The Soul Puzzle, Part 1

[otp_destiel]

Title: The Soul Puzzle
Pairings: Dean/Castiel
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: up to and including 6.22
Warnings: slash, AU, dom!Cas, sub!Dean, bare backing, knotting, dark, destruction of a religious site
Word Count: 43,595
Note: This fic was written for the deancasbigbang 2012.
Summary: A year after the events of 6.22, Castiel awakes on the floor of a decadent mansion with little memory of what has happened and only Dean, whose soul has been horribly maimed, nearby. Can he figure out what happened and heal Dean? Especially when the horrible truth slowly starts to emerge?

Beta: aerilex

Artist: syrahde - Art Masterlist

Castiel knew that something was very wrong from the moment that he first woke up. He was an angel and angels didn't need to sleep, therefore they shouldn't be waking up. Only when he'd been at his worst during his fall had he ever needed sleep. So he knew that something had gone very wrong for him to have been rendered unconscious.

Then Castiel discovered that he couldn't remember what had happened or how he'd come to be lying on the floor of an obscenely opulent room. Shaken to his core, he reached out towards the Host, desperately seeking his brothers' and sisters' voices in solace. What he found only horrified him even more as the Song was greatly diminished and no longer rose to the heavens in praise of his Father and all that He'd created. Now instead he heard less and all of it tinged with fear and betrayal, wretchedly singing praises to some new God.

What had happened? Why couldn't he remember anything?

With a concentrated effort, Castiel forced all of his attention to trying to recollect what had transpired and how he'd come to be in this situation. It took a while, but finally he was able to remember a few snatches of memory though he had no idea how much had time passed since then. With an extended effort he was able to remember enough to piece together what had been going on at the time. They'd managed to return Lucifer to his cage and trap Michael there as well at the same time, after which he'd returned to Heaven. He could still plainly recall his naive thoughts that he'd be able to just waltz home and start reorganizing things to how he knew they should be instead of how they had been.

He'd been high on victory Castiel now realized, exuberant that he'd taken on not one but two archangels and survived thanks to his Father's good graces. Therefore Raphael's appearance, plan and attack had come out of nowhere and left him floundering for purchase in a new war that he'd never even seen coming until it was already upon him. He saw again himself standing in Lisa Braeden's backyard, watching Dean rake leaves while Crowley approached him. Only now the memory was overlaid with his former charge's furious voice, demanding to know why he hadn't gone to Dean for help. It made him angry anew, just like it had then, as he'd done it- all of it- for his hunter! He'd known how much Dean had wanted to escape from the Apocalypse and all that it entailed for a normal, happy life and so he'd done his level best to give his friend exactly that and once more it wasn't good enough. Once more Dean had nothing but scorn, criticism and contempt for him and what he'd done.

The anger that Castiel felt only grew as more of that second memory returned to him and he remembered that his former charge had actually trapped him in Holy oil for that particular conversation. How dare Dean use that which he'd given his hunter against him? No wonder Dean had said those words so easily to his face, his human had known that he was helpless to react to them.

Each memory served to call forth others and soon Castiel was able to mostly piece together events right up to the moment where he'd commenced the incantation to open the door to Purgatory. He felt horror rise within him as he recollected some of what he'd done- Balthazar, Sam, Dr. Eleanor Visyak- but also more anger. Most of that wouldn't have been necessary if the people who should have trusted him had only done so instead of first turning their backs on him and then betraying him.

Rage and fury rose swiftly and easily within him, so much so that it startled Castiel. Yes, he'd often used his anger at what his brothers were doing to help fortify and drive him in the past, but this was different. This was vastly different. The rage was almost a live thing roiling dark and heavy within him, swelling easily without reason and threatening to consume him whole. It terrified him and he desperately clung to the part of himself that wanted no part of it; to the part of himself that was horrified with it all. Unfortunately it was also the part of him that hated the necessary things that he'd been forced to do. The two conflicting desires warred within him and the Darkness threatened, encroaching steadily further within him until he had no choice but to strike out at it with all that he had, terrified of being swallowed whole.

He won against the Darkness but it was far too close for Castiel's tastes and left him feeling what he was sure humans would term 'ill.' During his struggle he'd felt a flash of something he'd only ever encountered once before in all of his existence and that had been in Carthage when Lucifer had reached out to him with his ruined Grace and tried to entice him over to Hell's side. He was sure that if he were a human that he'd be sick right now and even as it was, it left him distinctly unsettled and even more worried about what had happened since his last memory. Had he performed the incantation incorrectly? Had Dr. Visyak lied to them about what to do? Where were all of the souls and how had he become so hideously tainted? There had to be a reason for all of this. Had Dean done as he'd promised and found a way to disrupt his plan? The thought angered him but all it took was one lick of Darkness for him to try and push it all back down again.

But the question remained, why wouldn't Dean trust him? After all that Castiel had done for his hunter, he'd thought they'd become friends but he realized now that he'd misestimated his worth to Dean. Or at least to how his human had viewed their relationship.

It was almost impossible for Castiel to think about Dean and the hunter's betrayals without becoming enraged so he forced his attention back to the more important matter at hand; namely what had transpired. In addition to being unable to recollect what had happened to him or how he had come to be here, he felt... odd. He wasn't quite sure what it was that he felt, but there was an almost desperate urgency for something that he couldn't quite identify. He also felt tired and weary as if he'd recently partaken in a long and difficult battle and barely won. There was more, things he had no clue as to what they were and signals his vessel was sending him that he didn't understand. The room was equally unhelpful as he had never seen it before. It was opulently furnished and he felt distaste at the blatant materialism.

