Children of the Wild Ones

[reticentric]

Chapter Five

As always Meg looked so damn smug like she had managed to outsmart everyone around her. She was in the same clothes from Carthage and flanked by four burly looking men Dean knew to be demons. He could just glimpse their true faces and of course Meg’s was the worst, gnarled and twisted with hollow eye holes and razor sharp teeth; the skin pulsing like there was something vile living underneath. He wouldn’t have been surprised to find out there actually was.

“What the fuck do you want?” He asked warily.

She thumbed her belt loops, rocking back on her heels. “Gotta say Dean, I’m shocked you were able to actually pull it off. Were I a bettin’ girl I’d be out some serious cash right about now. Seriously. I mean the stupid Winchesters ganking the devil? It just didn’t make any sense. Thought I was being punked.”

He smirked haughtily. “When are you assholes gonna learn to stop underestimating us? Should be a lesson learned by now especially after what we did to your previous fucked up father figure.”

She rolled her dark eyes. “I don’t see how getting an Archangel to do your dirty work makes you look good. What? Your daddy’s dead so you had to kill mine too? And here I thought you wanted everyone to get along.”

It was obvious that Meg had something up her sleeve because when did she not? It made Dean tense, his finger itching to pull the trigger even though technically it wouldn’t do any real damage. “You love to hear yourself talk, don’t you? Is this the part where you tell me you just weren’t hugged enough as a child?”

Meg grinned. “Look at you wearing your big boy pants. You’ve got extra pep in your step. Why is that? Finally teach Clarence how to ride reverse cow girl style? There is something different about you that I can’t put my finger on.” She squinted at him. “No wait, there it is. All that yummy self loathing you keep stored up for special occasions. I’ll save you for last so that you can put it to good use.”

With a flick of her hand Dean and Sam found themselves crashing back into the brick wall of the store, hitting it hard before falling to the ground. Two of her big cronies stalked over and dragged them to their feet, striking them about the face and in the stomach. Dean grunted and managed to get his hand around the hilt of Ruby’s knife only to find it knocked away to skitter across the parking lot. The demon holding him-a bald dude-grinned before tossing him unceremoniously into a trash can. He heard Sam yell and looked up to see him sail over the hood of the Impala like a giant rag doll.

Pain thrummed up from his stomach and into his chest; bruises were already starting to bloom on his skin. A cut over his eye leaked blood down the side of his face and into his lashes but he could still make out the blurry images of Castiel fighting the other two demons that were dressed like truckers instead of bikers. It was like a choreographed dance with Castiel dodging punches and spinning away from their meaty hands. He leaned far back like someone outta the Matrix to avoid a chop to the throat, grabbing the demon’s wrist and twisting until it cracked. Said demon cried out and suddenly lit up like a Christmas tree, and Castiel took a step back, his silver angel sword dangling from between his deft fingers.

The second wasted no time jumping on him with seemingly no fear at being destroyed. He punched Castiel violently in the side, breaking several ribs on impact. Castiel cringed but didn’t give up. He twirled his sword and struck the trucker in the nose, driving him back until he was leaning against the passenger door of the Impala. He socked him in the eye and drove his sword down hard into the creature’s neck, breathing heavily as the demon slumped down dead.

“Guess you’re not as impotent as I thought.” Meg mused as her eyes slid over him appreciatively. “But didn’t anyone ever tell you not to bring a knife to a gun fight?” Smirking she sent him gliding over the back of the vehicle where he hit the windshield so hard that it cracked in several places.

Castiel rolled off the trunk and Meg was on him instantly, the sound of her blows to his face echoing loudly in all of their ears. His lip split and blood trickled down along his chin, and she smeared her fingers across it, bringing it to her mouth with an evil smile.

Dean growled and tried to stand, to throw himself at her or something but Baldy plucked him up before he could do anything and held him steadfast. The second biker leapt onto Sam like a leather clad frog and started choking him, his beefy hands tightening around Sam’s neck until his legs were thrashing for purchase and his cheeks were turning blood red.

