Burn Down the Sun (2/3)
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"Cas..." Dean answers weakly, immediately recognizing the angel as his knees start to give out. He vaguely hears the alarmed shout from Sam and manages to get out, "S'ok, Sam," just before his vision is crowded out by a surge of memories.
Smoke fills his nose as Dad shoves Sam into his arms, yelling, "Take your brother outside as fast as you can and don't look back! Now, Dean, go!" And so he does. Later, Bobby joins them as the firefighters try to put the flames out, but Mom and Dad are gone-
Bobby raises them as his own, teaches them what and how to hunt-
There is an angle the demons had been working, advancing some plan that ultimately makes little sense to either of the Winchesters, but it had involved feeding demon blood to infants of unsuspecting families-
They find the demon responsible for killing Mom and Dad. His name is Azazel, and he explains how he stood over Sam's cradle and bled into his tiny mouth, how he killed their parents for interrupting-
It's clear that Sam has acquired psychic powers from his exposure to the demon's blood, and now Azazel and Meg are after them-
"I’m gonna take you care of you. I’ve got you. That’s my job, right? Watch out for my pain-in-the-ass little brother? Sam...?" He pleads, but Sam's body is empty; Sam is dead-
Killing Azazel doesn't make him feel any better, and it doesn't bring Sam back-
He barely hears the offer from the crossroads demon, but he accepts it anyway. Regardless of whom the demon is riding around in, it still stinks of lies and sulphur. He gags as he leans in to seal the deal-
Lilith is such a precious little creepy thing with bouncing curls of gold. She laughs as she releases the hell-hound, and the last thing he sees is Sam embracing him before he's falling through the Earth-
He wakes up strapped to a cold metal table. A tall, thin man leans over him, a grin splitting the cruel face above him. "Dean Winchester, welcome to Hell. I'm Alastair and I will be your host for the rest of eternity," comes the malicious voice, the formality a false and mocking gesture. The blade cuts into his flesh and he screams-
He does the slicing now, separating muscle from bone, and he revels in how they shriek-
Something is coming; a light speeds toward him from beyond the horizon and already he can feel the warmth emanating from whatever it is. Dropping the knife, he takes a step back-
-and collapses into the mud, gasping.
"Dean!" Sam cries out, but he stays put, sizing up the creature standing over his brother.
"I'm fine, I'm fine," Dean reassures. "Well, now I'm sitting in mud and it's really gross, but whatever." He glowers balefully at the muck soaking into his pants before he redirects his glare at Castiel. "What the hell was that?"
"I am sorry for dropping you. I did not wish to find out if your eyes would burn out of your skull from a memory."
Dean's mouth drops open; he doesn't quite know how he should respond. "You saw all that?"
Castiel nods. "We were dream-walking and you were about to see my true form."
Dean shuts his mouth, realizing just how useless sitting around with a dumbfounded expression plastered onto his face is. Then he opens it again to ask, "That going to happen whenever we touch?" His mind goes wandering off on it's own about the possible implications of his question, so Dean snaps his mouth shut once more.
Every part of him is tingling from the touch, and the emptiness from before seems like a distant thought. Castiel is staring at him, fascinated - like he can see straight into Dean's soul - and the hunter feels far too open and exposed when the angel offers him a hand up.
Dean scowls suspiciously at the upturned palm. His eyes travel along the beige sleeve of the trench coat and back to Castiel's face.The angel is wearing a white shirt, black slacks and jacket, and the tie knotted haphazardly around his neck is a darker shade of blue than his eyes. "What are you supposed to be, a holy tax accountant?"
"I was told... these clothes would help me blend in," Castiel supplies, his brow furrowed.
Dean snorts but he moves on to more important things. "You go strolling through people's dreams often?"
"No, never. Only when the human is asleep," Castiel says, his tone almost reticent. "Dean, that should not have happened. It won't happen again."
"Well, then. Okay," the hunter says as he reaches out slowly and accepts the help. He flinches as Castiel's hand wraps around his, but the angel's fingers are warm, dry, and normal except for the power that Dean can feel humming just beneath the skin.
When he finds himself standing face-to-face with Castiel once more, Dean blames the fluttering in his stomach on the rather sudden change in his position; he was pulled upright so easily, as if he weighed nothing. The feeling persists as they continue to gaze at each other.
Sam clears his throat. "Um, guys?"
"What?" Dean answers absently. "Oh," he says eloquently and glances at Sam, then back to Castiel. "Oh, right." He pulls his hand free. "Cas, this is my brother, Sam."
"I know," Cas affirms.
Dean ignores the reply and gestures to the angel. "Sam, this is Castiel."
"So I gathered," Sam's face is unreadable as he looks back and forth between Dean and Castiel. His attention settles upon the latter. "Hi, and thank you for rescuing my brother from Hell."
Castiel inclines his head, accepting the gratitude.
"Yeah, so about that. Why would an angel save me from Hell?" Dean asks.
"You are a part of a much bigger picture. I could not allow this world to be devastated again-" for a split second Castiel's eyes cast down to the ground "-but, I should not even be walking the Earth."
Dean bristles. "What do you mean?"
"No angel has left Heaven in thousands of years. We were forbidden to interfere after the archangels...." Castiel tears his gaze away, clearly uncomfortable with where the conversation is going.
"Cas?" Dean shifts, leaning sideways until he catches Castiel's shuttered gaze with his own questing eyes. "Not that we don't appreciate it and all, but why are you helping us?"
