Supernatural -- "Under (the) Cover(s)" Cas/Dean, Gabriel/Sam
Well... I have finally started posting this one. LOL. This was a crack plot that I was laughing about with my sister and was bitten hard with the urge to actually write it. It's utterly ridiculous, so please don't take it seriously. It was only supposed to be about ten thousand words, but it ended up over thirty, haha.
Title: Under (the) Cover(s) ....... (aka "angelspy")
Author: wonderfoal
Rating: NC17
Pairing: Castiel/Dean (main), Gabriel/Sam (side)
Wordcount: ~30,300
Warnings: AU like whoa. MPREG. A little God!Chuck later on. Though it has some angst, it's overall sappy. chick-flick warning?
Summary: After a war with angels, the humans succeed in banishing them back to Heaven. They're kept off the planet with special wards, and certain hunters are in charge of protecting the wards. An angel in disguise, Castiel is sent to find one of these special hunters (*cough-cough*), but his loyalties are put to the test when he meets Dean Winchester. (now with Gabriel/Sam and added smut!)
Notes: hahahahaha
Date: Winter 2010/2011
Chapter One
Castiel woke up in a dilapidated barn feeling very disoriented. He opened his eyes and looked around, taking in the dust suspended in the beams of sunlight and the old straw strewn over the ground. It appeared that he was successful. He was on Earth. He looked down at his new form and experimentally shifted his shoulders, his legs. He opened and closed a fist just for the sensation of having fingers. Human bodies were very strange.
It wasn’t the first time he had seen a human form. Before this assignment, he had studied pictures and drawings. He had memorized anatomy textbooks, and he had plenty of hours observing the other denizens of Heaven. It was simply a strange sensation to have a body of his own. He had lived his whole life as an angel in Heaven, but now the time had come that he was to serve his people. And to serve, he had been sent to Earth.
He was naked when he arrived, and the human customs classes he had taken had informed him that that was socially forbidden. He had to find clothing, and soon. If he was spotted as he was, it could cast doubt on him, on his identity as a human. In the distance, there were lights, and Castiel knew that meant human civilization. Hopefully, he could find clothing there that fit his new form. Angels disapproved of stealing, but the mission came first. He had to fully integrate into their society. He had to slip amongst their numbers, learn their secrets, and then the angels could at last return to Earth.
Castiel walked the short distance to the old farmhouse. He could have used his angel powers to instantly fly there, but that carried the risk of discovery. The humans’ banishing sigils and wards were everywhere. With the amulet his commanders had given him, he could pass freely through them, but if he acted in a way contrary to human behavior... there were tests the humans were fond of, to ferret out an angel in disguise.
The inhabitants of the house were missing. Castiel sneaked inside and investigated each room, but there were no humans inside. He found the closet where he had learned that humans keep their spare clothing. Inside, he found many articles of female clothing, and there to the side, shirts and pants that he knew men wore. He selected a black suit over a white shirt and dressed exactly as he had studied in his human behavior classes. The tie presented some difficulty... no matter what he tried, he could not get it tight against his throat. Castiel surveyed his appearance in the mirror and was satisfied by what he saw.
"I am human," he practiced aloud. They were his first words in this form and the sound was surprisingly loud and rough. "I am a human," he tried again. The words were smoother, but his voice was deeper than he had expected it to be. If Anna could see me now, he mused.
He started to leave the room, but paused near the exit. Over the back of the chair was a folded garment that he knew humans wore when they were cold. "Coat," he tried, but the word felt awkward on his lips. He wondered if he should take it, too. As an angel, he wasn’t affected by the weather. He didn’t know if it was hot or cold enough that a human would be uncomfortable. He could attract attention if the temperature was cold enough to warrant additional clothing and he had none. With a moment more of hesitation, he unfolded it and tried it on.
He looked back in the mirror and smiled stiffly. The action was awkward and he wasn’t sure he was doing it right. Should his cheeks pull that much from a smile? "I am Castiel," he recited. "I sell AM radio ad space," he added, remembering his cover story. This was going to be the hardest assignment of his life.
Dean Winchester emptied the last rock salt bullet into the spirit and hoped it would last long enough for Sammy to get the salt and gas poured and the lighter lit. The "easy" salt-and-burn had become a lot harder when a second spirit had joined the fray. Dean had been tossed head-first into a swamp and was now covered head-to-toe in muck. He wanted to get back to the motel and take a hot shower. His arm was stiff, and they had to leave soon if he was going to be able to drive back without too much pain. First things first, they had to make sure the ghost was out of their hair.
Everything was silent for several minutes. He looked around, keeping a sharp eye out for the spirit’s return. "Sammy?" he called in the direction of the cemetery. There was no answer. Dean took a step forward and was hit from behind. He staggered in a circle and raised his arms defensively just in time to see the spirit howl and burst into flames. "Nice save, Sammy," he muttered and started jogging back to the cemetery. The grave had to be filled in and Sam had already started when he arrived.
He grunted in disgust when he saw Dean’s muck-covered form. "You reek," he commented unhelpfully and snickered.
Dean scowled. "Yeah, well, you get to sit beside me the whole drive home." He grabbed one of the shovels and began moving dirt. Sam moved a lot faster than Dean because of Dean’s stiff arm, but together they managed to quickly cover the grave and then head back to the car. He was tired and sore, and was practically salivating at the thought of a hot shower and a soft bed.
Dean’s plans were dashed when he unlocked the motel room’s door and saw what was awaiting him inside. "Oh hell," he moaned. "It’s you."
"Hey Dean," Sam’s douchebag boyfriend greeted. "Is this some new beauty treatment? I don’t think the ladies are going to go for it."