Meg picked up Castiel’s sword and looked it over as he tried to get his wits about him. “I think it’s time to say good-bye to Clarence, Deano. It’s kinda funny-the way I keep breaking your toys. Do angels go to Heaven when they die?” Raising the sword high over her head, she winked at him as he struggled. “Eh let’s find out.”

Dean heard himself yell out but it almost felt like it came from someone else’s mouth. Sam’s legs were moving less and Castiel was dazed, and he was about to lose everything that mattered in one fail swoop.

It started as a pricked twinge in his brain and then everything just…slowed. It was like someone had pressed the slow motion button on the dvd player except he was still moving normally. He didn’t know how he knew what to do next but he went with it because he had to do something or his brother and his best friend were going to die. He slapped his palm flat against Baldy’s forehead and a heat he’d never experienced before rushed out of his hand and into the demon’s head. It charged through him like a tidal wave until smoke was erupting from his wide eyes and he was screaming, red light bursting out of his gaping mouth. He fell to the cement dead a moment later nothing but an eyeless human corpse.

Stepping over him, Dean set his sights on the demon currently choking his brother. Time whooshed back into place like it was supposed to be but it was obvious Meg and her flunky had seen everything. Having no loyalty to his once mistress, biker dude jumped up and attempted to run but Dean was too quick for him. To pissed off to let him get away scot free. He thrust out his hand and a bright white light exploded like a dying star from the tangled life lines of his palm, incinerating the demon to nothing but a pile of black ash.

There was no snappy comeback from Meg after witnessing what happened. It was clear she was shocked and confused and maybe even scared but as always she had enough common sense to not stick around. She threw her head back with a shriek, sending a billowing cloud of dark smoke from her host’s lips.

“Not this time, bitch.” Dean stuck his hand into the mass and latched on, watching as it flailed like a slimy fish on land, the tail end knocking over a gas tank. He squeezed and Meg ignited from the inside, more brilliantly illuminated than the other two. He could just make out her true face twisting and caught in a silent scream before she blew up like a massive firecracker, raining down glowing leftover embers.

That was when he smelled it. His head jerked just in time to see the puddle of gasoline from the leaking hose growing bigger and bigger, stretching outwards like stringy limbs. It only took one little cinder to start a fire, to send reddish yellow flames streaking back towards the source at a speed that could hardly be matched by anything.

Dean moved. He grabbed Castiel around the chest and darted over to Sam, laying them both side by side and covering them with his own body. The explosion that happened next rocked the entire street and probably the highway across the vacant corn field; sending cars skidding into the ditch. It sent the three petrol tanks shooting into the air like flaming metal shuttles into space. Fire was everywhere, blazing so hot that it melted the blacktop, turning it into a soupy sticky mess. The store was half gone, the other half burning steadily, the shelves of old chips and cupcakes crackling loudly.

He could see through it all however-through the wall of flames surrounding him. He could feel the warmth on his skin but it was like nothing really. No burns and no pain. With a deep exhale and a slow blink he extinguished it all, shuddering from all of the power coursing through his veins, his pores, his cells. He swallowed hard and looked down to find Castiel staring up at him in awe. Sam groaned and his lashes fluttered but before he could open his eyes, Castiel smacked a hand over them.

“No, Sam.” He said gravely. “Do not look or you will be harmed.”

“What’s going on?” Sam asked quickly. The skin around his throat was chaffed and red. “Dean? Are you okay?”

“I’m here Sammy.” Dean found his voice to be rough like jagged rocks. He could hardly make sense of what he’d done. “Cas? What are you looking at? Why can’t Sam open his eyes? The demons are dead.”

Castiel nodded his head and Dean frowned when something caught the corner of his eye. He glanced and his mouth dropped open in shock at what he saw; at the practically enormous wing hovering over his shoulder. Sure enough there was a second when he whipped his head to the left. They were hard to describe really but immensely stunning, stretching out over the area and so golden it was as if they’d swallowed the sun. He’d expected them to be heavy but found them strangely…normal.

And it was then Dean realized what had happened. That he’d sheltered Cas and Sam from the blast within the safety of wings.

Holy shit!

Castiel touched his cheek lightly to bring him back to the present. “Dean, you need to shield them or you risk burning your brother’s eyes out.”