The air was quite warm and clung to Castiel in a way not unlike how it had when he'd visited the southern United States in his quest for his Father. The large French windows at the far end of the room stood open and a warm, lazy breeze wafted in, making the sheer silk curtains flutter about. Between them he could see a lush green garden overflowing with exotic plants and multicolored flowers whose fragrant perfumes he could detect now that he was paying attention to his vessel's senses, something which was surprisingly easy to do as he had never paid them a great deal of attention before. He was drawn towards the window and cautiously stepped outside, drawing his sword just in case. He needn't have bothered as all that greeted him was a tropical paradise. The garden extended around the edges of what he'd been able to see inside, spilling forth along elegantly tiled or mosaic pathways that meandered through the garden. Birds chirped and crickets sang, filling the warm, slightly humid air with a soft symphony of sounds and telling him that the animals, at least, sensed no immediate danger nearby.

To Castiel's left a manmade waterway that looked more ornamental than useful snaked among the plants, the wide marble borders having a through in the middle the purpose of which he didn't understand. There was a brief flash of memory, of fire, but it was gone before he could catch it and he was unable to coax it back out again. Almost lazily, his eyes followed the water towards a fountain and beyond that he could see the edges of a pool. Amazingly there was also the distant sound of waves crashing on the shore and he knew the ocean was not far. Why humans would create a fake river and a pool so near such a large natural body of water he didn't know but he had long since given up trying to divine their purposes in such actions. Instead he reached out with his senses and determined that he was in the Maldives but that still failed to tell him why he was here or how much time had passed since his attempt to open Purgatory.

If he wanted to find answers, Castiel knew that he would have to look for them and he found that he was strangely drawn towards the pool in a way he couldn't understand, but there was no sense of malice or evil to it, so he headed in that direction. The artificial pool was surrounded by large pale stones and was bigger than he'd originally thought with a smaller, frothing pool off to one side. There were several parasol shaded tables and lounge chairs dotted about as well as some kind of wicker framed outdoor sun bed lounges that had a soft mattress in them along with piles of pillows. Unlike the other types of lounge chairs, these were shaded by their canopies and the silk curtains that trailed from either side of it. He froze abruptly as his eyes landed on one of the sun bed lounges off to the left.

Dean.

Castiel found himself blinking to be sure that what he'd seen was real as it seemed completely wrong. But it was. There, lying curled up on the mattress against a veritable mountain of soft, plush pillows was Dean. His hunter appeared to be asleep and looked years younger, face and body completely lax without a single tense muscle or stress line anywhere in sight. Dean's normally pale skin had been kissed golden by the sun and the freckles that he'd so carefully and painstakingly restored had multiplied all across the flawless skin he could see. And with the exception of the tattoo and his own mark, Dean's skin was completely flawless without a single trace of a hunting scar, even the ones he knew that his human had picked up since he'd remade Dean. His former charge's hair was also blonder and longer than he'd ever seen it before, stirring lightly in the warm breeze.

Despite his joy and relief at having found someone who could tell him what had happened, Castiel frowned. It was not like Dean to simply take a nap outdoors alone where he was completely unprotected and appeared to be unarmed. The hunter was definitely not hiding a gun or knife on his person as he was naked to the waist and the green silk pants he wore would definitely not be able to support the weight of a weapon. The apparel further deepened his confusion and worry. He had never seen Dean wearing anything other than jeans or business suit pants so this flimsy garment that stirred in the breeze was not right. It wasn't normal, nor had he seen anyone wearing this particular style in the United States before. It was something normally found much further East, the type of pants that were tight at the waist and ankles and flared out in-between. Though they were normally made of a material that didn't reveal everything underneath when it was blown up against the skin by the slightest zephyr.

Lust slammed into Castiel so hard and fast that he staggered backwards as his vessel responded to the sight before him. Stunned shock lit him up and he frowned as he glanced down at himself to where his sudden erection was moving the front of his clothes as it sought to expand to its full length and girth. It had never reacted like that before except when he'd been thinking of Dean while watching porn, well either thinking of his human or listening to the man on that one occasion where he'd been caught in the act. Either event separately had never been enough to elicit a physical response from him so he didn't understand this instantaneous reaction now. The sheer need pounding through his veins and, indeed, his very Grace was making it difficult to concentrate and think properly.

In an attempt to distract himself, Castiel glanced up and away and it wasn't until his eyes landed on Dean's sleeping form that he realized his mistake. The lust and desire only grew within him as his eyes caressed all of the soft, golden skin on display. The tan made his mark stand out all the more prominently and he felt a rush of dark possessiveness wash over him as he looked at it. Mine! his mind seemed to growl wanting nothing more than to stalk over there and take his human right this very moment even before Dean had fully woken up so that his hunter would come to impaled on his cock. He had already covered more than half the distance between them before the part of him, the Light, that had battled and fought off the Darkness earlier screamed loudly enough in protest to make him pause.

This wasn't right, Castiel suddenly knew, this was wrong and this wasn't him. Yes he'd coveted the Righteous Man ever since he'd first touched Dean's soul in Perdition, but it had been on an entirely nonsexual level back then. Or at least that's what he'd always thought until he'd first been more thoroughly introduced to the human practice of sexual intercourse and from then on he'd desired that from his hunter as well. But that was as far as it had ever gone, desire, because he'd never acted on it, afraid of losing Dean as he didn't believe that this hunter was interested in men or him like that.

So why was this happening to him now? Why was he reacting like this? Castiel didn't know. It was almost as if his body wasn't the virgin that he knew it was, or rather the virgin that it had been from his perspective. The thought shattered as he suddenly realized that it wasn't. That was one of the changes that he'd felt earlier and had been unable to identify.

His purity was gone.

