice with him. First, he did not come here because he wanted, they led him to.’
Dean agreed : anybody could see that the lodger became a prison. An angel is not necessary good : not this one, at last. And a series of accidents just began because a divine soldier was jailed in this building. Matt opened his mouth again but a scream was shouted from outside.
‘What the hell--’
A woman was running in the corridor, begging help form a random person. Her hands shaking like old and icy wood. And her bulging eyes making her like a mad owl : she was scared. Then, the woman tried to speak, gasp after gasp, despite her dry throat.
‘Ple-please ! Somebody ! Marc is dead ! He-he hung himself !’
Not because she was shooting, but the new sink immediately everyone in a wild panic. The poor girl, after burst out sobbing, tried to explain how Marc had seeming so faraway. How he had walking on a high footbridge covered with some cables. Then, how the sort of rope winding around his neck when he had fallen. Marc died in some ephemeral seconds. A tragic accident.
Dean thought about Castiel as everybody ran towards the place of the suicide. With an awkward feeling, he sent flying the card in drop.
In fact, the water under the palm tress was turquoise, not really blue.
5
Like five days ago, Dean had waited that most people had gone, for dawdling around the hallway, in front of the door. What if he touched the handle and set in fire ? Or what if these hypnotic blue eyes asked him to kill himself ?
Finally, he went in the room of the angel.
‘Oh. It is you, Dean.’
As the first time, Castiel leant his head and observed Dean as a strange creature. He wears the same suit with a pettiest behavior. And still : the blue sky which devoured all Dean’s attention where the night never fall. Over his face, the innocence, typical from a divine creature surely, fusing with an intimidating serious. Not more trusting than before, Dean covered more meters than the last time. From where he was, he could see the same enochian sigils on the chains. That is was the angel could not break his handcuffs. Dean did not know where to begin, what to say. He started badly with a random patter.
‘I have read some things about you, the angels : some symbols or curses can trick you.’
‘It is enochian, our language. We do not have the choice but respect the spells.’
The angel fingers were folded back, motionless and fixed. His eyes were still attracted by Dean but he did not seem to blame him. Whilst the human imagined, while observing Castiel’s shoulders, two heavy but bright wings of silver feathers : the sorrowed man could be almost beautiful.
‘Does it hurt ?’
‘No. It is just… uncomfortable.’
When he finished his reply, the angel has Dean right in front of him. No burning feeling behind his eyes, no whisperings in the depths of his head and no painful venom in his veins. First, Dean doubted that Castiel was able to curse the staff : but he could not be sure without a clear and true answer.
‘There are a lot of troubles on the film set. Are the one who--’
‘Yes, I am.’
No one expression ; shame, remorse or not even pride came agitate his earnest visage. A lion after his dinner was not more quiet than the heavenly soldier.
‘Why ?’
Maybe Castiel frowned, the young man was not sure : but he replied quicker than usual.
‘I asked them to let me free but they refused. I asked several times. So I try to convince them in a other way. I shall heal the blind woman and the paralyzed man. I shall even resuscitate the hang man. But only if you let me go.’
‘What did you except when you appeared ?’
‘I did not want to come here. They caught me in this vessel.’
‘Just leave this body and go back to your little clouds.’
A slight sympathetic smile hemmed his voluptuous lips.
‘You really do not understand, do you ? I can not. There is a sigil tattooed back of my shoulder, it keep me in my vessel.’
So there were a lot of cages with walls, chains, darkness and loneliness. But worst of all ; prison made in the unknown flesh and stranger bones. Trapped in a cluster of warm meat. But for now, Dean felt sorry more for the real human one and not the angel into.
‘I guess your friends will come here and help you.’
Then Castiel lowered his eyes, seemed awkward.
‘They don’t know where I am, and these sigils are barriers for them. Moreover, some others angels are captured for a longer time than me. Do you hear about Emile Storme ?’
‘Not at all.’
‘He is a collector, he cherishes supernatural things and has catch two angels already with his morbid obsession. Their name are Nachiel and Lemanael. And they are my brothers.’
Until now, the young man thought that Castiel was an emotionless person, maybe like a wild creature with instincts for survival but nothing else. Although, when he talked about his family, a flash of grief from his blue eyes hit Dean, in his stomach. He was not even sure if this gaze was human. After all, they are the door to the pure soul : maybe the angel himself.
‘No, I have not…’, he repeated.
It was his turn to become evasive. Castiel tried to raise his hands towards him.
‘I think that you are the only one who can help me, Dean.’
‘What ? And how could I ?’
‘Those symbols are nothing for you : just painting and forms. You can break them.’
More the hollow eyes begged for him, more Dean wanted to step back. Even if Castiel was right, the man could not trust him : who said that the free lion does not eat the person who set him free ? How he can be sure that the angel will be grateful ?
‘You have to let me go.’
‘I won’t lose my job for you. I won’t let you get your revenge.’
‘I just want to leave this place, Dean. That is all. They threatened to ill-threat me if I resist again.’
So the angel asked his help, now. But if Dean has the possibility to save someone ; it would be the vessel, not the spirit in. His fleshy lips were still opened but the air was absent. Does the angel really brings his breath ?
‘And what ? I mean ; you are a creature. You hurt these people even if they do not do anything to you. You are not human, you are not humane neither.’
The angel lost all hope while he observed the angry face of the man. He have not to stay anymore and actually, he really do not care if he lost his place in Heaven : the angels do not deserve to be saved. Somehow, he already knew it.
6
How gloomy were the churches when you have repudiated an angel of the Lord. But Dean was not afraid of the Hell or the sins : in any case, not much than before. But all belief definitely gone from the crosses and holy paintings. And he does not want to hear a word about Castiel or any angel in this world. All the bead of purity were breaking : Dean always doubt that cleanliness could exist in this world, now, all his whims were gone.
How fool he was to imagine that he could ignore the angel while he worked a few walls further and when anybody have an unhealthy curiosity about him. Moreover, especially when a sort of divine rage collapsed over the staff. The week was not pass yet and the writer’s hands burned out. His flesh became black and was already boiling before he could do anything. Under the cold water, some flaps of skin fell in the washbasin, leaving the reddening and exuding surface of the muscle. When he arrived at the hospital, pale as a ghost and sweating as a mad man, the nurses screamed. One of them howled murder ! at his face.
That is not all.
An actor killed himself at his home : he made a swan dive from his balcony. His pate hit’s the ground like a ripe strawberry, except that the fruit has bones and brain. Before his jump, he wrote a note on his table : something like « Lord, please, save me. », but he was not a believer.
7
Dean was not here when the director, Steven Stanford, ill-threaded Castiel. The great question is how can you destroy an angel ? An enochian curse, slay him with an angel blade or simply, show him that a human could me more impressive than a God’s child. If he could, Steven would rear off the wings of the creature : after all, Castiel ruined his project, he could do the same with his expectations to go back at home.
If Dean did not know, he discovered the truth when Matt explained him everything. Matt was not a silly buddies, and told him ;
‘Honestly, Dean, I can not stand here any more. The staff is going to be mad : they to left the movie and make a sort of… documentary about angels… They are obsessed and the word is not strong enough ! I do not want to hang myself or cut my bollocks because some voice form Heaven told me to do, you know.’
Matt was absolutely right and the young man could not speak, just shuddering. After his refusal, Castiel could have murmured to him to cut his own throat or shoot in his head. But he did not, because he did not want, right ? His friend planned to left definitely the show today. He will not tell a word to the boss : he was still fond of his face.
‘Do what you want, Dean, but it is the last time you saw me, okay ?… Sorry…’
He nodded and whish good luck to Matt. All he really wished that is do not open a newspaper tomorrow and see the name of Matt linked to the description of an awful death. Maybe he will leave too, tonight.
But why he felt a huge rush of sympathy for the angel ?
8
Castiel was still looking at his wounds. A large cut was smiling under his chest ; first, a light had come out from the injury, but now, the blood of the human replaced the angel’s. His vision was still blurred because of the sounds of bad incantations had screech inside his skull. A creaking sound shake him out his painful lethargy.
‘Here you come, Dean.’
He screwed up his eyes. His voice was the same, even if Dean imagined a slight of sarcasm in his ton. But Castiel laughed it up when he observed himself again. The poor human, who did not recognize the ancient angel, tried to speak but no sound roll over his tongue. Castiel guessed his weak and added :
‘So ? You still think that even if I am not human, I deserve it ?’
The fire could burn in his eyes, the rage of a furious angel, the blame of a saint. But no, Dean recalled the trapped tears in these dry eyes. Still so blue. Still so beautiful.
With a slight of reflection, Dean would have stayed near the door. Thought, he moved forward the injured angel and took his hands in the chains. He lend a knee on the floor and get a better view of Castiel’s face. His hair were more sloppy, his shirt was stained of sear blood. Yet his face got away form any sign of pain or tiredness : nothing at all. But the man was not so blind…
‘I am so sorry, Castiel. It is really pity as excuse when I think what I told to you, last day, but I really am.’