"Piss off, Loki," he grumbled and went straight for the shower. He looked around to see if there was any sign of trickster tampering, but wasn’t too worried about it. He’d been remarkably good about not playing tricks on Dean after he’d started sleeping with Sam.
He pulled off his clothes and tossed them on the floor before starting up the faucet and pretending he couldn’t hear Sam greeting his boyfriend. He’d actually liked the Trickster - or, as they later learned, Loki - when he’d first met him. The slow-dancing alien alone was too good for words. It had been at the second meeting that things had soured. Dean didn’t like anyone nailing his little brother in the Impala.
Sam accused Dean of hating Loki because he wasn’t human. Dean disagreed. He only partly hated Loki because his brother was dating a monster. He mostly hated Loki because he was a dick. What Sam saw in him, Dean couldn’t fathom.
The shower was as good as he had imagined, though at one point he was sure he heard the sound of a bed rhythmically creaking. He scowled and grumbled under his breath, but short of "denying Sam his happiness," there was nothing he could do about it.
When he emerged from the shower, the motel room was empty. Sam had left a note saying they were going out for drinks and not to wait up. Dean’s mood blackened further and he decided he could use a drink himself.
Dean wasn’t watching where he was going. That much was fact and couldn’t be denied. He’d had a good hour of drinking and was pleasantly buzzed on his walk back to the motel. The bartender had been hot, but was working all night and Dean had been too exhausted to wait for her to get a break. He had her number, but he doubted they’d be staying in town for more than a few hours past sunrise.
His mind was on the curve of her breasts and how her nipples had peaked through her thin shirt. She had a cute little mouth, painted red and - and he walked straight into another man on the sidewalk. Dean went down hard, but the guy seemed barely fazed. There was an awkward pause where the other man was obviously working out what to say before he extended a hand to help Dean up. He finally settled on "Excuse me."
Dean waved it off. "No, it’s my fault." And it was, but Dean was more concerned by how the man had just absorbed the impact. It had been like walking into a wall, but he didn’t look like it. He was a little shorter than Dean and dressed like he was on his way to an office, even though it was nearing two in the morning. He could have had a late night, too, but he didn’t smell like alcohol. He noticed the man’s bare feet and his eyes widened in surprise. "Where are your shoes?"
The man looked surprised. "Shoes?" he pondered aloud before his face lit with realization. "I don’t have any," he admitted.
Dean frowned. It wasn’t too cold out tonight, but fall was winding down and it would be winter soon. He fished a twenty he’d won earlier that night out of his wallet and pressed it into the man’s hand. He wasn’t normally so charitable, but there was just something so wrong with the picture of this man wearing a suit and coat, a little unshaven but otherwise clean, walking around town in his bare feet. "Get some," he ordered.
The man looked down to the money curiously and nodded to himself. "Thank you," he said and then stepped back to allow Dean to pass him. He walked on and Dean watched him go, wondering at the encounter. He decided he definitely needed some sleep.
He made it back to the motel and crawled into bed, anxious for a restful night. But exhaustion and drinking had caught up with him and he was plagued with strange dreams, most disturbingly, a pair of intense blue eyes locked with his own, the feel of a rough jaw on his thigh, and strong hands pressing against him.
Castiel was somewhat alarmed that he had neglected to wear shoes. He hadn’t realized until the stranger on the street had informed him of their absence. It was a rookie mistake, he decided, and not one he could afford to make again. He had taken great care to study human dress, and to now miss something as basic as footwear once he was actually in the field was both embarrassing and worrisome. What else could he have forgotten? He’d remembered "excuse me" for walking into the man, and "thank you" for the money. He looked down at the thin paper rectangle in his hands and marveled at human society.
He would continue his survey of a human city that night, but his first stop in the morning would be to purchase shoes. Following that, he would begin his specific mission of getting close to the hunters that guarded the Enochian wards keeping angels off of the Earth. There were four in total, but he was only after the one in North America. He would have to discover its location and then the identity of the humans guarding its access.
The humans had been clever in their fight against the angels. Someone had disclosed to them the Enochian sigils that would banish an angel, and the warding that could be drawn to prevent angels from passing through it... The humans hadn’t taken long to make warding areas bigger and bigger, until finally they spanned the whole globe and no angel could pass in or out. They’d rounded up the angels already on Earth and had made effective use of their angel-killing blades. Castiel frowned when he thought of his defeated comrades, those angels he had known in the garrison who never came back from the war. He thought of his dearest friend Anna, so badly scarred when she staggered back home. It was his duty, his honor, to do everything he could to bring down those wards and give the Earth back to the angels.
Chapter Two
Dean almost didn’t recognize Barefoot Man when he saw him again. It had been a month, and though he still popped up in his dreams from time to time, he hadn’t seen him again or thought of him once while awake. Okay, maybe once or twice while he was awake - the guy had really blue eyes.
Still - that didn’t explain why he was here, in a house with a poltergeist problem. Then he caught sight of the shotgun in his hand and some sort of pagan amulet around his neck. "Are you a hunter?" he asked in surprise.
Beside him, Sam turned to look at him incredulously. "Why else would he be here, Dean?" he asked.
Dean spluttered and couldn’t come up with a good explanation. Luckily, he didn’t need one as Sam was grabbed by the poltergeist and tossed into a staircase. The metallic tinsel on the banister unhooked itself and wrapped around his throat until his face turned red and he started gasping for air. Dean hurried to him, but the tinsel had been reinforced with wire and he couldn’t get it to break. He couldn’t even get it to give when he pulled. Sam was pulling with him, but the material was too strong. His brother was getting choked to death with Christmas decorations and he couldn’t do anything to stop it.
"Allow me to assist you," Barefoot Man said and gripped the tinsel at opposite sides of Sam’s neck. He pulled back in one quick jerk and the wire snapped into two pieces.