Castiel stood frozen in shock for a while. How hadn't he realized that earlier? It wasn't a huge deal as it had been something he'd considered doing for a while now if only Dean hadn't been so exclusively heterosexual, but it was still a significant step. Moreover, he couldn't remember losing it. The most that he could recollect doing had been to kiss the demon Meg as his curiosity had gotten the better of him and with her he didn't have to worry about irreparably ruining something precious. But that was all, he hadn't done anything else, anything more. He'd never done anything to warrant the loss of his pur-

The image of Dean lying naked on a large bed with dark sheets suddenly rose to the top of his mind and Castiel completely forgot to keep his vessel breathing in order to blend in better. His mouth went dry as he took in all of that pale, pale skin- as it wasn't sun kissed yet- laid out before him.

"Castiel!" Dean moaned, his hunter's breath caressing his face as he was suddenly that close.

The physical sensation seemed to unlock something else inside of Castiel and the image suddenly morphed into a more complete recollection and he could feel himself on top of his naked human as Dean writhed helplessly beneath him, moaning and begging shamelessly. The memory swallowed him whole and all of his attention turned to the way that Dean felt trapped beneath him; to the way his hunter's hands grasped at his shoulders, desperately holding on; to the way his human's legs were wrapped around his waist, heels digging into his ass and thighs for purchase.

To the way that Dean felt, clenching tight around his cock where he was buried as deep inside of his human as he could be.

The heat and pressure were glorious and Castiel ignored the present completely in favor for enjoying each and every thrust that he'd made with his hips, fucking Dean and driving himself ever closer to the edge. He even ignored almost everything else in the memory right up until he'd leaned down and bitten at the base of his hunter's throat. The mewling and keening that had elicited and the way that Dean had jerked against him, coming hot and hard where Dean's neglected cock had been trapped between them were nearly enough to make him come as well. He restrained himself, though, wanting the bliss to last and he continued to thrust hard, the feel of Dean's clenching muscles around his cock exquisite. When he finally knew that he wouldn't be able to last much longer, he thrust as deep as he could go before stilling and allowing himself to start expanding. The forming of his knot drove his human crazy with pleasure and Dean made inarticulate noises as his body twitched helplessly under the continued onslaught, glazed eyes looked at him before they rolled back into Dean's head as his knot forced itself fully into his hunter's tight ass and he started spilling his seed deep within Dean, the hot liquid spurting out against his prostate.

Castiel dropped down onto his unconscious hunter when he finished coming, riding high on the sheer bliss of having so thoroughly fucked Dean. He absently nuzzled at his human's mark as he felt the knot shift a little before settling firmly into place. There it would remain for the next few hours, keeping his ejaculate deep within and making Dean feel full and claimed when he woke. He smiled, reaching down to caress the slight bulge at Dean's lower abdomen, fondly recalling his human's astonishment when he'd first come and come and (amazingly for humans) kept on coming well past anything that Dean had ever seen or experienced before. The bulge would start to flatten out soon as Dean's body absorbed some of his seed, marking the hunter for all the supernatural to sense as his before the rest would eventually leak back out again when his knot died down. He'd always liked the look of that, his cum staining Dean's ass and the back of his thighs.

Slowly the memory faded out leaving Castiel to blink in the bright sun of the Maldives. Pleased though he was to have remembered something the recollection had done nothing for his state of arousal and he felt the need to take, claim rise up within him again as his gaze was, inevitably it seemed, drawn back to Dean. The memory- the knowledge- of what it felt like to have Dean did nothing to help his control and actually served to lessen it. The feel of his human writhing beneath him and clenching down around his cock... it was all that he could do not to stalk forwards and take it all again. The fact that he knew Dean had enjoyed it as much as he had merely urged him on as well.

Only Castiel's sense that something was very, very wrong here held him back. The fact that he'd not only woken up from an unconscious state but was also unable to remember most of what had happened during the past year unnerved him greatly. He was an angel and neither of those two things should be happening to him. Then there was also the fact that the newfound Darkness within him was urging him on, all but salivating at the thought of not only taking but also dominating his hunter. The images and desires it conjured, though arousing, were not ones that he thought to be appropriate human sexual behavior. He didn't think that Dean would appreciate waking up to already being fucked. Then there was also the fact that he had knotted his hunter and he didn't know why. It wasn't a normal part of angelic anatomy so he must have purposefully decided to do it, something else which wouldn't be a normal or appropriate part of human sexual behavior and which he wasn't sure that Dean would appreciate him repeating without explicit consent.

The thought that part of him didn't care terrified Castiel in a way that he'd never felt before even as the idea only served to arouse him even further. Dean had not only always enjoyed sex, but had used to seek it out at every available opportunity, so he was merely meeting one of his former charge's needs. There was nothing wrong with that, now was there? No, it would be doing Dean a favor and meeting one of his own needs at the same time.

Castiel had already taken several steps forward before he caught himself. No! This was wrong and it wasn't even the only thing wrong here, nor even the most wrong thing it seemed. For, even as temptation beckoned, there was a part of him that was almost roiling with the most horrendous sense that something was horribly wrong here. So wrong that his very Grace seemed to want to pull away from it, only he didn't know what it was that causing the unfathomable horror he felt. Regardless of that, it was nearly overwhelming and made him want to grab Dean and flee from this place.

The only thing that stopped Castiel from doing so was that he wasn't certain that it would work. Besides that, the rational part of him knew that he had to be cautious here. He had spent far too much time on the run in the past few years to simply give in to such an impulsive desire without knowing what awaited him at his destination and, since he couldn't remember what had transpired, that could be anything.

A slight sound drew Castiel's attention and he looked up to find that Dean was shifting, limbs moving lazily on the cushions as his hunter stretched languidly and yawned before his eyes open. At first Dean's gaze was bleary, the half attentive glances of a human who didn't come fully alert as soon as they woke, before it sharpened as those beautiful eyes landed on him. His hunter's entire demeanor changed, movements becoming more purposeful and eyes dropping submissively even as Dean smiled.