Well that would suck. “Ho-how do I do that? I don’t even remember whipping ‘em out!” As if they understood they were being talked about, the wings flapped happily. “Jesus.”

Castiel smiled sheepishly. “Just relax and focus on tucking them away. Hiding them into the space within spaces. You can do this.”

Dean huffed but did as he was told. He pictured his wings folding against his back and popping out of existence like a foam bubble from a child’s wand. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt Sam after going to the trouble of saving him so he was thankful when a weight settled onto his shoulders and Castiel removed his hand. He didn’t know if he would ever get used to this.

Sam’s bitch face was out in full force however. “What happened? What-” He glanced around slowly at the mountain of destruction. “Holy hell Dean did you do this?!

Dean sat back on his heels. “I guess I did.” His hands were still shaking from all of the adrenaline.

Honestly he felt like he’d just run a marathon for a week straight without any sleep. He wasn’t tired but he was jacked-hyped-to the point where he figured if he tried he could actually fly. Just shoot up into the sky until he was hovering above the Earth and looking down at everything. His bruises were healed but he still had no real idea how he’d done anything, he’d just known to either react or watch his family die. And while it was beyond nerve wracking he could say for the first time ever he was thankful to Michael for giving up his grace. Without it they’d all probably be dead right about now. Instead Meg was gone from their lives forever, never to show up and fuck with them again.

She’d been so cold in his hand; something he hadn’t felt since Hell.

Good riddance.

Shivering, he stood and pulled Sammy to his feet then did the same with Castiel. He was lamenting the loss of his car because surely it hadn’t survived the blast, but was pleasantly surprised to see it untouched. Save for the cracked rear windshield which was an easy fix. He had actually shielded his freaken car too.

Well at least that meant he had been totally in control. Michael wouldn’t have given a damn about his baby.

“We should go.” Sam said limping towards the passenger side. “Before we’re branded as fire starters or domestic terrorists. Again.”

Leaving? Now there was a good idea.

~*~

The motel wasn’t as bad as some of the places Dean and Sam stayed Castiel realized as he closed himself in the bathroom. It was clean at least and he gathered the twin beds were soft if the way the boys had sunk onto them were any indication. In truth he was tired; a feeling he didn’t like one bit. He was used to limbs of stone and a spine of steel that never bowed unless told to do so by the power of his will. Now he was experiencing things he couldn’t control, sensations that were not even remotely pleasant. Such as the throbbing pain in his side.

He knew his ribs were broken and he also knew why they weren’t healing but he hadn’t said anything to Sam or Dean. He’d simply strolled into the bathroom and shut the door under the pretense of washing the blood from his face. Afterwards he’d just stood there gripping the sink, trying to force his body back together how it was supposed to be. It wasn’t listening though. It was taunting him, giving him just enough grace and power not to be affected by Dean’s wings but not enough to heal himself.

Dean’s wings.

If beauty had form it would be those wings. He could have wept at their magnificence, at the sheer radiance shining from them. To think that they had been used to protect him, well, it made him speechless. Idly he had figured they would be white or perhaps an elegant forest green like Michael’s but no, not for Dean Winchester. Not for the Righteous Man.

Castiel inhaled shakily and cursed himself for letting demons get the jump on him. He was a soldier. He’d fought fallen angels and things the world couldn’t even imagine, yet something so vile had managed to break him. And soon he would be totally useless-if his body kept going the way it was going. He would become a burden to those he cared about and ultimately get them hurt. He should just leave before any of that happened. Before Dean could see him struck so low. Before Dean got the chance to send him away.

A knock sounded on the door and it opened without his given consent. Dean slipped inside and closed it, turning to look at him with a speculative gaze. “You okay?”

He sighed; he could quickly grow weary of that question. “I am fine. I just wished to wash my face.”

Dean nodded. “Uh-huh ‘cause I could have sworn that asshole broke your ribs. Lemme see.” He reached forward and pulled up Castiel’s shirt, hissing at the blotchy purpling bruises all up and down his side. “Shit, Cas. You’re not fine! Why the hell would you lie about this?”

