SPN fic: Infinite (Dean/Cas, R, for balder12)
When Sam dies, its as if Dean dies
with him. Its like seeing Dean do an impersonation of a
zombie, or worse, an impersonation of Sam when he was soul-less.
It looks like Dean, sounds like Dean occasionally, but really,
hes nothing more than an animate shell of flesh and bone,
hollowed of the spark that gives him life.
The last time Castiel sees even a glimmer of that spark is the day he finally arrives at the bunker, three weeks human - tired, hungry, and still flaked in dirt from when he fell. Hes had to hitchhike to get there, sleep out in the cold, scrounge for food out of dumpsters - so all he wants to do is eat, shower, and sleep for a week. But the first thing Dean does is bring him to Sams room, straight to the lifeless body of his brother, laid out on the bed.
Is there anything you can do? Dean asks, his voice too quiet, too broken.
Im sorry, Dean, he replies, extinguishing Deans last hope.
There is nothing left for Dean to try. Hes been to doctors, faith-healers, voodoo priestesses, reapers even Death himself could not reverse the process of Sams destruction. Which made a demon deal pointless, even if Sam hadnt made Dean promise not to.
Kevin tells Castiel afterwards, that Dean had held on anyway, nothing but distant hope keeping him going as he kept vigil by his brothers side, barely eating, barely moving, as Sams life ebbed away before his eyes. By the sound of it, it was a slow, agonizing process, and nothing like the peaceful deathbed Sam Winchester deserved. But Dean stayed beside him, until finally, out of sheer exhaustion, hed passed out at Sams bedside and woke to an empty bed, the ground shaking beneath him.
When the tremors finally stopped, Dean found Crowley screaming and railing against his chains in the bunkers dungeon, completely cured with Sams body lying beside him.
Sam had finished the job.
Hed made the ultimate sacrifice, and closed the gates of Hell, forevermore.
And when Castiel eventually finds his way back to the bunker there is nothing he can do, but help Dean give his brother the hunters funeral Sam requested.
In attendance is Kevin, Garth, an effusive woman called Charlie, a girl named Krissy, and her two companions. Garth insists on saying a few words before the pyre is lit, as a goodbye to Sam But Dean doesnt say a thing. And as Sams body is consumed by salt and fire, there is no light in Deans eyes but the reflection of the pyres flames.
~
Garth leaves shortly after the funeral, as do the young girl and her friends. Charlie stays for as long as she can, but eventually she returns at the behest of her new girlfriend. Kevin stays, working on the Angel tablet in the hopes of finding some kind of solution to the chaos being wrought by legions of suddenly fallen Angels, walking the earth.
Dean leaves them all to their own devices, barely speaking a word to anyone, not even a goodbye when they leave. There are weeks that follow, where the only time Castiel hears Deans voice, is when he cries out in the middle of the night, plagued by nightmares. By day, he is a walking hollow, devoid of care or purpose or any light of life.
It isnt long before Dean finds the alcohol Kevin hasnt gotten to yet, and begins filling himself up with that instead. Castiel finds him swaying in the doorway of Sams old room, staring into its empty blackness, bottle in hand. And then the drink starts talking.
You know, when Sam was a baby, my parents never let me hold him. I kept asking, but He was too little, or I was too young They didnt trust me with him. Dean takes a swig from his bottle. So when Dad put him in my arms that night and told me to run, I just knew something had to be really, really wrong.
Dean sucks in a shaky breath. He was my responsibility, Cas, he says, voice cracking over the words, already rough with disuse and the burn of alcohol.
That doesnt mean its your fault, he replies, attempting to soothe as he reaches out for Deans shoulder.
Dean takes another drink, looking away from the dark doorway of Sams room. Castiel has lost much in his millennia-long existence, especially in the past few years, but he cannot imagine what it must be like to lose your only brother, your only friend for much of your violent and isolated life, and the last of your already too small family. The mere idea of it makes him ache with pain.
But if the angels true mission really is to protect what God created, Castiel will begin with Dean.
Perhaps you should get some sleep, he suggests.
Yeah, Dean snorts, cause thats been working out so well, he mutters. But he allows himself be guided to his room nonetheless, and doesnt protest when Castiel helps him down onto his bed and pulls the sheets up around him.
Deans eyes close as soon as his head hits the pillow, but Castiel doesnt leave, pulling up a chair next to Deans bed and settling in for the night.
~
Sam! Dean calls out in his sleep, SAM! he cries again, and Castiel rushes to Deans side.
Dean, Castiel murmurs, hoping to wake him, but he doesnt hear. Dean! Castiel tries again, squeezing Deans shoulder gently, but still Dean thrashes in his sleep, calling out for his brother. Dean! Castiel shouts, shaking him harder, and still Dean doesnt wake.
Castiel keeps trying, calling out over and over and shaking Dean as hard as he dares. Then suddenly, Dean lunges awake, eyes wild as he grabs Castiel by the throat and squeezes.
Dean! Castiel gasps, scrabbling at Deans hands, but Deans eyes are savage and unrecognizing as his grip tightens.
Castiel is overpowered. He is human now, and doesnt have the strength to fight Dean off anymore. Pretty soon Castiel is unable to even call out, his already too limited human vision turning black around the edges. Its just when he starts to realize that he could die, just like that, at Deans hands when Dean finally lets go.
Castiel collapses onto the side of the bed, swallowing down great gulps of air that burn his throat but balm his lungs.
Jesus, Cas, are you okay? Dean hovers above him, hands fluttering awkwardly in the air between them, reaching out but then abortively pulling away, as if hes afraid to touch again.
Im alright, Castiel rasps, massaging the pain in his throat.
What the hell are you doing in here, Cas! Dean shouts at him then, I could have killed you!
I I was watching over you. Castiel replies, still heaving for air.
Dean barks an incredulous laugh. Shaking his head in disbelief, he collapses back onto the bed, staring speechlessly at the ceiling.
Castiel pulls himself together just long enough to heft himself up on his wobbly legs and collapse back into the chair by Deans bed.
Still Dean doesnt say anything, doesnt tell him to get out or that its creepy or that he doesnt need watching over. And Castiel knows that even if Dean did want him there, Dean would never admit to it like this, without even a biting comment to spare. Dean lets him stay because he just doesnt care.
If thats what it takes, then so be it.