There was a flutter of something deep within Castiel as he watched Dean roll gracefully to his feet and walk towards him. His lust and arousal, both of which had finally lessened, flared back to life once more, stronger than ever before. His eyes were automatically drawn down his hunter's body, watching muscles shift beneath smooth skin and silk stir in the warm breeze, giving him teasing hints of what lay beneath. Dean was walking strangely, not at all like his charge normally did, and his eyes were drawn to his hunter's hips to watch them move sensually as Dean approached. A slightly stronger breeze caught his human's pants and he saw that he wasn't the only one aroused here.

The knowledge let Castiel push his doubts aside as his mouth watered. His hunter clearly wanted this as much as he did and that was all that mattered. The rest could wait until later, after he'd fucked and knotted Dean.

Although Castiel knew precisely what it was that he wanted, he wasn't entirely sure how to go about taking it and his slight hesitation seemed to be all the prompting that Dean needed in order to drop to his knees before him. The sight of his human subjugating himself like that made his cock twitch for reasons he wasn't entirely sure of, though the submissive manner in which Dean kept his eyes lowered elicited a similar response and only served to feed the desire to take, claim, knot his former charge so that everyone- and most especially Dean- knew that the hunter was his.

"My Lord," Dean murmured reverently before leaning forwards and rubbing his face into Castiel's rapidly hardening crotch.

Those two little words, short though they were, were enough to tip Castiel straight back into worry and swamped him with that horrible sensation of revulsion and wrongness. Only now it felt even worse, vile and a violation of everything that was just, right and true.

Dean Winchester did not say those words or speak them in that tone.

All of his arousal and lust were gone and the sexual touches suddenly felt repulsive to Castiel and he knew that he had to end this now before it got any worse. "Dean," he said, the name catching in his throat as it tried to close up on him with all of the horror he felt reaching out to choke him.

His hunter pulled back slightly, looking up at him obediently and that made Castiel feel ill once more even without taking into account the almost vacant look in those green eyes. His hand reached out as if by its own volition to touch Dean's face and all he could do was watch it, the rest of him frozen in horror and denial at the sight before him. Though he had seen many different emotions light up his human's gaze and not all of them either flattering or pleasant, he had never seen this before and he didn't like it in the least. It was almost as if Dean wasn't there anymore and all that was left was a vacant shell of a body, living and breathing somehow, but missing the essential spark that made it human, much less his particular human.

The moment that his fingers touched Dean's face there was a flash of something so horrible and desolate that he pulled back with a cry, his hand jerking away from his hunter as if burned. Confusion and fear flashed across Dean's face but Castiel hardly noticed it, all of his attention focused on the desecration that he'd just gotten a glimpse of. His entire being screamed its denial and his Grace shrank within him, desperately seeking to get as far away from what he had just experienced as he possibly could.

Not to mention the implications of exactly what he'd just felt.

"My Lord?" Dean questioned softly, as if unsure or even fearful of his response.

As before those two simple words were practically enough to rip apart his whole world and Castiel wanted to do nothing more than to flee. To fly off somewhere far away and never think about what had happened ever again. To find himself five of the biggest liquor stores on Earth and drink them all dry in a desperate attempt to lose himself and forget exactly what it was that he had just felt for it was by far worse than anything else that he had ever experienced before and that was even without allowing himself to figure out exactly what it was that he just knew it meant.

The problem was that Castiel knew he couldn't. Sure, he could physically do it all except for one thing: abandoning Dean.

Even as most of him wanted to do all that he could to forget that he'd ever even met the human- no, his human-, there was another part of Castiel that knew that he never could.

Not Dean, not ever.

But was it even still Dean?

The thought chilled and horrified Castiel right down to his very core. It also terrified him in a way that he'd never felt before, not even when waiting for Raphael to arrive in the prophet's house or when facing off against both Michael and Lucifer at the same time. The fact that he could look down and see his hunter kneeling before him only served to make it all that much worse, especially since all of the signs that he'd either willfully ignored or simply not recognized for what they were now stood out like neon lights.

The flimsy and revealing clothing that his former charge wore, the total relaxation of body and posture that he'd never seen before, the easy submission, the vacant gaze and- most hurtfully- the reverent expression on Dean's face as his human looked at him. None of that was normal for Dean, Castiel knew, none of it was natural. He hadn't wanted to see it before, but they were all signs that something was horribly wrong. And yet at the same time none of them offered even the faintest glimmer of exactly how horrendously wrong things actually were.

And all of that was even with him not wanting to acknowledge the worst of it.

Much as Castiel didn't want to change that, he knew that he had to. The desire to flee- though tempting and joyous- was both impractical and impossible, and remaining here and doing nothing was not possible either. He supposed that, theoretically, he could continue on, simply ignoring it, but he didn't think he could truly do that. The Light inside him simply wouldn't allow it and the simple fact that the Darkness desired it was almost enough to make him want to not do it, just to vex it. That combined with the knowledge that Dean would never allow himself to back down from doing what his hunter knew to be right gave him the courage and fortification he needed in order to step forwards and reach down, pulling his human to his feet.

The ease and unquestioning way in which Dean responded despite the fact that Castiel could tell that his former charge was confused only heightened his terror and made his vessel's stomach cramp unpleasantly. Was this what humans meant when they said that their stomach was in knots? If so he didn't like it in the least and wished to never experience it again.



