fic: The Strange Face of Love 4/14
Title: The Strange Face of Love
Author: Psammead
Summary: Pseudo-Canon: Dean and Cas have a relationship of sorts over the span of 3 years. They have that profound bond, but it’s not some chick-flick, one-true-love deal. It’s messy and painful, but desperately sweet. It's what could have happened off screen.
Rating: NC-17
Notes/Warnings: An attempt to stick to canon. Spoilers, massive, massive spoilers, as this fic runs concurrent with seasons 4, 5 and 6. Destiel, straight up, although it acknowledges canon parings. Mostly schmoopiness, some hurt/comfort, some Dean/Cas/Pie, teeny bit of wingfic, eventual non-consent, but a lot of ooey-gooey romance, too, a little bit of everything, really. A lot of blasphemy. Basically, it started when I got fed up with all the AU silliness when it's so easy to see Dean and Cas being involved without violating canon. There's so much in the show that seems to just be unspoken, or incomplete, and as a rabid fangirl, I needed to fill the gaps. (insert joke about the boys filling my gaps here)
Disclaimer: I'm not Kripke or Gamble, I obviously do not own Supernatural, Dean or Castiel in any way, shape or form, because if I did, you would be watching this on HBO complete with swearing and sex
instead. There is a great deal of canon and certain lines of dialogue referenced in my fic, used solely to establish when in the timeline of the series the scenes occur. I figure, if you're reading this, you're obviously a fan of the show, and should know exactly what I didn't come up with on my own. In addition, I reference several classic rock songs and various movies/books. A list of credits will be provided at the end.
Thank you!
Author's Note: This chapter has some Dean/Anna and references to Dean with various archetypal women. It's not graphic and I swear, there's all the Dean/Cas in the world to come. But I can't just make Dean gay- I don't think of him as gay, I think of him as in love with Cas, regardless of anything else. But I gotta get there logically.
Chapter One is here: http://ninjapsammead.livejournal.com/1797.html
Chapter Four: Ask the Lonely
The angels had burst into the room, demanding Anna. Uriel was all bluster and threats, but when Dean looked into Castiel's eyes, he recognized the look from their argument on Halloween. Cas might have been saying dire sounding things, but Dean could read the warning in Cas's words, see the reluctance in his eyes. Dean knew that Cas would once again back his play before he'd back Uriel's. It wasn't lost on Dean that this time was different. Cas was honest with me. At least, he's not lying for the other angels. Anna remembers now, too, an approachable angel, Dean thought, how about that. He saw her alone in the junkyard, and he had to go to her, had to seek her guidance.
He almost wished he hadn't, after they spoke. He had been clinging to that last shred of hope that God was what Cas told him he was, that there was a purpose for all of the shit in his life. The knowledge that there was no one steering the ship, that angels knew only a little more than humans, that chilled him to the core of his fractured psyche.
It did reassure him to know that being human was far from the worst thing ever, though.
He found himself alone with Anna again, suddenly, after the threatening broadcast on Angel Radio. Dean found it so strange to be on the other side of the conversation he'd had when he met Cas, with another angel playing the Dean Winchester role. When Anna came to talk to him, the words falling from her lips echoed the feelings he'd had rolling around his brains since Cas first remarked with surprise, "You don't believe you deserve to be saved…"
He couldn't tell if it was a ploy to gain his protection, or out of pity or solace that she kissed him, but it was welcome and it was perfect.
He had been flattered by her at first, but uninterested, innocent catholic girls hardly being his type, but now that she was something else, something wild and dangerous, it was different. He'd been with very few virgins, but there was something special about deflowering an angel... Her touch made him feel for a little while at least, that he really might not be alone. Anna was sweet, so sweet, and Dean loved to fuck in the Impala with any woman who'd let him. Afterwards, he held her, and kissed her shoulder. She reached across his chest to touch the handprint again.