Sam gasped for breath and his skin started its retreat to normal hues. Dean stared at Barefoot Man in shock. "How did you do that?"
Barefoot Man shrugged uneasily. "It was already weakened from your efforts," he explained.
Dean nodded, but he wasn’t sure he believed it. "Thanks, man."
"You are welcome," he said stoically, as though he hadn’t just saved Sam’s life.
"C’mon, we need to waste this sucker." He pulled out an energy bag that they’d been given to clear the house of the malevolent presence. There needed to be one in each corner, and the south and west sides had been taken care of, just the north and east remained. He handed one to Sam, but to his surprise, Barefoot Man took the other before he could run off with it. "Have you done one of these before?" he asked. The spiritual backlash could be strong and he didn’t want the dude to be unprepared.
"I am familiar with the subject," he told him and moved toward the north corner of the house. Dean followed Sam to the east and watched his back as they placed that last bag. Sure enough, the energy bags connected with each other and the effect swept through the house. Dean nearly lost his balance and Sam sagged to the ground. These things were always tougher on him because of the demon blood, but he did his best not to show it and so Dean didn’t call attention to it.
"Think that got it?" he asked Sam.
Sam nodded. "I don’t feel it anymore."
Case closed in Dean’s book. He helped Sam to his feet and went back to the living room in time to see Barefoot Man emerge from the kitchen where he had planted the bag. "Good job back there," he told him. He really needed a new name for the guy. One glance at his feet showed him that he was no longer barefoot. The shoes were cheap, and didn’t look all that comfortable, but they were still shoes. It dawned on Dean that he could just call him by his name if he knew it. "I’m Dean," he introduced himself with an extended hand. "This is my brother, Sam."
Barefoot Man shifted the shotgun to his other hand and clasped Dean’s in that strong grip. "I am Castiel. I sell ad space on AM radio."
Dean blinked and looked at him again. He was still wearing that same suit and coat, and he didn’t really look like a hunter. But he clearly knew what he was doing... "Wow," he said. "That sounds really boring."
"It is," Castiel was quick to agree.
Dean pounced on the subject. "Is that why you’re doing this?" he asked with a wave of his hand to the previously infested house. Sam cleared his throat and Dean belatedly realized that he was still shaking Castiel’s hand. He immediately released it, which was more awkward than the extended shaking. Sam laughed under his breath and Dean wanted to kick him.
"I am looking for someone," he explained unhelpfully.
Dean nodded thoughtfully. "Well, we’re pretty well-known. Give us the name and we’ll ask around."
Castiel frowned for the first time. "I do not know his name," he said.
That made things harder. "Well, do you-"
"I think we need to go before the owners get back," Sam cut in. Dean remembered that they were in fact standing in someone’s house in the middle of the night and quickly agreed.
"Where are you parked?" he asked Castiel.
"I did not drive a car," he said. "I walked here."
Dean scoffed before catching on that Castiel was serious. "Okay, wow. We’ll give you a lift back to town."
Castiel settled in the back seat of the Impala without complaint. He was looking with interest at the car and Dean grinned. "She’s a beauty, isn’t she?"
He nodded slowly. "I have never seen an automobile like this before," he said.
Dean thought he was surely missing out on the world of classic cars. The poor bastard probably drove a hybrid to work every day.
"Castiel," Sam said from beside him. "That’s an interesting name."
"My father named me," he explained. "My family has always been very religious."
Dean winced. "Then it must suck with the angels always trying to smite the hell out of us," he said. His family had never had much faith. There had been a time when Sam had prayed, but he’d quickly realized the error of his ways when he finally told him how their mom had died.
Castiel looked a little older than he was, so he’d probably been a young child when the angels had tried to take over Earth. Dean could relate to that. He’d been a young child when they’d finally been stopped.
"I have never had a conflict with an angel," he said seriously.
Dean laughed. "Of course not. Not with our giant bug zapper keeping them off of our planet."
Sam reached over and smacked Dean on the back of the head and he realized what he said. He shut up and tried to change the conversation as soon as possible, but without being too obvious. He spent so much time with Sam and Bobby that it was sometimes hard to remember that he needed to filter what he said about it.
Unfortunately, Castiel was showing interest in something for the first time all night. "Bug zapper?" he repeated.
Sam caught Dean’s eye and gave him a warning look. Dean made a face and then locked eyes with the man in the back seat. "So I’ve heard. I mean, anyone can slap up a sigil, right? There’s bound to be a big one that people are slapping all the time to keep them out of our hair." Which was complete bullshit. Sam gave him an ‘are you crazy’ look, but Dean skillfully ignored it.
"So, Castiel -Cas? - how did you get into this business?"
"I learned about ghosts in school, and when I was on my own, went looking for them," he explained.
Sam looked like a distressed puppy. "That’s really dangerous," he told him. "If you don’t know what you’re doing, you can get killed in this job."
Cas looked at him speculatively, but didn’t comment that it was Sam, not Cas, who had been choked by Christmas tinsel. "I attended a very thorough school," he told him.
Dean wanted to comment on that, but they’d just reached town and it would have to wait. "Where to, Cas?" he asked. Sam would want to go back to the motel to meet Loki, but that was on the other side of town and he’d drop Cas off on the way.
"I have no plans for the evening," Cas told him flatly.
Dean met his eyes in the mirror. "Really?" he asked. "Do you want to have a, um, victory drink with me?" Beside him, Sam was fighting to keep his expression blank. Dean knew when the kid was amused, though, and at that moment he wanted to crack up.
"What is being celebrated?" Castiel asked. The night was little different than any he had had in the past few weeks.
Dean scoffed. "The poltergeist!" he exclaimed. "Dude, you saved my brother’s life - I am buying you a drink."