"You two have-" Castiel starts, apparently failing to find the right words so he tries again. "This fight was not started by humanity. The responsibility of saving the world shouldn't rest upon your shoulders."
Dean blinks; he's not really sure what point Castiel is trying to make. "Okay, and?"
"He shouldn't be able to make decisions like that," Sam explains.
Dean quirks a brow.
"Seriously, Dean. Read on occasion," Sam says as he rubs a hand across his face. "Angels were created to obey. They don't have free will like we do."
"The last angels who disobeyed were punished-"
"I thought you said there wasn't much lore on angels, Sam," Dean says, but he turns and claps Castiel on the shoulder. "Since we all seem to be on the same page regarding the bad guys, surely you don't have anything to worry about. Now, how about we go stop the apocalypse?"
Sam joins Castiel in frowning at Dean, but the older hunter shrugs at them. "Which way do we go?"
"The doorway to your world is atop that," Castiel says, pointing toward a white mountain in the distance which seems to appear from out of nowhere, rising out from the middle of the trees. "It is the only way I know how to get out of this world."
Dean hadn't noticed the mountain before, but he can't claim to be surprised after traipsing through the last few environments.
"So," Sam trails off as he turns back to face Castiel. "Are we still on Earth, or...?”
Castiel tilts his head, not comprehending the question, but he responds with a clipped, "Yes." His eyes dart out across the landscape before returning to the taller hunter. "Technically, yes."
Sam's face screws up in thought as he tries to process that, and a laugh escapes from Dean. "Like in Sliders?"
Castiel frowns. "I don't know what that means."
"It's a television show about alternate universes."
"Oh. No, we're not in another universe."
"It's a- never mind, Cas,” Dean sighs.
Sam folds his arms across his chest. "How can this possibly be Earth?"
“My brother brought you into Nihaltsoh - the Yellow World-" Castiel stops when he notices the blank looks upon the Winchester's faces and sighs. "The third world from which the Navajo were born. They are now in the White World."
Dean rolls his eyes. "Now that that is settled-"
Castiel shrugs, adding, "It's not unlike how Heaven, Hell, and the Earth are connected. In a way-"
Holding a hand up, Sam interrupts, "Wait, you and Loki are brothers?"
"Gabriel," corrects Castiel, "but he is called Loki in some cultures."
Dean presses his hands to his face, feeling a little overwhelmed. "And he is a...?"
"He's an archangel and much stronger than I am," Castiel says, nodding to himself as he explains. "He can enter and leave this place far more easily. If he brought me here to find you, I can only assume something has happened to him."
"We were attacked by those shade things," Dean replies.
Sam adds rather dejectedly, "We escaped, but Lo- Gabriel stayed behind, I guess to give us a chance."
The angel considers this; then, without warning, he plants his palms to their chests.
"What the-" Dean squawks, but fire races along his ribs leaving him gasping at the sharp, bright pain.
Sam wraps his arms around himself and eyes Castiel suspiciously. "What the Hell did you just do to us?"
"I carved sigils into your rib cages."
Dean uncurls from his own protective position to scowl at the angel. "Why?"
"The spell will help hide you from prying eyes."
"What do you mean?" Dean asks, shivering with unease as he glances around the trees.
"How do you think the shades found Gabriel?" Castiel asks, also glancing around. "We should get going."
~~~~~~
The throng of shades drag Gabriel through the dark corridors to what appears to be a laboratory - he lets them, curious to see firsthand what really is going down.
Theatrics are nothing new to him. Gabriel understands the need for them, and as a trickster, he frequently makes use of them. Looking around though, this is sheer arrogance.
One wall is lined with neatly organized tomes, medical and magical, written in various languages. There's an old lawyer's cabinet with meticulously labeled drawers beside a workbench littered with experiments of one kind or another. Gabriel chooses not to examine those too closely since the place smacks of Alastair, but he does eye the unusual implements placed around the metal chair placed in the far side of the room with caution. The aura of the black spells set upon them has settled even into the stones, and only an act of God could cleanse this place.
He can't sense the demon anywhere nearby-
"I thought you were dead, Gabriel." comes a voice from just beyond the dim light that spills into the hallway. "Turns out you were simply hiding like a coward."
Gabriel knows his brother's voice and recognizes Lucifer's power. He nods at the shades standing watch. "I was starting to wonder if you thought so little of me-"
With a wave of Lucifer's hand the shades disappear, and Gabriel shoots him a menacing glare.
"Oh, knock it off. We both know you could've escaped if you had any desire to do so." Lucifer steps into the room, his fingers steeple together as he angles his head to the side. "Which raises the question: why are you here?"
Gabriel breaks eye contact, refusing to be taken in by the 'innocent and curious' act; and he certainly doesn't want to know what conclusions Lucifer has managed to jump to. He had not intended to get involved. He had kept the shard for his own reasons.
When Castiel smashed through the Gates of Heaven, defying the orders of God Himself - not that Gabriel could cast stones in that regard - to save Dean Winchester from Hell? What their Father had been thinking when He'd created Castiel, Gabriel can't begin to imagine; the Little Angel Who Could has changed everything.
"You've found a reason to finally join the fight," Lucifer says, his voice falling flat. Then, his face twists into a ferocious mask and he snarls, "What could possibly-"
"Nothing you would understand," Gabriel interrupts, not wanting to get into this particular argument.
Lucifer's eyes narrow but he leaves it alone, instead asking, "Where are they?"