~
Deans nightmares persist, but after having been so harshly reminded of his new mortality, Castiel has to take measures to protect himself when waking Dean. In Deans calmer moments, Castiel will reach under Deans pillow to remove the blade, or gun, or whatever else may be lying there in wait, so that Dean cant use them later in the midst of his nightmares. But it doesnt protect him from Dean himself. Even if he uses his foot to try and shake Dean awake, Dean is able to twist him around into some kind of arm-lock or sleeper-hold or some other death-grip. And even though Dean always manages to come back to himself just in time to let go, its always deathly sobering.
But if it means Dean starts managing to get some rest, then its worth it.
Then one day, while Castiel is exploring the many nooks and crannies of the bunker, he comes across another solution African dream root. Its so simple, and so elegant, Castiel doesnt know why he didnt think of it before.
Well, perhaps its because he never wouldve had to resort to such a solution before. As an angel, he couldve seen into Deans thoughts or dreams whenever he wanted. Though out of respect for Deans wishes, he only did so when necessary.
Castiel decides this is one of those times its necessary.
He waits until Dean goes to bed to brew the mixture. Its an easy matter of lifting a stray hair from Deans pillow to add to the broth. Then he settles into his station beside Deans bed, and lets himself drift off the sleep.
Its not an easy thing to do for Castiel. Unless he is utterly exhausted, he hasnt quite learned the trick of shutting himself down for the night, the way humans have learned to since birth. Most of the time he can only manage a light doze, which is how hes been able to hear Dean call out in his sleep.
This also means Castiel has rarely dreamed since hes been human as well.
Its such a strange thing when it occurs, such a unique level of consciousness, halfway between human and divine. Of course, dreaming itself is a result of his newfound humanity, but when he dreams, he doesnt feel human. He feels himself again, formless and free, and full of celestial glory.
Its in this state that Castiel hears Dean crying out again.
SAM! Dean screams, and Castiel speeds towards the sound. In a matter of moments, Castiel finds himself in a familiar place. Or rather, a familiar pit.
Its Hell.
And Castiel already knows exactly where to find Dean, barbed with hooks and strung up in chains, screaming desperately for a brother who cant hear him.
Castiel dives towards him, wrapping him up the memory of his grace, and raising him from perdition, once again.
~
He takes Dean to the first safe place he can think of the dock, by the lake, where he once found Dean peacefully fishing in a dream not so many years ago. But in the haste of their escape, they end up tumbling in a heap on the grass beside the lake instead, Dean landing on his back with a winded oof! as Castiel hovers over him worriedly.
Dean, are you alright? he asks, and again he experiences that strange juxtaposition of angel and human, having no actual vocal chords to produce the sound of James Novaks voice.
Cas? Is that you? Dean squints up at him, taking in his formless light, and even under Deans gaze Castiel can feel himself transforming into something more recognizable, something with shape, and a face to focus on. He begins to feel small again, like he does in his human body. But when he moves he still feels like his old grace weightless thought, light and feathers instead of arms, wrapped around Dean, stroking his temples soothingly.
You came for me! Dean blurts, the tears from his torture now streaming down his face in rivulets, safe from the heat and fire of Hell that would dry them as they fall.
Of course, Castiel murmurs, the tips of his feathers brushing at the corners of Deans eyes. He will always come for Dean, whether Dean calls for him or not.
Dean turns his face away then, and Castiel recognizes the look on Deans face the shame and self-loathing, the belief that he is unworthy. Castiel can almost see Deans soul, stewing darkly behind Deans eyes.
My mom Dean mumbles, When I was a kid, every night before I went to sleep, she used to tell me angels were watching over me, he says, and Castiel thinks he sees the churning in Deans soul begin to still, comforted by the recollection of safety and love.
I will always watch over you, Dean, he says, hoping to help settle the mire of Deans emotions, and to his relief Deans soul begins to calm. Castiel starts to unwrap himself from Deans body, moving off of him.
No, wait! Dean murmurs, eyes whipping back towards Castiel and staring up at him in awe. Or, behind him to be exact. At the feathers of his grace, flared out like wings, now that theyre no longer twined around Dean.
Cas, I can see you! Dean whispers, his face full of curiosity and amazement. Castiel begins to feel the same things mirrored in his own grace, that Dean can safely see something of his real form, with his own eyes, here in this dream state. He stretches his wings out so Dean can see them more properly, and Dean gasps at the movement.
Deans soul begins to swirl again, different from before, and suddenly Castiel feels a strong pulse of arousal come from underneath him. Then Castiel feels hands, Deans hands, trailing over his ephemeral form and making it more tangible with every touch, molding him into the shape of a man.
He finds himself becoming heavy with the weight of it, leaden with his own responding arousal as he sinks atop of Dean, the pressure and friction between their bodies creating a spark between grace and soul, like electricity.
It shocks him, in every sense of the word. He jolts awake in a panic, and flees from Deans room.
~
Dean doesnt say anything about it. For all Castiel knows, Dean slept the whole night through, undisturbed by the strange of events of the dream, or forgot the entire thing upon waking. And Castiel finds himself so unsettled by either conclusion, he avoids Dean as much as possible the next day, stunned and confused by the whole predicament.
He still feels the shock of Deans arousal, buzzing under his skin, crackling with a power that reminds him of what its like to be filled with grace. And yet he feels himself responding to it like he never would have when he was made of grace and Gods love. As an angel, he experienced the world from the inside out, his human vessel merely a shell, encasing his true being. Whereas now, as a human, he is beginning to feel things in reverse, from the outside in, the shell itself creating a reaction that seems to resonate deeper. It makes him feel both full and empty all at once - the most connected to his human body hes ever felt, and yet the most incomplete.
Its overwhelming, and mystifying, but he cant even go to Dean for help trying to understand it or what to do about it. The very thought terrifies him as well.
And yet, that night, when he hears Dean calling out in his sleep again, he simply cant ignore it. He finds himself returning to Deans room, shaking Dean awake, at his own peril.
Thankfully, Dean doesnt choke him. Not that night, or the night after. He just wakes up and lays back down again, silently staring at Castiel watching over him, until he falls asleep again. And despite everything, Castiel is relieved. Its a vast improvement. Eventually Dean barely even wakes up at all. All it takes is a simple touch for Deans thrashing to stop, to chase the nightmares away until he is still and peaceful again.