"Oh." Castiel did not see why ending the existence of such a creature would incite the need to consume alcohol, but this could be one of those aspects about humans that he had not learned in his classes. He had seen a few examples of them so far, and they always left him momentarily confused and perplexed as to his next actions. "I would be pleased to join you," he finally told Dean.
Dean grinned at him and Castiel felt a strange, warm sensation in his gut.
They stopped by the motel room to let Sam leave. The brothers exchanged a series of meaningful glances when they left that had Sam snickering as he walked away and Dean looking ruffled. "You can sit in the front," Dean told him after Sam walked away.
Castiel did not see why the front seat of the car held any special value. It would be inefficient to switch seats when they would be stopping soon anyway. "I am fine here," he told Dean. Dean’s shoulders sagged, but he didn’t comment. Castiel wondered if he’d done something wrong.
Dean ended up taking them to a bar with a neon mostly-naked woman sign over the door. The atmosphere was crowded, but Dean led the way to the bar and ordered a drink that Castiel did not recognize. Alcoholic drinks had been one of the weak points of his studies and he could barely tell beer from whiskey. The bartender looked at him for his order and, at a loss, he ordered the same drink Dean had.
Dean grinned at him. "Finally, someone with taste!" He reached over and clapped Castiel on the back. His hand against Castiel’s coat-covered shoulder was warm and sent tingles along his skin. Castiel was startled to realize that he was flushed. He wondered if the humans had engineered some type of bio-warfare with which to attack the angels. He had never been ill in his very long life, and -
The drinks arrived and Castiel reached for his nervously. He drained it one gulp to have something wet against his throat. Afterwards, he was clued in to the fact that that might have been something a human wouldn’t do. Dean had seen him do it and had frozen with his glass halfway to his lips. "Dude," he said in awe and then knocked his own glass back.
"Have you been hunting long?" Dean asked him.
Castiel answered as honestly as he could. "Not long enough." He knew that it was hunters who guarded the wards that repelled the angels. None of the ones he had encountered so far could give him information on the specific hunter who was in charge of the wards’ protection.
Dean must have read some other meaning in his words because he looked sympathetic to him. "You and me both, pal," he said and called for another drink.
Gabriel let Sam catch his breath before kissing it away again and then curling up beside him and pressing his lips to his shoulder. Sam was pleasantly warm and the sweat beaded on his skin was salty. "And where is Dean this evening?" he asked. It was almost more trouble than it was worth to still be in bed with Sam when his older brother came home.
Sam laughed. "He’s got it bad for this hunter we met today. I imagine they’re at a bar getting wasted and Dean is staring soulfully into his eyes." He said the last part with a laugh and a high-pitched voice as he recalled Becky Rosen’s views on the subject.
Gabriel snorted. "That sounds about right. Will he be gone all night?"
"Probably. The guy is completely oblivious to Dean’s flirting. He won’t get anywhere and then will spend the rest of the night drinking in defeat."
He laughed and brushed Sam’s hair away from his forehead. His hands trailed down to his neck and rubbed over the bruising there, his smile slipping away. It would be so easy to fix... but healing wasn’t something he was known for, and he couldn’t afford to take any chances.
"This new hunter saved you?" he asked. He had listened to the story earlier, but it just hit him how bad it could have been. Humans were too fragile.
Sam nodded sleepily. "Yeah, he just walked over and snapped the wire like it was nothing."
Gabriel felt the first stirrings of unease in his gut.
Chapter Three
"Him again? Really?" Sam asked as they stepped into the diner. Castiel was seated at a table with a mug of coffee in front of him. He was still wearing that same suit, that same coat, and those same cheap shoes. Dean assumed he didn’t have any money - it wasn’t an uncommon thing for hunters. He’d claimed to sell something with radios - Dean didn’t really remember - but he didn’t see how that could be true. This was the fifth town where they’d crossed paths. Sam was suspicious, but Dean believed it was an honest coincidence. Hunters went where the hunts were. He was also glad to see him again.
"Mind if we join you?" he asked, ignoring Sam rolling his eyes.
Castiel looked startled to see them, but not unfriendly. "Please," he said. They joined him and ordered their breakfasts. Dean couldn’t stand seeing Cas’s lack of food and ordered him some, too. He didn’t see why Cas didn’t find another source of income. Dean and Sam didn’t have steady jobs - very few hunters did. The money he spent came from pool and cards. Cas had one hell of a poker face, too; he could make a killing.
"It’s a surprise to see you here," Sam said dryly. "What brings you to town?" It was Sam at his sarcastic best, but Cas seemed oblivious.
"Skinwalkers," Cas said earnestly.
Dean nodded happily. That was the reason they were in town, too. There was nothing suspicious about Cas appearing on the same hunts they were on. They’d been on a trail, from one place to the next and the jobs weren’t too far apart. If they drove to California and Cas was suddenly there, Sam might have a point. But for now, it was just coincidence. He looked pointedly at Sam, but his brother was ignoring him. "You’re going to be disappointed," Sam told him. "We already took care of them."
Cas didn’t look disappointed. He inclined his head as though in gratitude. "I am grateful," he told Sam with that same earnestness. "It doesn’t matter to me who rids the world of these aberrations of nature, so long as they stop preying on the innocent."
Sam said nothing, and Dean could only grin. Their meals arrived and Dean dug in while Sam looked at his eggs in distaste. Dean was about to rib him about his delicate palate, but he noticed Cas looking at his own plate with an unreadable expression. He kept opening his mouth like he wanted to speak but thought better of it. Finally, with a face of brave determination, he cut his sausage in half and prepared to bring it to his mouth.
"Cas, if you don’t want it, you don’t have to eat it. I can buy you something else."
