[Fic] DCBB - Hidden Away - Prologue
Title: Hidden Away
Author: Stolen Childe
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Prologue: Heaven is a Place on Earth
He took sleep when he could, which wasn’t often. But there came a time when his body just gave out and Dean would sleep. Castiel didn’t sleep, and it was probably a good thing he didn’t need to.
For while Dean slept, or while Dean huddled against whatever mockery of a shelter they found that moment, Castiel would be fighting, warding off the creatures that lurked in the dark ready to make Dean and Castiel their next meal. It wasn’t often living flesh wandered into Purgatory and they were salivating at the mere hint of a scent of it.
Dean jolted awake, expecting the familiar sounds of unknown wildlife and night around him. Though those sounds weren’t here now. In fact the only sounds were the very faint clicking of the ceiling fan above his head and a whisper of a breeze floating in through sheer curtains across an open window. Dean looked around, gaping at the unfamiliar room; it was pleasant and clearly not a motel and clearer still, it wasn’t Purgatory.
Was he dreaming? Or did he really make it out? Could it be-But where?
Dean flung the covers free of his legs, stumbling onto hardwood bathed in warm morning sunshine.
“Cas!” Dean called, not even caring that panic cracked through his frantic voice. “Cas?!”
No, not after everything. Castiel couldn’t have-
“Dean?” Castiel rushed into the room, a dishtowel over his shoulder, familiar blue eyes wide with worry. “What is it?”
“Oh God, Cas,” Dean whispered. He stumbled towards the angel, wrapping his arms tight around the familiar frame. Feeling him warm and alive beneath his touch.
Castiel hugged back almost instinctively, and that should have been Dean’s first hint that something was different. Dean was too addled from months spent away in terror to realize though. He just clung harder.
Castiel pulled away, only fractionally, but a whimper escaped Dean’s throat at the movement nonetheless. Castiel frowned deeply and he brought the back of his hand up to Dean’s skin, pressing first to forehead, then cheek, then neck.
Dean watched him, curious and confused.
“Sorry,” Castiel grinned. “I know you said it freaked you out when I did that. Habit. Here, sit down.”
Dean allowed himself to be led over to the bed. He was startled when Castiel switched tactics and, instead of his hand, brought his lips to Dean’s forehead, then either cheek before settling in on his neck.
Dean shuddered at the touch, warm and genuine like he hadn’t felt in far, far too long. That last night in the Impala hadn’t counted. That was grabbing, teeth and desperate kisses - contact that had been denied for nearly two years.
Castiel curled his lips against Dean’s skin and Dean closed his eyes, breathing out a shaky breath through his open mouth. His body responded to the familiarity.
“Well you don’t feel warm, at least, not feverish,” Castiel said lightly, chuckling softly as he pulled back.
Something was different, a part of Dean understood that without conscious thought, but right now he was just too relieved to be out of the alternate hell which they had been thrown into. It all came back - everything in a rush. That combined with the relief of it being over, Dean just shattered. Shattered in a way he had never really allowed himself to before.
“Cas, Cas. I should have told you this,” Dean stopped, pulled the other man away until he could look him in the eye. “I need to tell you something, I-”
“Dean, what-?” Castiel still looked alarmed.
Before Castiel could continue, Dean jumped in, “I love you, Cas.”
Castiel’s eyes softened and his mouth quirked into an intimate smile. “I love you, too.” Castiel cupped Dean’s jaw in a gentle hand and the tenderness of the gesture sent a jolt down Dean’s spine.
The angel continued, “Look, why don’t you lie down. I’ll finish up with the dishes then be back up to check on you. The boys are off at Bobby’s so you won’t have to worry about them. Just relax, our last little adventure took more out of you than I would have liked.”
“Bobby?” Dean squeaked.
“Yes,” Castiel said carefully. “Dean, what’s-?”
Then it clicked in Dean that this Cas, this one before him was just far, far too different. He was almost human. Oh God. Rescued from Purgatory, having Bobby returned to him only to have Castiel lose his abilities? Castiel had run in the room. He had been carrying a dish towel, dressed in torn jeans with bare feet and a threadbare t-shirt. He spoke different, pressed his hand to Dean’s head to check for a temperature. No, it couldn’t have happened. After everything.
“Cas,” Dean whispered. “Are you still an angel?”
Castiel’s eyebrows shot to his forehead. “Dean, you know I haven’t been an angel for years.”