Soon Castiel starts to see the effects during Deans waking hours as well. He loses the haggard look about his face, the hollowness in his cheeks, regaining the health of uninterrupted sleep And yet, his eyes still remain lifeless and dull. Nothing but emptiness left behind where his brother used to be. Castiel begins to wonder if he will ever see a spark to fill them, ever again.
The fact is, Dean may not wake up screaming anymore, but he still has the nightmares. And Castiel will sit by Deans bedside, every night for the rest of Deans life if he has to, but he wishes there was something more he could do.
Then he sees a movie about a time-travelling robot-assassin "terminator." Its absurd and excessive, but again presents an idea so simple, he doesnt know why he didnt think of it before. Perhaps since hes become human, his thinking has become more limited as well, having had to readjust to the constraints of a physical body moving through linear time. But humans have been known to be capable of time-travel as well. Specifically, Men of Letters were capable of it. And he is in their bunker now.
Castiel begins to search for a spell. Something like the blood spell Henry Winchester used to reach Sam and Dean, but not quite. Castiel doesnt want to risk disrupting the lives of his vessels family again. He just wants a brief glimpse to see if Dean can find a way to live beyond his grief to see if theres something, anything he can do to help. He needs to do that for Dean. Regardless of whatever feelings he may be experiencing.
Eventually he finds something that may do the trick. It doesnt explain the mechanics of how it works. It simply says, To see your future self. And thats just what hes looking for. Perhaps he might be able to see the outcomes of certain decisions and actions. Or even better, actually speak with his future self.
All the ingredients he needs are stored in the bunker, so once again, he waits until Dean is asleep before mixing the potion. Then he goes to take his seat beside Deans bed, drinks the broth, and chants the spell.
~
When Castiel opens his eyes again, he is standing in what looks like Deans bathroom, wearing a different t-shirt and track pants than before. When he catches sight of his reflection in the mirror, he immediately notices more lines around his eyes, and several white hairs shining at his temples, indicating the passage of years.
Castiel frowns at his reflection. It seems the spell has placed him inside the body of his future self. Which complicates things. It wouldve been simple if hed been able to find his future self and talk with him for a while, regardless of the paradox it may have presented. But now he has to re-assess how direct he can be about gathering information, or if he has to play along and pretend to be his future self in order to do it. And who knows how many years have passed? How much time hes had to acclimatize to life as a human? It would be difficult for him to fake his way through that, as he is now.
But he is here, and he has a purpose. Theres no avoiding it now. Castiel takes a deep breath, and exits the bathroom.
Deans bedroom is dark, but Castiel can clearly see Deans bed in the bright slash of light from the bathroom door. Dean seems to be sleeping peacefully, sprawled out on his back, so Castiel makes his way over to the chair by Deans bed as quietly as possible. He heaves a sigh as he slumps down, staring at Dean and weighing his options. He could explore the bunker for information, but he has a feeling that would be about as useful as walking around the bunker in his own time would be.
Hes stumped. It seems he has no other option but to wake Dean up to glean information from him directly, and hope that by some miracle Dean might be more forthcoming in this time than he usually is.
But when he reaches over to wake Dean up, Dean suddenly turns towards him in his sleep, and murmurs his name.
Cas!
Castiel pulls his hand away, blinking in shock.
Cas! Dean calls out again, whimpering, and Castiel finds himself instinctively leaning forward again, before stopping himself at the last second. He doesnt know how the Dean of this time will react to him if hell lash out or choke him again, or something worse. But Dean is calling for him, and he has to do something.
But then he remembers that Dean is dreaming. And Castiel suddenly realizes that Deans subconscious will probably be a lot more forthcoming than an awake and defensive Dean.
Castiel reaches out to collect a stray hair from Deans pillow, then rushes to the kitchen. To his relief its still well-stocked, complete with African dream root and all the other ingredients for the dream-walking potion. Very little seems to have changed in that respect at least. He mixes the brew as quickly as he can, and drinks it on the way back to Deans room, swallowing down the last gulp just as he reaches Deans bedside.
The next moment, Castiel finds himself looking at Deans lake again. The sun is shining, shimmering across the leaves in the trees and the ripples in the water, but its heat is neither sharp nor harsh. Instead the sun glows warm, softening the edges of everything he sees.
The dock is not far away, but Dean is not on it. However, on the other side of the lake Castiel sees a floppy-haired boy playing with a dog, his parents sitting together nearby. They all look familiar. They all look happy. A warmth blossoms within Castiel at the sight.
Its then when Castiel hears Deans voice, somewhere behind him.
Cas! Dean calls out so soft, its almost a sigh, and Castiel turns towards the sound.
He doesnt understand what hes seeing at first. It seems like a mass of light and color, feathers and limbs, tangled on the grass. As he gets closer he hears a whispering sound coming from it, and he catches the word always repeated every now and then amidst the hushed susurrus of sound.
A little more closer, and Castiel realizes what hes looking at. Himself. His own dream-version of his celestial form feathers like prisms reflecting the light of remembered Grace.
But the limbs tangled in the feathers are not his own. They are Deans. Castiel is wrapped around him they are wrapped around each other just the way they were the first time they landed together here on this grass. And its his own voice, murmuring soft and low in Deans ear, telling him things like, I always come when you call, and I will always watch over you, and I was always meant to be yours. Things he remembers telling Dean in the past, in the waking world, and some things that are entirely new.
But Deans face when Castiel tells him these things so unguarded and open, soaking up Castiels words like the warmth of the sun. And in Deans eyes, his soul burns so hot and bright, Castiel thinks he must be seeing ecstasy.
Its been so long since Castiel has seen any spark in Deans eyes at all, let alone this steady flame. And he must make some kind of noise or movement in his shock, because Deans eyes suddenly whip towards him, widening in recognition.
Cas? Dean smiles. And because its a dream, Dean doesnt find it strange at all to see a second version of him there. The first version simply dissolves into the air as Dean shifts his attention. And then Dean is standing up, coming towards him and crowding him against the trunk of a tree.
By all rights, he should pass straight through the bark of the trees trunk. But as soon as Dean reaches out for him, he becomes something solid enough to be touched. By the time his back meets the tree, not only does he have a body, but limbs and feathers to wrap around Deans body in return, enfolding Dean as easily and naturally as if he were accepting a part of himself.