Gabriel just shrugs. Both Castiel and the Winchesters have a habit of being unpredictable, so he is mostly telling the truth when he says, "You know as much as I do."
"Right." Lucifer peers at him, watching too closely for comfort, but he eventually sighs and calls out, "Meg. Lilith."
The two demons materialize beside Lucifer, stepping before him like shields yet turning their backs on Gabriel as though he poses no threat. When Gabriel rolls his eyes, Lilith giggles and casts an inquisitive look over her shoulder, acting very much like the eight-year-old human girl she really isn't until Lucifer calls her attention back.
"Send out your little pets, Lilith. Search by land, water, and sky if you must."
"Yes, Father," she replies, obedient.
Confused, Gabriel mouths Father?
Lucifer waves it off, then fondly tucks a loose strand of her hair back into place and chucks her under the chin before turning to Meg. "Take reinforcements, and as soon as they are found, bring them to me. Be careful: the humans are accompanied by another angel."
Gabriel's eyes snap back to meet Lucifer's.
Meg nods and vanishes while Lilith turns to wave at Gabriel before gleefully skipping out of the laboratory.
"Surely, you didn't think I assumed it was you who freed Dean Winchester from Hell?" Lucifer asks. He smirks then snaps his fingers when Gabriel takes a threatening step forward.
Fire springs to life, racing around in broad arcs and forcing Gabriel back until he's confined within a ring of holy flames.
"Alistair, keep an eye on him," Lucifer orders. Alistair appears from wherever he'd been hiding and, edging around the flickering flames to glare at the archangel. "We wouldn't want Gabriel to go sneaking off to save anyone from our evil clutches."
Gabriel really should have seen that coming....
~~~~~~
Castiel leads the way, scouting for trouble as Sam and Dean make their way after as quickly as can afford to with the injuries they have sustained.
"Are you sure we can trust him?" Sam asks quietly the next time Castiel flits off.
"Asks the guy with faith that Loki has good intentions...." Dean thinks the question over. Breaking from the ranks of Heaven to yank Dean out of Hell; they had means and opportunity aplenty, but not much in the motive department beyond some fanciful words. He shouldn't trust Castiel, and it scares him more than a little that Dean feels he can with absolute conviction. "Yes."
Castiel brings them to a broad river. Sam steps right up to where the water laps at the bank, looking first to the left and then the right, then back at Dean with confusion marring his features.
As far as Dean can tell, the physics of this place are normal so the way the river seems to warp around the bend from one side, then flow straight up the side of the mountain that reaches up beyond the clouds and into the sky must be some kind of optical illusion.
"There," Castiel replies, indicating upstream. "We need to take the raft."
There is a pile of timber that does indeed appear to be vaguely raft-shaped sitting half on the grassy bank. As they approach, Dean fails to see how the wreck could possibly float, much less carry the weight of three grown men. The branches are barely woven together and loosely lashed to decomposing logs. "You have got to be kidding me."
"It's safe," Castiel says as he pushes the raft into the water and steps gingerly into the center.
With a shrug, Sam follows. The flimsy vessel sinks further into the water as its two occupants redistribute their weight.
"I suggest that you do not fall in," Castiel warns as Dean joins them.
"That is just what I needed to hear," Dean mutters as he studies the swiftly running currents. He tenses up as Castiel eases the raft away from the shore.
It's not long before Dean's curiosity gets to him. "Hey, Cas, why do we need to stay out of the river, anyway?"
"The creatures living in it can and will eat you."
"Oh." Dean draws his arms closer. "The actual water won't hurt us, though?"
"It's just water, Dean." Castiel levels a look at the hunter. Suddenly, he turns his head as though he hears something and says, "I'll be right back."
Then he disappears.
~~~~~~
Castiel waits patiently where the two rivers of the realm intersect. A woven basket drifts lazily down one river. When it crosses the other, he uses the currents to his advantage and wills the bundle toward him.
The basket lands gently on the bank, and Castiel crouches down to peer inside.
A doll made of white, nacreous shell and swaddled in a brightly coloured blanket blinks up at him. When she yawns, the light catches her iridescent cheeks, and the beads threaded into her long coarse, black hair clack together.
The moment he pulls the bassinet from the river, the little doll opens her mouth and wails like children tend to do when their sleep is interrupted. The noise is anything but human though, sounding more like metal scraping against metal. As if in response, thunder rumbles far off in the distance and rain begins to fall from the nearly cloudless sky.
~~~~~~
The drizzle turns into a downpour just as Castiel reappears.
"What the-" Sam starts, but his words are lost to the shriek stemming from whatever is kicking the blankets around in the basket Castiel holds.
Dean gathers the bundle to him with an annoyed sigh. The screeching stops as he clears the blanket away from the child's face and lets her suck on his finger. He rocks gently back and forth and says, "Cas, this is a strange looking baby and all, but... why do you have a baby?"
"She is the child of the Water Creature-"
"Please, please tell me you didn't kidnap the kid of some big bad-"
"Hey," Sam breaks in. He points back to the shore. "That can't be good."
The water is rising, and it continues to swell until the river breaches the bank, surging rapidly past the grass and into the forest. After several minutes, they are level with lower branches of the trees and there seems to be no end to the water.
Not wanting to be dislodged by anything unexpected, Dean sits down and Sam joins him. Though the raft remains strictly on course, Dean nervously glances up at Castiel. "I don't care where we are, this isn't normal. It's like the whole world is flooding."
