Fic: The Last First Time (Dean/Castiel)

[thinlizzy2]

Title: The Last First Time
Author: thinlizzy2
Artist: mizz_destiny
Beta(s): Big thanks to both L and T
Pairing(s): Dean/Castiel
Rating: R
Word count: 7535
Genres/Kinks/Etc: Time-travel, AR
Warnings: Character death, torture, implied future consent-issues, violence, blood

Summary: Castiel as God travels back in time trying to prevent the horrors he knows he will create. Each time, he turns to Dean for help and each time the consequences for Castiel, Dean and their world unfold in different ways.

Written for dc_dystopia reversebang, with art by the amazing mizz_destiny. The art can be seen in full here: http://mizz-destiny.livejournal.com/135861.html







Dean was bone-weary and frustrated when Castiel arrived, but there was still a air of hope about him. The situation with Lucifer and Michael was bad - maybe worse than anything he’d ever been up against before - but he’d dealt with more than his fair share of shit before and he’d find a way to cope with this too. And he had Sam and Bobby and Cas to help, after all. Dean’s shoulders hadn’t yet begun to slump with total defeat yet; he still had faith those he considered his family.

It made Castiel ache to see him this way, to know he would be the one to remove the last touchstones that kept Dean as happy as it was possible for him to be. Except he wouldn’t do it; he wouldn’t let himself do it. That was why he was here.

The monster souls inside him roiled in rebellion. They didn’t want Castiel to talk to Dean; they didn’t want him to do anything that might get in the way of the nightmare they planned to turn into terrifying reality. Castiel stilled them; that was taking more and more effort. But this was vital and no matter how much energy it cost him he would do it.

“Dean.” Castiel made himself visible and Dean smiled to see him. That was once Dean’s natural response to Castiel’s arrival, and it shocked him to realize how far they’d fallen.

“Hey Cas. Everything all right? How’s the search for God going?”

“It... has taken an interesting turn.” The souls churned again and Castiel felt ill. “Dean, I don’t have much time.”

“What’s wrong?” Dean was on his feet immediately. He took in his friend’s expression. “Holy shit! Are you sick or something? Hurt? Look, sit down. I’ll get Sam.”

“No! Please, Dean. I have to hurry.” The souls pulled hard; they wanted to go back and continue what they’d begun. Castiel knew he couldn’t resist them for much longer. “Dean, listen to me. When this is over, once Lucifer is back in the cage, you have to keep me with you.”

“I don’t understand.” Castiel swayed and Dean reached out to steady him. “Fuck! Cas, you’re burning up. You need to lie-”

“You need to listen!” Castiel only had a few seconds left there. “Once this is over, I will want to return to Heaven. You must prevent that, by whatever means seem right to you. If I go back, it will set into motion a chain of events that will end in disaster. Stop me, Dean. He grabbed hold of Dean’s shoulders. “Swear you’ll stop me.”

“Sure.” Dean guided Castiel to a chair and crouched in front of him. “You want me to stop you, I’ll stop you. But Cas, what’s going on? What’s the matter with you?”

“I can’t stay.” Castiel’s body jerked and he felt the dizzying spin of time-travel beginning. Then the world was electricity and wind and all he could find comfort in was that Dean had given him his word.



“So what now?” Dean asked, with his eyes on the road and his heart and mind trapped alongside his brother in Lucifer’s cage. And Castiel explained his plan.

“Cas, we’ve talked about this.” Dean’s exhaustion was clear in every syllable. “You can’t go, remember?”

“It was a trick.” They’d discussed this for hours after Dean told him about that distressing encounter. Castiel was convinced of it, even if Dean was not. “Raphael is trying to prevent me from returning to Heaven. But they require guidance and help there, and I-”

“I don’t care!” Dean slammed on the brakes and steered the car to the side of the road. He glared at Castiel. “I don’t give a shit. Sam’s gone and he’s not coming back. I have no idea what that future-you or Raphael or whatever the hell that was really wanted and I don’t care.” He lowered his head to the steering wheel. “Just stay with me, okay? Just fucking stay with me.”

Castiel could not help but agree.

They spent a brief time with Lisa Braeden, a kind woman who opened her home to them both without excessive questions about just why they were there. Castiel took it upon himself to explain Dean’s promise to his brother and his own subsequent promise to Dean, after which she merely shrugged, stopped trying to lure Dean out of the spare room he shared with Castiel and started lounging around without make-up while wearing sweatpants.