Cas! Dean sighs contentedly, nuzzling into him, and again Castiel feels himself becoming more solid with every touch, flesh underneath Deans hands. Its a strange parallel to when Castiel first pulled Dean out of Hell and remade Deans body with his grace. Now it is Dean remaking him, shaping him into a man. And as Castiel once breathed life into Deans lips, now it is Dean who begins to create him anew, with his kiss. His entire being fills with it, whole and real and no longer just a shell, separate from what he was before.
Dean! he gasps, suddenly understanding breathlessness in an entirely new way, along with the irrational belief that the only solution is the very thing that causes it. Their lips meet again. And again. Sparks created with every connection that shock through their bodies, around them and between them, the static of their friction flickering and pulsing until Castiel feels he is a storm of lighting and incandescence, wrapped around Dean.
He is rushing towards something. Towards an indescribable more. He thinks he may fly apart with it, but for the look in Deans eyes, holding him together a steady burn that cannot be quelled by Castiels tempest. He feels the most alive hes felt since he fell, and yet the most transcendent at the same time. And as he looks into Deans eyes Deans very soul Castiel has a moment of clarity, the likes of which he hasnt experienced since his insanity.
In that moment, he understands why he disobeyed Heavens orders, time and time again. Why he is always brought back from oblivion, only to rebel once more.
He never belonged there.
He always belonged here.
I was always meant for this, he whispers against Deans lips. I was always meant for you.
Perhaps it is a clarity that can only be experienced in delirium, because the next moment he is burning up, ignited and consumed by the heat in Deans eyes, the shock of it so powerful it reverberates through him like thunder.
The force of it jolts him from the dream, and the next thing he knows, he is in the dark of Deans bedroom again, collapsed against the side of the bed with Dean gripping his arms and shaking him. For a second Castiel thinks Dean might choke him again, until he hears Dean calling his name.
Cas, hey, did you fall out of bed or something? Dean asks, voice full of confusion and concern.
Castiel blinks up at him stupidly, still reeling from the dream.
Come on, get back in, Dean says, pulling him up towards the bed and lifting the sheets to let him in.
Castiel wordlessly lets himself be guided, stunned as Dean draws him close and embraces him, warm under the sheets.
I was having my favorite dream about you, Dean murmurs, leaning in to kiss him. A small sound of surprise escapes his throat, but Dean doesnt notice, as it quickly turns into a moan, coaxed from his lips by the expert movements of Deans mouth and tongue. He is dizzy and breathless again by the time Dean pulls away.
Hang on a second, I gotta go clean up, Dean chuckles, gesturing at his crotch before getting out of bed and heading for the bathroom.
Castiel looks between his own legs, barking a shocked laugh when he realizes that he has spent himself as well.
He must leave, before Dean discovers he is not the Castiel of this time.
Laying back down on the bed, he whispers the incantation to end the spell.
~
If Castiel found it difficult to be around Dean after the first dream, it is near impossible now. He knows what hes feeling now, and what it means. What this electric buzz under his skin is, and what it could be. Months later, he can still remember the events of his trip to the future, in vivid detail Him and Dean, together.
He wants it so much.
But the Dean of his time is still so far from the Dean he saw in the future.
At the very least, Deans health continues to improve. He drinks less, and begins to eat better, cooking actual meals instead of eating them out of a box or a can. He spends less time alone, and more time in front of the TV with him and Kevin, watching Spanish soap operas and movies about supposed galaxies far, far away. He even begins to help Castiel learn human skills, like how to cook and shoot a gun.
And at the very least, Castiel is glad to see these improvements.
But the more time Dean spends with him, the more Castiel wants him. Wants that Dean who held him and kissed him, made him feel with his touch, and experience a clarity of bliss hes never known before. But more than that, he longs to see that look in Deans eyes again.
Even though Dean may smile sometimes now, it never reaches his eyes.
Its a terrible mockery of the man Castiel once knew. The man Castiel knows he can be again. The man Castiel sees in his own dreams now laughing and smiling and eyes alight with such feeling.
And even though Castiel knows the future, he just doesnt know what he can do to make it happen, or if he should do anything at all Whether it is predestined, or only one of many possibilities. For all he knows, simply having this knowledge has already set him on a path divergent from that future.
Such are the reasons why movement through time was so heavily restricted in Heaven.
But he is human now, and perhaps because of that he has become impatient, selfish in the face of such a limited lifespan. He remembers what Megs true face looked like, her soul, bitter and broken with heartache long-buried under a black and contorted shell. He wonders if his soul will look like that one day, twisted with longing. Or if he even has a soul. If the space where its supposed to be is already filled up with Dean.
He finds himself pondering these questions often at night, standing in the bunkers Observatory, watching the stars shine in the heavens as he waits for Dean to fall asleep. It usually takes an hour or so before Deans nightmares begin, and Castiel always makes sure to find his way to Deans bedside before that happens So he is surprised when one night, Dean comes looking for him.
Hey, Dean joins him beside the telescope, his voice rough-strewn and his hair sticking up in all angles from his pillow.
Are you having difficulty getting to sleep? Castiel asks, frowning in concern.
Yeah, Dean mutters. I woke up, and he looks at Castiel and sighs. I just couldnt relax, he says, scrubbing a hand down his face.
Im sorry, Castiel says, feeling somehow responsible.
What are you looking at? Dean asks, looking up at the night-sky above. Feeling homesick?
Not at all, Castiel replies. I find the heavens much more beautiful, when Im looking at them from down here, he smiles.
Dean drops his gaze then, their eyes meeting over the view-piece of the telescope. Are we ever going to talk about it? he asks quietly.
Castiel frowns. About what?
Deans eyebrows shoot up in disbelief, his jaw tensing. About how you crawled into my bed that night a few months ago? Like you freakin belonged there or something? And then kissed the hell out of me? he grits out.
Castiel blanches in shock.
He hadnt considered what happened to his future-self when hed gone and inhabited his future-selfs body. Now he knows.
I apologize, Dean, Castiel replies, flinching as the expression on Deans face twists at his words.
Why? Was it a mistake? Dean asks lowly.
No, Castiel responds softly. I was always meant to be yours.
Its then when it happens, when Castiel sees it in Deans eyes
The first glimmer of hope.
Dont apologize then, Dean says, licking his lips as he steps around the telescope. Just do it again already, he whispers.
So Castiel does.
~ fin
from Wikipedia:
Lightning is a dramatic natural example of static discharge. The flash occurs because the air in the discharge channel is heated to such a high temperature that it emits light by incandescence (see below). The clap of thunder is the result of the shock wave created as the superheated air expands explosively.