"This is the quickest way out. Once the water level rises above the mountains, it will be deep enough for the creature to come retrieve the child," Castiel explains.
"Well, that's just great," Dean says with obvious disbelief as he tries to wrap his head around the size of such a creature. He gives up and closes his eyes, asking, "So we just, what, wait for the place to fill with water?"
They are drifting quickly past the tops of the tallest trees now, water stretching in all directions as far as the eye can see. The mountain seems so much smaller and further away than before.
"Yes."
"Okay, then, this place is fucking weird," Dean mutters, his eyes spanning the distance between them and the mountain-turned-island. “So, we have some spare time-"
A shadow passes over them, cast from high above. Silhouetted against the cloudless yellow sky, a large bird glides easily along the draughts of air keeping it aloft, seldomly flapping its wide wings.
"What the-" Dean starts but Castiel shushes him.
"It's a minka bird."
"What's a-" he falls silent under Castiel's obvious irritation.
"Keep quiet. They're looking for you two."
"You think?" Dean snorts - quietly.
Sam leans over to whisper into Dean's ear. "They're death omens in aboriginal lore."
Glancing skyward again, Dean whispers back, "Going to have to revoke your library card when we get back."
Castiel thrusts his hand out and concentrates. The dark shape wavers briefly before plunging through the air with a shriek and crashing into the water with a mighty splash. It's too far away to make out any detail as it struggles to keep its head above the water. Then, fins and teeth erupt from the water and the bird is gone from view.
Dean stares agog at the now vacant space. "Do you think it saw us?"
Castiel's jaw tenses. "I don't know."
Sam and Dean exchange nervous glances.
~~~~~~
The mountain is little more than a house-sized boulder protruding from the water by the time they reach it, though Dean can't tell how much time has passed since the sun is still in the same place.
Castiel reaches for the child. She's been mostly quiet for the duration of the trip, occasionally cooing at Dean for attention, and he is reluctant to hand her back. He does when Castiel stares him down and explains, "She needs to be returned to her parent."
"Or we'll get thrashed by something bigger than the mountain," Sam adds. Then, he raises a brow. "Since when could you take care of infants?"
"I helped raise you, didn't I? And for the record, you were far more difficult," Dean says with a shrug, watching as Castiel places her back into the basket and sets it adrift.
As she floats out of sight, the rain finally comes to a stop, and Castiel says, "Don't worry, Dean. She's home now."
Dean doesn't reply, but the water is already receding from the mountain when he turns to examine the sheer face of rock before them. There's no direct route up, and climbing doesn't seem to be a viable option. "How do we get up?"
Castiel contemplates the problem, then he grabs each man by the shoulder and they find themselves standing on the mountain next to a gate made of reeds that hangs from nothing in the middle of the air.
Dean whirls around. Castiel is standing right behind him, and he startles in return. "You couldn't do that earlier?"
"It takes more strength than I have to bend time and space enough to fly you both more than a very short distance."
"That's helpful," Dean mutters.
"In case you haven't noticed-" and Dean is proud to hear the note of sarcasm in Castiel's voice "-I've been more than helpful."
"I don't suppose you can dry us off- alright, alright, I'm sorry don't give me that look," Dean says, turning his attention to the gate. He walks around it and finds no way to get through. "So, how do we open this thing?"
"You have to blow on it," Castiel informs him with a perfectly straight face.
Dean is confused. "Uh, what do you mean?"
"You pucker your lips together and blow air out between them," says Castiel, unfazed.
"I know how to blow-"
Sam claps a hand to his mouth, gripping his jaw to keep from cracking up. He fails miserably, and Castiel eyes him with mild concern at the noise he makes as he snickers into his palm. After he manages to contain himself, Sam straightens. "Oh, y'all are too cute."
"Yeah, well how 'bout you blo-"
"Okay.... I'm sure the universe will stand still while you get whatever this is out of your system, Dean."
"Why do I have to blow on the door?"
Castiel levels a disappointed look at him. "Dean, we have little over twelve hours until the eclipse begins."
"All right, all right, don't get your halo in a twist," Dean mutters and leans forward. He pulls away once more and scowls at Castiel. "I just..." he finishes the question with a gesture toward the gate.
"Yes."
"Why?"
"I don't know," Castiel replies.
"Then how do you know what-"
"Oh, for the love of..." Sam interrupts, shoves Dean out of the way, then blows on the gate.
There's a pop as the latch unlocks, and then the gate swings open on invisible hinges. A dark two-dimensional rectangle hangs in the middle of the air. Night has fallen on the other side.
Pivoting to face Dean and Castiel, Sam grins with smug satisfaction. "Now, was that so ha-"
A hand grabs Sam from behind, wrapping around his neck and dragging him backward through the opening. Dean and Castiel call frantically after him, but Dean doesn't bother waiting for an answer before he's chasing after his brother with Castiel on his heels.
They find Sam kneeling on the ground, forced there by the fingers squeezing his throat. The hand belongs to a petite brunette wearing a leather jacket, blue jeans, and heeled boots. Her eyes flick an unearthly white the moment her eyes land on Castiel. "Hello, boys."
"Meg," Dean acknowledges dispassionately, and she responds by pulling her red lips pull into the satisfied smirk she had last worn while standing over Sam's corpse. Dean fights to keep from leaping across the space between them to rip the heart from her chest. He resolves the urge by channeling his aggression into a moderately less suicidal outlet. "Didn't we kill you already?"