Dean shook his head. “No.”
“Dean, Dean!”
“No, not after everything…” Dean was ignoring Castiel’s calls for his attention. Focused in the middle-distance.
“Dean! I’m an archangel, you know this…” Castiel trailed off and flickered his gaze to the ceiling. “Speaking of… I really wish Gabriel would learn to do his own job. He promised me the weekend off,” Castiel grumbled. “I need to go to work, but you just sleep. Maybe the Djinn’s magic is still in your system. I wouldn’t be surprised if you are more susceptible, given how many times you’ve encountered them.” The t-shirt and jeans were replaced instantly with the familiar trench-coat and baggy suit and that settled Dean more than he would have imagined possible.
“Cas! Where-?” Dean tried.
Castiel came back to the bed and sat on the edge, easing Dean down on his back again. “Rest, now. Sam’s here. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Gabriel’s probably just being a dick.”
“No, don’t-”
Castiel placed a gentle hand on Dean’s forehead and the green-eyed hunter felt his eyes grow heavy as he slipped into sleep.
xx
Dean startled awake once more, wondering how he could possibly let himself fall asleep again so close to waking. Castiel was probably working double-time trying to ward off the creatures of the dark. Dean tried to stumble to his feet, but hadn’t been expecting a bed. The sheets twisted around Dean’s legs and he tumbled to the ground, landing hard on his knee and hip. He winced.
Footstep came barrelling towards him and Dean tensed, hand going to his side where he kept the machete tucked away. All he encountered was the bare skin of his torso and soft pajama bottoms.
He was confused but then he remembered earlier. Castiel had disappeared and then forced him to sleep.
“Jesus, Dean. Cas told me that Dijinn was a particularly sadistic bastard using nightmares instead of fantasies but I didn’t imagine he messed you up this bad. Come on, let me get you back in bed. I’ll see if I can come up with the ingredients for the antidote to the toxin. With Mary at Bobby’s, too, I feel like I have too much time on my hands anyway.” It was Sam and Sam was flashing Dean that familiar quirky grin and Dean clung to his little brother’s shirt before Sam could ease him back into bed.
Though like Cas, Sam looked different. Softer, older. His hair was now light and fluffy around his face, but still long and Sam let it fall naturally instead of brushing it into submission and holding it with a ridiculous amount of hair product. It looked good on him. He also had let his stubble grow out to a slight scruff around his chin and jaw, taking away some of his boyishness. His eyes were bright though, and his smile easy and he looked as content as Dean could ever remember seeing him. He looked good.
“Sammy,” Dean whispered. “I really am out.”
Sam shot a faintly puzzled look at Dean, but his lips were still tilted up in a smile. “Yeah, Dude. Man, all right. I’m getting on that antidote like yesterday.”
Would it be that simple? Go to sleep than wake up in this idyllic life, or was it just another cruel, horrible trick of the mind? To check, Dean smacked Sam’s face gently and pulled the taller Winchester into a tight hug. He felt real and solid, carried around the familiar scent of Axe and that weird chocolate shampoo Sam liked. Sam’s arms came up and hugged Dean back, easy and comfortable. Everything was just right, just perfect in the way that these trips into Fantasyland never, ever had gotten right before. This was Sam.
Suddenly, the tide poured through, the dam in shambles and Dean found himself sagging to the floor again, Sam tumbling with him, fear and surprise in his hazel-green eyes.
Great heaving sobs escaped Dean’s throat as he felt the world true and solid beneath him. Sam was there, Cas was there, he was there. It was all just what he had been dreaming of for months. He wouldn’t waste this opportunity. He wouldn’t let things go unsaid again. There had just been too much he fought against and too much he nearly lost. Fuck chick-flick moments because Castiel and Sam? They needed to know.
“Sam, Sammy. You’re all right. I’m sorry I let my shit get in the way and didn’t realize what was going on with you. I’m so glad you’re all right,” Dean muttered.
“Dean! My God…” Sam watched in mounting terror as Dean broke in front of him. Sam’s mouth opened and his gaze flashed to the ceiling; a name hovered on his lips but before he could call out, Castiel appeared before them.
“Dean,” Castiel whispered, coming over and freeing Dean from Sam’s arms.
“Oh God, Cas… I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I should have done so much more. I should have known,” Dean cried. “I should never have let you go, never. I should have done more but I just didn’t know. Then I lost you and got you back again, but I didn’t and you were gone under that damn lake and I didn’t try to do anything. I was so broken Cas, fuck. So fucking shattered and then I lost Bobby and you were back but you weren’t you and just when we were getting there again, Purgatory happened and I’m so fucking sorry.”