Cas looked unsure, but steeled himself and shook his head. "No, this is satisfactory. I appreciate your kindness." He took a bite of the sausage and his whole face froze as he slowly chewed. The poor guy looked like he’d never had sausage in his life. He chewed for a long time and Dean stopped eating just to watch him and wonder if he would ever finish. Sam was looking at him like he was from outer space. Finally, Cas swallowed and then drank from his coffee. He painstakingly cut another piece and brought it to his mouth, chewed with the same thorough slowness.
"Wow," Dean heard Sam say under his breath. Dean watched Cas’s throat as he swallowed his meal, bite after bite. Wow, indeed.
Later, after breakfast, Sam and Dean returned to the motel to pack up. Bobby had called about a rugaru and Sam wanted to head out as soon as he could. Flesh-eating monsters were something that couldn’t wait. The hunt was in Minnesota, which was four states away. If Cas showed up there, he could definitely be filed under ‘stalker.’ Dean didn’t like the thought of not running into him. He knew that hunters didn’t generally stick together in groups... He had no logical reason to want Cas nearby... but he did and couldn’t make himself stop.
He’d given Cas his number before they left the diner. He had correctly guessed that the other hunter didn’t have a phone, but at least if he had his number he could call him from a payphone if he got into a tight enough spot. Dean felt better knowing he had it.
"You are such a girl," Sam told him from his bed where he was neatly folding his clothes and arranging them by color.
Dean snorted, but he wouldn’t rise to the bait. He tossed his own shirts into a duffel and then gathered up the hex bags from where they’d been displayed all night. They hadn’t had trouble with demons in months, but they couldn’t afford complacency, either. If they decided they wanted Sam again....
Sam sighed. "Look, just ask him if he wants to sleep with you and get it over with. You pining like this is embarrassing."
"Pining?" Dean repeated. He scoffed. "I don’t need you giving me sex advice. I can pick up anyone I want to pick up." Which was mostly true. And, yeah, he did want a good time with Cas, but doing other hunters was tricky. They weren’t like random girls at a bar. The hunters had a community, one that knew Dean’s real name, the names of his family and friends... If things soured, then it could very well come back to bite him on the ass.
"Sure you don’t," Sam humored him. Dean narrowed his eyes and was about to retort when there was a knock on the door. He went for his gun and shot a "get ready to fight" look at Sam, then did a double-take when Sam just finished packing up his clothes with a smirk and slid the zipper closed on his bag.
"Sam?" he questioned in a whisper, looking guardedly at the door.
"Well," Sam said and slung his bag over his shoulder. "At the very least, I am sick of watching you pine over him. Which is why, when you were in the bathroom in the diner, I told him you needed to talk to him." He smirked. "Get it out of your system."
"Son of a bitch," Dean hissed just as Sam opened the door. Sure enough, there was Cas on the other side. Sam ushered him in and waved at Dean over his shoulder as he walked to the Impala. A moment later, Dean heard the rumbling motor and saw him drive towards town.
"Um, Dean?" Cas queried from his spot in front of the door. He had hesitantly closed it behind him after Sam left, but looked unsure of his welcome.
"Oh, hey, Cas." He rubbed a hand through his hair and wondered how he should phrase this. There was no sense in wasting an opportunity. He had the subject of his interest alone in a room with a bed, and he was Dean Winchester - the battle was half-won already.
Castiel surveyed the room speculatively, looking for any sign of the cause of Dean’s strange behavior. There was none forthcoming, but there must be some reason that Sam had suggested he meet with Dean.
"Are you unwell?" he asked. He knew that sickness could cause personality changes. He was prepared to escort Dean to a hospital if he needed one.
Dean laughed and shook his head. "No," he said. "No, I’m okay." He came to a decision and sighed loudly. "I’m just going to come right out and say it. Cas, I like you, and I have for a while now." He cringed afterwards as though he wished he could recall the words.
Castiel was confused. "I like you, too, Dean," he told him honestly. He did like Dean - the human was a skilled hunter and Castiel enjoyed meeting him on his hunts. He was still no closer to finding the hunter he needed, but there was satisfaction in destroying evil. Dean was a worthy companion.
Dean’s face shifted into an expression Castiel had never seen before in his human emotions textbooks. "No, I mean, I think we should sleep together."
Castiel blinked and wondered if he had heard that correctly. ‘Sleep together’ was a human euphemism for sexual intercourse. He was aware of how humans mated... angels did not procreate the same way, but there were a few similarities - the joining of forms, the exchange of essence. Humans enjoyed mating with people that they had feelings for or found visually attractive. Castiel was no expert on human beauty, but he couldn’t deny that Dean was physically appealing. Castiel’s human form seemed pleased by the idea. His blood was pumping harder and his skin was flushed.
"I am not opposed to the idea," he told Dean. Dean flushed and the tension coiled in his shoulders eased away. Castiel found Dean visually appealing and he also liked his personality. Those were two of the major suggestions for humans engaging in sexual intercourse. That didn’t fit an angel’s guidelines for picking a partner, but on Earth Castiel was not meant to be an angel.
"I have to take off in two hours," Dean told him apologetically. Ah, that meant they would be engaging in sexual activities now if they were to happen. Castiel wasn’t opposed to that, either. Now or months from now would have no bearing on his physical or mental health. There was something he should be upfront with about...
"I’ve never," he said awkwardly and hoped Dean would understand.
Dean didn’t look shocked or upset. "With a guy?" he asked but didn’t wait for a response. "You’ll be fine, I promise." He had misinterpreted Castiel’s statement, something that humans did frequently in order to fit their expectations. Castiel had never been with a human, despite how well-read he was on the subject. If he were going to be honest with himself, he’d never been with an angel, either, despite how close he’d been with Anna. He reminded himself that this didn’t really count as losing his virginity... He was an angel, and in the way angels counted things, this was not sex and certainly not love.