‘It is okay.’
He did not use an offensive voice, the angel did not try to push the human away. Dean regretted that Castiel looked down, his eyelid almost covered his pupils which were real treasures. If some fingers tightened around a hand, the others ones came press a check, came relieve a silent fear.
‘Maybe… Maybe I can help you, Cas, just listen to me.’
‘Cas ?’
‘Tell me what do you need ? I just have to rub out a line, a letter, right ?’
The mark were made with acrylic painting without a doubt, but a stroke and the prison will crumbled. Dean always kept a knife in his pocket. Even if he use it only to recovering some stuffs stuck in the impala or make a sandwich, this time, the knife will serve a nobler design. Dean speak with a lower voice as he kneeled behind Castiel, destroying a white line.
‘Even if I break all the seals, you have to wait for me, tonight for half past midnight, okay ? I can not take you with me now, while everyone works here. Put your coat here, they won’t see the erasure.’
Castiel repositioned himself on his stool, obeying to the human.
‘I just still do not know how I will smuggle here, in the middle of the night… Maybe I can steal a key or…’
‘I can open the doors.’
Dean stopped his movements. He did not remember to read that angels can really unlock every latch they meet.
‘Not exactly : but with telepathy, we can.’
Added Castiel with the most disconcerting serious in his voice as Dean almost fell on his back.
‘Okay, okay, alright but… Do not read my mind again, okay ? Just… You can open the main door for midnight past half ?’
‘Yes.’
His ideas became clearer. Dean went around the angel who could not catch his hands but held him up with a thanks. The young man shrugged as he tried to keep a normal face : inside, he felt really embarrassed. The obsession started to turn his mind too.
9
The night seemed to slide over the dark hood of the Impala. It was only midnight past twenty-eight when Dean arrived forward the main door of the building. Castiel will open the bolt for half, precisely. He crouched in the shadow, becoming a little more discreet, taking those three minutes for thinking. It was really a mad plan and a few days ago, he had prefer to become a virgin priest than help this angel and plunging in this weird and risky affair. But the boat of Steven Stanford was dangerously sinking, Matt made the good choice and Dean, knowing more things than his friend about angels, could not leave the creature with his vessel. With this human. The seconds passed out while the man was wondering where Matt was : that paranoid bastard was surely driving forward Mexico or somewhere else. Dean could not contain a light laugh. But he choked on when the door made a sharp detonation. Just in time.
All the corridors were drowning under the night and the quiet of silence. Although Dean worked enough here to find quickly the lodge where the angel was waiting for him. With the cardboard panels, he could turn on the light. Castiel seemed to be already standing in the room : the chains around his wrist again.
‘Fuck, I forgot those rubbish stuffs... !’
‘I can break it, Dean, even if my vessel is a little stiff… I can try.’
Dean did not understand first why the creature bring the steel fetters to his lips. His mouth let the teeth showed and bite on the hard metal. The steel did not break down but it became enough flattened to be twisted. The angel finally destroyed his links. Dean opened his eyes wide and swore to himself to never call the strength of angels into question again.
The angel staggered for his first steps ; the body did not move for a month, maybe, and he had to be careful with it. Also, he refused Dean’s help for that : they had plenty of time.
A hip knocked against a desk, Dean swore at the furniture, unable to anticipate the problems because of the sound. A few minutes later and a bright light drilled their eyes, on top of that, a frightened but also bellicose voice burst in the large lobby. Someone was surely caught up his work and forget to go home. Dean growled with exasperation. Castiel reacted in a different way : slowly, he showed his hands to the man, proving he was no armed. Although the strange form with his finger : they were all tucked over his palm except his annular and his index. Wide apart, presenting himself to the sunny lamp : he had never looked more angelic in any moment but now. Maybe because his shadow revealed two colossal and graceful wings in black forms over the wall behind.
‘Do not make a move.’
Dean did not know if Castiel had spoke to him or the uninvited. By the way, the unknown intruder started to scream when he noticed the abnormal shadow of Castiel. The messenger from Heaven walked with a confident step, his hands always up.
‘Do not be afraid. I won’t hurt you.’
It could be the devil himself with his personal army of hideous demons, the poor man would not make a movement : he was really too scary. The angel pressed his fingers right on his forehead and let the human fall over the floor. Quickly, Castiel promised to Dean that he did not kill him : he was just in a really, really deep sleep.
‘We can move faster with teleportation.’
‘Teleportation ? Angels can take passengers when they are teleporting ?’
‘Yes.’ Castiel raised his eyebrows. It seemed really trivial to him. As if some men asked to him where the beer passed out when he drink it. What would be the risks. Even if Dean still wanted to help him, when he gave a look to the man, standing on the paving, he shuddered. That is one of the risks ?
‘No. You won’t collapse after a travel.’
Dean jumped again.
‘Stop that !’
‘I am sorry…’
‘So… I can tell you my answer with my voice, you know ? You do not need to read my mind. Again.’
Castiel looked down like a ashamed child after a big stupid thing. Quickly, Dean became milder.
‘No way. I can not take the risk, plus… I have already bring my car. You will travel in a Impala, angel or not. Okay ?’, the angel easily nodded in agreement, before locking the doors again when they came out.
10
If he could, Dean would have laughed with the madder grin : they were so lucky ! If his passenger would not have been an angel, the driver would have imagined that some serendipitous God or spirit would have been by their side. But he contained his joy behind his lips twisted in a simple smile. No words, no music : the noise from the car was enough when they left definitely the street near the building, although that Castiel glanced at him, frowning and intrigued.
After a while, the creature spoke first ;
‘I thought you saved me because you were afraid of me and what I have done. But I was wrong.’
The driver kept his calm, dithering to tell the truth to Castiel.
‘Maybe that you were not totally wrong : I thought that I will be your next victim. And then I saw what they did. Saving you was not exactly an egoistical fact, I really thought that you do not serve that.’
Dean wanted to add that the angel obsessed him in a different way than everybody else, but surely with the strong envy. What if he could bring Castiel at his little flat and ask him to stay ? The angel will not bear chains or live as he did in the lodge. Of course not. But cherish him can make a difference ?
Dean doubted.
‘You are really a honest and good human, Dean, I appreciate it.’
The first smile Dean saw and the desire to keep the angel to himself deepened like a simple breeze which became an enormous hurricane.
11
‘You can use the shower if you want, even if I don’t think that the blood on your shirt will less easily be cleaning.’
The visit of the apartment was useless : all that surrounded Dean when the free days were only a sofa bed in a half-bedroom half-saloon room, cohabiting with a tiny kitchen. The only part with a proper door was the bathroom. Moreover, the only thing that Dean was really proud in this flat was the great collection of cassettes, vinyl and Cds of all good rock and metal bands taken together. AC/DC, Led Zeppelin, Motorheäd, Metallica, Lynyrd Skynyrd and others came brighten the corner of the saloon up, on the high shelve, with their esthetic covers. Actually, if some dust bunnies ran under the sofa, the table, no one of them dared to roll under the musical treasure. Wishing to calm the atmosphere, Dean opened the stereo system and let the machine ate one of the Lynyrd Skynyrd’s albums.
Under the sound of Born to Run, Dean could hear the noise of the water. As powerful as Johnny Van Zant's voice may be, Dean did not fell the needing to dance, if only to sway his hips.
Instead, Dean opened the sink and let the hot water held up the hollow. He hesitated for a while and finally entered in the bathroom. The man said a short sorry and tried to do not look at Castiel. But the mirror, right behind him, showed nobody in the shower. There were the clothes yet, and the water was always turned on.
Dean jumped and turned over : yes, Castiel was still there, huddled up.
‘Hey, Cas ? Are you alright ?’
He bore down but kept his hands away from the angel, who assured him that he was fine. There was no more blood on his back, on his arms. And his hair fell out over his forehead, matting his skin. Dean did not dare to touch him but saw a strange effect of the water behind the angel. It seemed as the drops glided on the air : an elegant and invisible curve. All the warm misty rain waltzed around but did not settle on the wings. Yes, it were wings ! These same wings that Dean had seen in the lobby. Filling with wonder by them, Dean approached his fingers.
‘Can I… touch it ?’
‘You can not feel them.’
Castiel applied his wet hands over his shoulder, guessing the presence of the proves that he was really an angel. As the water still outlined the wings, Castiel explained to Dean why ;
‘Event he feathers are not materials : for you, humans, they are just shadows, breezes or air.’
Dean horribly felt disappointed but stayed a while, admiring the way of the water to ran over the concealed feathers. He followed with his eyes the miniature river and remembered that Castiel has only the water for clothes. The color-free lines slowly ran on his backbone before disappearing between the crook of his hips and his stomach.
‘Well. I take your clothes and wash the blood.’
How long he was standing here ? His knees hurt him so much when he stand up again !