"Castiel was a good soldier. Fast. Smart, but always obedient, loyal. Something of an idealist. He was sweet, too, sweeter than most of the angels." Her eyes seemed to go to a distant memory, and her lips curved in a smile.
"Cas's all right. He did save me. But I don't get why he's so loyal to a missing commander." Dean pulled her hand away, reached for his shirt. "Don't forget that he's got a hit out on you."
"I think you could relate to him more than you know. He's dealing with the same absent father issues as us, after all," Anna cocked her head to the side, "I forgive him for following his orders. I understand why he does as he does. I think it is hardly his desire to kill me."
"You think so? I feel like I shouldn't trust him, logically, but I do anyway." Dean got out of the Impala, zipping his pants as he exited.
"I think you should. I think if you do, the result will surprise both of you," she said, following.
They both stood, leaning against the Impala, looking up at the sky.
"My Father demands forgiveness from the angels, and from the devout," Anna finally said, "And I think that it would be easy for me to refuse the idea out of spite, but after being human, I finally understand why we are steered towards the concept of forgiveness. It's not healthy to resent. It's not healthy to hate, and cultivate bitterness, the same as it's not healthy to keep your pain locked away. Anything you lock away like that festers, and becomes so much more, it overcomes everything you are, eventually, and all that's left is a husk. We forgive so we can move on, and accept things as they are."
"Huh. I get not letting shit fester, but I refuse to accept things as they are."
"I don't mean the Apocalypse, Dean, I mean humans. You have to accept humans as they are; accept your family as they are. If Cas must kill me, I forgive him that. Perhaps that would be enough to wake him up, cause him to feel. I don't think God is the one providing the reason anymore, but I believe there is reason for everything, even the horror."
They were silent again, and finally they went inside to try to rest up before the battle. Uriel came to Dean in his dreams almost instantly.
Castiel likes me? Dean thought, on their way to meet the angels, Well, I guess. I guess I kinda like him. At least, I like him and Anna as much as I dislike Uriel. That junkless douche knows too much about Hell for my comfort, and he has no problem using any of it against me. I don't think we're quite at the point of kicking back with some cold ones during the big game yet, but yeah. I think Cas is all right.
That was probably why he felt it was the right thing to do to keep Cas from being exorcised. And because fuck Alistair. I will gut that son of a bitch if I get the chance, Dean thought bitterly, after the angels disappeared, I will destroy him for everything he did to me.
He took a few calming breaths, refocused on the other events of the night. Was that anger or gratitude in Cas's eyes tonight? Do I forgive him? Dean thought about the wide, blue eyes, and about Anna's last kiss as she forgave him. Fuck. She's right, about it all. I gotta trust Cas, I gotta come clean with Sammy. I can't keep going like this, I gotta make it better.
Telling Sam didn't make it better. All it did was make him remember more, and hate everything more.
It was the night after the Anna situation resolved and he talked to Sammy about Hell that the second sex dream occurred. He was with Megan Fox and she was super into Dean, and knew all about the Impala's engine. She was on top of him, soft and ready and then suddenly Castiel was astride Dean instead. He twisted his hand around Dean's cock, and smiled innocently.
"Cas? Is that really you?" Dean tried desperately to dream something else. Apparently-Dream-Cas ignored Dean, slithered down his body, and lowered his mouth onto his cock, and it felt better than anything Dean had ever had on it. Castiel looked up with his lovely eyes as Dean climaxed and there was a mischievous glint in them that Real-Cas had probably never had.
"Give it to me," he said, "Or we will be laid to waste." Dean woke up to sticky sheets and deep emotional confusion.
Dean kept moving after coming clean with Sam about Hell. Dreaming held nothing for him that he wanted- sexual confusion or worst case scenario, anal rape and torture nightmares. A little over a month later, there was still no word from Cas, which was fine by Dean. He didn't need the fucking angel to rescue him from his nightmares; he didn't even need to sleep. Problem solved. Dean and Sam did their Dean-and-Sam Stuff, which these days was bouncing between sentimental brother moments, usually involving crying near the Impala, and bickering about everything, ever. There was also a good deal of back and forthing about Sam's super fun new habits and Dean's stint as Hell's own Marquis de Sade.