"I have studied the subject before," he told Dean and wondered if that was too strange for human behavior.
Dean just laughed. "Porn?" he asked.
"Educational books," he corrected.
Dean laughed louder. "That’s what Sammy did when he decided he was going to sleep with Loki." His face twisted in dismay. "And I can’t talk about my brother when I’m about to kiss you."
That was all the warning Castiel had before Dean stepped forward, their chests pressed against one another, and brought his mouth down to Castiel’s. At first it was just a press of lips, then Dean brought his warm hand up to Castiel’s jaw and he found himself opening his mouth in invitation. Dean’s tongue was hot and wet and pressed against his own tongue and teeth. He tasted like this morning’s breakfast, which was almost enough to make him pull away, but underneath that was spearmint toothpaste and that was something much better to focus on.
Castiel tried to remember the suggested order for where to place his hands, how long to wait before removing clothing, which parts of the human body were acceptable to touch with his mouth. He’d excelled in his human studies, but now his knowledge had deserted him. Dean’s other hand went to his hip and Castiel leaned into the touch. His body knew this, he realized suddenly. He didn’t need his mind to tell him what was next - he needed to just trust his human form.
Castiel leaned into the kiss and slipped his own tongue inside Dean’s mouth, felt the ridges of his palate and the sharp lines of his teeth. He tasted different in his own mouth, some taste that wasn’t food or toothpaste, or anything else so artificial - it was just Dean. His hands went up to Dean’s back and pulled him forward. He could hear Dean’s heart beating inside his chest, the steady sound somehow pleasant to hear. His muscles were firm and sculpted, pressed tight against his own lean body. His penis was hard in his jeans and Castiel was surprised to realize that his own was erect as well. He shifted their hips together and rocked into the friction it made.
Dean tightened his own grip and slid his hand down from Castiel’s jaw to start removing their clothes. He pulled away Castiel’s coat first, then worked on untying the tie. Castiel took his cue from Dean and tugged off his leather jacket and then his thin, unbuttoned shirt. They had to part for the tee shirt to be removed, and then Dean was half-naked in front of him. Castiel’s earlier assessment was correct - Dean was very physically appealing. He wanted a moment to admire him, but Dean moved close again to finish removing Castiel’s clothing.
He seemed pleased by what he saw, also. Castiel had not given any thought to his own physical shape. It was his body, but he identified more with the form he had held for most of his life in Heaven. This was just another form, a shallow reflection of his true self, but he was nonetheless glad that Dean was satisfied with it. Without warning, Dean was kissing him again. Castiel brought his hands up to touch him and was startled at the sensation of feeling so much skin. It was warm and soft, and slightly wet with sweat. Castiel dragged a finger along Dean’s spine, delighting in the feeling of bone underneath skin. Dean purred into the touch and Castiel felt a surge of heat hit his groin.
When Dean broke the kiss, Castiel trailed after him, earning him a chuckle. Dean steered him back to the bed and motioned for him to stand there. He sank onto the floor and quickly untied the laces of Castiel’s shoes. He removed them and then the socks underneath, leaving his feet bare for the first time in nearly two months. It was breaking a human norm, but angels didn’t suffer from the same hygienic problems humans did. His feet uncovered, Dean reached for his belt, removed it, and then unbuttoned his pants. He wasted no time in pulling them down his legs and completely uncovering Castiel. The only thing he wore was the amulet which let him pass through warding and resist banishing sigils.
Dean grinned up at him and urged him to sit at the edge of the bed. He did so and wondered at Dean’s meaning. It soon became clear when Dean licked his lips and leaned forward. He took the head of Castiel’s cock in his mouth and his body exploded in sensation. He’d never imagined a human body could be so sensitive, but now all of his attention was on the wet, hot tongue moving over him. Without him knowing it, his hands moved to touch Dean. One cradled his head as he moved up and down against his groin, and the other settled on Dean’s shoulder. He heard a noise and was startled to find that he was the one making it from the back of his throat as he panted. Dean’s tongue flicked all over him and one of his hands came up to fondle his scrotum. Castiel rocked into the motion and his hand tightened on the back of Dean’s head. "I need-" he started but couldn’t remember what he was going to say. He moaned in frustration as Dean pulled away, a trail of saliva falling from his darkened lips.
"I know what you need," Dean told him as he rose. He peeled off his jeans and underwear and tossed them aside. Like Castiel, the only thing he wore was a strange pendant around his neck. He went to his packed bag and bent over it, giving Castiel a fine view of his ass that sent his blood pumping harder. He turned triumphantly with a tube and a foil packet. Castiel was glad that his education had included the purpose of such materials. The lubricant was much-needed, but Castiel had little use for the latter. He could not transmit nor be afflicted by diseases.
There was one thing left to settle. "How do you want me?" he asked and was surprised that Dean blushed.
"I was actually hoping that you would," he said and crawled into bed next to him. "It’s, ah, been awhile."
Castiel was surprised that Dean would wish to be taken. He knew he was well-acquainted with women and assumed that such roles would carry over to same-sex coupling as well. There were many things he still didn’t understand about human behavior. He took the lubricant as Dean tore the foil open and retrieved the condom. "Let me," Dean said and slowly rolled it over Castiel’s cock.
Dean leaned backwards on the bed and tugged Castiel over him. He wrapped one leg over Castiel’s hip and the other bent upward to press his knee against his shoulder. Castiel settled in the space between his legs and squeezed the lube onto his fingers. He reached downward, past Dean’s hard cock, his balls, and lower to his entrance. He eased a finger inside of him as he leaned forward to kiss him. Dean moaned into it and thrust his hips up to take another finger. Two fingers stretched him, dipping in and out and rubbing him from the inside. Dean writhed against it, his breath coming in pants and his eyes closed. "Now," he said against Castiel’s cheek. "I can take it."