Incandescence is the emission of light from a hot body as a result of its temperature. The term derives from the Latin verb incandescere, to glow white.
The last time Castiel sees even a glimmer of that spark is the day he finally arrives at the bunker, three weeks human - tired, hungry, and still flaked in dirt from when he fell. Hes had to hitchhike to get there, sleep out in the cold, scrounge for food out of dumpsters - so all he wants to do is eat, shower, and sleep for a week. But the first thing Dean does is bring him to Sams room, straight to the lifeless body of his brother, laid out on the bed.
Is there anything you can do? Dean asks, his voice too quiet, too broken.
Im sorry, Dean, he replies, extinguishing Deans last hope.
There is nothing left for Dean to try. Hes been to doctors, faith-healers, voodoo priestesses, reapers even Death himself could not reverse the process of Sams destruction. Which made a demon deal pointless, even if Sam hadnt made Dean promise not to.
Kevin tells Castiel afterwards, that Dean had held on anyway, nothing but distant hope keeping him going as he kept vigil by his brothers side, barely eating, barely moving, as Sams life ebbed away before his eyes. By the sound of it, it was a slow, agonizing process, and nothing like the peaceful deathbed Sam Winchester deserved. But Dean stayed beside him, until finally, out of sheer exhaustion, hed passed out at Sams bedside and woke to an empty bed, the ground shaking beneath him.
When the tremors finally stopped, Dean found Crowley screaming and railing against his chains in the bunkers dungeon, completely cured with Sams body lying beside him.
Sam had finished the job.
Hed made the ultimate sacrifice, and closed the gates of Hell, forevermore.
And when Castiel eventually finds his way back to the bunker there is nothing he can do, but help Dean give his brother the hunters funeral Sam requested.
In attendance is Kevin, Garth, an effusive woman called Charlie, a girl named Krissy, and her two companions. Garth insists on saying a few words before the pyre is lit, as a goodbye to Sam But Dean doesnt say a thing. And as Sams body is consumed by salt and fire, there is no light in Deans eyes but the reflection of the pyres flames.
~
Garth leaves shortly after the funeral, as do the young girl and her friends. Charlie stays for as long as she can, but eventually she returns at the behest of her new girlfriend. Kevin stays, working on the Angel tablet in the hopes of finding some kind of solution to the chaos being wrought by legions of suddenly fallen Angels, walking the earth.
Dean leaves them all to their own devices, barely speaking a word to anyone, not even a goodbye when they leave. There are weeks that follow, where the only time Castiel hears Deans voice, is when he cries out in the middle of the night, plagued by nightmares. By day, he is a walking hollow, devoid of care or purpose or any light of life.
It isnt long before Dean finds the alcohol Kevin hasnt gotten to yet, and begins filling himself up with that instead. Castiel finds him swaying in the doorway of Sams old room, staring into its empty blackness, bottle in hand. And then the drink starts talking.
You know, when Sam was a baby, my parents never let me hold him. I kept asking, but He was too little, or I was too young They didnt trust me with him. Dean takes a swig from his bottle. So when Dad put him in my arms that night and told me to run, I just knew something had to be really, really wrong.
Dean sucks in a shaky breath. He was my responsibility, Cas, he says, voice cracking over the words, already rough with disuse and the burn of alcohol.
That doesnt mean its your fault, he replies, attempting to soothe as he reaches out for Deans shoulder.
Dean takes another drink, looking away from the dark doorway of Sams room. Castiel has lost much in his millennia-long existence, especially in the past few years, but he cannot imagine what it must be like to lose your only brother, your only friend for much of your violent and isolated life, and the last of your already too small family. The mere idea of it makes him ache with pain.
But if the angels true mission really is to protect what God created, Castiel will begin with Dean.
Perhaps you should get some sleep, he suggests.
Yeah, Dean snorts, cause thats been working out so well, he mutters. But he allows himself be guided to his room nonetheless, and doesnt protest when Castiel helps him down onto his bed and pulls the sheets up around him.
Deans eyes close as soon as his head hits the pillow, but Castiel doesnt leave, pulling up a chair next to Deans bed and settling in for the night.
~
Sam! Dean calls out in his sleep, SAM! he cries again, and Castiel rushes to Deans side.
Dean, Castiel murmurs, hoping to wake him, but he doesnt hear. Dean! Castiel tries again, squeezing Deans shoulder gently, but still Dean thrashes in his sleep, calling out for his brother. Dean! Castiel shouts, shaking him harder, and still Dean doesnt wake.
Castiel keeps trying, calling out over and over and shaking Dean as hard as he dares. Then suddenly, Dean lunges awake, eyes wild as he grabs Castiel by the throat and squeezes.
Dean! Castiel gasps, scrabbling at Deans hands, but Deans eyes are savage and unrecognizing as his grip tightens.
Castiel is overpowered. He is human now, and doesnt have the strength to fight Dean off anymore. Pretty soon Castiel is unable to even call out, his already too limited human vision turning black around the edges. Its just when he starts to realize that he could die, just like that, at Deans hands when Dean finally lets go.
Castiel collapses onto the side of the bed, swallowing down great gulps of air that burn his throat but balm his lungs.
Jesus, Cas, are you okay? Dean hovers above him, hands fluttering awkwardly in the air between them, reaching out but then abortively pulling away, as if hes afraid to touch again.
Im alright, Castiel rasps, massaging the pain in his throat.
What the hell are you doing in here, Cas! Dean shouts at him then, I could have killed you!
I I was watching over you. Castiel replies, still heaving for air.
Dean barks an incredulous laugh. Shaking his head in disbelief, he collapses back onto the bed, staring speechlessly at the ceiling.
Castiel pulls himself together just long enough to heft himself up on his wobbly legs and collapse back into the chair by Deans bed.
Still Dean doesnt say anything, doesnt tell him to get out or that its creepy or that he doesnt need watching over. And Castiel knows that even if Dean did want him there, Dean would never admit to it like this, without even a biting comment to spare. Dean lets him stay because he just doesnt care.
If thats what it takes, then so be it.