Keeping Castiel close had become something of an obsession for Dean - that one promise he made good on that didn’t tear him apart - so Castiel learned to stay quiet and still at night. It was something of a trial for a creature accustomed to being constantly in motion, acting at the speed of thought. But it was a sacrifice made for Dean, so he did it willingly. Besides, he never had to wait long. Within an hour, the nightmares would begin and Castiel would have to shake Dean awake and offer him platitudes that were ridiculously empty and useless in the face of the reality of his brother’s endless suffering. He longed to be able to do more, to offer something else, and then one night he achieved that.

He wasn’t sure what made that night so different. Why Dean didn’t roll over again, biting down on his pillow so that Castiel didn’t hear him cry. Or rummage under the bed for the bottle of tequila he kept hidden there. Or stalk around the room like a caged animal, punching helplessly at the walls until Castiel was forced to restrain him and heal the damage to his hands. Castiel didn’t know why, instead, Dean accepted the uneasy embrace his friend offered to him or why he changed the tone of it by sliding his hands under his trench coat and suit jacket in a quest for living flesh. But he responded nonetheless.

Neither of them had known what they were meant to do that first time. They both understood the mechanics of it - friction, building velocity, lubrication - but Dean had only ever done that with women before and for Castiel it was all new. So they’d explored, slowly at first and then with increasing need. Castiel marvelled at all of it, the way the taste varied depending on which part of Dean he licked, the shocking delight of finding a human thigh rubbing between both of his own, the way Dean’s temperature built throughout and then cooled as they lay beside each other on the tattered sheets. The most distinctive were the noises Dean made; even after all the time they had spent together, Castiel had never known he could sound so needy and so frantic. Nor had he ever heard anything quite like the sated sigh Dean gave as he closed his eyes and, finally, slept through the rest of the night without incident.

They left shortly after that. There was no reason, really, to remain, and now that the night held something other than terror Dean was eager to start hunting again. They thanked Lisa and her son for their kindness in their time of need, loaded up the car and sped towards the highway. Then a half an hour later they parked behind a tree and Castiel used his angelic abilities to shelter a kneeling Dean from the eyes of passing motorists.

“You don’t always have to this”, Castiel remarked, as Dean climbed back into the driver’s seat. “I fully intend to stay with you.”

Dean cast him a fondly exasperated look. “Yeah. I know.” Then he smiled and Castiel felt as though things might actually be all right.

That was how the happiest time in Castiel’s very long life began.

Hunting filled their days, and there were crises. But after defeating both Lucifer and Michael, fighting demons and other monsters took on the air of a sort of working holiday. There was a strange luxury in the way Dean would spread morning newspapers across whatever bed they had made love on the night before and remark, “Cas, we’ve got vampires in Indiana and it looks like a ghost in Omaha. What do you feel like?” Bobby’s lecture on all the angel-killing methods he had discovered and would use if Castiel ever hurt Dean felt oddly nice, as though the older man was acknowledging Castiel’s importance in Dean’s life. And every night, there were those sweet noises that Dean made when he found his pleasure, such an addictive sound that Castiel sought to urge them forth whenever possible.

It couldn’t last forever, and perhaps for a finite being six months was a reasonable amount of time to spend in an earthly paradise, but for Castiel it felt like merely an eyeblink before he returned from a routine food run to find Dean in an unwakeable sleep. The cause was all too apparent, and Castiel drew his blade in defense against the intruder.

“Please.” Balthazar rolled his eyes as he sidestepped away from Castiel’s clumsy swing. “You’ve gotten slow, Cas. Lack of practice with fighting angels these days, I imagine. Besides, you don’t want to kill me, so stop the nonsense and let’s talk like civilized beings, hmm?”

Balthazar was right on both counts, but Castiel still kept his weapon raised. “Wake him up.”

“Not until you hear me out. And you tell me why I’m risking death on a constant basis while you play house with a bald ape and ignore me. I thought we were friends, Castiel.” His borrowed face creased with genuine hurt. “Why are you doing this?”

Castiel had become so used to ignoring the summons of other angels that their pleas had been muted into something like constant white noise at the back of his skull. But the long-suppressed guilt flooded back in then. He knew Balthazar would never understand, but he gestured helplessly to Dean. “He asked me to.”

Balthazar was clearly waiting for something more that wasn’t coming. “And I’m asking you not to! Stage reset, Cas. We need your help.”

“I can’t”

“Can’t or won’t?” It wasn’t the fury in Balthazar’s face that worried Castiel; it was the fear. “Castiel, I’ve stolen the weapons from Heaven.”