Castiel slipped a third finger inside, stretched them open and then removed all three. He rubbed more lube over his cock and aligned himself against Dean. He sank in slowly, savoring the drag of flesh against flesh. Dean groaned and arched his back up. He held his breath until he was all the way inside and Castiel had to kiss him to make him start breathing again. "Is this okay?" he asked. His body thought it was more than okay, but he wouldn’t let himself hurt Dean.
"It’s more than okay," Dean said in a strangled tone. "Move already!"
Castiel heeded his request and rocked forward. Dean gasped underneath him, and he pulled out a little only quickly thrust back inside. It took a few tries, but he eventually hit just the right angle to make Dean cry out and rock his hips forward to meet his thrusts. Castiel breathed hard and slammed his cock against that spot as hard as he could. The pressure around him was exquisite, just warm and firm enough that he didn’t think his body could last much longer.
Dean was thoroughly enjoying himself, too. His eyes were open but fixed to the ceiling. His skin was reddened and warmed, and he’d brought up one hand to hold against Castiel’s shoulder blades, his short fingernails digging through the skin and leaving welts behind. Castiel knew what he needed to finish and gripped his cock where it was pressed between their bodies. Dean cried out hoarsely and it was only four or five firm touches later that he came in a shuddering mess. Castiel gripped his hips and thrust harder, quicker, trying to bring his body to completion, too. He looked down at Dean, now lying flat against the bed and looking completely relaxed and dazed. The sight overwhelmed him, made something warm spark in his chest, and he came inside him with one last thrust.
As he released, he felt something else yearning to escape, too. The warmth that had sparked inside him swelled and strained against his human body. My wings! he thought in alarm and tried to stuff the feeling deep inside. He couldn’t afford to be revealed - couldn’t let the shadow of his grace spring from his back and tell all. Already, he could see his skin start to glow with an inner light, his angel self wanting to burst from this body.
Dean’s eyes were closed and he didn’t see the warning signs of the imminent lightshow. Castiel fought it down and then in the guise of disposing of the condom, hurried to the bathroom. He shut the door and looked into the mirror just in time to see his eyes and mouth swell with white light. His whole body quivered and he slumped against the sink, overwhelmed. It was the closest he’d ever come to having sex as an angel... there was no denying it now, no more self-deception. He had tried to fool himself into thinking it didn’t matter in human form, but it did. He’d just lost his virginity to Dean Winchester.
When his breathing calmed and he felt he could control himself, he left the bathroom. Dean was mostly dressed and packing up his bag again. He looked up at Castiel with a smile. "Hey," he said.
"Um." Castiel was at a loss for words. He liked Dean, but he had never meant for it to go so far. He had never meant to give so much of himself. He thought he would be horrified, dismayed... but he was at some strange peace with it. He couldn’t explain it, wasn’t sure that he wanted to explain it.
"Sam called and we have to head out," he said, looking unhappy.
Dean had told him that before, but Castiel didn’t know how he felt about it now. He needed to talk to Dean, to try to understand why he had felt such a connection between them -
Dean was standing in front of him and gently pressed his lips against Castiel’s. "I had a good time." He kissed him again. "See you around."
Castiel watched him go and then dressed. He didn’t have time for human connections, he reminded himself. He was an angel on a mission.
-=-=-=-
main header and part one | part two | part three | part four | part five
Title: Under (the) Cover(s) ....... (aka "angelspy")
Author: wonderfoal
Rating: NC17
Pairing: Castiel/Dean (main), Gabriel/Sam (side)
Wordcount: ~30,300
Warnings: AU like whoa. MPREG. A little God!Chuck later on. Though it has some angst, it's overall sappy. chick-flick warning?
Summary: After a war with angels, the humans succeed in banishing them back to Heaven. They're kept off the planet with special wards, and certain hunters are in charge of protecting the wards. An angel in disguise, Castiel is sent to find one of these special hunters (*cough-cough*), but his loyalties are put to the test when he meets Dean Winchester. (now with Gabriel/Sam and added smut!)
Notes: hahahahaha
Date: Winter 2010/2011
Chapter One
Castiel woke up in a dilapidated barn feeling very disoriented. He opened his eyes and looked around, taking in the dust suspended in the beams of sunlight and the old straw strewn over the ground. It appeared that he was successful. He was on Earth. He looked down at his new form and experimentally shifted his shoulders, his legs. He opened and closed a fist just for the sensation of having fingers. Human bodies were very strange.
It wasn’t the first time he had seen a human form. Before this assignment, he had studied pictures and drawings. He had memorized anatomy textbooks, and he had plenty of hours observing the other denizens of Heaven. It was simply a strange sensation to have a body of his own. He had lived his whole life as an angel in Heaven, but now the time had come that he was to serve his people. And to serve, he had been sent to Earth.
He was naked when he arrived, and the human customs classes he had taken had informed him that that was socially forbidden. He had to find clothing, and soon. If he was spotted as he was, it could cast doubt on him, on his identity as a human. In the distance, there were lights, and Castiel knew that meant human civilization. Hopefully, he could find clothing there that fit his new form. Angels disapproved of stealing, but the mission came first. He had to fully integrate into their society. He had to slip amongst their numbers, learn their secrets, and then the angels could at last return to Earth.
Castiel walked the short distance to the old farmhouse. He could have used his angel powers to instantly fly there, but that carried the risk of discovery. The humans’ banishing sigils and wards were everywhere. With the amulet his commanders had given him, he could pass freely through them, but if he acted in a way contrary to human behavior... there were tests the humans were fond of, to ferret out an angel in disguise.