It was the night after the magic show, and the amazingly depressing Jay had just left them. Sam had gone for a walk, and Dean had had a beer chased by a bottle of whiskey, and headed to the motel alone, trying to fall asleep in the hotel. The heater was ridiculously loud, and the sheets were itchy, and Dean hadn't really slept… well, since the last dream about Cas. He was terrified of dreaming about torture, or worse, Dream-Cas's amazing talents. As if the fucking bondage club hadn't been enough brain trauma for a lifetime, not to mention, you know, Hell. But if he didn't sleep, he was really going to just burn the fuck out.
Unconsciousness, finally. He was on sun-kissed beach on an island in the middle of nowhere and lay on the sand, the stress of everything melting away. Well, that was a shock.
Castiel appeared. "Hello," he rumbled.
Dean glanced at him, sitting neatly on the beach in the usual giant trench coat.
"Hi. Where the hell have you been?" he asked bluntly, uninterested in bullshit.
"Fighting. Losing. I need to ask you a question," Castiel said, face urgent and grim.
"Okay, shoot." Dean didn't have the energy to be contrary.
"What does it mean when you think you might be ended? When you are convinced for a moment that your time as living is over? When your palms are wet and your blood rushes too quickly from your extremities?"
"What?" Dean was confused for a minute. "Do you mean fear? Being afraid?"
"Angels do not feel fear. Angels do not feel, not as humans do," Cas looked sideways annoyed at Dean.
"'Okay, fine, but I think what you just described was fear."
Castiel stared off into the ocean for a long time, both men silent. Dean focused on a cooler of beer. One appeared next to him. Awesome, he thought. He opened a beer, offered it to Cas. The angel accepted, and sipped hesitantly. Okay, Dean thought, Maybe we are at the kickin' back with cold ones point, after all. He opened his own.
"I came for another reason, Dean. The dream you shared with me, of the Magnificent Seven. I'm sorry that I haven't been able to visit you since. I found it very interesting."
"It's cool. Is interesting a good thing?" Dean asked.
"I believe so. Your race has a great many stories. I used to read them, but there became too many after a certain point to interest me. But there was one I remember fondly. I thought I could share it with you," Cas looked at Dean sideways again, this time though lowered eyelashes.
"Uh, yeah. Okay. That would be cool, Cas," Dean was taken aback. Suddenly, Cas disappeared and a beautiful blonde nymph shimmered into being next to him.
""Poor man, spend no more time in sorrow on this island or waste your life away. My heart agrees-the time has come for me to send you off!" she said.
Dean and Penelope made sweet, sweet love.
"That was awesome, Cas, thank you," Dean said as the dream ended, and he woke. To his surprise, Castiel sat right exactly next to him on the bed. Dean could smell the angel again, like atmosphere and spice.
That's a nice smell, crossed Dean's mind, and he looked up at Cas, who murmured, "You're welcome." They looked directly into each other's eyes, and for a second Dean thought Castiel might lean in and kiss him and the thought was too fucking much for his masculinity, so Dean rolled away from the angel abruptly and got defensive.
"Dude! Personal space!" he snapped.
"What?" Cas looked slightly hurt, which Dean was appalled to find he thought was adorable.
"Men have bubbles, Cas, not real bubbles, but imaginary bubbles of personal space, where other men do not enter unless it is for a brief, manly hug or saving his life. Maybe get a cell phone, call first, enter though the door? Bubbles!" he gestured emphatically, but Cas now looked so confused, that Dean decided to let it go. "Yeah. Space. Anyway. That was fun, the dream. What was it?" Dean asked, holding the sheet around his waist and locating clean pants.