12
As Dean had presumed, the scarlet stains did go entirely : if a silky drip gone, it always left its brown shadow on the white shirt. But it was not so bad : even if it was a little bit too big for him, the jeans and black T-shirt really suits to Castiel. He observed, with a intense curiosity, the speakers where Johnny Van Zant’s voice came out, singing with a desperately sensuality while Dean opened the fridge and grabbed two beers.
‘I guess that your angelic chorus sing Hallelujah or Jesus my Friend every day, right ? Oh, by the way… You can drink or it is a sin ?’
Castiel frowned.
‘The angels do not sing all the days, not those songs, only the enochian calls.’
Dean thought he hurt his feelings but did not pay attention anymore : the angel sat down and accepted the bottle of blond beer. For a few seconds, the young man wondered if the creature could be drunk but shook his head. How stupid he was…
‘You sing these enochian calls too ?’
‘I like the Eleventh Call. But we do not really have free time…’, admitted Castiel.
Dean drank a sip with a smirk and asked to Castiel to sing something, in enochian or whatever. No matters what, he was just really curious that how this crackled but soft voice could wield lyrics. Castiel did not stand on ceremony after taking a sip too, and started ;
‘Oxiayal holdo od zirom o coraxo ds zildar raasy, od vabzir camliax od bahal : niiso ! salman teloch ; casarmanholq, od t i ta z chis soba cormf i ga. Niisa ! Bagle abramg noncp. Zacare, ca, od zamran ; odo cicle qaa ; zorge, lap zirdo noco Mad, hoath Iaida.’
Every words in the mysterious dialect rolled over his tongue as his eyes did not let Dean’s. The notes rang out strangely, in a disjointed rhythm. A calling which suited perfectly to this sick throat. The man could not understand him but listening only the waves of sound.
‘Do you the English version ?’
‘It says : the mighty seat groaned and there were five thunders which flew into the east, and the Eagle spake and cried with a loud voice : come away ! And they gathered themselves together and became the house of death ; of whom it is measured, and it is as they are whose number is thirty-one. Come away ! For I prepare for you. Move, therefore, and show yourselves ; open the mysteries of your creation ; be friendly unto me, for I am the servant of the same God as you, the true worshipper of the Highest. It is the Eleventh Call.’, answered he.
Dean did not care if it was purely religious, almost simple-minded for a guy like him. It was the first time that Castiel spoke as much and he knew at this moment : he did not have an angelic voice, not at all, but he sounds delightful and heartbreaking as every singer who explain how hard the life is. Dean has almost a melancholic expression but, fast, he recovered.
‘And… Tell me, what an angel does when he has free time ? You are not singing all the days, right ?’
‘We do not really have free time. We wage war against demons, we must protect prophets on Earth and others important people…’
‘Important people ? Like this man ?’, asked Dean, pointing on Castiel’s body.
‘My vessel is a man of many others ; but a good one, a great believer. Without him, I am not sure if you could see my true form. You could become blind.’
Dean coughed with surprise.
‘Your true form ? You mean that angels are not simply men with light around them and two wings at their back or something like that ? ’, Castiel did not laugh despite Dean’s smile.
‘One of us has a lion head. Another has two eagle heads. As for me, I am approximately tall as your Chrysler building.’
The man raised his eyebrows and glanced at the window : the building opposite their one was not enormous like the Chrysler building, but enough…
‘Wow. I can not imagine that. Ho, hi Cas !’ said he with a slight ton, shaking up his hand as Castiel frowned again, tilting hiss head to the left..
‘Dean. I am here.’
‘Yeah, I know, it is just… We call it humor, you see… Well, never mind…’, feeling really awkward with a man who do not understand jokes, Dean took his beer to his lips again, letting the silence between them for some minutes. Maybe Castiel was right : it was time to speak seriously.
‘Cas, what were you doing in the shower ? I thought you felt sick…’
‘I spoke to my brothers.’
A crack violently blasted at Dean’s stomach. Maybe the angel was not really good for him, but he did not want to let him go.
‘Oh… Yeah, it is true : you can go back to Heaven, now.’, he did not want to chained the divine soldier as the staff did. Castiel lowered his head, in agreement, or regretting maybe if Dean let his hopes speaking.
‘Cas. I am not asking twice because it feels really uncomfortable but… Can you stay a little longer here ? For a day ? Or just the night ?’
His jaws hurt him how they were tensed. Even the joins at his hands were contracted : hopefully, he did not hold the bottle of beer. He would break it.
‘Yes. I can stay for the night.’
Dean hushed up a sigh with a gulp.
13
Under the golden glints of the streetlights over the ceiling, Dean wondered if Castiel was really able to sleep. He was unbelievably tired but the simple idea that the angel was in this tiny bed for the first and last time kept his eyes wide. Now, Dean was not sure why he wanted so much to have Castiel by his side : he did not want to have money like Steven Stanford, he did not except him to fulfill a wish or bring his brother back from the dead. It was a simple but ardent desire. Moreover : it was an hungry fancy like he could fell for an outstanding woman. One of those wild flash of adoration. Dean tried to imagine if Castiel was just a simple man in a street, a new bakery or mailman, not a creature from Heaven.
The needing would be strong as this one ?
After all, the man was quite pretty even if he did not even know his real name. What if this vessel was a real bastard, even if Castiel thought he was a good man ? What if his eyes were not blue at all ? With a grunt, Dean passed his hands over his eyelids : he thought too much. Really too much. And Castiel still did not move, turning his back.
Dean did not make a philosophic dissertation before flirting with a person.
Yeah, but he was not a person. He was an angel. He might to receive God’s thunderbolt just because he caressing Castiel’s shoulder. Dean winced : naïve as him, Castiel would not notice the innuendo in some questions.
He dared double or nothing.
With a careful movement with his thigh, Dean came closer. His arms surrounded Castiel’s waist for pulling him toward his chest. Strangely, the angel easily let himself go. For now, everything was good. He dared to hold him tighter before approaching his lips.
‘Cas, tell me if it is wrong for an angel to kiss a human.’
‘It is not wrong at all. I know an angel who made it with a woman, another with an other man and--’
Obviously, Castiel spoke always too much and, for reducing him to silence, Dean kissed him with the most eager want. Maybe he was a little too violent at first, but Dean recovered quickly his manners of sweet lovers : keeping softly Castiel’s lips on his. As he guessed, Castiel surely never kissed anybody before : his hands stretching over the mattress like it was a uncomfortable burden. As the virgins, he did not know what to do with his own arms and assets and only took advantage of the pleasure. As for Dean, he slid some fingers under the black shirt, caressing the waist, pressing against the small of the back. Their breath were still mixed with sighs and pants, before Dean totally lifted the angel over him, feeling his legs holding his sides, the form of his butt right behind his crotch and his palms warming over his chest. Hastily, Dean's fingers pushed away the cloth to the shoulders, his heart spitting in his veins a burning hurricane and his lungs get up in flames. Did Castiel could feel the same things in his borrowed body ? Dean hoped.
The human threw the shirt away, on a pillow, grabbing the hips of his beloved, blessing his throat and collarbones with his enamored lips. At last, Castiel embracing his neck with his arms, murmuring him a litany of imploring again. Even if the stereo system was silent, a drum behind Dean’s head knocking like when he listening to a frenzied music piece. Moreover, he started to think that a second heart just come out under his belt, before he decided to made Castiel sit over it for soothing the pulse. In a ill-considered way, a hand sidled between the highs of the angel. But under the fear, the angel stifled a cry and grabbed Dean's wrist. The audacious lover had forgotten that he was touching a virgin, an unsullied creature. As a sorry, he kissed Castiel’s forehead and banishing the lust zone from his mind.
Not tonight, maybe.
If he could not stroke a little more the boner he had felt, he could still cherish his obsession with his back. The angel espoused the form of the mattress with his stomach and sensed the point of the nose of the man drawing a line between shoulder blade. Dean could guess the white and heavy bone right under the skin he brushed, but he preferred to imagine two little emerging wings of flesh. Unable to repressing a sweet insane urge, he licked one of them. He was ready to do it again after the gasp from Castiel but instead, he noticed the tattoo : the one which locked the creature in this vessel. He smiled, thinking that the sigil will keep Castiel in this human form. He knew that the angel thought the sigil was uncomfortable. He knew that how his vow sounded selfish. But for this once, a weight between his ribs fell down in dark.
‘Dean ? What are you doing ?’
‘Nothing.’
The man clasped his neck, slowly picking up his face to hearing Castiel's breath. Every pushed expiration made a deep sound while he was kissing the small of his back. Those little wind which rekindle an hungry fire that Dean loved so much… A nail scratched the waistband of the dark pants though he did not get under the cloth. How hard it was to let the pants on, but Dean felt he could wait that Castiel feel enough alright for something more.