~
Deans nightmares persist, but after having been so harshly reminded of his new mortality, Castiel has to take measures to protect himself when waking Dean. In Deans calmer moments, Castiel will reach under Deans pillow to remove the blade, or gun, or whatever else may be lying there in wait, so that Dean cant use them later in the midst of his nightmares. But it doesnt protect him from Dean himself. Even if he uses his foot to try and shake Dean awake, Dean is able to twist him around into some kind of arm-lock or sleeper-hold or some other death-grip. And even though Dean always manages to come back to himself just in time to let go, its always deathly sobering.
But if it means Dean starts managing to get some rest, then its worth it.
Then one day, while Castiel is exploring the many nooks and crannies of the bunker, he comes across another solution African dream root. Its so simple, and so elegant, Castiel doesnt know why he didnt think of it before.
Well, perhaps its because he never wouldve had to resort to such a solution before. As an angel, he couldve seen into Deans thoughts or dreams whenever he wanted. Though out of respect for Deans wishes, he only did so when necessary.
Castiel decides this is one of those times its necessary.
He waits until Dean goes to bed to brew the mixture. Its an easy matter of lifting a stray hair from Deans pillow to add to the broth. Then he settles into his station beside Deans bed, and lets himself drift off the sleep.
Its not an easy thing to do for Castiel. Unless he is utterly exhausted, he hasnt quite learned the trick of shutting himself down for the night, the way humans have learned to since birth. Most of the time he can only manage a light doze, which is how hes been able to hear Dean call out in his sleep.
This also means Castiel has rarely dreamed since hes been human as well.
Its such a strange thing when it occurs, such a unique level of consciousness, halfway between human and divine. Of course, dreaming itself is a result of his newfound humanity, but when he dreams, he doesnt feel human. He feels himself again, formless and free, and full of celestial glory.
Its in this state that Castiel hears Dean crying out again.
SAM! Dean screams, and Castiel speeds towards the sound. In a matter of moments, Castiel finds himself in a familiar place. Or rather, a familiar pit.
Its Hell.
And Castiel already knows exactly where to find Dean, barbed with hooks and strung up in chains, screaming desperately for a brother who cant hear him.
Castiel dives towards him, wrapping him up the memory of his grace, and raising him from perdition, once again.
~
He takes Dean to the first safe place he can think of the dock, by the lake, where he once found Dean peacefully fishing in a dream not so many years ago. But in the haste of their escape, they end up tumbling in a heap on the grass beside the lake instead, Dean landing on his back with a winded oof! as Castiel hovers over him worriedly.
Dean, are you alright? he asks, and again he experiences that strange juxtaposition of angel and human, having no actual vocal chords to produce the sound of James Novaks voice.
Cas? Is that you? Dean squints up at him, taking in his formless light, and even under Deans gaze Castiel can feel himself transforming into something more recognizable, something with shape, and a face to focus on. He begins to feel small again, like he does in his human body. But when he moves he still feels like his old grace weightless thought, light and feathers instead of arms, wrapped around Dean, stroking his temples soothingly.
You came for me! Dean blurts, the tears from his torture now streaming down his face in rivulets, safe from the heat and fire of Hell that would dry them as they fall.
Of course, Castiel murmurs, the tips of his feathers brushing at the corners of Deans eyes. He will always come for Dean, whether Dean calls for him or not.
Dean turns his face away then, and Castiel recognizes the look on Deans face the shame and self-loathing, the belief that he is unworthy. Castiel can almost see Deans soul, stewing darkly behind Deans eyes.
My mom Dean mumbles, When I was a kid, every night before I went to sleep, she used to tell me angels were watching over me, he says, and Castiel thinks he sees the churning in Deans soul begin to still, comforted by the recollection of safety and love.
I will always watch over you, Dean, he says, hoping to help settle the mire of Deans emotions, and to his relief Deans soul begins to calm. Castiel starts to unwrap himself from Deans body, moving off of him.
No, wait! Dean murmurs, eyes whipping back towards Castiel and staring up at him in awe. Or, behind him to be exact. At the feathers of his grace, flared out like wings, now that theyre no longer twined around Dean.
Cas, I can see you! Dean whispers, his face full of curiosity and amazement. Castiel begins to feel the same things mirrored in his own grace, that Dean can safely see something of his real form, with his own eyes, here in this dream state. He stretches his wings out so Dean can see them more properly, and Dean gasps at the movement.
Deans soul begins to swirl again, different from before, and suddenly Castiel feels a strong pulse of arousal come from underneath him. Then Castiel feels hands, Deans hands, trailing over his ephemeral form and making it more tangible with every touch, molding him into the shape of a man.
He finds himself becoming heavy with the weight of it, leaden with his own responding arousal as he sinks atop of Dean, the pressure and friction between their bodies creating a spark between grace and soul, like electricity.
It shocks him, in every sense of the word. He jolts awake in a panic, and flees from Deans room.
~
Dean doesnt say anything about it. For all Castiel knows, Dean slept the whole night through, undisturbed by the strange of events of the dream, or forgot the entire thing upon waking. And Castiel finds himself so unsettled by either conclusion, he avoids Dean as much as possible the next day, stunned and confused by the whole predicament.
He still feels the shock of Deans arousal, buzzing under his skin, crackling with a power that reminds him of what its like to be filled with grace. And yet he feels himself responding to it like he never would have when he was made of grace and Gods love. As an angel, he experienced the world from the inside out, his human vessel merely a shell, encasing his true being. Whereas now, as a human, he is beginning to feel things in reverse, from the outside in, the shell itself creating a reaction that seems to resonate deeper. It makes him feel both full and empty all at once - the most connected to his human body hes ever felt, and yet the most incomplete.
Its overwhelming, and mystifying, but he cant even go to Dean for help trying to understand it or what to do about it. The very thought terrifies him as well.
And yet, that night, when he hears Dean calling out in his sleep again, he simply cant ignore it. He finds himself returning to Deans room, shaking Dean awake, at his own peril.
Thankfully, Dean doesnt choke him. Not that night, or the night after. He just wakes up and lays back down again, silently staring at Castiel watching over him, until he falls asleep again. And despite everything, Castiel is relieved. Its a vast improvement. Eventually Dean barely even wakes up at all. All it takes is a simple touch for Deans thrashing to stop, to chase the nightmares away until he is still and peaceful again.
Soon Castiel starts to see the effects during Deans waking hours as well. He loses the haggard look about his face, the hollowness in his cheeks, regaining the health of uninterrupted sleep And yet, his eyes still remain lifeless and dull. Nothing but emptiness left behind where his brother used to be. Castiel begins to wonder if he will ever see a spark to fill them, ever again.