“You’ve done what?” Castiel couldn’t believe it. Balthazar could be unconventional, even reckless at times, but he wasn’t a fool. “Balthazar, there is nothing else that would have made you so obvious a target! Why would you do something like this? What were you thinking?

“I had no choice! Raphael is planning on opening the cage and restarting the apocalypse. My soldiers - who should be your soldiers as well - are being slaughtered like cattle. The weapons are the only leverage I could get and my only chance to even the field. I had to take them!” His voice became plaintive. “Castiel, come with me. Help me. If we do it together, we can keep the weapons hidden until it’s safe to use them. We can turn this thing around; I know that. I just can’t do it alone.”

Castiel was sorely tempted. Balthazar was a friend, and a good one. More than that, Castiel believed in his cause and knew the danger was great. But he’d given his word.

He regretted that Balthazar left in such an angry state and with such harsh words. He knew it would be the last time the two of them met. And a week later there was a pile of burnt feathers and a familiar angel sword waiting for them on the bed of the motel room they had just checked into.

Dean held Castiel particularly tightly that night. In the morning, Castiel subtly slipped Balthazar’s blade in among Dean’s other weapons. He hated how disrespectful that felt, but his old friend was never going to use it again and any chance to keep Dean safe had to be taken.

After that, the deaths became more frequent. Sometimes there were more smoldering feathers; other times there were scorch marks shaped like wings stretched out across the parking lots of their temporary abodes. Once, they were greeted with a stack of splinters that Castiel recognized as the remnants of the Staff of Moses - a clear warning from Raphael that he didn’t need Heaven’s fabled weapons to win this war. And the voices in Castiel’s head became both fewer and more desperate.

“If I promised to come back,” he tried to suggest one night. “I’ll be as careful as possible, Dean; you know I will. But how can I let this happen?”

“Cas... you know you can’t.” Dean’s grip was so tight it was have seriously bruised a human. “I know all this is bad. But what we’re trying to avoid could be even worse.” He swallowed hard. “You didn’t see... you. The you that came to talk to me, I mean. I’m not letting that happen again.” He tugged on Castiel’s hair, pulling him up for a kiss. “Besides, even if there wasn’t that... you’re still all I have left. I can’t lose you, Cas. Please.”

So perhaps it was fair that, increasingly, Dean was all Castiel had left too. If any of his brothers and sisters whom he would have sided with were still alive, they went silent. He hoped they just knew that they stood no chance of persuading him to join them and had decided to save their energies.

But those hopes were dashed when Rachel arrived right in the middle of what had previously been an uneventful Thursday morning. Never one to mince words, she just strode towards them, demanding to know just how long Castiel intended to shirk his duty for the sake of Dean.

Castiel would have an eternity to regret his choice of words. “As long as we’re both alive.”

He didn’t fully realize what was happening at the time. He heard Rachel’s shriek and saw Dean fall. Blood, that precious stuff that kpt oxygen circulating around Dean’s beloved body, that made him a different thing from the meat he so joyfully consumed, that kept him alive spurted through the air in a dreadful arch. And then Castiel was in the midst of it, swinging silver and Rachel’s screams took on a different quality.

He couldn’t bring Dean back. Maybe he had been cut off from Heaven for too long or maybe Raphael had enough control to prevent Castiel from accessing his grace fully. All he could do was hold Dean’s broken shell in his arms and rock back and forth, screaming as windows shattered all around them.

Six months later, he regarded a demon through reddened eyes over an elaborately carved table. “You’re certain you can do this.”

Crowley shook his head. “Not alone, of course. But together? I’m certain we can do this.”

And as ancient monsters laughed in darkness, Castiel nodded, leaned forward and sealed their deal with a kiss.



Dean dropped the nearly full can of beer when Castiel appeared, crashing to the ground under the weight of the furious souls inside him. The foam from Dean’s spilled drink mingled with the blood dribbling from Castiel’s nose and mouth to form an unholy concoction on the floor of the porch.

“Holy shit!” Dean crouched down and tried to help him to his feet, though Castiel could only make it to his knees. “Bobby, who is he?”

“Never seen him before.” Bobby reached for a weapon. “Best get out of the way, Dean.”

“No, it’s okay.” Dean peeled off his shirt and held it to Castiel’s face. “He’s not a demon.”

“You sure of that somehow?”

Dean’s eyes met Castiel’s and widened with... something. Castiel knew it couldn’t be recognition; they hadn’t even met yet. Nonetheless, it felt like Dean knew him. “He’s not a demon.”

“I’m going to get your father.” Castiel listened to Bobby’s heavy footfalls with relief. He knew he wouldn’t have the strength to make him go away, and he needed to talk to Dean alone.