His anxiety finally boiled off and he felt a sweet tiredness took over him. He settled his chest over the breezy wings and his fingers became entangled with Castiel's ones, in the exact posture of a warm cage. They gave a few words each other. Or more exactly, the celestial beloved listening to how the human wanted him to stay. They felt like two teenagers who do not think about tomorrow : Dean has always have a clear head, never cluttering up his mind with problems. And even the consequences of the consenting kidnapping were really, really far away from his mind for this moment.
The sure sign that Dean had fallen in sleep very quickly after that amazing day, after rolling on his side and admiring, one more time, the blue pupils. He really had had the feeling that they were too bright to be still humans. And then, he had closed his owns.
14
‘Help ? Anybody help me ?’
---
Some wet murmuring came bothering his dreams. Dean wake up with the terribly feeling to fall down. Scared, his hand tried to grab Castiel’s arm, or even his hand, his shoulder… His fingers meets a limp form : the T-shirt that he removed a few hours earlier. He called his name, without an answer. Maybe the angel was tired to imitate the sleeping man.
So why his body was laying on the floor, near the kitchen ?
‘Cas ? What is going on ?’
The man turned on the light and confirmed that it was the same body he tried to gently blemish with flesh pleasures. It was too dark to understand what he was really seeing : no one color on the corner, no one sound. Like another world.
‘Cas ? Cas ?… Oh fu--’
The oath choked in his throat, losing itself on his tongue. The dark shadow over Castiel that Dean had thought to see was in reality a huge blood puddle. All the sticky scarlet substance came from right behind a shoulder where a knife for cook shining no more with all the blood over the blade.
‘Hey, Cas ! Wake up !’
He turned the body over. Dean violently shuddered because under the heavy eyelids, Castiel's pupils were not blue anymore : it was a wither sea, a fade sky. Two hollow and grey pearls. His lips were half opened, as tonight to welcoming Dean's tongue, but not even a sigh came out.
Dean has already see blood, this poison of sorrow : he had already seen Sam’s corpse. He had already known the same breathing wounds. He had already felt the loneliness while the dead bring with him the reason of this departure.
But God, he could live ten more times the disappearance of Sam : he will never be strong enough to bearing those loss. Putting a hand over his heart, Dean repressed his feeling to be sick. Instead the beer in his stomach, it was a lot of warm tears which rolled over his cheeks. His jaws contained a madly heart-rending scream, as his fists trembled, struggling against an angrily wild violence.
First, he was wondering who has entered in his flat and how he has could rest asleep while Castiel had murdered. The night was not over yet and he was really all alone in the room. Dean furiously dried his cheeks and tried to inspect the body. The knife was not only on his back : it was clumsily planted where the tattoo was, breaking the sigil. Letting the angel go and the heart of the human falling down.
Over the sink, a little piece of paper caught his eyes. Dean grabbed it when he understand that a note was writing on.
« Dear Dean,
I am really sorry. I told you that man was a good one : his name is Jimmy Novak. Please, give the opportunity to
his family to organize a properly burring. His dead would have been enough painful. Do not forget to burn the
clothes is the blood still do not go and blame the staff for Novak’s dead. As for you, thank you. I would like to stay
here forever as you wish. I do not listen your mind, I swear, but your thoughts were so loud, so outspoken.
I am sorry.
Castiel »
And that was all. His tears started to rolled again, stronger than ever as he surrounded his shoulders with his arms, like a poor and abandoned kid. Like when he was sixteen when he lost his little brother. Like a man without an ounce of happiness.
Dean felt so shame after that crying fit and looked at the man as Jimmy Novak. Just Jimmy Novak. So he tried to make love with an innocent and married man ? He chuckled, not really loudly, not really joyfully. He was sure about one think : this husband was quite handsome, the angel did not add nothing to his face. The Death had destroyed this unnamed blue.
Unnamed until that Dean took the decision to open the shutters. It was still earlier but he will keep waiting for the day, then, the sun, like an artist, will color the sky with its palette. Dean was convinced to see the blue of the eyes he already miss : because they have the color of the gloomy dawns.
Author : Seven Nana
Characters : Dean Winchester & Castiel
Pairing : Destiel
Rating : +17 for virgins.
Summary : AU. Dean is just a sound designer trainee for a movie... But when the staff caught an angel and show him as a freak from a circus, a strange madness fall over the stage.
NOTE : Still need beta's help. I'm absolutely not proud because I think this fic should be longer than that... But... Try to enjoy ♥ + translation of the title at the end of the text (it's french). Picture by me.
We all know that monsters are real. They look at you since the darkness, but also in the light.
The ghosts, the vampires and the werewolves were rooted out from ours horror books. The demons and the angels are not legends anymore.
1
In the Impala, Dean increased the volume from the cassette player : he wanted to hear the air collapsing under James Hetfield’s voice, only his threaten but sensual voice. His fingers began to tap the wheel, following the stirring rhythm. Dean loved how the refrain seep in his ears : as a sound designer trainee, he was obviously sensitive to the music.
It was already the third movie he contributed to, and he was glad every times he think that, soon, he will color the movies with heavy metal songs or rock melodies. In fact, when he watched a slasher film, Dean always let the end credits scrolling, listening to the song which closing the movie as a bonus : it was a little pleasure.
Dean did not really understood the context of the movie : surely another feature film to promote the war between human being and supernatural things. For an obscure reason, it was pretty fashionable. But why he should care about people with fake wings or fake black eyes ? Dean was only here to listen professionals talking about music marrying picture. That was all.
But actually, it was pretty hard to work when everybody was euphoric, unbridled or dreamy. Especially when it was not about your business. After all, Dean was just a trainee here, with a pity experience and too much hope. At last, he always found an advantage with his good-looking face and his honeyed smile. The man tried to approach two women near the coffee machine, asking what happened this tomorrow.
‘You do not know ? They said that the directors caught something precious : an angel !’
Dean choked with his own drink and looked at the girls.
‘Are you kidding me ?’
The second one shrugged.
‘We have not yet seen the creature : but since seven a.m., they occupied a lodge, barricading it and tagging symbols on the door. We must to not disturb them, but Carl is an occult fanatic and told everybody that the symbols are in enochian… I do not know what language is, from Heaven he added.’ the girl laughed, ‘anyway, they seemed to serve as an angel’s trap. Believe it or not, we will see this afternoon maybe.’
Dean frowned : even if he already knew that werewolves and banshees were real, especially when the departmental police was never able to explain the reasons of why his brother has died, however, he never thought that angels could be a part of his world. They all know that they are not legend : an angel is not a little cherub, naked and chubby, on a cloud. Actually, they were more like monsters : even if not everyone was able to see their true form, no one doubted about their strength. So, capturing one was a real feat.
Dean has never met one. Anyway, they were not humans and with such powers, they cannot be always goods after his point of view.
---
The earphones in his ears, Dean took a look to the play list intended to be used during the movie. While he was listening Kansas, nostalgia of old rock bands soaked his palate. He mumbled the lyrics of Play the Game Tonight and did not notice that Matt, his associate, just went into the room. Matt was a great buddies even if he preferred modern bands -they often squabbled over it like two lions cub-, he worked on this second movie and was quite serious. The young man shook Dean’s shoulder for pull his out of his noisy dreams.
‘Dean. Dean ! Have you seen him ?’, he stamped, totally excited with his eyes full of stars.
‘See who ?’
‘The angel, of course ! Well, the bosses do not want to overhead us dawdling around the lodge too long. Holy shit, man : you have to go and see him, anyway !’
Dean chuckled, he looked down the paper again. What the point exactly ?
‘For what ? His fluffy wings and his angelic mug ? I am sure that I know prettier blond girls.’
‘Well, in fact, we cannot see his wings. I do not know : I might sound so rubbish, but he have… an aura or sort of, you know.’
Dean thought that the so incredible creature must looked like a simple man. It was an easy logic : if the angel stayed quiet and did nothing : he surely looked as a dull man, after all. The presumed-aura was seen only because they know who he is.
Matt give him a friendly slap on his back and added :
‘By the way : he is not blond.’
2
The long day finally ended. Dean did not none conversation without a biblical vocabulary. Even the swear-word "Oh my God" resonated differently, especially when little smirks appeared or fiery blushing. At last, Dean could swear without the feeling that a child of God look daggers at him. He sang as if blasphemy was not a sin while he tidying up the office. He does not care either if he spoke with the singer who was adapting the voice of the Devil. He does not care either if he hummed that Hell is better than Heaven, even if he did not trust himself.
Dean sang along when he took the last file. He has to bring it to the art director’s office, but in his way, he stopped in front of this strange door : this door covered of huge drawings in white. The weirdest geometry he has even seen. The curious man pushed the garishly made-up gate : he just wanted to give a glance.