"Seems to be a lot of that going around," Sam croaks, his voice barely scraping past compressed vocal cords.
"Takes just a bit more than that to kill my kind," Meg says as she crouches beside Sam. Leaning in close to him, she presses her face to Sam's and appraises Dean, her eyes flicking over him from head to toe.
"Really, so how's Azazel doing these days?"
Meg's smile wavers. "You have something I want, Dean," she says, spitting his name out as though it tastes bad.
Dean crosses his arms over his chest, over where the shard rests in the inner pocket of his jacket. The door they came through is gone, leaving them with no viable escape route. They are surrounded by shades on all sides, and even with Castiel as backup, he doesn't think they can fight their way out of this.
"You're not getting the shard, Meg, but I promise if you let Sam go and leave with your goons now, Feathers here won't zap you like the pests you are." He can feel Castiel's gaze boring into him from behind, but the angel doesn't contradict the threat.
Castiel raises a hand, and his palm begins to glow brightly like the filament of a bulb.
"I don't think so. Your angel might be able to take out some of my shades, but certainly not all of them. Now, hand it over or I break Sam's neck," she snarls as she rises to her feet, hauling Sam up with her.
A look passes over Sam's face, and for a moment Dean is unable to make heads or tails of it as they watch each other. Then, Sam flicks his attention to Castiel and nods his head, and Dean gets it: his brother is accepting this as his fate.
"No, wait-" the words rush from Dean, but Castiel's hand lands on his shoulder, and they disappear to the sound of Meg's enraged shriek.
~~~~~~
The spots from being winged away so unexpectedly are still dancing across his vision when he wheels around to face Castiel. "Take me back!"
"No."
"Fine. I'll find Sam myself." Dean turns on his heel. Before his foot hits the ground, Castiel grabs him by the shoulder.
"You still have the shard-"
"I wish I'd never heard of this stupid thing," he declares, pulling the shard from his pocket and hurling it into the night.
"-and they will keep Sam - alive - to dissuade you from coming after them," Castiel finishes.
"Oh." Dean's knees buckle and he lands in a heap on the ground. He scrubs a hand wearily down his face. After traveling across several planes of existence over the last few days without food or sleep, only to have Sam taken off by damn monsters prophesied to end the world, Dean is physically and emotionally drained. "Well, crap."
"I know where it is," Castiel replies and vanishes. When he reappears, he drops down beside Dean and places the piece of crystal in his hand. Instead of letting go, Castiel laces their fingers together.
Feeling his face flush, Dean studies their entwined hands and almost pulls away. Somehow Castiel's touch, his presence, calms Dean and fills him with the strength to ward off the looming sense of desperation, how hopeless the tasks he's been given really are.
Must be an angel thing; he leans against Castiel, seeking comfort.
"Wait, can you sense this thing?" Dean asks, lifting the shard and both their hands.
"Yes."
"Gabriel couldn't-" A snort from Castiel cuts him off short. Dean catches Castiel smiling faintly, his usual seriousness giving way to amusement.
"Yes, he can," Castiel chuckles. "He was 'messing around' with you."
Dean grumbles under his breath. "Cas, your brother is kind of a jerk."
"He's... Gabriel," the angel says with a shrug. He lifts his face to the cold desert sky to study the twinkling stars high above. "He has his reasons."
Arching a brow, Dean awaits further explanation.
Castiel sighs. "I was surprised to find Gabriel; or rather, he found me. We thought he'd perished back when the fighting began, so-"
Dean's face splits with a wide yawn, and Castiel sighs again.
"Try to get some rest, Dean."
The hunter huffs. "What about-"
"I don't need to sleep, so I'll keep watch. I'll tell you whatever you want to know in the morning." Castiel squeezes his hand; then, with a gentle caress along his temple, Dean is fast asleep.
~~~~~~
The sun slants across his face, bright and cheerful, as Dean wakes slowly. Somewhere overhead, a bird sings in the normal-looking, Earth-like tree. He feels content after sleeping through the night with none of his usual nightmares, and surprisingly warm, given the chill in the early morning air.
He must have been well and truly exhausted because he doesn't remember when he snuggled up to Castiel - not that he's protesting; Castiel makes a pretty comfortable pillow - or how they ended up on top of the trench coat with the angel's black suit jacket tucked under the hunter's chin. Dean cranes his head to see what Castiel could possibly be doing if he doesn't sleep.
The angel is contemplating the sky, watching the sun turn the atmosphere rosy and golden, his eyes free from the stress of his Heavenly duties. Castiel looks carefree and tranquil, as though there is no place he'd rather be than resting out in the middle of God's green earth with his arms wrapped around Dean.
Dean's breath catches in his throat, and Castiel glances at him, a gentle smile playing across his lips. "Good morning, Dean." He still has his tie around his neck, and even that looks at ease.
"Did you do something to knock me out last night?" Dean asks, sitting up and disentangling himself from Castiel as the peace of mind he woke up to begins to fray around the edges.
Arms encircle him from behind as Castiel hooks his chin over Dean's shoulder. "Stop doing that, Dean."
"There are easier ways to get people to sleep with you," Dean teases lightly, settling into his usual flippant mode to hide his growing apprehension. He tries to pull away, but Castiel maintains a tight grip on him, so he angles his head until he catches sight of the angel's troubled frown. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Why are you distancing yourself?" Castiel asks, sounding uncertain.