Castiel looked startled, at the speech or the tears, Dean wasn’t clear. The angel ushered Dean over to the bed and in an instant Castiel was in his arms again pressing gentle reassuring kisses to Dean’s wet eyes and trailing down to press a kiss to Dean’s lips.
Sam took this moment to retreat from the room, shutting the door behind him.
Castiel was still kissing him, with gentle hushes and whispers of Dean’s name. Dean whined sharp and high, hating himself for it but it felt so fucking good. He didn’t even care. Then Castiel was slowly lowering him back onto the sheets, whispering soothing nonsense into Dean’s skin and Dean’s body hummed with the joy of being back here.
Every touch of Castiel’s lips on Dean’s skin sent fiery frisson through Dean’s entire body as Castiel trailed kisses down Dean’s bare chest, fingers ghosting soft and gentle in all the right spots to have Dean a quivering mess beneath the blue-eyed man.
Dean was soon naked and Castiel wasn’t far behind, Dean gasped out loud and very nearly shouted at the first intimate brush of finger against his prostate, then one, then two, and without little more than that Castiel was sliding deep within Dean’s body, hitting all the right spots with each touch.
He still whispered gentle nonsense against Dean’s skin, seemingly knowing exactly what to do to have Dean at the edge and desperate to jump over in moments. This was different, this was special, intimate in a way Dean never remembered having with Castiel. They had been close once, very nearly this close, but the intensity behind each touch and brush was wholly knew. It was like the first time all over again with all the benefit of the experience to know just exactly what Dean needed. And it had been so damn long.
Two quick strokes of Castiel’s hand along Dean’s erection and the green-eyed man was rising so high and crashing with such force he felt his eyes burn absurdly. Dean bit it back though, because regardless of the hell he just faced for God knew how many months - years even, with a half-gone angel and fully-gone hope, Dean Winchester did not fucking cry during sex.
Castiel teetered over the edge seconds after Dean and eased himself down across Dean’s chest. Dean lay there, under the comforting and welcome weight and just breathed in Castiel’s scent.
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Author: Stolen Childe
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Prologue: Heaven is a Place on Earth
He took sleep when he could, which wasn’t often. But there came a time when his body just gave out and Dean would sleep. Castiel didn’t sleep, and it was probably a good thing he didn’t need to.
For while Dean slept, or while Dean huddled against whatever mockery of a shelter they found that moment, Castiel would be fighting, warding off the creatures that lurked in the dark ready to make Dean and Castiel their next meal. It wasn’t often living flesh wandered into Purgatory and they were salivating at the mere hint of a scent of it.
Dean jolted awake, expecting the familiar sounds of unknown wildlife and night around him. Though those sounds weren’t here now. In fact the only sounds were the very faint clicking of the ceiling fan above his head and a whisper of a breeze floating in through sheer curtains across an open window. Dean looked around, gaping at the unfamiliar room; it was pleasant and clearly not a motel and clearer still, it wasn’t Purgatory.
Was he dreaming? Or did he really make it out? Could it be-But where?
Dean flung the covers free of his legs, stumbling onto hardwood bathed in warm morning sunshine.
“Cas!” Dean called, not even caring that panic cracked through his frantic voice. “Cas?!”
No, not after everything. Castiel couldn’t have-
“Dean?” Castiel rushed into the room, a dishtowel over his shoulder, familiar blue eyes wide with worry. “What is it?”
“Oh God, Cas,” Dean whispered. He stumbled towards the angel, wrapping his arms tight around the familiar frame. Feeling him warm and alive beneath his touch.
Castiel hugged back almost instinctively, and that should have been Dean’s first hint that something was different. Dean was too addled from months spent away in terror to realize though. He just clung harder.
Castiel pulled away, only fractionally, but a whimper escaped Dean’s throat at the movement nonetheless. Castiel frowned deeply and he brought the back of his hand up to Dean’s skin, pressing first to forehead, then cheek, then neck.
Dean watched him, curious and confused.
“Sorry,” Castiel grinned. “I know you said it freaked you out when I did that. Habit. Here, sit down.”
Dean allowed himself to be led over to the bed. He was startled when Castiel switched tactics and, instead of his hand, brought his lips to Dean’s forehead, then either cheek before settling in on his neck.