The sigils multiplied inside the room : stretching out speechless incantations from the damned and noble sentences in a forgotten language. Moreover, a lot of oblate cardboard covered the windows, so the half-light could outline every pallid seals.. They all formed artistic bars of a cage in white which surrounding a lonely prisoner in the middle of the lodger. Dean was quite right : the creature looked as a common man. No wings, not even a single feather on him or on the floor. Instead of a kind and compassionate, a withdrawn and sad expression darkened his face. It was understandable : heavy chains -surely coming from a boat- locked up his wrists, as his ankles were fasten to the chair’s feet : a mysterious circus freak. Even if he wore a suit, the angel presented a pity bearing : he was barefoot, with untidy hair and his spine was curved. With a slight movement of the head, he cast an eye over his visitor. So blue, so abyssal : as the tears he could not shed drowned his pupils.
‘Are you the famous angel ?’
‘Yes, I guess I am.’
Dean has excepted for an heavenly tone, maybe girly and mellifluous, but on the contrary, his voice was deep like his vocal cords was made in stone. After every vowel, it seemed as his breath was smashed to pieces in air. The God’s servant seemed to not be a good conversationalist but Dean could not leave the room like that. He asked, in a random mood :
‘Do you have any name ?’
The blue became lighter, looking like a early winter sky.
‘Yes ; my name is Castiel. What is yours, man ?’
‘I am Dean.’
It was very disturbing how Castiel was staring at him, maybe swinging between the disgust or the curiosity, Dean did not know what the angel was thinking about. Does he could read his mind ? What a creature like him can do, exactly ? Moreover, how they consider humans ? This thought scared Dean who made a step behind.
‘I-I have to go.’
The angel stayed quiet, nodding but not really disappointed.
‘I understand.’, alone again, Castiel diverted toward the wall. It was already over.
3
As he looked in the small lounge a thing with the same blue of angel’s gaze, Dean waiting for the answer on the phone. After the second intonation, the mumble of a voice cut the waiting.
‘Who is calling ?’
‘Hey Bobby, it is me, Dean.’
After some short reunions -the two men were too proud to really expressing their joy-, the young man dared asking his insistent question.
‘I know it is late and everything, but you have always yours books about creatures and others folklores, right ? Have you something about the angels ?’
‘You always told me that I was a stupid religious alcoholic for believing in those things, you are drunk enough to be interested ?’
A slight laugh : Bobby knew that Dean spoke frankly since his childhood, insulting any thing, even if he loved it. Bobby not held it against him, because somehow, he was the same.
‘Anyway, I think I had something…’
While the knower turned the pages, he asked to Dean if he has met an angel. The young man gave him a vague response : of course Castiel was an angel, but believed it as a normal thing ? As he has seen him, the creature was nothing but a beast in cage, an number for a supernatural circus.
‘I am not really sure : first, what are they like ?’
‘I know no one who could see their true form : but when they come down on Earth, they use vessels : a human with a special blood and his permission, it is called Angelic Possession. So, we cannot really see them. If the body is not really intact : it just become really stronger. About their functions, the author told nothing but quoting the Bible, I guess it is the best reference. So, they are warriors from Heaven, messengers and everything else.’
‘About their powers ? What can they do ?’
‘According to the writer, an angel is able to teleport, appear in dreams, heal any wound and even bring someone from the dead… They can use Telepathy, read minds… It is enough for you ?’
‘… I guess… Which book I can read about angels… Not something creepy as yours ?’
‘A normal book, huh ? Open the Bible, idjit.’
Dean thought it was the most logical when Bobby hung up. Bringing the lost from the dead ? The name of Sam floating for a while in his mind but the young man but he deleted it.
4
Five nights passed with an excessive curiosity with every biblical citation and angelic allusion. He do not feel shame at all, actually, it was like a strange obsession has touched everybody : it was a kind of divine powers ? However, the worst : every time Dean saw something blue, he could not help himself but compare the color with Castiel’s iris. They were blue but not a slight of aggressive grey, not a sight of wild green : just blue as sky. Very clear but not too much to be ghostly. And deep, deep as an abyssal sea of tropics. The most freeze tropics. Wait. Dean stopped in front of postcard from New Zealand that Matt left on his table. What he was thinking about ? And why he was so haunted by these eyes ?
The picture feel from his fingers when his owner went in the office. Matt had already a very white skin, but when he looked at Dean, his face seemed to be made with paper. Worst, ghost’s silk covered his cheeks.
‘Dude… Have you seen a monster ?’
‘Do you remember when someone was looking for Carl, the cameraman, yesterday ?’, Dean nodded, ‘We thought he was sick. In fact, he is, but it is not a cold or whatever ! Dean, all the left side of his body is paralyzed !’
‘Did he fall or… ?’, Matt’s only answer was to shrugging, almost shacking. By the way, he added, his face still pale :
‘That is not all : Zoë, the little make up designer, is blind since this morning. And, like for Carl, we do not know why…’
Then an awkward silence hung over them. Matt sat down on the edge of the office, frowning and shared his fears.
‘Do you think it could be the angel ?’
His question made him jump.
‘Cas-- What ? The angel ? Why him ?’, of course, he had exactly the same suspicion but preferred to hear another mouth telling this.
‘I know that angels are not supposed to do that : but I’ve heard that some people are not… really nice with him. First, he did not come here because he wanted, they led him to.’
Dean agreed : anybody could see that the lodger became a prison. An angel is not necessary good : not this one, at last. And a series of accidents just began because a divine soldier was jailed in this building. Matt opened his mouth again but a scream was shouted from outside.
‘What the hell--’
A woman was running in the corridor, begging help form a random person. Her hands shaking like old and icy wood. And her bulging eyes making her like a mad owl : she was scared. Then, the woman tried to speak, gasp after gasp, despite her dry throat.
‘Ple-please ! Somebody ! Marc is dead ! He-he hung himself !’
Not because she was shooting, but the new sink immediately everyone in a wild panic. The poor girl, after burst out sobbing, tried to explain how Marc had seeming so faraway. How he had walking on a high footbridge covered with some cables. Then, how the sort of rope winding around his neck when he had fallen. Marc died in some ephemeral seconds. A tragic accident.
Dean thought about Castiel as everybody ran towards the place of the suicide. With an awkward feeling, he sent flying the card in drop.
In fact, the water under the palm tress was turquoise, not really blue.
5
Like five days ago, Dean had waited that most people had gone, for dawdling around the hallway, in front of the door. What if he touched the handle and set in fire ? Or what if these hypnotic blue eyes asked him to kill himself ?
Finally, he went in the room of the angel.
‘Oh. It is you, Dean.’
As the first time, Castiel leant his head and observed Dean as a strange creature. He wears the same suit with a pettiest behavior. And still : the blue sky which devoured all Dean’s attention where the night never fall. Over his face, the innocence, typical from a divine creature surely, fusing with an intimidating serious. Not more trusting than before, Dean covered more meters than the last time. From where he was, he could see the same enochian sigils on the chains. That is was the angel could not break his handcuffs. Dean did not know where to begin, what to say. He started badly with a random patter.
‘I have read some things about you, the angels : some symbols or curses can trick you.’
‘It is enochian, our language. We do not have the choice but respect the spells.’
The angel fingers were folded back, motionless and fixed. His eyes were still attracted by Dean but he did not seem to blame him. Whilst the human imagined, while observing Castiel’s shoulders, two heavy but bright wings of silver feathers : the sorrowed man could be almost beautiful.
‘Does it hurt ?’
‘No. It is just… uncomfortable.’
When he finished his reply, the angel has Dean right in front of him. No burning feeling behind his eyes, no whisperings in the depths of his head and no painful venom in his veins. First, Dean doubted that Castiel was able to curse the staff : but he could not be sure without a clear and true answer.
‘There are a lot of troubles on the film set. Are the one who--’
‘Yes, I am.’
No one expression ; shame, remorse or not even pride came agitate his earnest visage. A lion after his dinner was not more quiet than the heavenly soldier.
‘Why ?’
Maybe Castiel frowned, the young man was not sure : but he replied quicker than usual.
‘I asked them to let me free but they refused. I asked several times. So I try to convince them in a other way. I shall heal the blind woman and the paralyzed man. I shall even resuscitate the hang man. But only if you let me go.’
‘What did you except when you appeared ?’
‘I did not want to come here. They caught me in this vessel.’
‘Just leave this body and go back to your little clouds.’
A slight sympathetic smile hemmed his voluptuous lips.
‘You really do not understand, do you ? I can not. There is a sigil tattooed back of my shoulder, it keep me in my vessel.’
So there were a lot of cages with walls, chains, darkness and loneliness. But worst of all ; prison made in the unknown flesh and stranger bones. Trapped in a cluster of warm meat. But for now, Dean felt sorry more for the real human one and not the angel into.
‘I guess your friends will come here and help you.’
Then Castiel lowered his eyes, seemed awkward.
‘They don’t know where I am, and these sigils are barriers for them. Moreover, some others angels are captured for a longer time than me. Do you hear about Emile Storme ?’
‘Not at all.’