"Homer's 'The Odyssey. He was a Greek poet."
"Thanks again, man. Look, I gotta hit the showers. Stuff to do. Later." Dean made a swift exit into the bathroom. He turned the water on ice cold, full balst and hopped in as fast as he could. As he scrubbed the angel's eyes from his body, he tried not to think about his Cas-dreams, or about how Cas might look underneath that ridiculous suit. What the hell is wrong with me? I like girls, beautiful, soft, girls with breasts and pussies. Fucking fuck. His mind kept wandering from the girls to the blue eyes and ruffled hair and those fucking soul probing looks that Cas always gave him. Fuck.
It was the morning before they encountered the Siren that Cas visited Dean's dreams again. This visit was much less pleasant than the last, but less confusing.
"Sam has not ceased his extracurriculars," Cas appeared suddenly, yanking Dean from a fitful recollection of slicing open a soul on the rack.
"I know. I can't control him, Cas, you think I don't want him to stop?"
"You are going to have to find a way to stop him, Dean, I don't know how else to make it clear. Also, these nightmares. I am truly sorry that I cannot always be here to pull you out. You need to talk to someone about them, stop repressing all this pain and hurt. You need to deal with these issues so we can focus on saving the world."
"Oh, sure, no problem. I'll get right on that," Dean glared at him, "It's not that fucking easy. I can't make Sam stop and I don't need to deal with any issues, I'm fucking fine."
"You barely sleep, you're hunting while seals continue to break, and Sam is in your charge. I don't understand why you are being resistant; I ask of you only what you should already be doing. "
"Look, just fuck off, Cas. You don't get it. You won't get it. Leave me alone."
Dean woke up suddenly. Sam was in the bathroom, talking in a muffled voice. Fuck, Dean thought irately.
Cas wasn't sure what he was supposed to do. As he'd watched Dean deal with Haniel, he'd envied Dean's certainty as to what was right, and the decisiveness with which he acted.
Heaven, however, disagreed. Zachariah, the Seraph in charge of Cas, was livid with Cas for allowing Haniel's Grace to be restored, and took it out on everyone. Zachariah also ordered Cas to deal with Sam Winchester, but had told him that he was not allowed to directly interfere with Sam's choice, was not allowed to actually kill Sam. All Cas could do was influence Dean to stop Sam, and it frustrated Castiel that not only was he ordered to pressure Dean, but Zachariah kept Cas busy with trivial skirmishes, ones that could have been won without his help, while more serious battles were lost. It also interfered with helping Dean with his nightmares, and each time Cas saw the hunter, he was suprised to feel an ache in his chest at the pain Dean was going through.
Dean's life was, as usual, generally messy, unpleasant and morally depressing, leaving him confused about everything. He was alone, drinking, and trying to sort out the mess inside his skull.
Dean didn't trust his brother, he hadn't for as long time, but after the Siren mojo'ed them both, Dean was feeling ickier about it than usual. It had been so easy to slip under its spell, so easy to genuinely feel what it told him to. He already thought that Sammy, his Sammy, was gone, already had felt him slipping away, knew Sam's activities weren't right and if Dean had spoken his true feeling while under the Siren's spell, then he figured Sam had, too. Sam believed he was a better hunter, that Dean was weak and pathetic. Dean already knew he was, he didn't need his little brother to throw it in his face as well. This is all my fault. He had left Sam alone on earth, broken in Hell, tortured, fucked up almost everything he touched since he'd been back, and then had to have Bobby come save his ass. Again. Then Pamela's death, and Tessa's disparaging words, the icing on his this-fucking-sucks-cake. Everyone around him seemed to need to tell him out loud the things his inner demons whispered in his ears all the time.
Whatever, he pushed it all down and away and continued to drink. I'm just so fucking tired.
Sam opened the door, saw Dean's drink and wisely said nothing about it, simply, "The service starts in an hour. We should go, soon."