Dean fished in the cooler for some ice. “Look, man. Whatever happened, it’ll be okay. We deal with this shit; it’s what we do, and-”

“Don’t trust me.”

“What?” Dean’s fist clenched around the ice cube. “What are you talking about?”

“Not now.” It hurt so much to speak; every word was an effort. “Later. When we meet later, don’t trust me. Don’t let me get too close.”

“Something’s messed with your head, pal. You’re talking crazy.”

“Dean, listen. I will want to stay with you, to join you. And I will destroy everything. You, Bobby, Sam...” A fit of coughing took over.

Dean pulled back, suspicion clouding his features for the first time. “You know my brother?”

Castiel arched at the spine like a hooked fish. “Don’t!” The sensation of being pulled through time was beginning; it was impossible to resist. All he could do was hope the consistently defiant Dean Winchester would choose, just this once, to obey.



“So what now?” Castiel asked, after the first night they spent together. Or during the night, rather. It was far from morning; the hazy outlines of neon lights were still shining against the dusty motel curtains. The soreness in his vessel was still new and fresh, pleasant pain in muscles he had never given much thought to before, Frontiers had been crossed that night, or so he believed.

But Dean just rolled over and stared at the wall. “You should go.”

Castiel understood nothing about this human. He could not comprehend why Dean had spent weeks denying the connection between them, the bond that began when Castiel raised him from Hell and grew, despite the human’s mysterious resistance, with every encounter between them since. He didn’t know why Dean maintained his skepticism about Heaven in the face of overwhelming evidence of its existence. Until a few hours ago, he had been perplexed about why Dean’s body tensed and his breathing quickened whenever Castiel would get close to him; that mystery was now replaced by another. Why, after what they had just shared, did Dean want him to leave?

Castiel opened his mouth for some half-formed protest but Dean mumbled something into his pillow. It took Castiel a minute to decipher the words. “Won’t your garrison be waiting for you?”

Castiel couldn’t argue with that.

So he silently took his leave of Dean, trying not wonder if this would be a one-time occurrence. It would certainly be safer for him if it was. For reasons he couldn’t decipher, Raphael and the others had been treating him rather oddly lately. He couldn’t express exactly how; the differences were as slight as an extra nanosecond of time before responding to one of his questions. But there was something to it, and even if there wasn’t it was still unwise to provoke Raphael’s temper.

Castiel was reminded of that the very next day. He had resolved, upon his return to Heaven, to try to limit his time with the Winchesters, if it wasn’t possible to avoid them entirely. But Raphael had somehow managed to look right through Castiel as he suggested sending another angel to try to deal with the brothers and remarked to Michael that between the humans and certain minor angels, this whole operation was plagued with insignificant creatures overestimating their own importance. Castiel was on his way to see the Winchesters as quickly as he would have been had he said nothing at all.

He and Dean fucked up against the wall that visit. Dean’s mouth was warm and wet against Castiel’s neck, his back. It seemed like it was everywhere but on Castiel’s own mouth, and he couldn’t believe how strong the need for it there was. He licked at his own lips, opened wide for huge gulps of air, but down hard on his tongue. Dean’s voice was ragged behind him, “I want, I want.”
Castiel thought me too.

Dean insisted he leave before Sam got back and Castiel complied. Sam Winchester didn’t like him. Castiel wasn’t sure, but he believed that Dean had said something to him; at times it seemed like Sam’s natural curiosity about Heaven and angels was warring with a sense of duty requiring him to remain aloof. Neither Winchester was likely to respond well, however, were the younger brother to return and find the older one alone with Castiel in a room reeking of sweat and ejaculate.

So he returned to Heaven. The reception he received there was only slightly better.

He was watching a kite circle lazily in the air when Balthazar arrived. His friend sat down next to him on the grass and they stared at the sky. Balthazar as the one who broke the silence. “I’m not going to tell, of course. But if I know, you can be certain the others do, or at least they’ll find out. At best, you’re on borrowed time.”

Castiel merely shrugged. It was true and he knew it, but there didn’t seem to be anything he could do. If he was sent to sent into Dean’s presence then he had to go, and it seemed he was unable to resist the pull the human’s presence had on him. “Maybe it won’t matter. It’s just bodies. Vessels. Michael might not care.”

Balthazar snorted; Castiel wondered when he had learned to laugh. There were all changing through this, it seemed. “He’ll care.” Balthazar lay down on his back and closed his eyes. “Just bodies, eh? You’re not...”