‘He is a collector, he cherishes supernatural things and has catch two angels already with his morbid obsession. Their name are Nachiel and Lemanael. And they are my brothers.’
Until now, the young man thought that Castiel was an emotionless person, maybe like a wild creature with instincts for survival but nothing else. Although, when he talked about his family, a flash of grief from his blue eyes hit Dean, in his stomach. He was not even sure if this gaze was human. After all, they are the door to the pure soul : maybe the angel himself.
‘No, I have not…’, he repeated.
It was his turn to become evasive. Castiel tried to raise his hands towards him.
‘I think that you are the only one who can help me, Dean.’
‘What ? And how could I ?’
‘Those symbols are nothing for you : just painting and forms. You can break them.’
More the hollow eyes begged for him, more Dean wanted to step back. Even if Castiel was right, the man could not trust him : who said that the free lion does not eat the person who set him free ? How he can be sure that the angel will be grateful ?
‘You have to let me go.’
‘I won’t lose my job for you. I won’t let you get your revenge.’
‘I just want to leave this place, Dean. That is all. They threatened to ill-threat me if I resist again.’
So the angel asked his help, now. But if Dean has the possibility to save someone ; it would be the vessel, not the spirit in. His fleshy lips were still opened but the air was absent. Does the angel really brings his breath ?
‘And what ? I mean ; you are a creature. You hurt these people even if they do not do anything to you. You are not human, you are not humane neither.’
The angel lost all hope while he observed the angry face of the man. He have not to stay anymore and actually, he really do not care if he lost his place in Heaven : the angels do not deserve to be saved. Somehow, he already knew it.
6
How gloomy were the churches when you have repudiated an angel of the Lord. But Dean was not afraid of the Hell or the sins : in any case, not much than before. But all belief definitely gone from the crosses and holy paintings. And he does not want to hear a word about Castiel or any angel in this world. All the bead of purity were breaking : Dean always doubt that cleanliness could exist in this world, now, all his whims were gone.
How fool he was to imagine that he could ignore the angel while he worked a few walls further and when anybody have an unhealthy curiosity about him. Moreover, especially when a sort of divine rage collapsed over the staff. The week was not pass yet and the writer’s hands burned out. His flesh became black and was already boiling before he could do anything. Under the cold water, some flaps of skin fell in the washbasin, leaving the reddening and exuding surface of the muscle. When he arrived at the hospital, pale as a ghost and sweating as a mad man, the nurses screamed. One of them howled murder ! at his face.
That is not all.
An actor killed himself at his home : he made a swan dive from his balcony. His pate hit’s the ground like a ripe strawberry, except that the fruit has bones and brain. Before his jump, he wrote a note on his table : something like « Lord, please, save me. », but he was not a believer.
7
Dean was not here when the director, Steven Stanford, ill-threaded Castiel. The great question is how can you destroy an angel ? An enochian curse, slay him with an angel blade or simply, show him that a human could me more impressive than a God’s child. If he could, Steven would rear off the wings of the creature : after all, Castiel ruined his project, he could do the same with his expectations to go back at home.
If Dean did not know, he discovered the truth when Matt explained him everything. Matt was not a silly buddies, and told him ;
‘Honestly, Dean, I can not stand here any more. The staff is going to be mad : they to left the movie and make a sort of… documentary about angels… They are obsessed and the word is not strong enough ! I do not want to hang myself or cut my bollocks because some voice form Heaven told me to do, you know.’
Matt was absolutely right and the young man could not speak, just shuddering. After his refusal, Castiel could have murmured to him to cut his own throat or shoot in his head. But he did not, because he did not want, right ? His friend planned to left definitely the show today. He will not tell a word to the boss : he was still fond of his face.
‘Do what you want, Dean, but it is the last time you saw me, okay ?… Sorry…’
He nodded and whish good luck to Matt. All he really wished that is do not open a newspaper tomorrow and see the name of Matt linked to the description of an awful death. Maybe he will leave too, tonight.
But why he felt a huge rush of sympathy for the angel ?
8
Castiel was still looking at his wounds. A large cut was smiling under his chest ; first, a light had come out from the injury, but now, the blood of the human replaced the angel’s. His vision was still blurred because of the sounds of bad incantations had screech inside his skull. A creaking sound shake him out his painful lethargy.
‘Here you come, Dean.’
He screwed up his eyes. His voice was the same, even if Dean imagined a slight of sarcasm in his ton. But Castiel laughed it up when he observed himself again. The poor human, who did not recognize the ancient angel, tried to speak but no sound roll over his tongue. Castiel guessed his weak and added :
‘So ? You still think that even if I am not human, I deserve it ?’
The fire could burn in his eyes, the rage of a furious angel, the blame of a saint. But no, Dean recalled the trapped tears in these dry eyes. Still so blue. Still so beautiful.
With a slight of reflection, Dean would have stayed near the door. Thought, he moved forward the injured angel and took his hands in the chains. He lend a knee on the floor and get a better view of Castiel’s face. His hair were more sloppy, his shirt was stained of sear blood. Yet his face got away form any sign of pain or tiredness : nothing at all. But the man was not so blind…
‘I am so sorry, Castiel. It is really pity as excuse when I think what I told to you, last day, but I really am.’
‘It is okay.’
He did not use an offensive voice, the angel did not try to push the human away. Dean regretted that Castiel looked down, his eyelid almost covered his pupils which were real treasures. If some fingers tightened around a hand, the others ones came press a check, came relieve a silent fear.
‘Maybe… Maybe I can help you, Cas, just listen to me.’
‘Cas ?’
‘Tell me what do you need ? I just have to rub out a line, a letter, right ?’
The mark were made with acrylic painting without a doubt, but a stroke and the prison will crumbled. Dean always kept a knife in his pocket. Even if he use it only to recovering some stuffs stuck in the impala or make a sandwich, this time, the knife will serve a nobler design. Dean speak with a lower voice as he kneeled behind Castiel, destroying a white line.
‘Even if I break all the seals, you have to wait for me, tonight for half past midnight, okay ? I can not take you with me now, while everyone works here. Put your coat here, they won’t see the erasure.’
Castiel repositioned himself on his stool, obeying to the human.
‘I just still do not know how I will smuggle here, in the middle of the night… Maybe I can steal a key or…’
‘I can open the doors.’
Dean stopped his movements. He did not remember to read that angels can really unlock every latch they meet.
‘Not exactly : but with telepathy, we can.’
Added Castiel with the most disconcerting serious in his voice as Dean almost fell on his back.
‘Okay, okay, alright but… Do not read my mind again, okay ? Just… You can open the main door for midnight past half ?’
‘Yes.’
His ideas became clearer. Dean went around the angel who could not catch his hands but held him up with a thanks. The young man shrugged as he tried to keep a normal face : inside, he felt really embarrassed. The obsession started to turn his mind too.
9
The night seemed to slide over the dark hood of the Impala. It was only midnight past twenty-eight when Dean arrived forward the main door of the building. Castiel will open the bolt for half, precisely. He crouched in the shadow, becoming a little more discreet, taking those three minutes for thinking. It was really a mad plan and a few days ago, he had prefer to become a virgin priest than help this angel and plunging in this weird and risky affair. But the boat of Steven Stanford was dangerously sinking, Matt made the good choice and Dean, knowing more things than his friend about angels, could not leave the creature with his vessel. With this human. The seconds passed out while the man was wondering where Matt was : that paranoid bastard was surely driving forward Mexico or somewhere else. Dean could not contain a light laugh. But he choked on when the door made a sharp detonation. Just in time.
All the corridors were drowning under the night and the quiet of silence. Although Dean worked enough here to find quickly the lodge where the angel was waiting for him. With the cardboard panels, he could turn on the light. Castiel seemed to be already standing in the room : the chains around his wrist again.
‘Fuck, I forgot those rubbish stuffs... !’
‘I can break it, Dean, even if my vessel is a little stiff… I can try.’
Dean did not understand first why the creature bring the steel fetters to his lips. His mouth let the teeth showed and bite on the hard metal. The steel did not break down but it became enough flattened to be twisted. The angel finally destroyed his links. Dean opened his eyes wide and swore to himself to never call the strength of angels into question again.
The angel staggered for his first steps ; the body did not move for a month, maybe, and he had to be careful with it. Also, he refused Dean’s help for that : they had plenty of time.
A hip knocked against a desk, Dean swore at the furniture, unable to anticipate the problems because of the sound. A few minutes later and a bright light drilled their eyes, on top of that, a frightened but also bellicose voice burst in the large lobby. Someone was surely caught up his work and forget to go home. Dean growled with exasperation. Castiel reacted in a different way : slowly, he showed his hands to the man, proving he was no armed. Although the strange form with his finger : they were all tucked over his palm except his annular and his index. Wide apart, presenting himself to the sunny lamp : he had never looked more angelic in any moment but now. Maybe because his shadow revealed two colossal and graceful wings in black forms over the wall behind.
‘Do not make a move.’