Chapter Five: http://ninjapsammead.livejournal.com/5383.htm
Author: Psammead
Summary: Pseudo-Canon: Dean and Cas have a relationship of sorts over the span of 3 years. They have that profound bond, but it’s not some chick-flick, one-true-love deal. It’s messy and painful, but desperately sweet. It's what could have happened off screen.
Rating: NC-17
Notes/Warnings: An attempt to stick to canon. Spoilers, massive, massive spoilers, as this fic runs concurrent with seasons 4, 5 and 6. Destiel, straight up, although it acknowledges canon parings. Mostly schmoopiness, some hurt/comfort, some Dean/Cas/Pie, teeny bit of wingfic, eventual non-consent, but a lot of ooey-gooey romance, too, a little bit of everything, really. A lot of blasphemy. Basically, it started when I got fed up with all the AU silliness when it's so easy to see Dean and Cas being involved without violating canon. There's so much in the show that seems to just be unspoken, or incomplete, and as a rabid fangirl, I needed to fill the gaps. (insert joke about the boys filling my gaps here)
Disclaimer: I'm not Kripke or Gamble, I obviously do not own Supernatural, Dean or Castiel in any way, shape or form, because if I did, you would be watching this on HBO complete with swearing and sex
instead. There is a great deal of canon and certain lines of dialogue referenced in my fic, used solely to establish when in the timeline of the series the scenes occur. I figure, if you're reading this, you're obviously a fan of the show, and should know exactly what I didn't come up with on my own. In addition, I reference several classic rock songs and various movies/books. A list of credits will be provided at the end.
Thank you!
Author's Note: This chapter has some Dean/Anna and references to Dean with various archetypal women. It's not graphic and I swear, there's all the Dean/Cas in the world to come. But I can't just make Dean gay- I don't think of him as gay, I think of him as in love with Cas, regardless of anything else. But I gotta get there logically.
Chapter One is here: http://ninjapsammead.livejournal.com/1797.html
Chapter Four: Ask the Lonely
The angels had burst into the room, demanding Anna. Uriel was all bluster and threats, but when Dean looked into Castiel's eyes, he recognized the look from their argument on Halloween. Cas might have been saying dire sounding things, but Dean could read the warning in Cas's words, see the reluctance in his eyes. Dean knew that Cas would once again back his play before he'd back Uriel's. It wasn't lost on Dean that this time was different. Cas was honest with me. At least, he's not lying for the other angels. Anna remembers now, too, an approachable angel, Dean thought, how about that. He saw her alone in the junkyard, and he had to go to her, had to seek her guidance.
He almost wished he hadn't, after they spoke. He had been clinging to that last shred of hope that God was what Cas told him he was, that there was a purpose for all of the shit in his life. The knowledge that there was no one steering the ship, that angels knew only a little more than humans, that chilled him to the core of his fractured psyche.
It did reassure him to know that being human was far from the worst thing ever, though.
He found himself alone with Anna again, suddenly, after the threatening broadcast on Angel Radio. Dean found it so strange to be on the other side of the conversation he'd had when he met Cas, with another angel playing the Dean Winchester role. When Anna came to talk to him, the words falling from her lips echoed the feelings he'd had rolling around his brains since Cas first remarked with surprise, "You don't believe you deserve to be saved…"
He couldn't tell if it was a ploy to gain his protection, or out of pity or solace that she kissed him, but it was welcome and it was perfect.
He had been flattered by her at first, but uninterested, innocent catholic girls hardly being his type, but now that she was something else, something wild and dangerous, it was different. He'd been with very few virgins, but there was something special about deflowering an angel... Her touch made him feel for a little while at least, that he really might not be alone. Anna was sweet, so sweet, and Dean loved to fuck in the Impala with any woman who'd let him. Afterwards, he held her, and kissed her shoulder. She reached across his chest to touch the handprint again.