“He’s not.”

Balthazar sheltered his eyes from the sun. “And you?”

Castiel thought it over. “Does it make any difference?”

“No”, Balthazar replied with sad understanding. “I suppose it doesn’t.” He plucked a blade of grass and chewed thoughtfully on the end. “It’s amazing, isn’t it? You’d almost swear it was real.” He let the little sliver of green fall to the ground. “Cas? What’s it like?”

He couldn’t put it into words for Balthazar, but he contemplated that question every time he was with Dean. It was hot and wet, hard and fast, flawed and so utterly perfect. And it was ultimately unsatisfying, because every time it ended he found himself sent away with the same sort of dismissal that Michael might give to an underling who had fulfilled his purpose.

Fall blended into winter and then melted into spring. Neither Dean nor Sam seemed any closer to saying yes to Michael or Lucifer than they had been several months ago, and Castiel was still listening to an almost nightly reminder that-

“You should go.”

“Yes. I know”, Castiel informed him. He paced the room, looking for various items of his clothing. He could have just summoned them back on, of course. But it would take time to work up the courage to form the words he had decided he needed to say. It wasn’t until he was digging his belt out from under the bed that he finally ventured, “Dean, will you ever tell me why?”

Dean was perched on the edge of the bed, reminding Castiel of a skittish bird. His voice was deliberately disinterested. “You know. Sam-”

“Is with Ruby”, Castiel pointed out. “Sam will be with Ruby all night. And even if he were not, do you imagine he doesn’t know about us. I watch the two of you, after I leave here. I’ve seen how often he returns only seconds after I leave. So, I ask you again, why do I have to leave at all?”

“Because you’re one of them!” Dean practically spit the words in Castiel’s face. “You’re one of them and I don’t even know why I-” He broke off and rubbed at his eyes. “Maybe we shouldn’t do this anymore.”

“But we will.” Castiel spoke with the certainty of the damned. “”We will continue doing this for as long as we are able. And it will continue to be so frustrating and wrong for as long as you make it so.”

Dean sagged like a deflating sail. Digging around in his bag, he produced a bottle of tequila and pried off the top with his teeth. A slug of liquor seemed to do nothing but more damage to his spirits. “I just wish...”

“Let me stay”, Castiel insisted, and it seemed Dean was too tired to argue.

“Fine. Stay the night.”

“No.” It was time, maybe the only time, to make the offer he had been contemplating since the first time they had touched each other with desire. “Let me stay with you.”

“What?” The sudden terror in Dean’s eyes was heartbreaking.

“Let me stay with you. Why not? If the problem is that I’m one of them, well then I won’t be anymore.” The words didn’t sound nearly as eloquent or persuasive as they had when he was planning this and he knew he wouldn’t have another chance. “Dean, I care for you very much. I believe I even l-”

“No!” Dean was on his feet, red-faced and furious. “You don’t, okay? You can’t. I’ve never done anything-”

“You love me too!” Castiel couldn’t hold it back anymore. “I have never once initiated this, Dean. I have never touched you first. If angels are as repulsive to you as you say, why do you keep taking me into your bed?”

“I can’t help it!” Fury radiated off of Dean like heat from a sun and Castiel knew this had all gone terribly wrong. But he couldn’t stop; he had to keep trying.

“If I am so irresistible to you - as I assure you, you are to me - then let me stay with you. Why would you not?”

“Damn it, Cas! I’m trying to keep you safe!” It was the first time Dean had used his shortened name outside of bed.

“I will accept the risk.” Castiel felt a warmly spreading feeling in his chest at the thought of Dean’s concern for him. “I am fully prepared to accept it.”

For a moment, he believed Dean would agree. He could see the desire to give consent etched across the human’s face, and something possessive and hungry inside him thrilled at the idea of being the only angel Dean would ever say yes to. Then the moment passed and Castiel lost hope.

He still argued with Dean for hours, even though he knew he stood little chance of success. But as the sky lightened and the world woke up around them, Dean was still immoveable. Castiel finally bowed his head and accepted Dean’s ultimate decision.”

“I never want to see you again.”

He was numb when he returned to Heaven, rendered insensible by grief and loss. Perhaps that was why he didn’t immediately notice Michael and Raphael standing among the trees of his favorite Heaven. It wouldn’t have mattered if he had. At his strongest, he was no match for a pair of archangels and he was far from strong at that moment.

The pain was horrific and ineffective in equal measures. It was agonizing, of course; neither archangel was a novice in the ways of torturing their minor brothers and they had clearly wanted a chance at Castiel for a very long time. But he had been hurt so badly, so recently, that heaping more pain upon that made him oddly invulnerable.