The fact is, Dean may not wake up screaming anymore, but he still has the nightmares. And Castiel will sit by Deans bedside, every night for the rest of Deans life if he has to, but he wishes there was something more he could do.
Then he sees a movie about a time-travelling robot-assassin "terminator." Its absurd and excessive, but again presents an idea so simple, he doesnt know why he didnt think of it before. Perhaps since hes become human, his thinking has become more limited as well, having had to readjust to the constraints of a physical body moving through linear time. But humans have been known to be capable of time-travel as well. Specifically, Men of Letters were capable of it. And he is in their bunker now.
Castiel begins to search for a spell. Something like the blood spell Henry Winchester used to reach Sam and Dean, but not quite. Castiel doesnt want to risk disrupting the lives of his vessels family again. He just wants a brief glimpse to see if Dean can find a way to live beyond his grief to see if theres something, anything he can do to help. He needs to do that for Dean. Regardless of whatever feelings he may be experiencing.
Eventually he finds something that may do the trick. It doesnt explain the mechanics of how it works. It simply says, To see your future self. And thats just what hes looking for. Perhaps he might be able to see the outcomes of certain decisions and actions. Or even better, actually speak with his future self.
All the ingredients he needs are stored in the bunker, so once again, he waits until Dean is asleep before mixing the potion. Then he goes to take his seat beside Deans bed, drinks the broth, and chants the spell.
~
When Castiel opens his eyes again, he is standing in what looks like Deans bathroom, wearing a different t-shirt and track pants than before. When he catches sight of his reflection in the mirror, he immediately notices more lines around his eyes, and several white hairs shining at his temples, indicating the passage of years.
Castiel frowns at his reflection. It seems the spell has placed him inside the body of his future self. Which complicates things. It wouldve been simple if hed been able to find his future self and talk with him for a while, regardless of the paradox it may have presented. But now he has to re-assess how direct he can be about gathering information, or if he has to play along and pretend to be his future self in order to do it. And who knows how many years have passed? How much time hes had to acclimatize to life as a human? It would be difficult for him to fake his way through that, as he is now.
But he is here, and he has a purpose. Theres no avoiding it now. Castiel takes a deep breath, and exits the bathroom.
Deans bedroom is dark, but Castiel can clearly see Deans bed in the bright slash of light from the bathroom door. Dean seems to be sleeping peacefully, sprawled out on his back, so Castiel makes his way over to the chair by Deans bed as quietly as possible. He heaves a sigh as he slumps down, staring at Dean and weighing his options. He could explore the bunker for information, but he has a feeling that would be about as useful as walking around the bunker in his own time would be.
Hes stumped. It seems he has no other option but to wake Dean up to glean information from him directly, and hope that by some miracle Dean might be more forthcoming in this time than he usually is.
But when he reaches over to wake Dean up, Dean suddenly turns towards him in his sleep, and murmurs his name.
Cas!
Castiel pulls his hand away, blinking in shock.
Cas! Dean calls out again, whimpering, and Castiel finds himself instinctively leaning forward again, before stopping himself at the last second. He doesnt know how the Dean of this time will react to him if hell lash out or choke him again, or something worse. But Dean is calling for him, and he has to do something.
But then he remembers that Dean is dreaming. And Castiel suddenly realizes that Deans subconscious will probably be a lot more forthcoming than an awake and defensive Dean.
Castiel reaches out to collect a stray hair from Deans pillow, then rushes to the kitchen. To his relief its still well-stocked, complete with African dream root and all the other ingredients for the dream-walking potion. Very little seems to have changed in that respect at least. He mixes the brew as quickly as he can, and drinks it on the way back to Deans room, swallowing down the last gulp just as he reaches Deans bedside.
The next moment, Castiel finds himself looking at Deans lake again. The sun is shining, shimmering across the leaves in the trees and the ripples in the water, but its heat is neither sharp nor harsh. Instead the sun glows warm, softening the edges of everything he sees.
The dock is not far away, but Dean is not on it. However, on the other side of the lake Castiel sees a floppy-haired boy playing with a dog, his parents sitting together nearby. They all look familiar. They all look happy. A warmth blossoms within Castiel at the sight.
Its then when Castiel hears Deans voice, somewhere behind him.
Cas! Dean calls out so soft, its almost a sigh, and Castiel turns towards the sound.
He doesnt understand what hes seeing at first. It seems like a mass of light and color, feathers and limbs, tangled on the grass. As he gets closer he hears a whispering sound coming from it, and he catches the word always repeated every now and then amidst the hushed susurrus of sound.
A little more closer, and Castiel realizes what hes looking at. Himself. His own dream-version of his celestial form feathers like prisms reflecting the light of remembered Grace.
But the limbs tangled in the feathers are not his own. They are Deans. Castiel is wrapped around him they are wrapped around each other just the way they were the first time they landed together here on this grass. And its his own voice, murmuring soft and low in Deans ear, telling him things like, I always come when you call, and I will always watch over you, and I was always meant to be yours. Things he remembers telling Dean in the past, in the waking world, and some things that are entirely new.
But Deans face when Castiel tells him these things so unguarded and open, soaking up Castiels words like the warmth of the sun. And in Deans eyes, his soul burns so hot and bright, Castiel thinks he must be seeing ecstasy.
Its been so long since Castiel has seen any spark in Deans eyes at all, let alone this steady flame. And he must make some kind of noise or movement in his shock, because Deans eyes suddenly whip towards him, widening in recognition.
Cas? Dean smiles. And because its a dream, Dean doesnt find it strange at all to see a second version of him there. The first version simply dissolves into the air as Dean shifts his attention. And then Dean is standing up, coming towards him and crowding him against the trunk of a tree.
By all rights, he should pass straight through the bark of the trees trunk. But as soon as Dean reaches out for him, he becomes something solid enough to be touched. By the time his back meets the tree, not only does he have a body, but limbs and feathers to wrap around Deans body in return, enfolding Dean as easily and naturally as if he were accepting a part of himself.
Cas! Dean sighs contentedly, nuzzling into him, and again Castiel feels himself becoming more solid with every touch, flesh underneath Deans hands. Its a strange parallel to when Castiel first pulled Dean out of Hell and remade Deans body with his grace. Now it is Dean remaking him, shaping him into a man. And as Castiel once breathed life into Deans lips, now it is Dean who begins to create him anew, with his kiss. His entire being fills with it, whole and real and no longer just a shell, separate from what he was before.