Afraid that if he waited, he'd lose his nerve, Castiel reached up and brushed his fingers across Dean's forehead, instantly dropping his hunter into a deep sleep. He caught his human with an arm under Dean's right shoulder and easily supported his charge's weight with a hand splayed between his shoulder blades. He could feel his vessel's heart pounding wildly in his ears- an unusual physical sign of his severe distress- as he reached up with his free hand to run his fingers lightly across Dean's upturned face, at first he just felt him as a human would before pushing deeper to touch Dean's soul, needing to be sure that what he'd felt earlier was true even if he wanted nothing more than to not do so and live in ignorance of it forever.

The desecration that Castiel found was even more abominable than he'd feared.

Dean's soul was hopelessly shredded.

The mutilation was so abhorrent and appalling that it left Castiel stunned and shaken to his very core, struggling to understand how it was even possible. If he hadn't known that it was Dean's soul that he was looking at, he felt sure that he would never even have recognized it. The damage was simply that atrocious. Gone was the brilliant almost iridescent Light that Dean's body had hardly even been able to conceal and which had illuminated his way in Hell, even when partially tainted with all that his former charge had done in his last ten years under Alastair's tutelage. Gone was the beauty and grace of it, the righteousness and love that he'd always felt when near it and which had always drawn him in much as he'd seen a light do with the night butterflies Dean called moths.

All that was left was a little shard of soul so small and injured that it could hardly even be called human anymore. It easily explained all of Dean's earlier behavior including the docile and submissive actions that were so uncharacteristic of his hunter. Castiel trembled as the full implications of his discovery sunk in along with the realization that what he currently held in his arms was little more than an empty shell of the human that he loved and cherished. Sure, there was still a shard of Dean's soul left, but it was not enough and would never be enough to make it Dean.

The rending of a human soul was abominable an act enough, but to mutilate it so thoroughly as to hardly even be recognizable as human was something that Castiel had never had the misfortune of witnessing before. So for it to happen to Dean was... it was just...

Castiel didn't even have the words to describe how atrocious it was and the desire to simply be able to forget everything that he had discovered and learned since regaining consciousness was stronger than ever. Why couldn't he simply have remained like that, unaware and as near to death as he could be while still alive if this was what awaited him?

"Dean," Castiel whispered brokenly, fingers moving to caress his hunter's lax face.

He paused as it occurred to him that until today he'd never even seen Dean's face as relaxed and at ease as it was now. Or at least as it appeared to be now when his human's eyes were closed as those vacant, nearly soulless pits instantly shattered the illusion. Still, the fact remained that even as appallingly maimed as Dean was now, his human looked better and healthier than he'd done in the four years that he'd known him.

It was quite easily the cruelest part of the whole situation for Castiel. Like a kick when he was already down and bleeding worse than he'd ever been before in his long existence.

/

Castiel paced back and forth in the large opulent bedroom, feeling like it was the world's most gilded cage. Just like all of the other rooms that he'd seen, this one was obscenely decked out with all manner of expensive and worthless trinkets. It disgusted him, but the room had a bed on which he could place the body while he thought about what to do next. Part of him wanted to simply end it, terminate the thing's life as he suspected it would be a blessing for whatever remained of Dean and he sincerely doubted that his hunter would want to live like this, as a mere shade of what he'd once been. The problem was that he wasn't sure what would happen to the remaining soul shard if he killed it.

Souls lived on after the body's death, going either up to Heaven or down to Hell for humans, but Castiel wasn't sure if there was enough of Dean's soul left for that to happen here. And even if there was, would it still be deemed human in the eyes of Heaven or was it more akin to some supernatural creature and thus destined for Purgatory?

The thought was almost too horrible to contemplate, but Castiel forced himself to do so now. After everything that Dean had done and all that his human had suffered, his former charge didn't deserve anything less than a place in Heaven where he could finally rest in peace. To think of Dean going to Purgatory therefore was not only unacceptable, but also compounded with the thought of all that his hunter would suffer there. Although it would not be as bad as Hell, Dean would still be trapped somewhere with beings that hated him with a passion, either directly because of what he had done to them during his time as a hunter, or indirectly simply because of what Dean had been.

If only he still possessed the souls from Purgatory! If he did then Castiel wouldn't have to worry about his hunter being tormented for the rest of eternity, simply about Dean being lonely and bored out of his mind. But no, something had happened since he'd opened the gateway to Purgatory and the souls, if he'd ever had them, were all gone now. To where he didn't know, but he wasn't going to risk sending Dean to Purgatory if there was any chance that the souls had been returned back there as seemed most likely. If the souls had merely gotten free of him, then he'd have expected them to attack and destroy him for what he'd done. Instead there was no trace of them, so he had to assume that they'd been returned to Purgatory somehow.

There was a brief flare of anger at Dean as his hunter was the most likely culprit if that were true, before Castiel doused it. It was a ridiculous thought given that his human was in all probability dead, his very essence so thoroughly shredded as to have essentially been wiped from existence.

The acknowledgement of his greatest fear made Castiel stagger to the bed onto which he collapsed, a dark void opening within him. The mere thought of Dean's death had always been nearly enough to overwhelm him, but at least then he'd always known that his human would live on in Heaven. It had always been a comfort, even when he'd known that he'd not be able to return there to visit his former charge. The knowledge that Dean would be there, safe for once in his hunter's existence, had been enough.

Now, however, Castiel had no such assurances anymore. The unprecedented nature of the situation meant that he simply didn't know if the damage done to Dean's soul was irreparable or not. He supposed it depended largely on what had happened to the rest of his charge's soul; whether it had been destroyed or not. Simply thinking of the possibility made him feel nauseous once more, but he pushed it aside, trying to turn his focus inwards, towards the bond that he had always shared with his human ever since he'd first touched Dean's soul deep in the depths of Hell.