Dean did not know if Castiel had spoke to him or the uninvited. By the way, the unknown intruder started to scream when he noticed the abnormal shadow of Castiel. The messenger from Heaven walked with a confident step, his hands always up.
‘Do not be afraid. I won’t hurt you.’
It could be the devil himself with his personal army of hideous demons, the poor man would not make a movement : he was really too scary. The angel pressed his fingers right on his forehead and let the human fall over the floor. Quickly, Castiel promised to Dean that he did not kill him : he was just in a really, really deep sleep.
‘We can move faster with teleportation.’
‘Teleportation ? Angels can take passengers when they are teleporting ?’
‘Yes.’ Castiel raised his eyebrows. It seemed really trivial to him. As if some men asked to him where the beer passed out when he drink it. What would be the risks. Even if Dean still wanted to help him, when he gave a look to the man, standing on the paving, he shuddered. That is one of the risks ?
‘No. You won’t collapse after a travel.’
Dean jumped again.
‘Stop that !’
‘I am sorry…’
‘So… I can tell you my answer with my voice, you know ? You do not need to read my mind. Again.’
Castiel looked down like a ashamed child after a big stupid thing. Quickly, Dean became milder.
‘No way. I can not take the risk, plus… I have already bring my car. You will travel in a Impala, angel or not. Okay ?’, the angel easily nodded in agreement, before locking the doors again when they came out.
10
If he could, Dean would have laughed with the madder grin : they were so lucky ! If his passenger would not have been an angel, the driver would have imagined that some serendipitous God or spirit would have been by their side. But he contained his joy behind his lips twisted in a simple smile. No words, no music : the noise from the car was enough when they left definitely the street near the building, although that Castiel glanced at him, frowning and intrigued.
After a while, the creature spoke first ;
‘I thought you saved me because you were afraid of me and what I have done. But I was wrong.’
The driver kept his calm, dithering to tell the truth to Castiel.
‘Maybe that you were not totally wrong : I thought that I will be your next victim. And then I saw what they did. Saving you was not exactly an egoistical fact, I really thought that you do not serve that.’
Dean wanted to add that the angel obsessed him in a different way than everybody else, but surely with the strong envy. What if he could bring Castiel at his little flat and ask him to stay ? The angel will not bear chains or live as he did in the lodge. Of course not. But cherish him can make a difference ?
Dean doubted.
‘You are really a honest and good human, Dean, I appreciate it.’
The first smile Dean saw and the desire to keep the angel to himself deepened like a simple breeze which became an enormous hurricane.
11
‘You can use the shower if you want, even if I don’t think that the blood on your shirt will less easily be cleaning.’
The visit of the apartment was useless : all that surrounded Dean when the free days were only a sofa bed in a half-bedroom half-saloon room, cohabiting with a tiny kitchen. The only part with a proper door was the bathroom. Moreover, the only thing that Dean was really proud in this flat was the great collection of cassettes, vinyl and Cds of all good rock and metal bands taken together. AC/DC, Led Zeppelin, Motorheäd, Metallica, Lynyrd Skynyrd and others came brighten the corner of the saloon up, on the high shelve, with their esthetic covers. Actually, if some dust bunnies ran under the sofa, the table, no one of them dared to roll under the musical treasure. Wishing to calm the atmosphere, Dean opened the stereo system and let the machine ate one of the Lynyrd Skynyrd’s albums.
Under the sound of Born to Run, Dean could hear the noise of the water. As powerful as Johnny Van Zant's voice may be, Dean did not fell the needing to dance, if only to sway his hips.
Instead, Dean opened the sink and let the hot water held up the hollow. He hesitated for a while and finally entered in the bathroom. The man said a short sorry and tried to do not look at Castiel. But the mirror, right behind him, showed nobody in the shower. There were the clothes yet, and the water was always turned on.
Dean jumped and turned over : yes, Castiel was still there, huddled up.
‘Hey, Cas ? Are you alright ?’
He bore down but kept his hands away from the angel, who assured him that he was fine. There was no more blood on his back, on his arms. And his hair fell out over his forehead, matting his skin. Dean did not dare to touch him but saw a strange effect of the water behind the angel. It seemed as the drops glided on the air : an elegant and invisible curve. All the warm misty rain waltzed around but did not settle on the wings. Yes, it were wings ! These same wings that Dean had seen in the lobby. Filling with wonder by them, Dean approached his fingers.
‘Can I… touch it ?’
‘You can not feel them.’
Castiel applied his wet hands over his shoulder, guessing the presence of the proves that he was really an angel. As the water still outlined the wings, Castiel explained to Dean why ;
‘Event he feathers are not materials : for you, humans, they are just shadows, breezes or air.’
Dean horribly felt disappointed but stayed a while, admiring the way of the water to ran over the concealed feathers. He followed with his eyes the miniature river and remembered that Castiel has only the water for clothes. The color-free lines slowly ran on his backbone before disappearing between the crook of his hips and his stomach.
‘Well. I take your clothes and wash the blood.’
How long he was standing here ? His knees hurt him so much when he stand up again !
12
As Dean had presumed, the scarlet stains did go entirely : if a silky drip gone, it always left its brown shadow on the white shirt. But it was not so bad : even if it was a little bit too big for him, the jeans and black T-shirt really suits to Castiel. He observed, with a intense curiosity, the speakers where Johnny Van Zant’s voice came out, singing with a desperately sensuality while Dean opened the fridge and grabbed two beers.
‘I guess that your angelic chorus sing Hallelujah or Jesus my Friend every day, right ? Oh, by the way… You can drink or it is a sin ?’
Castiel frowned.
‘The angels do not sing all the days, not those songs, only the enochian calls.’
Dean thought he hurt his feelings but did not pay attention anymore : the angel sat down and accepted the bottle of blond beer. For a few seconds, the young man wondered if the creature could be drunk but shook his head. How stupid he was…
‘You sing these enochian calls too ?’
‘I like the Eleventh Call. But we do not really have free time…’, admitted Castiel.
Dean drank a sip with a smirk and asked to Castiel to sing something, in enochian or whatever. No matters what, he was just really curious that how this crackled but soft voice could wield lyrics. Castiel did not stand on ceremony after taking a sip too, and started ;
‘Oxiayal holdo od zirom o coraxo ds zildar raasy, od vabzir camliax od bahal : niiso ! salman teloch ; casarmanholq, od t i ta z chis soba cormf i ga. Niisa ! Bagle abramg noncp. Zacare, ca, od zamran ; odo cicle qaa ; zorge, lap zirdo noco Mad, hoath Iaida.’
Every words in the mysterious dialect rolled over his tongue as his eyes did not let Dean’s. The notes rang out strangely, in a disjointed rhythm. A calling which suited perfectly to this sick throat. The man could not understand him but listening only the waves of sound.
‘Do you the English version ?’
‘It says : the mighty seat groaned and there were five thunders which flew into the east, and the Eagle spake and cried with a loud voice : come away ! And they gathered themselves together and became the house of death ; of whom it is measured, and it is as they are whose number is thirty-one. Come away ! For I prepare for you. Move, therefore, and show yourselves ; open the mysteries of your creation ; be friendly unto me, for I am the servant of the same God as you, the true worshipper of the Highest. It is the Eleventh Call.’, answered he.
Dean did not care if it was purely religious, almost simple-minded for a guy like him. It was the first time that Castiel spoke as much and he knew at this moment : he did not have an angelic voice, not at all, but he sounds delightful and heartbreaking as every singer who explain how hard the life is. Dean has almost a melancholic expression but, fast, he recovered.
‘And… Tell me, what an angel does when he has free time ? You are not singing all the days, right ?’
‘We do not really have free time. We wage war against demons, we must protect prophets on Earth and others important people…’
‘Important people ? Like this man ?’, asked Dean, pointing on Castiel’s body.
‘My vessel is a man of many others ; but a good one, a great believer. Without him, I am not sure if you could see my true form. You could become blind.’
Dean coughed with surprise.
‘Your true form ? You mean that angels are not simply men with light around them and two wings at their back or something like that ? ’, Castiel did not laugh despite Dean’s smile.
‘One of us has a lion head. Another has two eagle heads. As for me, I am approximately tall as your Chrysler building.’
The man raised his eyebrows and glanced at the window : the building opposite their one was not enormous like the Chrysler building, but enough…
‘Wow. I can not imagine that. Ho, hi Cas !’ said he with a slight ton, shaking up his hand as Castiel frowned again, tilting hiss head to the left..
‘Dean. I am here.’
‘Yeah, I know, it is just… We call it humor, you see… Well, never mind…’, feeling really awkward with a man who do not understand jokes, Dean took his beer to his lips again, letting the silence between them for some minutes. Maybe Castiel was right : it was time to speak seriously.
‘Cas, what were you doing in the shower ? I thought you felt sick…’
‘I spoke to my brothers.’
A crack violently blasted at Dean’s stomach. Maybe the angel was not really good for him, but he did not want to let him go.