Dean drops his gaze and appeases his restless, pent-up energy by wringing his hands. "Dude, I haven't bathed in several days. I feel too gross right now to be, you know, whatever this is..." he says, fumbling over his words. He ends up shrugging.
Castiel gives an exasperated sigh and presses a finger to Dean's temple.
The grime is gone from his hair, skin, and clothing. Dean's mouth even feels minty fresh. "Did you just mojo me clean?"
"You're deflecting. Stop it," Castiel admonishes softly. He slides his hands along Dean's arms, drawing the hunter's interlaced fingers apart. "I can hear the guilt clamoring in your head."
Dean stills, anxiety coiling through him. "Are you reading my mind?"
"Not intentionally, but your thoughts are very... loud."
"This feels normal being here... with you," Dean admits. He shivers as Castiel charts the veins just under the skin of his wrists. "And I don't understand any of this, which makes me feel even worse."
There's a current flowing between them, fraught with emotion that Dean isn't prepared to wade through just yet, but he's being pulled under, carried away. He needs to understand what's happening to him and he just doesn't have a moment to spare.
"I don't have time to waste with this, Cas. I have to rescue Sam. I have one real job, and of course, I go and blow it - again!" he babbles as guilt settles heavily in his stomach, gnawing away at him. "I certainly don't deserve-"
The angel flips Dean onto his back, straddling his hips and trapping his wrists beside his head in the blink of an eye. Gaping up at Castiel wide-eyed from the ground, Dean finds himself almost too stunned to remember what he'd been rambling on about.
"Dean, you deserved to be saved. You deserve to be happy. You are not at fault here," Castiel states, leaning in close. "Why do you insist on taking responsibility for things you-" he stops and tilts his head.
"What- saved, happy?>/i>" Dean spits out. He tries to swallow around the lump in his throat as he remembers the fear and resignation on his brother's face the night before. He'd already failed Sam, and he couldn't let that happen to Castiel as well. "Good things don't happen. There's always a catch. Like the whole saving the world thing, which Heaven apparently decided to dump on me...."
"First off, you are not to blame for what happened to Sam, and I am here of my own accord." Castiel says, markedly relaxing his grip as realization sets in. "And you only know part of the story. They aren't demons; not true demons. They are Fallen angels - my siblings."
"What?" Dean repeats, but the information shocks him from his self-destructive thoughts.
"When my Father created humans, he told us to love you as He did. Some of the angels failed to appreciate that and started fighting, in Heaven and on Earth. God banished them here until they could learn to behave."
"And the shard?" Dean retorts, grateful for what he views to be a more productive and less emotional shift in the discussion.
"Lucifer cracked the crystal that locked them here; the Graces held within became twisted," explains Castiel.
"Oh. Guess that's what I saw in the shard; but what does any of this have to do with me?"
"The angels also became twisted. They seek to destroy all of humanity, but there came a prophecy which said that the Righteous Man could stop the Fallen, and so they had to stop the Righteous Man first. Dean, everything you have gone through was engineered by the Fallen to keep you from fulfilling that prophecy."
Dean's chest constricts painfully. He feels like crawling right out of his skin; the degree to which his life has been altered - the terrible decisions he thought he had been making had been so controlled, and by a force so beyond his comprehension - makes him feel both totally insignificant, and utterly essential to the grand scheme of the universe.
He inhales slowly, and tries to drive the runaway thoughts back into the recesses of his mind.
"Dean."
Breath fans across his cheek, and Dean gazes up into the blue eyes above him. He's still pinned by Castiel, but instead of the weight causing him to spiral further out of control, Dean feels grounded and-
He opens his mouth to counter his own thoughts, but instead he asks, "Why did you save me?"
Taken aback, Castiel stares down at the hunter. "It was the right thing to do."
Resentment flares within him, but Castiel had started pushing first and now Dean can't seem to keep from pushing back. "So, after sitting up there for who knows how long, watching them tear apart my family, you decide to break out of Heaven and into Hell because it suddenly felt wrong to you?" Dean asks, his volume rising.
"Yes, but... Raphael would not let anyone leave after what happened to Michael and Lucifer," he sighs as his eyes fall shut. "I was unable to slip past her quickly enough to save your family."
Disgrace colors Castiel's cheeks, and shame tugs at Dean, making him feel like he's acting like the villain of a children's story. It's not exactly a revelation that he's being an ass, but Castiel hasn't done anything to warrant such behavior from Dean.
"Hey, no," Dean says, as his anger yields to fierce affection. He pulls loose of the grip, knowing full well that the angel could easily keep Dean restrained if he wanted, to trace fingers down Castiel's cheek. "Sorry. Defense mechanism or something. I don't trust others easily, for obvious reasons. I think I'm freaking out a little bit here...."
Maybe he's finally just snapped. Dean spent most of his life hunting supernatural creatures, monsters that hurt people and destroy lives, and angels definitely fall into that category. And after everything he and Sam have been through, he shouldn't trust Castiel so easily. Someone will end up suffering the consequences - Sam already has - which is more his fault than Castiel's, but-
"Dean!" The low gravel of Castiel's voice draws Dean out of his thoughts. The angel tugs the hand away from his face, places it against his chest, and Dean can feel the steady thud of Castiel's not-so-human heart.
"I just met you, what, yesterday? Cas..." His eyes tick down to where his palm presses into the seemingly redundant rise and fall of Castiel's chest. "Why do I...." He trails off, unable to ask his question, so he plucks at the bright material of Castiel's shirt.