"Castiel was a good soldier. Fast. Smart, but always obedient, loyal. Something of an idealist. He was sweet, too, sweeter than most of the angels." Her eyes seemed to go to a distant memory, and her lips curved in a smile.
"Cas's all right. He did save me. But I don't get why he's so loyal to a missing commander." Dean pulled her hand away, reached for his shirt. "Don't forget that he's got a hit out on you."
"I think you could relate to him more than you know. He's dealing with the same absent father issues as us, after all," Anna cocked her head to the side, "I forgive him for following his orders. I understand why he does as he does. I think it is hardly his desire to kill me."
"You think so? I feel like I shouldn't trust him, logically, but I do anyway." Dean got out of the Impala, zipping his pants as he exited.
"I think you should. I think if you do, the result will surprise both of you," she said, following.
They both stood, leaning against the Impala, looking up at the sky.
"My Father demands forgiveness from the angels, and from the devout," Anna finally said, "And I think that it would be easy for me to refuse the idea out of spite, but after being human, I finally understand why we are steered towards the concept of forgiveness. It's not healthy to resent. It's not healthy to hate, and cultivate bitterness, the same as it's not healthy to keep your pain locked away. Anything you lock away like that festers, and becomes so much more, it overcomes everything you are, eventually, and all that's left is a husk. We forgive so we can move on, and accept things as they are."
"Huh. I get not letting shit fester, but I refuse to accept things as they are."
"I don't mean the Apocalypse, Dean, I mean humans. You have to accept humans as they are; accept your family as they are. If Cas must kill me, I forgive him that. Perhaps that would be enough to wake him up, cause him to feel. I don't think God is the one providing the reason anymore, but I believe there is reason for everything, even the horror."
They were silent again, and finally they went inside to try to rest up before the battle. Uriel came to Dean in his dreams almost instantly.
Castiel likes me? Dean thought, on their way to meet the angels, Well, I guess. I guess I kinda like him. At least, I like him and Anna as much as I dislike Uriel. That junkless douche knows too much about Hell for my comfort, and he has no problem using any of it against me. I don't think we're quite at the point of kicking back with some cold ones during the big game yet, but yeah. I think Cas is all right.
That was probably why he felt it was the right thing to do to keep Cas from being exorcised. And because fuck Alistair. I will gut that son of a bitch if I get the chance, Dean thought bitterly, after the angels disappeared, I will destroy him for everything he did to me.
He took a few calming breaths, refocused on the other events of the night. Was that anger or gratitude in Cas's eyes tonight? Do I forgive him? Dean thought about the wide, blue eyes, and about Anna's last kiss as she forgave him. Fuck. She's right, about it all. I gotta trust Cas, I gotta come clean with Sammy. I can't keep going like this, I gotta make it better.
Telling Sam didn't make it better. All it did was make him remember more, and hate everything more.
It was the night after the Anna situation resolved and he talked to Sammy about Hell that the second sex dream occurred. He was with Megan Fox and she was super into Dean, and knew all about the Impala's engine. She was on top of him, soft and ready and then suddenly Castiel was astride Dean instead. He twisted his hand around Dean's cock, and smiled innocently.
"Cas? Is that really you?" Dean tried desperately to dream something else. Apparently-Dream-Cas ignored Dean, slithered down his body, and lowered his mouth onto his cock, and it felt better than anything Dean had ever had on it. Castiel looked up with his lovely eyes as Dean climaxed and there was a mischievous glint in them that Real-Cas had probably never had.
"Give it to me," he said, "Or we will be laid to waste." Dean woke up to sticky sheets and deep emotional confusion.
Dean kept moving after coming clean with Sam about Hell. Dreaming held nothing for him that he wanted- sexual confusion or worst case scenario, anal rape and torture nightmares. A little over a month later, there was still no word from Cas, which was fine by Dean. He didn't need the fucking angel to rescue him from his nightmares; he didn't even need to sleep. Problem solved. Dean and Sam did their Dean-and-Sam Stuff, which these days was bouncing between sentimental brother moments, usually involving crying near the Impala, and bickering about everything, ever. There was also a good deal of back and forthing about Sam's super fun new habits and Dean's stint as Hell's own Marquis de Sade.