‘Oh… Yeah, it is true : you can go back to Heaven, now.’, he did not want to chained the divine soldier as the staff did. Castiel lowered his head, in agreement, or regretting maybe if Dean let his hopes speaking.
‘Cas. I am not asking twice because it feels really uncomfortable but… Can you stay a little longer here ? For a day ? Or just the night ?’
His jaws hurt him how they were tensed. Even the joins at his hands were contracted : hopefully, he did not hold the bottle of beer. He would break it.
‘Yes. I can stay for the night.’
Dean hushed up a sigh with a gulp.
13
Under the golden glints of the streetlights over the ceiling, Dean wondered if Castiel was really able to sleep. He was unbelievably tired but the simple idea that the angel was in this tiny bed for the first and last time kept his eyes wide. Now, Dean was not sure why he wanted so much to have Castiel by his side : he did not want to have money like Steven Stanford, he did not except him to fulfill a wish or bring his brother back from the dead. It was a simple but ardent desire. Moreover : it was an hungry fancy like he could fell for an outstanding woman. One of those wild flash of adoration. Dean tried to imagine if Castiel was just a simple man in a street, a new bakery or mailman, not a creature from Heaven.
The needing would be strong as this one ?
After all, the man was quite pretty even if he did not even know his real name. What if this vessel was a real bastard, even if Castiel thought he was a good man ? What if his eyes were not blue at all ? With a grunt, Dean passed his hands over his eyelids : he thought too much. Really too much. And Castiel still did not move, turning his back.
Dean did not make a philosophic dissertation before flirting with a person.
Yeah, but he was not a person. He was an angel. He might to receive God’s thunderbolt just because he caressing Castiel’s shoulder. Dean winced : naïve as him, Castiel would not notice the innuendo in some questions.
He dared double or nothing.
With a careful movement with his thigh, Dean came closer. His arms surrounded Castiel’s waist for pulling him toward his chest. Strangely, the angel easily let himself go. For now, everything was good. He dared to hold him tighter before approaching his lips.
‘Cas, tell me if it is wrong for an angel to kiss a human.’
‘It is not wrong at all. I know an angel who made it with a woman, another with an other man and--’
Obviously, Castiel spoke always too much and, for reducing him to silence, Dean kissed him with the most eager want. Maybe he was a little too violent at first, but Dean recovered quickly his manners of sweet lovers : keeping softly Castiel’s lips on his. As he guessed, Castiel surely never kissed anybody before : his hands stretching over the mattress like it was a uncomfortable burden. As the virgins, he did not know what to do with his own arms and assets and only took advantage of the pleasure. As for Dean, he slid some fingers under the black shirt, caressing the waist, pressing against the small of the back. Their breath were still mixed with sighs and pants, before Dean totally lifted the angel over him, feeling his legs holding his sides, the form of his butt right behind his crotch and his palms warming over his chest. Hastily, Dean's fingers pushed away the cloth to the shoulders, his heart spitting in his veins a burning hurricane and his lungs get up in flames. Did Castiel could feel the same things in his borrowed body ? Dean hoped.
The human threw the shirt away, on a pillow, grabbing the hips of his beloved, blessing his throat and collarbones with his enamored lips. At last, Castiel embracing his neck with his arms, murmuring him a litany of imploring again. Even if the stereo system was silent, a drum behind Dean’s head knocking like when he listening to a frenzied music piece. Moreover, he started to think that a second heart just come out under his belt, before he decided to made Castiel sit over it for soothing the pulse. In a ill-considered way, a hand sidled between the highs of the angel. But under the fear, the angel stifled a cry and grabbed Dean's wrist. The audacious lover had forgotten that he was touching a virgin, an unsullied creature. As a sorry, he kissed Castiel’s forehead and banishing the lust zone from his mind.
Not tonight, maybe.
If he could not stroke a little more the boner he had felt, he could still cherish his obsession with his back. The angel espoused the form of the mattress with his stomach and sensed the point of the nose of the man drawing a line between shoulder blade. Dean could guess the white and heavy bone right under the skin he brushed, but he preferred to imagine two little emerging wings of flesh. Unable to repressing a sweet insane urge, he licked one of them. He was ready to do it again after the gasp from Castiel but instead, he noticed the tattoo : the one which locked the creature in this vessel. He smiled, thinking that the sigil will keep Castiel in this human form. He knew that the angel thought the sigil was uncomfortable. He knew that how his vow sounded selfish. But for this once, a weight between his ribs fell down in dark.
‘Dean ? What are you doing ?’
‘Nothing.’
The man clasped his neck, slowly picking up his face to hearing Castiel's breath. Every pushed expiration made a deep sound while he was kissing the small of his back. Those little wind which rekindle an hungry fire that Dean loved so much… A nail scratched the waistband of the dark pants though he did not get under the cloth. How hard it was to let the pants on, but Dean felt he could wait that Castiel feel enough alright for something more.
His anxiety finally boiled off and he felt a sweet tiredness took over him. He settled his chest over the breezy wings and his fingers became entangled with Castiel's ones, in the exact posture of a warm cage. They gave a few words each other. Or more exactly, the celestial beloved listening to how the human wanted him to stay. They felt like two teenagers who do not think about tomorrow : Dean has always have a clear head, never cluttering up his mind with problems. And even the consequences of the consenting kidnapping were really, really far away from his mind for this moment.
The sure sign that Dean had fallen in sleep very quickly after that amazing day, after rolling on his side and admiring, one more time, the blue pupils. He really had had the feeling that they were too bright to be still humans. And then, he had closed his owns.
14
‘Help ? Anybody help me ?’
---
Some wet murmuring came bothering his dreams. Dean wake up with the terribly feeling to fall down. Scared, his hand tried to grab Castiel’s arm, or even his hand, his shoulder… His fingers meets a limp form : the T-shirt that he removed a few hours earlier. He called his name, without an answer. Maybe the angel was tired to imitate the sleeping man.
So why his body was laying on the floor, near the kitchen ?
‘Cas ? What is going on ?’
The man turned on the light and confirmed that it was the same body he tried to gently blemish with flesh pleasures. It was too dark to understand what he was really seeing : no one color on the corner, no one sound. Like another world.
‘Cas ? Cas ?… Oh fu--’
The oath choked in his throat, losing itself on his tongue. The dark shadow over Castiel that Dean had thought to see was in reality a huge blood puddle. All the sticky scarlet substance came from right behind a shoulder where a knife for cook shining no more with all the blood over the blade.
‘Hey, Cas ! Wake up !’
He turned the body over. Dean violently shuddered because under the heavy eyelids, Castiel's pupils were not blue anymore : it was a wither sea, a fade sky. Two hollow and grey pearls. His lips were half opened, as tonight to welcoming Dean's tongue, but not even a sigh came out.
Dean has already see blood, this poison of sorrow : he had already seen Sam’s corpse. He had already known the same breathing wounds. He had already felt the loneliness while the dead bring with him the reason of this departure.
But God, he could live ten more times the disappearance of Sam : he will never be strong enough to bearing those loss. Putting a hand over his heart, Dean repressed his feeling to be sick. Instead the beer in his stomach, it was a lot of warm tears which rolled over his cheeks. His jaws contained a madly heart-rending scream, as his fists trembled, struggling against an angrily wild violence.
First, he was wondering who has entered in his flat and how he has could rest asleep while Castiel had murdered. The night was not over yet and he was really all alone in the room. Dean furiously dried his cheeks and tried to inspect the body. The knife was not only on his back : it was clumsily planted where the tattoo was, breaking the sigil. Letting the angel go and the heart of the human falling down.
Over the sink, a little piece of paper caught his eyes. Dean grabbed it when he understand that a note was writing on.
« Dear Dean,
I am really sorry. I told you that man was a good one : his name is Jimmy Novak. Please, give the opportunity to
his family to organize a properly burring. His dead would have been enough painful. Do not forget to burn the
clothes is the blood still do not go and blame the staff for Novak’s dead. As for you, thank you. I would like to stay
here forever as you wish. I do not listen your mind, I swear, but your thoughts were so loud, so outspoken.
I am sorry.
Castiel »
And that was all. His tears started to rolled again, stronger than ever as he surrounded his shoulders with his arms, like a poor and abandoned kid. Like when he was sixteen when he lost his little brother. Like a man without an ounce of happiness.
Dean felt so shame after that crying fit and looked at the man as Jimmy Novak. Just Jimmy Novak. So he tried to make love with an innocent and married man ? He chuckled, not really loudly, not really joyfully. He was sure about one think : this husband was quite handsome, the angel did not add nothing to his face. The Death had destroyed this unnamed blue.
Unnamed until that Dean took the decision to open the shutters. It was still earlier but he will keep waiting for the day, then, the sun, like an artist, will color the sky with its palette. Dean was convinced to see the blue of the eyes he already miss : because they have the color of the gloomy dawns.