What Castiel found was... he wasn't sure what it was. The entire area where the bond was connected with his Grace was saturated in Darkness and no matter how much he struggled against it, he couldn't push it back. It was as if it absolutely refused to relinquish its hold on his connection with Dean. The fight left him feeling weak and he resolved to try again later, when he was feeling better and stronger. His earlier battle with the Darkness within him had left him drained. The fact that the Darkness fought back as hard as it did provided him with some hope that there was actually something left of his bond or else why would it bother?

A mere glance at the shell of his hunter that remained, resting on the bed beside him, was enough to drive Castiel to his feet once more. He wasn't quite sure when he'd picked up the human habit of pacing as it was quite pointless, but that was what he felt like doing at present. He had far bigger concerns to worry about than such a trifling matter so he left it alone.

What he needed most at the moment was information. Intel on what had happened in the past year, why he couldn't remember all but a tiny fraction of it, who had desecrated and mutilated Dean so and what had happened to the Purgatory souls. The information about Dean was his biggest priority, but the others were all crucial as well since neglecting any one of them could imperil not only him, but whatever was left of his human as well. If there was any chance of salvaging Dean's soul than it was entirely up to him. No one else who could do anything about it would be bothered to help.

The thought stopped Castiel abruptly in his tracks as it made him think of something else.

Sam and Bobby.

Sure, they couldn't help Dean at the moment, but they might know more about what had happened to the both of them. He hadn't even thought of them yet because of what had been done to Dean, but they were the obvious place to go. Another glance at the body made his vessel react unpleasantly once more and he decided that he would leave it here. There had been no signs of danger here so far and who knew what awaited him at Bobby's house?

Castiel knew that he was deluding himself, but right this moment he truly didn't care. After everything that he had learned and the fact that there was a very good chance that Dean was lost to him forever, he thought that perhaps he was owed a little self-delusion. It wasn't like he planned on abandoning what was left of his former charge, simply that he needed a little break from the mutilated remains buried deep inside a body that looked better than it ever had in life.

His sword appeared in his hand with a thought and Castiel frowned, not sure why he had summoned it. Bobby was not a threat to him even if the hunter was still mad at him for what had happened right before he'd opened the gateway to Purgatory. He paused and felt a chill as he suddenly recalled precisely where the blood that he'd used had come from. It was followed swiftly by the memory of what he had done to Sam in a desperate bid to keep Dean distracted long enough so that his former charge didn't ruin his plans as his hunter was so very good at doing when Dean didn't agree with what was being carried out.

Okay, both of those were perfectly valid reasons why he should probably go in prepared, Castiel just didn't quite understand where the impulse had come from. If he were human he would have said his subconscious but he wasn't human, he was an angel and angels didn't have a subconscious. Not that angels were supposed to lose consciousness either, nor be able to have amnesia, so perhaps he was more injured than he had assumed. He would have to check his Grace later, but first he had to do this.

He had to get away from the thing lying on bed.

Without another thought, Castiel spread his wings and flew away.

/

The moment that Castiel landed he knew that something was wrong. Very, very wrong.

Not only was there absolutely no sign of life anywhere in the area, but Bobby's house was in shambles. The front door seemed to have been blown off its hinges, various planks from the porch had been ripped up and strewn about the yard, some of the windows were shattered and there were pages fluttering in the breeze. Castiel was at a loss for what to think. The devastation was obvious but it was what he wasn't seeing that was most telling. There were no bullet holes or impact marks in the walls, no traces of sulfur, nor were there any residual Grace signatures. All were indicative of the attacker being neither human, demonic or angelic. So what had happened here? Who had attacked? And, most importantly, where was Bobby?

Cautiously, Castiel stepped forwards even as he scanned the area for any signs of someone else. As he'd thought before though, there was no one so if this was a trap, it was one meant to be sprung without the aid of an assailant. He was scanning the ground for traces of Holy oil before he even realized what he was doing and then he frowned, wondering how he even knew how to do that. Holy oil was supposed to be undetectable for angels.

It was the clearest sign that Castiel'd had yet to indicate that he'd actually housed the Purgatory souls as intended, however briefly. His first reaction was to be pleased- his plan had worked- but then annoyance and anger set in. Clearly something, or most likely someone, had been able to overpower him despite all of the hard work that he'd put in to gain enough power to defeat Raphael. To add even further insult to injury, he couldn't even recall if he'd obtained the Purgatory souls for long enough to defeat the last remaining archangel. He couldn't seem to sense Raphael which gave him hope, but it was by no means proof of his success. He'd have to look into it as soon as he had a moment to do so.

Castiel pushed those thoughts aside and focused his attention on his surroundings. Even with his enhanced senses, he still couldn't detect any hidden traps, so he proceeded forwards. The porch creaked ominously as he went up the steps but other than that there was no sound except for the ruffling pages. It was unnatural and he wondered what had happened here. What had dared to attack as renown and experienced a hunter as Bobby Singer in his own home?

Unfortunately for Castiel, he found no more clues inside the house than he had outside of it. Sure, there was more damage, but it was all like the outside, generic and totally unhelpful in allowing him to decipher what it was that had transpired here. There wasn't as much destruction as he would have thought, it was more superficial as if Bobby hadn't put up as much of a fight as he'd have expected the hunter to do. It was quite bizarre. The good news was that he found absolutely no blood, not even traces of it, so he highly doubted that any harm had come to his friend which was an immense relief.

Unwilling to simply leave the place he knew that Dean thought of as a second home after the Impala, Castiel took the time to lay down the strongest defenses and protective spells he could think of. This way the house would still be there if he managed to save his hunter.

It felt like a physical blow when Castiel realized that he'd thought of the possibility in terms of 'if' rather than 'when.' It appeared that he couldn't even deceive himself into believing that everything was going to be alright.