"It wasn't that long ago, but we didn't meet yesterday...." When he sighs, Dean glances back up, and catches the pang of sorrow that flickers across-
"These are your emotions," Dean exclaims. "All these months, I've been feeling your emotions."
"Some, yes; but they are yours as well," Castiel clarifies.
"But I thought you didn't feel this... stuff." But as Dean thinks upon it, Gabriel had been exhibiting a pretty wide range of emotions. And Castiel too, to a lesser degree. The longer Dean is around the angel, the more he seems to open up.
Castiel blinks once, slowly. He gazes blandly at Dean for a moment, then asks, "Why do you say that?"
"Well, to start with, that look doesn't help," Dean replies. "The whole 'no eat, no sleep, and created only to obey' thing?"
"We can feel - hunger, pain, emotion - if we choose to do so. Since these things are not necessary to our existence, angels usually do so only when it's beneficial," Castiel replies with a frown.
"I- I don't know what that even means," Dean sputters. A crease forms between his brows as he tries to parse the information. The concept is too far beyond his point of view, and he just feels ignorant and needlessly complicated. "Why is any of this happening?"
"How do you not remember?" Castiel asks, the objection in his eyes as loud as the challenge in his voice.
"Traumatizing experience?" he tries, giving a brittle smile.
"Rescuing you from Hell was no easy task," Castiel says, not appreciating the attempted joke. "I was weary, drained from fighting off demons while searching the wasted terrain of Perdition for you. I didn't mean to..." he breaks off, exhaling a shaky breath.
Anticipation suddenly thrums through Dean as Castiel presses his lips into a determined line. He slips his hand between the layers of Dean's clothing, and up through his sleeve.
"Cas, what are you-" Dean's voice dwindles to nothing at the unexpected surge of need that spikes across his nerves when Castiel aligns his palm with the mark he left behind. Electricity sparks between them, and Dean would swear that Castiel is touching the very heart of him, raking through his soul trying to find-
He stands fearfully at the feet of a vaguely humanoid wall of light that towers over him, stretching a thousand feet into the air. He's never seen something so breathtaking or wondrous - certainly not within the shadowy confines of Hell - or imposing. He turns to escape; anything and everything that lives in this place seeks only to intimidate, humiliate, and terrify.
"WAIT," commands a voice that resonates through the air, thunderous and formidable. The blazing pillar fluctuates as though to give chase.
He stops, because how can he run from a presence such as this? But the light begins to shift, bending and breaking as it folds inward, and he has to shield his eyes as all that radiance compresses, burning as bright as the sun as it begins to shrink in upon itself, until a man stands before him with eyes bluer than the sky, wearing only a pure, white light that emanates from somewhere within.
"Dean," the creature says, eyes full of compassion and devotion and love.
And he takes a step back; the instinct to retreat from the gaze so intently turned upon him becomes too strong to ignore.
"Dean." The being reaches out tentatively, pleading. "My name is Castiel. I only want to help."
He cowers back, falling to the ground to be away from those fingers, the potential touch; even though he senses no malignant intent, everything in this place hurts, is designed to punish.
"We have to leave this place." Castiel drops to his knees and inches closer, saying, "Please, trust me!"
The ground begins to rumble and he knows why: Alastair is coming. For him, or maybe the being kneeling before him. A fresh wave of fear sweeps through him; the thought of the demon tearing through such a beautiful creature is too ghastly and tragic.
There isn't time for this. There is never time for such caution, but still he asks, "You aren't going to hurt me?"
"Never," replies Castiel with such certainty.
And he believes this creature, this Castiel who shines like a beacon and chases away the darkness of Hell, trusts him as he tumbles forward. Castiel catches him as just Alastair arrives.
With a furious bellow, the demon implodes into a black vapor and winds around trying to ensnare them both.
Choking on the demon's malevolence, he tries to hide in the crook of Castiel's neck as Alastair attempts to forcibly separate them from each other. A hand slides along his shoulder, gripping him tightly, and a heat lances through him, originating from that point of contact. It spreads throughout him, breaking him apart to burn away the contamination of the Pit that clings to his soul, then fusing him back together, and he can't help but cradle that radiance to him, hold it near to his heart as he gazes up into the shining face above him. Castiel's eyes widen in surprise.
A light bursts outward and straight through Alastair, forcing the demon to flee from the cleansing fire.
"Hang on," comes the rough demand - Castiel sounds winded and discordant - then they're soaring upward, accelerating faster and faster; they illuminate the dreary skies as they fall away from Hell like a shooting star-
That star is falling into Dean, and there's no way he can contain so much.
Reality rushes back to him, though it doesn't reflect the intensity of what he's feeling in the slightest as blinding Grace collides with his soul, smashing through the sucking abyss that Dean has become, enfolding him with love and healing him....
Dean drags air into his neglected lungs, his eyes immediately darting up to find Castiel's.
The angel is uncertain; Dean can feel it resonating through their link. He knows Castiel feels afraid of being an unwanted burden and guilty for being the cause of so much misery; he's afraid of no longer being useful, of feeling unneeded and unwanted and unrequited in his love for Dean.
Unable to endure the rush of conflicted, fearful thoughts any longer, Dean rolls up, dislodging Castiel and breaking the intense connection. He pulls the angel closer, sliding one hand up into Castiel's hair, the other down the his back to clutch at his hip - trying to return the warm gesture in a way Dean knows how.