Dean shuddered at the touch, warm and genuine like he hadn’t felt in far, far too long. That last night in the Impala hadn’t counted. That was grabbing, teeth and desperate kisses - contact that had been denied for nearly two years.
Castiel curled his lips against Dean’s skin and Dean closed his eyes, breathing out a shaky breath through his open mouth. His body responded to the familiarity.
“Well you don’t feel warm, at least, not feverish,” Castiel said lightly, chuckling softly as he pulled back.
Something was different, a part of Dean understood that without conscious thought, but right now he was just too relieved to be out of the alternate hell which they had been thrown into. It all came back - everything in a rush. That combined with the relief of it being over, Dean just shattered. Shattered in a way he had never really allowed himself to before.
“Cas, Cas. I should have told you this,” Dean stopped, pulled the other man away until he could look him in the eye. “I need to tell you something, I-”
“Dean, what-?” Castiel still looked alarmed.
Before Castiel could continue, Dean jumped in, “I love you, Cas.”
Castiel’s eyes softened and his mouth quirked into an intimate smile. “I love you, too.” Castiel cupped Dean’s jaw in a gentle hand and the tenderness of the gesture sent a jolt down Dean’s spine.
The angel continued, “Look, why don’t you lie down. I’ll finish up with the dishes then be back up to check on you. The boys are off at Bobby’s so you won’t have to worry about them. Just relax, our last little adventure took more out of you than I would have liked.”
“Bobby?” Dean squeaked.
“Yes,” Castiel said carefully. “Dean, what’s-?”
Then it clicked in Dean that this Cas, this one before him was just far, far too different. He was almost human. Oh God. Rescued from Purgatory, having Bobby returned to him only to have Castiel lose his abilities? Castiel had run in the room. He had been carrying a dish towel, dressed in torn jeans with bare feet and a threadbare t-shirt. He spoke different, pressed his hand to Dean’s head to check for a temperature. No, it couldn’t have happened. After everything.
“Cas,” Dean whispered. “Are you still an angel?”
Castiel’s eyebrows shot to his forehead. “Dean, you know I haven’t been an angel for years.”
Dean shook his head. “No.”
“Dean, Dean!”
“No, not after everything…” Dean was ignoring Castiel’s calls for his attention. Focused in the middle-distance.
“Dean! I’m an archangel, you know this…” Castiel trailed off and flickered his gaze to the ceiling. “Speaking of… I really wish Gabriel would learn to do his own job. He promised me the weekend off,” Castiel grumbled. “I need to go to work, but you just sleep. Maybe the Djinn’s magic is still in your system. I wouldn’t be surprised if you are more susceptible, given how many times you’ve encountered them.” The t-shirt and jeans were replaced instantly with the familiar trench-coat and baggy suit and that settled Dean more than he would have imagined possible.
“Cas! Where-?” Dean tried.
Castiel came back to the bed and sat on the edge, easing Dean down on his back again. “Rest, now. Sam’s here. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Gabriel’s probably just being a dick.”
“No, don’t-”
Castiel placed a gentle hand on Dean’s forehead and the green-eyed hunter felt his eyes grow heavy as he slipped into sleep.
xx
Dean startled awake once more, wondering how he could possibly let himself fall asleep again so close to waking. Castiel was probably working double-time trying to ward off the creatures of the dark. Dean tried to stumble to his feet, but hadn’t been expecting a bed. The sheets twisted around Dean’s legs and he tumbled to the ground, landing hard on his knee and hip. He winced.
Footstep came barrelling towards him and Dean tensed, hand going to his side where he kept the machete tucked away. All he encountered was the bare skin of his torso and soft pajama bottoms.
He was confused but then he remembered earlier. Castiel had disappeared and then forced him to sleep.
“Jesus, Dean. Cas told me that Dijinn was a particularly sadistic bastard using nightmares instead of fantasies but I didn’t imagine he messed you up this bad. Come on, let me get you back in bed. I’ll see if I can come up with the ingredients for the antidote to the toxin. With Mary at Bobby’s, too, I feel like I have too much time on my hands anyway.” It was Sam and Sam was flashing Dean that familiar quirky grin and Dean clung to his little brother’s shirt before Sam could ease him back into bed.