/

He really should awaken it and allow the body to get something to eat, Castiel knew, but somehow he wasn't quite sure if he was ready to face the ruin of what Dean had become again. Yet at the same time he found himself unable to pull himself away from where he was standing at the end of the bed, watching it as it slept, chest slowly rising and falling in such an achingly good imitation of life that it cut straight through his Grace. Why couldn't it look more dead or soiled? The body really should reflect the mutilation of the soul within as the dichotomy was driving him crazy.

When he finally managed to wretch himself away, Castiel caught movement out of the corner of his eye and he turned around sharply. His fear proved to be unfounded as he found himself merely facing a full length mirror. The relief he felt was short lived because instead of seeing himself as he'd expected, he found himself clad in strange new garments. Gone were Jimmy's suit and trench coat and in their stead he was some kind of elaborate black silk and brown leather outfit that reminded him of the knights from centuries past, complete with silver armor. It was more a flowing set of warrior robes than anything modern and he couldn't fathom where he had gotten them.

They were nothing like anything that Castiel had seen humans of this time wearing and he could think of no reason why he would have altered his vessel's clothes to them. It was another unsolved mystery to add to his ever growing collection of them. At this rate he would never get any of the answers he so desperately wanted. This one, though, was less urgent and so long as he wasn't required to interact with anyone his current attire would be fine so he left it for now and diverted his attention back to the matter at hand. Namely it.

All it took was a quick probe with his Grace for Castiel to tell that it was getting hungry and the thought of allowing Dean's body to starve even if his hunter wasn't truly in it was so abhorrent that he lifted his power and allowed it to awaken. It happened slowly, far more so than he had ever witnessed Dean rousing before as his human, like any hunter worth his salt, had always come awake quickly, going from sleep to alertness in a matter of seconds. Perhaps it was fitting that this thing behaved differently in so many ways; it would make it easier for him to remember that this was not his friend but rather a specter of the man he loved.

Slow at waking or not, it still felt far too quick for Castiel and he felt part of himself freeze when those green eyes opened and came to rest on him. He'd always enjoyed looking into Dean's eyes as they were the place where his human's soul shone through his body the most clearly. Despite all of the times his hunter had tried to get him to stop staring (explaining about privacy and personal space and other peculiar human habits), he'd not been able to stop himself from doing so when he had the time. His gazes had grown shorter and less frequent, true, but not because of any new behavior on his part, but rather due to a lack of time.

The irony of the situation was not lost on Castiel. Of course now that he had the time to gaze as long and hard as he wanted, he could no longer stand to do so.

"My Lord."

As before those two small words cut through all of Castiel's thoughts and left him at a loss. Why did it keep calling him that? He sincerely doubted that there had been any part of his former charge that had ever possessed the slightest inclination to do so before. So why did this soul shard do so constantly now?

"Cas," Castiel said, his voice cracking strangely and he was forced to clear his throat before continuing. "My name is Castiel and you call me Cas."

Normally he would have tacked his human's name onto the end of that sentence but Castiel found that he simply couldn't bring himself to call it Dean.

It wasn't his hunter.

Confusion filled the shade's face along with a certain amount of fear and Castiel frowned. He hadn't said anything that should have elicited either response so he was at a loss as to how to proceed.

"My Lord?" it asked, bracing itself as if for a blow.

The reactions made Castiel draw back in horror. Why did what remained of Dean's soul fear him? Was it just the paranoid part of a hunter that had survived? Somehow he thought it unlikely, but then why did it do it?

The only answer that Castiel could come up with made the feathers of his wings stand on end and they shifted uncomfortably.

No, it couldn't be.

Although Castiel couldn't immediately recollect what had happened in the past year he knew that he'd never have done that. There was simply no way that he'd have physically abused his human, even if all that remained of Dean was a single shard of a horribly mutilated soul. Desecrated or not, it had still once belonged to his former charge and while he'd be willing to terminate it for its own good, he'd never hurt it. Not to the extent that this reaction implied.

So, no, there simply had to be another explanation for the shade's behavior right now. Determined to uncover it, Castiel stepped forwards once more and approached it. The fact that it didn't withdraw despite trembling gave him hope. Clearly some part of the soul shard recognized him enough to realize that he meant it no harm. He clung to that as he reached up and brushed two fingers against its forehead, fortifying himself before pushing in.

Now that it was both awake and as aware as Castiel knew the shard could get, things were different from before. It showed more activity which made it more recognizably human and this fact soothed something deep within him. It made it slightly harder to navigate and find what he was after, but all of the defenses and natural resistances that human souls would have were still missing so it was just a matter of reorienting himself.

As he'd hoped, Castiel was able to find the fear the soul shard felt, though it was far greater than he'd anticipated, much closer to outright terror than he was at all comfortable with. What could possibly have made any part of Dean feel like this? Grasping a hold of it, he followed it back to its source near one jagged end of the soul shard. There, just as he'd hoped, was a memory and he released the fear in order to submerge himself into it after sending calming waves to the increasingly agitated soul shard. He wasn't sure if it would be able to understand the comfort he offered it, but he had to try nonetheless.

The memory fluttered and twisted into being around him and Castiel had a second to take in his surroundings and realize that they were in what appeared to be some opulent religious setting before the people in the memory captured the entirety of his attention. It was himself and Dean, the real Dean, not the shade that had taken his human's place. They were standing facing each other. He was already wearing his new attire and stood in what he recognized from others as an extremely aggressive stance which didn't make any sense whatsoever as the only other person in the room was Dean.

Castiel had been so delighted to see his charge hale and whole once more that it took him longer than it should have to realize that Dean wasn't. His hunter was neither hale nor whole but had simply appeared to be so because his soul was in far better condition than it currently was. It wasn't whole, not by a longshot, but it was less desecrated than it was now. So was that what his anger was about here? Was Dean attempting to do something stupid, thus further endangering his already mutilated soul? It definitely would have set off every protective instinct that he had and it would have angered him to see his human so reckless with his most precious possession.