What had felt like a missing piece before is suddenly an entire picture, and this thing between them finally clicks into place. Dean doesn't understand how he could've have overlooked something so important because it really is simple: they get each other even if they don't always agree. Similar thoughts echo back across their bond even though Castiel is no longer directly accessing the hunter's soul.
Castiel presses his cheek into the curve of the Dean's neck, and Dean glances up to the trees-
They're frozen in place. The birds are silent and even the heat of the sun feels still. "What the Hell? Did- did you stop time?"
Castiel follows Dean's gaze. "Oh." A hint of a smile crosses his lips as though the answer is simple. "You were worried about losing what precious time we have."
"You're not serious...." Dean gapes, his eyes widening. "You are!"
Castiel actually smirks at the reaction. "Only a little - just this moment, and only for a short distance around us. Time is difficult to manipulate as is, and-"
Dean literally can't respond with anything verbal, and he halts the conversation by grabbing Castiel's face and kissing him senseless before the angel has the chance to start in on the calculus of temporal anomalies or something. Not that it would be boring, but the subject is a little beyond Dean, something Sam would be more interested in and-
His stomach picks that moment to growl, and Dean draws away, looking a little embarrassed as he casually wraps an arm around his midsection to quiet the grumbling.
Sliding his hand into pocket of his coat, Castiel removes three Snickers bars and asks. "Would these be of use?"
Dean's mouth waters at the sight. "Oh, yes! Not the healthiest breakfast ever, but beggars can't be choosers," he says as he accepts the chocolate and rips a wrapper open. "You don't want one?"
"Angels don't need to eat or drink or sleep, Dean."
"Then why have you been carrying them around?"
"Gabriel gave them to me. He has a bit of a-"
"-sweet-tooth. Right, because he's a trickster.... You'll indulge in emotions and spontaneous... whatever this is-" Dean waves a hand, then his eyes bulge, stricken by the thought that Castiel might misunderstand his point, and he adds, "-not that there's anything wrong with that - but you willingly avoid the little comforts like food?" Bewildered, he shakes his head and looks at Castiel, his eyes bearing a silent ultimatum. "You do not know what you're missing out on. When this is all over, I'll take you to get a huge, juicy cheeseburger. With bacon."
Castiel takes a moment to consider the proposal. "That sounds terrible."
"I think you mean awesome," Dean corrects. "I promise... you'll love it-"
"Well, isn't this interesting?" a voice cuts in. A shadow falls across them and the world resumes around them as the hunter twists around to face the stranger. Castiel leaps up and steps protectively in front of Dean.
A black-haired man wearing a dark denim jacket, a dove grey t-shirt, and jeans immediately holds his hands up in a gesture recognized universally as not armed.
Just because he has no weapon doesn't mean he can't harm them, though. Knowing this from experience, Dean rises to his feet. The guy's imposing stature and overbearing confidence do nothing to engender trust either.
The man tips his head back to look at the sky, then slants his gaze back to the hunter. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Dean."
"Michael," Castiel hisses through his teeth.
A cold chill threads along his spine as Dean meets Michael's piercing green gaze, and he treads back a few paces, pulling Castiel with him. Michael smiles, but it doesn't quite reach his calculating eyes. "Don't go. Please, I'm on your side."
"What do you want?" Dean asks, cautious interest warring with his desire to bolt.
Michael shrugs. "We want the same thing."
Forcing himself to not step back, Dean cocks his head to the side. "You've got twenty seconds; I'm listening."
"Dean," Castiel warns, clasping the hunter's shoulder.
"Come with me. I can get you into the tower, help you retrieve your brother, and stop the Fallen."
Dean studies Castiel, before turning back to Michael. "Why would you help us?"
"He's lying," Castiel insists, stepping between Dean and Michael.
"Angels can't lie, Castiel," Michael replies calmly.
"Even if that were true, you're no longer an angel."
"Some of us fought for God, for the humans, and this is the thanks we get? God stranded us here, then Lucifer went and destroyed our only chance to go back." Michael's eyes shutter to white, his expression warping with a fury that crushes the air from Dean's lungs. He glares at Castiel like he wants to rip the angel limb from limb before snarling, "We will burn this planet to ash and start anew."
Dean grabs at the fingers still pressed into his shoulder and Castiel transports them elsewhere.
"I have to save Sam," Dean declares. He leans over to rest his hands upon his knees, easing the way to his lungs for some much needed air. "And stop them once and for all."
Castiel certainly doesn't look like he had just come face-to-face with impending death. He peers back in the direction they came from, making sure they aren't being followed. His eyes slide to Dean's. "I can take you there," he says and raises a hand.
"Whoa, hey now," the hunter says as he shies out of reach. His heart stutters in his chest at the thought of bringing Castiel anywhere near those monsters. "Cas, you can't come with me."
His hand hangs there, forgotten, and Castiel's brow twitches like Dean is speaking gibberish. "Yes, I can, and I intend to do so," he corrects.
Dean ducks his head and inhales deeply. "I appreciate everything you've done and all, but this-" Fingers grip his chin, tugging him up to meet concerned eyes. He straightens, and Castiel cups the side of his face; Dean turns into the warm caress.
"This is all so much to ask of you, I know." He presses his forehead to Dean's, his eyes falling closed. "I won't leave you alone to this task; I want to help." The corner of his mouth curls up, and then Castiel is gazing up at Dean with determination. "How else are you going to get close enough to sneak inside?"
"All right, if you insist," Dean sighs and pulls back, but he returns the smile. "Together then."
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