Angry, Castiel shoved him away back towards the door. “I can take care of myself. I am not a child that you need to coddle. Whatever state I might be in now I am still an angel of the Lord and the last thing I will ever need from you is your pity. ”

Dean’s green eyes grew soft. “I’m not pitying you, man. I’m worried. Hey look I know you can take care of yourself but you still should have told me that you were hurt. It’s important.”

“I’m not weak, Dean.”

“I didn’t say you were.”

“You assume I am because I am not at full power.”

“Bullshit. I saw you take out those two demons. I know you’re not weak…not by a long shot.”

Castiel sighed and stared at the floor. “I will be fine. I should heal…eventually.”

Wetting his lips, Dean crowded into his space again so that he couldn’t escape. “Cas… You’re one of us now so me worrying automatically extends to you-not that it didn’t before ‘cause it did. But ya know Sam is eight feet tall and I still worry about him pretty much all the time.” Very gently he placed his hand on Castiel’s waist, smoothing it up slowly to his ribs. “Comes with the territory. Doesn’t mean I don’t know how badass you are. It just means-it means I want those close to me to always be okay. I’m selfish like that.”

Dean’s palm was burning hot against his soft skin but it felt wonderful. Steadying. Castiel knew it was coming but he still gasped when his bones sealed back together, shuddering at the wave of strong grace that mended them. He found himself trapped between Dean and the sink with Dean’s fingers tenderly kneading his flesh. They had been this close before-quite a few times actually-but it was different for some reason. The air was crackling with electricity and Dean’s eyes were dark, the iris drowning in some overwhelming emotion.

He is getting better at using his gifts, Castiel thought vaguely. What he said was, “Dean.”

It sounded normal to his ears but he could tell his voice was huskier, that there was a question in the word. Dean clearly understood because he stepped closer until they were pressed together more intimate than they had ever been, Dean’s thumb sweeping back and forth, making him tremble. His stomach muscles tightened and his cheeks flushed; his fingers gripping the material of Dean’s shirt without his consent. And then Dean was leaning down and their lips were so close they could touch. So close that he could feel Dean’s warmth breath puffing out.

He was going to be kissed. Dean was going to kiss him and the very thought made his brain short circuit. He almost feared what the act itself would do but suddenly he yearned for it. Suddenly he wanted it more than he had ever wanted anything in his very long life. He wanted Dean’s mouth and Dean’s breath and Dean’s skin against his own. Dean, Dean always Dean.

The door opened without warning a mere second later with Sam looming in the doorway. “Hey Dean where is your-oops! Heh I um-uh-sorry.” Quickly he slammed the door shut but not before Castiel saw his big smile.

Dean made a rough sound in his throat. “Cock blocking moose.” Sighing, he turned his attention back to Castiel and cracked a small smile before kissing his forehead. “Come out when you’re ready.”

Castiel jerked his head in a nod and watched him leave, the sounds of him yelling at Sam without any real venom following thereafter. He slumped against the counter and felt himself over; everything was back in order except for the wild beating of his heart. It seemed quite silly to be millions of years old only to find himself flustered by a human, but he’d long since realized that Dean was no simple human. Dean was emotion personified; a swirling mass of chaos and temptation that he’d glimpsed even down within the pit. Never imagining how it would eventually come to change him.

Other angels would probably say that Dean had infected him like a disease but he did not see it that way. Dean had cured him. Had filled him with the hope that there was something more than obedience and the cold indifferent of God’s love.

Castiel could remember yelling at Dean that he had lost everything for nothing but they were now words he knew to be heavily untrue. He may have lost his Heavenly family but he’d gained perhaps an even greater one. One that wouldn’t kill him or cast him out for making a mistake; one that supported him and allowed him to be whoever he wished to be.

Life on this small blue planet wouldn’t be easy but he still considered it an even trade. But that didn’t mean he was going to lose the last vestiges of his grace without a fight. He would cling to the remnants until his knuckles were white from holding on so strongly. Just giving up was not an option, especially with what was to come.

Licking his lips, he glanced at his reflection in the mirror briefly before exiting the bathroom. He was ready.

Chapter Six