"No," Dean almost snarled, his entire stance a peculiar mixture of defensive and defiant.

"Dean," past-him growled, eyes narrowing dangerously.

The behavior of his past self perplexed Castiel as he knew better than to think that it would do anything other than serve to antagonize his former charge. He had already learned that lesson. The thought brought a slight smile to his face before it faded in light of the events that he was currently viewing. He'd hoped that witnessing the shade's recollection of what had happened would somehow trigger his own memories of these events but there wasn't even so much as a glimmer.

Dean laughed though it was entirely without humor. "Come on, Cas, you know me better than that by now. When have you ever seen me just roll over and give in?"

"You were going to for Michael."

"That was different!"

"Yes, he was your enemy-"

"And you're not?"

The venom behind the words was more than enough to rule out any and all possibility of them having been said in jest, no matter how poor the taste and Castiel flinched back. Dean saw him as his enemy? Of course, his hunter saw everything in black and white so naturally he would be viewed as the enemy by his human now. His own anger ignited right alongside that of his past counterpart. How could Dean dismiss him and his plans all so easily? Didn't his charge have any respect for him whatsoever after all that he had done and sacrificed for Dean? He'd only given up everything that he was and all that he had for his hunter so you'd think that he'd have earned a little trust and faith. Therefore to be so easily dismissed after all of that was...

Infuriating apparently if the expression on his past self's face was anything to go by. It was a little too much towards the fury end of the spectrum though for his liking and Castiel shivered and felt his own anger die long before his past self reacted.

"How dare you?" past-him thundered, advancing forwards aggressively and Castiel caught the way Dean shrank back, clearly afraid though his hunter did his best not to show it.

The desperate show of bravado tugged at Castiel's heartstrings. It said a lot about the state of Dean's soul already at this point in time if his hunter was this bad at concealing how he felt. If there was one thing his human didn't do, it was to show either fear or weakness to those he considered as his enemies.

"You will address me with respect," his past self continued to growl angrily. "I am your God, your Lord, and you will bow down before me and address me with the proper respect even if I have to-"

There was a wave of absolute terror followed swiftly by intense agony unlike any which even he had encountered before and the next thing that Castiel knew he was propelled out of the memory and he was looking back down into the shade's panic stricken face. Surprisingly enough given the emotions that he'd just experienced from the soul shard, it was he that drew back in horror and dismay.

What he had seen... Castiel could hardly believe it and he wouldn't have except that he was absolutely certain that the soul shard was completely incapable of deception. It was no longer human enough for that. Or angelic enough, apparently, given what he'd learned of his brothers and sisters as of late. Which meant that all that he had seen was true, even if he really didn't want to believe it. It would mean that he had...

Once again Castiel felt the upset in his vessel's stomach that he never wished to experience again, making him feel distinctly ill. He had claimed to be to be God, the ultimate blasphemy itself, even for him given all that he'd done during the past few years. Even at his worst, when he'd completely lost his faith, he would never have even considered thinking himself his Father's equal let alone anywhere near qualified enough to replace him. And yet he'd just witnessed himself doing exactly that as well as not only threatening his human but apparently following through on it too if the pain that he'd felt from Dean was any indication.

The question was, what could possibly have made him do that?

It was with a sinking feeling that a possibility occurred to Castiel and he desperately wished that he could simply ignore it but with what he'd just witnessed he no longer had that luxury. It was either that he'd been wrong and Dean right last year or that he'd somehow- 'lost it' he believed the human term was- and had spontaneously decided to start pretending to be his Father and attacking his precious hunter. In comparison the slight to his pride in being wrong about knowing what he was doing and being able to control the Purgatory souls were both minor injuries to his pride to deal with. In fact it hurt more to realize that he'd succumbed to the sin of pride just like his brother Lucifer (and to a lesser extent both Michael and Raphael) had than anything else.

How could he have been so stupid? After all that he'd seen the past few years, how could he have made those same mistakes? Especially with Dean of all people warning him of the dangers? His hunter's concerns and protests should have made him pause to consider his actions at the very least. Dean wasn't his Father's Righteous Man for nothing, as he had plenty of experience witnessing firsthand. You'd think that he'd have known better.

The self-recrimination and loathing that rose within him were emotions Castiel only recognized because of the number of times that Dean had felt them. He had always disliked it immensely then and found that now was no different, but he simply refused to even try and shove them aside or ignore them as they were merely the beginning of his penance for all that he'd done. Sure, he couldn't actually recall any of it, but he knew that someone power high enough to claim to be his Father would not hesitate to do all manner of other things. Just the way that he'd acted with Dean when his hunter refused to address him properly was proof enough of that.

It was...

The next thought that occurred to Castiel was far more atrocious, so much so that it made all of his other revelations today seem trifling in comparison. He turned back around from where he'd paced away in his agitation (and why had he acquired that particular human habit?) to face the shade once more. It couldn't be, could it?

Now that the idea had occurred to him, the puzzle pieces were all starting to fall into place. The sheer terror that Dean felt of him, the way that his human had allowed him to touch his soul despite that terror, the easy submission, his own reaction to his former charge's insolence and bravado.

But no, it couldn't be.

It just-

"My Lord?"

The shade's voice brought Castiel back to the present and he looked over to find it on its knees before him, looking up at him with fearful adoration. The worst of it was that there was absolutely no doubt in his mind that the shade would do whatever he wanted it to do. It seemed that he'd finally gotten his wish and what remained of Dean was obedient and not only respectful, but reverent.

Castiel fled.

Part 2