Or so he believed until he heard a familiar voice scream in shock and forced open his swollen eyes to see Dean’s face transformed by horror. He heard Dean shout again as Raphael closed his hand over the jaw of Castiel’s vessel and then the crack of bone drowned out his lover’s voice.

He wasn’t sure how long it went on. It might have only been a few minutes; it may have been weeks. But in the end, there was only enough of him left to register one thing: Dean’s voice promising that if they’d stop, if they’d just let Castiel go, then he’d give them what ever they wanted.

“Yes.”



The shock of time travel on his weakened body must have temporarily knocked out even the monsters of Purgatory; that was the only thing that would explain how Castiel was able to remain in 1992 after the trip to that year rendered him unconscious. Whatever the reason was, it was such a sweet relief to wake up without hunger in his chest and screams in his head. That joy was compounded by the sight of a pair of familiar green eyes looking down on him with concern. Castiel moved to sit up and reassure Dean that he was all right, when he discovered a set of sturdy ropes binding him to the bed. In an instant, he remembered what he had come here for and he shuddered with grief and guilt.

Dean must have interpreted the movement as an attempt at escape, because he darted away from the bed and grabbed hold of his shotgun. “My father will be back any minute, so don’t try anything”, Dean warned him. His voice was different from the one Castiel had come to know so well; it was far higher-pitched. He hated what he had to ask this innocent child to do.

“I’m not going to hurt you”, Castiel tried to reassure him.

“You’re not going to get the chance”, Dean scoffed. So he had learned to cover his fear with that mantle of bravado early, Castiel surmised.

He could feel the souls inside of him beginning to stir and he knew his time was limited. “Dean, please listen to me.”

“How do you know my name?” Dean’s finger slid to the trigger of his gun.

“There’s no time to explain. Dean, look at me. I don’t mean any harm to you. Do I?

The frightened boy clearly didn’t know what to do. Castiel held his gaze as well as he could and tried to send out a sense of peace. For a long moment, Dean did nothing. Then, almost too quietly to be heard, he spoke. “You’re not human, are you? Castiel shook his head. “Didn’t think so. Never seen a human that looked like...” He lowered the gun. “Who are you?”

“Castiel. Right now, I am entirely Castiel.”

“What’s that mean?”

Castiel groaned with frustration. “Like I said, I only have a few moments. Dean, I’ve... had a few injuries. I’m not strong enough to get out of these ropes; I need you to untie me.”

Dean laughed. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I will not get another chance!” Castiel was desperate. “Dean, the fate of the entire world is at risk right now. Look at me. Do you honestly believe I am seeking to hurt you?”

“How the hell should I know?” The gun was up again.

“I am an angel!” He could think of nothing else to do. “I am an angel of the Lord, Dean, and I’ve come from the future. You and I know each other well then; we are dear, dear friends. I know your brother; I know your uncle Bobby. And I know that you are a good person, someone who wants to believe the best in others even though he’s been faced with ample evidence of the contrary. All I can ask you do is trust your instincts this one time, because if you can’t manage that then everything is lost. Dean, please.”

For a moment, Dean didn’t react and Castiel despaired. Then the boy lurched forward suddenly. WIthout looking at Castiel, he undid the knots as his hands shook. Castiel sat up and rubbed his wrists. “Thank you.”

Dean swallowed hard. “So what’s the deal?”

Castiel reached into his coat and withdrew his sword. Dean gasped and pulled back, so Castiel gripped it by the blade, extending the hilt towards Dean. “Take it. It’s for you.”

Dean’s fingers closed around the metal. “You’re giving me a knife?”

“It’s an angel sword”, Castiel explained. “It’s designed to kill angels; it’s one of the only things that can. Years from now, when you see me walk into a barn, I want you to stab me with this as hard as you can.”

The blade went clattering to the floor. “You want me to kill you?” The angel nodded. “But I don’t want to!” Castiel was reminded just how young this Dean was and hoped he hadn’t gone back too far. Dean went on. “Look - Castiel. You have no idea how much fucked up shit I run into every day. I’m talking about monsters with faces like car wrecks and people whp’ve been turned inside out. And then I see something that looks like you, and you want me to-”

“If I could use the blade on myself right now I would!” As if sensing the threat, the souls inside him moved again and then surged, seeking control. “But it won’t it work on me now. I’ve changed too much. It has to be then, and it has to be you, There’s no one else I trust enough.” Castiel strained against the sudden pressure against the borders of his vessel. He felt something crack.