Dean! he gasps, suddenly understanding breathlessness in an entirely new way, along with the irrational belief that the only solution is the very thing that causes it. Their lips meet again. And again. Sparks created with every connection that shock through their bodies, around them and between them, the static of their friction flickering and pulsing until Castiel feels he is a storm of lighting and incandescence, wrapped around Dean.
He is rushing towards something. Towards an indescribable more. He thinks he may fly apart with it, but for the look in Deans eyes, holding him together a steady burn that cannot be quelled by Castiels tempest. He feels the most alive hes felt since he fell, and yet the most transcendent at the same time. And as he looks into Deans eyes Deans very soul Castiel has a moment of clarity, the likes of which he hasnt experienced since his insanity.
In that moment, he understands why he disobeyed Heavens orders, time and time again. Why he is always brought back from oblivion, only to rebel once more.
He never belonged there.
He always belonged here.
I was always meant for this, he whispers against Deans lips. I was always meant for you.
Perhaps it is a clarity that can only be experienced in delirium, because the next moment he is burning up, ignited and consumed by the heat in Deans eyes, the shock of it so powerful it reverberates through him like thunder.
The force of it jolts him from the dream, and the next thing he knows, he is in the dark of Deans bedroom again, collapsed against the side of the bed with Dean gripping his arms and shaking him. For a second Castiel thinks Dean might choke him again, until he hears Dean calling his name.
Cas, hey, did you fall out of bed or something? Dean asks, voice full of confusion and concern.
Castiel blinks up at him stupidly, still reeling from the dream.
Come on, get back in, Dean says, pulling him up towards the bed and lifting the sheets to let him in.
Castiel wordlessly lets himself be guided, stunned as Dean draws him close and embraces him, warm under the sheets.
I was having my favorite dream about you, Dean murmurs, leaning in to kiss him. A small sound of surprise escapes his throat, but Dean doesnt notice, as it quickly turns into a moan, coaxed from his lips by the expert movements of Deans mouth and tongue. He is dizzy and breathless again by the time Dean pulls away.
Hang on a second, I gotta go clean up, Dean chuckles, gesturing at his crotch before getting out of bed and heading for the bathroom.
Castiel looks between his own legs, barking a shocked laugh when he realizes that he has spent himself as well.
He must leave, before Dean discovers he is not the Castiel of this time.
Laying back down on the bed, he whispers the incantation to end the spell.
~
If Castiel found it difficult to be around Dean after the first dream, it is near impossible now. He knows what hes feeling now, and what it means. What this electric buzz under his skin is, and what it could be. Months later, he can still remember the events of his trip to the future, in vivid detail Him and Dean, together.
He wants it so much.
But the Dean of his time is still so far from the Dean he saw in the future.
At the very least, Deans health continues to improve. He drinks less, and begins to eat better, cooking actual meals instead of eating them out of a box or a can. He spends less time alone, and more time in front of the TV with him and Kevin, watching Spanish soap operas and movies about supposed galaxies far, far away. He even begins to help Castiel learn human skills, like how to cook and shoot a gun.
And at the very least, Castiel is glad to see these improvements.
But the more time Dean spends with him, the more Castiel wants him. Wants that Dean who held him and kissed him, made him feel with his touch, and experience a clarity of bliss hes never known before. But more than that, he longs to see that look in Deans eyes again.
Even though Dean may smile sometimes now, it never reaches his eyes.
Its a terrible mockery of the man Castiel once knew. The man Castiel knows he can be again. The man Castiel sees in his own dreams now laughing and smiling and eyes alight with such feeling.
And even though Castiel knows the future, he just doesnt know what he can do to make it happen, or if he should do anything at all Whether it is predestined, or only one of many possibilities. For all he knows, simply having this knowledge has already set him on a path divergent from that future.
Such are the reasons why movement through time was so heavily restricted in Heaven.
But he is human now, and perhaps because of that he has become impatient, selfish in the face of such a limited lifespan. He remembers what Megs true face looked like, her soul, bitter and broken with heartache long-buried under a black and contorted shell. He wonders if his soul will look like that one day, twisted with longing. Or if he even has a soul. If the space where its supposed to be is already filled up with Dean.
He finds himself pondering these questions often at night, standing in the bunkers Observatory, watching the stars shine in the heavens as he waits for Dean to fall asleep. It usually takes an hour or so before Deans nightmares begin, and Castiel always makes sure to find his way to Deans bedside before that happens So he is surprised when one night, Dean comes looking for him.
Hey, Dean joins him beside the telescope, his voice rough-strewn and his hair sticking up in all angles from his pillow.
Are you having difficulty getting to sleep? Castiel asks, frowning in concern.
Yeah, Dean mutters. I woke up, and he looks at Castiel and sighs. I just couldnt relax, he says, scrubbing a hand down his face.
Im sorry, Castiel says, feeling somehow responsible.
What are you looking at? Dean asks, looking up at the night-sky above. Feeling homesick?
Not at all, Castiel replies. I find the heavens much more beautiful, when Im looking at them from down here, he smiles.
Dean drops his gaze then, their eyes meeting over the view-piece of the telescope. Are we ever going to talk about it? he asks quietly.
Castiel frowns. About what?
Deans eyebrows shoot up in disbelief, his jaw tensing. About how you crawled into my bed that night a few months ago? Like you freakin belonged there or something? And then kissed the hell out of me? he grits out.
Castiel blanches in shock.
He hadnt considered what happened to his future-self when hed gone and inhabited his future-selfs body. Now he knows.
I apologize, Dean, Castiel replies, flinching as the expression on Deans face twists at his words.
Why? Was it a mistake? Dean asks lowly.
No, Castiel responds softly. I was always meant to be yours.
Its then when it happens, when Castiel sees it in Deans eyes
The first glimmer of hope.
Dont apologize then, Dean says, licking his lips as he steps around the telescope. Just do it again already, he whispers.
So Castiel does.
~ fin
from Wikipedia:
Lightning is a dramatic natural example of static discharge. The flash occurs because the air in the discharge channel is heated to such a high temperature that it emits light by incandescence (see below). The clap of thunder is the result of the shock wave created as the superheated air expands explosively.
Incandescence is the emission of light from a hot body as a result of its temperature. The term derives from the Latin verb incandescere, to glow white.