Though like Cas, Sam looked different. Softer, older. His hair was now light and fluffy around his face, but still long and Sam let it fall naturally instead of brushing it into submission and holding it with a ridiculous amount of hair product. It looked good on him. He also had let his stubble grow out to a slight scruff around his chin and jaw, taking away some of his boyishness. His eyes were bright though, and his smile easy and he looked as content as Dean could ever remember seeing him. He looked good.
“Sammy,” Dean whispered. “I really am out.”
Sam shot a faintly puzzled look at Dean, but his lips were still tilted up in a smile. “Yeah, Dude. Man, all right. I’m getting on that antidote like yesterday.”
Would it be that simple? Go to sleep than wake up in this idyllic life, or was it just another cruel, horrible trick of the mind? To check, Dean smacked Sam’s face gently and pulled the taller Winchester into a tight hug. He felt real and solid, carried around the familiar scent of Axe and that weird chocolate shampoo Sam liked. Sam’s arms came up and hugged Dean back, easy and comfortable. Everything was just right, just perfect in the way that these trips into Fantasyland never, ever had gotten right before. This was Sam.
Suddenly, the tide poured through, the dam in shambles and Dean found himself sagging to the floor again, Sam tumbling with him, fear and surprise in his hazel-green eyes.
Great heaving sobs escaped Dean’s throat as he felt the world true and solid beneath him. Sam was there, Cas was there, he was there. It was all just what he had been dreaming of for months. He wouldn’t waste this opportunity. He wouldn’t let things go unsaid again. There had just been too much he fought against and too much he nearly lost. Fuck chick-flick moments because Castiel and Sam? They needed to know.
“Sam, Sammy. You’re all right. I’m sorry I let my shit get in the way and didn’t realize what was going on with you. I’m so glad you’re all right,” Dean muttered.
“Dean! My God…” Sam watched in mounting terror as Dean broke in front of him. Sam’s mouth opened and his gaze flashed to the ceiling; a name hovered on his lips but before he could call out, Castiel appeared before them.
“Dean,” Castiel whispered, coming over and freeing Dean from Sam’s arms.
“Oh God, Cas… I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I should have done so much more. I should have known,” Dean cried. “I should never have let you go, never. I should have done more but I just didn’t know. Then I lost you and got you back again, but I didn’t and you were gone under that damn lake and I didn’t try to do anything. I was so broken Cas, fuck. So fucking shattered and then I lost Bobby and you were back but you weren’t you and just when we were getting there again, Purgatory happened and I’m so fucking sorry.”
Castiel looked startled, at the speech or the tears, Dean wasn’t clear. The angel ushered Dean over to the bed and in an instant Castiel was in his arms again pressing gentle reassuring kisses to Dean’s wet eyes and trailing down to press a kiss to Dean’s lips.
Sam took this moment to retreat from the room, shutting the door behind him.
Castiel was still kissing him, with gentle hushes and whispers of Dean’s name. Dean whined sharp and high, hating himself for it but it felt so fucking good. He didn’t even care. Then Castiel was slowly lowering him back onto the sheets, whispering soothing nonsense into Dean’s skin and Dean’s body hummed with the joy of being back here.
Every touch of Castiel’s lips on Dean’s skin sent fiery frisson through Dean’s entire body as Castiel trailed kisses down Dean’s bare chest, fingers ghosting soft and gentle in all the right spots to have Dean a quivering mess beneath the blue-eyed man.
Dean was soon naked and Castiel wasn’t far behind, Dean gasped out loud and very nearly shouted at the first intimate brush of finger against his prostate, then one, then two, and without little more than that Castiel was sliding deep within Dean’s body, hitting all the right spots with each touch.
He still whispered gentle nonsense against Dean’s skin, seemingly knowing exactly what to do to have Dean at the edge and desperate to jump over in moments. This was different, this was special, intimate in a way Dean never remembered having with Castiel. They had been close once, very nearly this close, but the intensity behind each touch and brush was wholly knew. It was like the first time all over again with all the benefit of the experience to know just exactly what Dean needed. And it had been so damn long.
Two quick strokes of Castiel’s hand along Dean’s erection and the green-eyed man was rising so high and crashing with such force he felt his eyes burn absurdly. Dean bit it back though, because regardless of the hell he just faced for God knew how many months - years even, with a half-gone angel and fully-gone hope, Dean Winchester did not fucking cry during sex.
Castiel teetered over the edge seconds after Dean and eased himself down across Dean’s chest. Dean lay there, under the comforting and welcome weight and just breathed in Castiel’s scent.
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