“Shit! Dean scrambled away. “What’s happening to you?”

“Promise me”, he managed to get out. Something red dripped into his vision, and Castiel realized he was bleeding. Then his sight blurred and he knew the inevitable was starting. “Dean, don’t forget.”

He managed one last look at Dean, who stared back at him with horrified fascination. Then everything went impossibly bright and he could only hope that the next time he saw Dean Winchester, the boy-turned-hunter would have the strength to do what needed to be done.



So what now? Castiel wondered to himself. He didn’t know why Michael summoned him. He regularly received orders from Michael, but those were in the form of thoughts; he simply became aware of what the commander wanted him to do and then did it. He reported the results of his missions the same way. To be called into Michael’s presence was a rare thing for all but the highest ranking angels and it was hard not to worry that he might have done something wrong.

But in all his reflection, he couldn’t think of a single indiscretion. Castiel was, above all, obedient.

He was surprised when Michael asked to see his sword, but the archangel merely inspected it and returned to Castiel with a small smile. “Interesting.” He settled himself comfortably in the large throne that sat in the center of the chamber that was his favorite Heaven. “I have a new assignment for you, Castiel. I want you to watch Dean Winchester.”

Castiel stared at him. Up until then, he had been a footsoldier, nothing more. Observation of Michael’s vessel was a sacred charge and one that should have been reserved for far more prominent angels than him. Why was he to be given this honor?

“Don’t attempt any contact; I don’t want him to see you. There’s no need to take a vessel at this time. Just watch.”

And so Castiel did. The young man was a dedicated scholar; at only eighteen he was already showing great promise at his seminary. The belief among his superiors was that his dedication was due to his estrangement from his family; his passion for the religious life had alienated him from his father years ago and therefore he had little to no distractions. His particular field of interest was scripture related to angels; he was utterly fascinated with them.

All of this seemed completely appropriate for Michael’s vessel. Castiel reported as much back to his commander, expecting to be told that there was no need to continue this particular mission. But Michael just smiled cryptically at him and told him to continue.

Dean’s weak point, Castiel decided, was likely to be his younger brother. Dean had been close with Sam in childhood and the younger Winchester had struggled when his brother began pulling away from his family. Sam was Dean’s only regular correspondent, and Castiel didn’t expect Dean to welcome the news that he would have to destroy his brother’s body in order to fulfill his destiny. Nor did he think that Sam Winchester would be as easy to persuade to play his role as his religiously-minded sibling. Curiosity drove Castiel to visit with Sam, and the teenager displayed a fierce independent streak that frustrated his father to no end and that was certain to evoke a similiar response from Lucifer. What was more, he loathed religion in general and angels in particular; he seemed to blame them for taking his brother away from him.

When Castiel shared this information with Michael, he expected concern in response. What he received instead was a stern reprimand. He was to focus his energies solely on Dean and leave the younger Winchester alone. Bowed, Castiel returned to his assigned duties.

There was something unnerving about Dean, Castiel came to realize. Observing him was akin to interacting with an extremely skilled liar. Not that Dean lied to Castiel in particular: such deceit would be impossible as he still never even knew Castiel was there. It was just that there was false undertone to every action he undertook. Dean was a model student and a promising young religious leader, but everything he said and did seemed just... wrong somehow. Castiel was reminded of Anna, who had spent a few centuries pretending that she still believed before she finally committed to her fall. Her act had been letter-perfect and so was Dean’s and perhaps in the end that was what led Castiel to believe that Dean as well was a secret heretic.

In his growing unease, he suggested that maybe another angel should be assigned to his current post. It was the first time he had ever complained about an assignment and Michael sought to make sure it would be the last. Castiel was told in no uncertain terms that he was to return to Dean and never again to suggest otherwise.

Of course, he did as he was told.

So he watched Dean graduate and begin his swift climb up the ranks of the church. His sphere of influence wasn’t limited to the religious community either. As the handsome young man was a far cry from the public’s mental image of typical religious scholars, people were naturally fascinated by him. He was constantly being invited to speak at diverse venues ranging from university classrooms to television talk shows. Some of his audiences concurred with him wholeheartedly and others were more skeptical, but everyone who heard him lecture agreed on one thing:

Dean Winchester’s views on Heaven may be unconventional, but he most certainly believed in them wholeheartedly.

Castiel observed it all.