It was the night after the magic show, and the amazingly depressing Jay had just left them. Sam had gone for a walk, and Dean had had a beer chased by a bottle of whiskey, and headed to the motel alone, trying to fall asleep in the hotel. The heater was ridiculously loud, and the sheets were itchy, and Dean hadn't really slept… well, since the last dream about Cas. He was terrified of dreaming about torture, or worse, Dream-Cas's amazing talents. As if the fucking bondage club hadn't been enough brain trauma for a lifetime, not to mention, you know, Hell. But if he didn't sleep, he was really going to just burn the fuck out.
Unconsciousness, finally. He was on sun-kissed beach on an island in the middle of nowhere and lay on the sand, the stress of everything melting away. Well, that was a shock.
Castiel appeared. "Hello," he rumbled.
Dean glanced at him, sitting neatly on the beach in the usual giant trench coat.
"Hi. Where the hell have you been?" he asked bluntly, uninterested in bullshit.
"Fighting. Losing. I need to ask you a question," Castiel said, face urgent and grim.
"Okay, shoot." Dean didn't have the energy to be contrary.
"What does it mean when you think you might be ended? When you are convinced for a moment that your time as living is over? When your palms are wet and your blood rushes too quickly from your extremities?"
"What?" Dean was confused for a minute. "Do you mean fear? Being afraid?"
"Angels do not feel fear. Angels do not feel, not as humans do," Cas looked sideways annoyed at Dean.
"'Okay, fine, but I think what you just described was fear."
Castiel stared off into the ocean for a long time, both men silent. Dean focused on a cooler of beer. One appeared next to him. Awesome, he thought. He opened a beer, offered it to Cas. The angel accepted, and sipped hesitantly. Okay, Dean thought, Maybe we are at the kickin' back with cold ones point, after all. He opened his own.
"I came for another reason, Dean. The dream you shared with me, of the Magnificent Seven. I'm sorry that I haven't been able to visit you since. I found it very interesting."
"It's cool. Is interesting a good thing?" Dean asked.
"I believe so. Your race has a great many stories. I used to read them, but there became too many after a certain point to interest me. But there was one I remember fondly. I thought I could share it with you," Cas looked at Dean sideways again, this time though lowered eyelashes.
"Uh, yeah. Okay. That would be cool, Cas," Dean was taken aback. Suddenly, Cas disappeared and a beautiful blonde nymph shimmered into being next to him.
""Poor man, spend no more time in sorrow on this island or waste your life away. My heart agrees-the time has come for me to send you off!" she said.
Dean and Penelope made sweet, sweet love.
"That was awesome, Cas, thank you," Dean said as the dream ended, and he woke. To his surprise, Castiel sat right exactly next to him on the bed. Dean could smell the angel again, like atmosphere and spice.
That's a nice smell, crossed Dean's mind, and he looked up at Cas, who murmured, "You're welcome." They looked directly into each other's eyes, and for a second Dean thought Castiel might lean in and kiss him and the thought was too fucking much for his masculinity, so Dean rolled away from the angel abruptly and got defensive.
"Dude! Personal space!" he snapped.
"What?" Cas looked slightly hurt, which Dean was appalled to find he thought was adorable.
"Men have bubbles, Cas, not real bubbles, but imaginary bubbles of personal space, where other men do not enter unless it is for a brief, manly hug or saving his life. Maybe get a cell phone, call first, enter though the door? Bubbles!" he gestured emphatically, but Cas now looked so confused, that Dean decided to let it go. "Yeah. Space. Anyway. That was fun, the dream. What was it?" Dean asked, holding the sheet around his waist and locating clean pants.
"Homer's 'The Odyssey. He was a Greek poet."
"Thanks again, man. Look, I gotta hit the showers. Stuff to do. Later." Dean made a swift exit into the bathroom. He turned the water on ice cold, full balst and hopped in as fast as he could. As he scrubbed the angel's eyes from his body, he tried not to think about his Cas-dreams, or about how Cas might look underneath that ridiculous suit. What the hell is wrong with me? I like girls, beautiful, soft, girls with breasts and pussies. Fucking fuck. His mind kept wandering from the girls to the blue eyes and ruffled hair and those fucking soul probing looks that Cas always gave him. Fuck.
It was the morning before they encountered the Siren that Cas visited Dean's dreams again. This visit was much less pleasant than the last, but less confusing.
"Sam has not ceased his extracurriculars," Cas appeared suddenly, yanking Dean from a fitful recollection of slicing open a soul on the rack.
"I know. I can't control him, Cas, you think I don't want him to stop?"
"You are going to have to find a way to stop him, Dean, I don't know how else to make it clear. Also, these nightmares. I am truly sorry that I cannot always be here to pull you out. You need to talk to someone about them, stop repressing all this pain and hurt. You need to deal with these issues so we can focus on saving the world."
"Oh, sure, no problem. I'll get right on that," Dean glared at him, "It's not that fucking easy. I can't make Sam stop and I don't need to deal with any issues, I'm fucking fine."
"You barely sleep, you're hunting while seals continue to break, and Sam is in your charge. I don't understand why you are being resistant; I ask of you only what you should already be doing. "
"Look, just fuck off, Cas. You don't get it. You won't get it. Leave me alone."
Dean woke up suddenly. Sam was in the bathroom, talking in a muffled voice. Fuck, Dean thought irately.
Cas wasn't sure what he was supposed to do. As he'd watched Dean deal with Haniel, he'd envied Dean's certainty as to what was right, and the decisiveness with which he acted.
Heaven, however, disagreed. Zachariah, the Seraph in charge of Cas, was livid with Cas for allowing Haniel's Grace to be restored, and took it out on everyone. Zachariah also ordered Cas to deal with Sam Winchester, but had told him that he was not allowed to directly interfere with Sam's choice, was not allowed to actually kill Sam. All Cas could do was influence Dean to stop Sam, and it frustrated Castiel that not only was he ordered to pressure Dean, but Zachariah kept Cas busy with trivial skirmishes, ones that could have been won without his help, while more serious battles were lost. It also interfered with helping Dean with his nightmares, and each time Cas saw the hunter, he was suprised to feel an ache in his chest at the pain Dean was going through.
Dean's life was, as usual, generally messy, unpleasant and morally depressing, leaving him confused about everything. He was alone, drinking, and trying to sort out the mess inside his skull.
Dean didn't trust his brother, he hadn't for as long time, but after the Siren mojo'ed them both, Dean was feeling ickier about it than usual. It had been so easy to slip under its spell, so easy to genuinely feel what it told him to. He already thought that Sammy, his Sammy, was gone, already had felt him slipping away, knew Sam's activities weren't right and if Dean had spoken his true feeling while under the Siren's spell, then he figured Sam had, too. Sam believed he was a better hunter, that Dean was weak and pathetic. Dean already knew he was, he didn't need his little brother to throw it in his face as well. This is all my fault. He had left Sam alone on earth, broken in Hell, tortured, fucked up almost everything he touched since he'd been back, and then had to have Bobby come save his ass. Again. Then Pamela's death, and Tessa's disparaging words, the icing on his this-fucking-sucks-cake. Everyone around him seemed to need to tell him out loud the things his inner demons whispered in his ears all the time.
Whatever, he pushed it all down and away and continued to drink. I'm just so fucking tired.
Sam opened the door, saw Dean's drink and wisely said nothing about it, simply, "The service starts in an hour. We should go, soon."
Chapter Five: http://ninjapsammead.livejournal.com/5383.htm