He wasn’t sure what purpose his work served, but when Michael told him that his reports on Dean had been used to construct the torture that had finally convinced John Winchester to pick up the fated knives in Hell, Castiel was greatly relieved. His work with Dean must now, finally, be over. And when Michael told him that the time had come for him to possess a vessel, he knew a new mission must be coming., He deliberated over which of his two potential vessels to choose, but his commander settled that with a definite preference. Given a choice between the father and the daughter, Castiel was to use the older Novak’s body. For reasons he didn’t disclosed, MIchael felt that this was very important.

Castiel took the vessel as instructed and then returned to his favorite Heaven. He didn’t know how long it would be until he got his new assignment; sometimes angels waited for centuries in their vessels until their services were needed again. With the great battle looming that was unlikely, but Castiel secretly hoped for at least a few months. His experience with Dean had unsettled him in a strangely indefinable way, and he longed for green grass beneath his feet and the chance to feel a warm sun beating down on him for a while.

That was not to be. He was recalled to Michael’s presence almost right away. This time, the meeting would be held on Earth.

Disobedience was unthinkable, and so - silencing his internal longings to refuse - Castiel went.

What he found chilled him to the bones of his new body.

Michael was there, of course. But unexpectedly, he was wearing a vessel himself. Not Dean, but a handsome young man that resembled him in a vague sort of way. Even if he hadn’t known, Castiel would have been able to tell that this was not Michael’s true vessel; already the presence of the archangel was beginning to degrade the owner’s body and soul. He couldn’t understand why Michael had chosen this vessel over Dean.

Especially as Dean was right there.

And apparently, he knew Michael rather well. He nodded at the archangel after Castiel appeared. “Yes”, he announced. This is definitely him.”

“I knew it would be”, Michael replied.

Castiel stared at the pair of them in confusion. “Michael, I give my word to you he never saw me. He couldn’t; I made sure of that.”

Michael and Dean smiled at each other as if enjoying a private joke. “Oh, he saw you”, Michael responded. “not recently of course; he just sensed your presence then. That was my little gift to him. No, he didn’t see you at any time that you would remember. Yet.” His older brother clapped him on the shoulder. “Castiel, you have done me such a great service. So many times I have wanted to thank you, but I couldn’t let you know what you had done for me. But now I can tell you; I owe you quite the debt of gratitude.”

More bewildered than ever, Castiel turned to Dean to see if he understood this. He found the human observing him intently. “You’re still so beautiful”, Dean said with wonder. “I used to worry that I was remembering you wrong; that no one could really look like that. But here you are, just like I knew you would be.”

“Do you know how easy it is, Castiel, to create fascination in the mind of a child?” Michael moved to stand beside Dean. “At the right moment, it can be done with a whispered word, a stolen glimpse. And you offered so much more than that. I know you don’t understand, but you may have been directly responsible for setting young Dean on the path that makes him so ideal for Heaven’s needs. I certainly don’t believe he would have found the means or inspiration to find me without the impetus you provided.”

“You two... have been in contact with each other?” Castiel began to realize that he had been at the center of some sort of scheme between Michael and his vessel.

“In dreams, mostly”, Dean confirmed. “When I wasn’t dreaming about you.”

“I had the good sense to stay out of those. There are some things I certainly don’t want to see.” Michael and Dean laughed together.

Dean brought a hand up to touch the cheek of Castiel’s vessel. “I’m sure the reality will be even better.”

“You see, Castiel”, Michael chimed in. “Dean here is as cunning as he is loyal. He has agreed to serve as my vessel for the battle, but he has asked for a small reward in exchange, something for him to look forward to when his work is done.” He smiled at Castiel, showing teeth. “He has asked for you. And I feel like that’s quite a reasonable request. Wouldn’t you agree, Dean?”

Dean gave an eerily similar smile. He looked Michael right in the eye and answered so much more than just that question.

“Yes.”

The flash of light that resulted was so bright that Castiel was convinced the world was burning.



Castiel crept towards the cradle.

He did not want to do this. Of all the options he had ever considered, this was the only one that had made him recoil in horror. Everything in what remained of his tattered heart and mind was screaming at him to stop. But he had tried everything else, and he believed that this was a sacrifice Dean would be willing to make in order to prevent the horrors that seemed otherwise destined to unfold.

The infant was awake. Castiel watched his green eyes fill up with the face of the angel he must never get to know.

He had to act. He had to act now.

He lifted his sword up high. It would take one strike from the sacred weapon; the baby wouldn’t suffer. He would be sparing Dean pain, he reminded himself. That should be enough.

It wasn’t.

As the world spun around him, the most powerful being in existence held a knife aloft, praying to a god he had replaced for the elusive strength to bring it down again.