The inhabitants of the house were missing. Castiel sneaked inside and investigated each room, but there were no humans inside. He found the closet where he had learned that humans keep their spare clothing. Inside, he found many articles of female clothing, and there to the side, shirts and pants that he knew men wore. He selected a black suit over a white shirt and dressed exactly as he had studied in his human behavior classes. The tie presented some difficulty... no matter what he tried, he could not get it tight against his throat. Castiel surveyed his appearance in the mirror and was satisfied by what he saw.
"I am human," he practiced aloud. They were his first words in this form and the sound was surprisingly loud and rough. "I am a human," he tried again. The words were smoother, but his voice was deeper than he had expected it to be. If Anna could see me now, he mused.
He started to leave the room, but paused near the exit. Over the back of the chair was a folded garment that he knew humans wore when they were cold. "Coat," he tried, but the word felt awkward on his lips. He wondered if he should take it, too. As an angel, he wasn’t affected by the weather. He didn’t know if it was hot or cold enough that a human would be uncomfortable. He could attract attention if the temperature was cold enough to warrant additional clothing and he had none. With a moment more of hesitation, he unfolded it and tried it on.
He looked back in the mirror and smiled stiffly. The action was awkward and he wasn’t sure he was doing it right. Should his cheeks pull that much from a smile? "I am Castiel," he recited. "I sell AM radio ad space," he added, remembering his cover story. This was going to be the hardest assignment of his life.
Dean Winchester emptied the last rock salt bullet into the spirit and hoped it would last long enough for Sammy to get the salt and gas poured and the lighter lit. The "easy" salt-and-burn had become a lot harder when a second spirit had joined the fray. Dean had been tossed head-first into a swamp and was now covered head-to-toe in muck. He wanted to get back to the motel and take a hot shower. His arm was stiff, and they had to leave soon if he was going to be able to drive back without too much pain. First things first, they had to make sure the ghost was out of their hair.
Everything was silent for several minutes. He looked around, keeping a sharp eye out for the spirit’s return. "Sammy?" he called in the direction of the cemetery. There was no answer. Dean took a step forward and was hit from behind. He staggered in a circle and raised his arms defensively just in time to see the spirit howl and burst into flames. "Nice save, Sammy," he muttered and started jogging back to the cemetery. The grave had to be filled in and Sam had already started when he arrived.
He grunted in disgust when he saw Dean’s muck-covered form. "You reek," he commented unhelpfully and snickered.
Dean scowled. "Yeah, well, you get to sit beside me the whole drive home." He grabbed one of the shovels and began moving dirt. Sam moved a lot faster than Dean because of Dean’s stiff arm, but together they managed to quickly cover the grave and then head back to the car. He was tired and sore, and was practically salivating at the thought of a hot shower and a soft bed.
Dean’s plans were dashed when he unlocked the motel room’s door and saw what was awaiting him inside. "Oh hell," he moaned. "It’s you."
"Hey Dean," Sam’s douchebag boyfriend greeted. "Is this some new beauty treatment? I don’t think the ladies are going to go for it."
"Piss off, Loki," he grumbled and went straight for the shower. He looked around to see if there was any sign of trickster tampering, but wasn’t too worried about it. He’d been remarkably good about not playing tricks on Dean after he’d started sleeping with Sam.
He pulled off his clothes and tossed them on the floor before starting up the faucet and pretending he couldn’t hear Sam greeting his boyfriend. He’d actually liked the Trickster - or, as they later learned, Loki - when he’d first met him. The slow-dancing alien alone was too good for words. It had been at the second meeting that things had soured. Dean didn’t like anyone nailing his little brother in the Impala.
Sam accused Dean of hating Loki because he wasn’t human. Dean disagreed. He only partly hated Loki because his brother was dating a monster. He mostly hated Loki because he was a dick. What Sam saw in him, Dean couldn’t fathom.
The shower was as good as he had imagined, though at one point he was sure he heard the sound of a bed rhythmically creaking. He scowled and grumbled under his breath, but short of "denying Sam his happiness," there was nothing he could do about it.
When he emerged from the shower, the motel room was empty. Sam had left a note saying they were going out for drinks and not to wait up. Dean’s mood blackened further and he decided he could use a drink himself.
Dean wasn’t watching where he was going. That much was fact and couldn’t be denied. He’d had a good hour of drinking and was pleasantly buzzed on his walk back to the motel. The bartender had been hot, but was working all night and Dean had been too exhausted to wait for her to get a break. He had her number, but he doubted they’d be staying in town for more than a few hours past sunrise.
His mind was on the curve of her breasts and how her nipples had peaked through her thin shirt. She had a cute little mouth, painted red and - and he walked straight into another man on the sidewalk. Dean went down hard, but the guy seemed barely fazed. There was an awkward pause where the other man was obviously working out what to say before he extended a hand to help Dean up. He finally settled on "Excuse me."
Dean waved it off. "No, it’s my fault." And it was, but Dean was more concerned by how the man had just absorbed the impact. It had been like walking into a wall, but he didn’t look like it. He was a little shorter than Dean and dressed like he was on his way to an office, even though it was nearing two in the morning. He could have had a late night, too, but he didn’t smell like alcohol. He noticed the man’s bare feet and his eyes widened in surprise. "Where are your shoes?"
The man looked surprised. "Shoes?" he pondered aloud before his face lit with realization. "I don’t have any," he admitted.
Dean frowned. It wasn’t too cold out tonight, but fall was winding down and it would be winter soon. He fished a twenty he’d won earlier that night out of his wallet and pressed it into the man’s hand. He wasn’t normally so charitable, but there was just something so wrong with the picture of this man wearing a suit and coat, a little unshaven but otherwise clean, walking around town in his bare feet. "Get some," he ordered.
The man looked down to the money curiously and nodded to himself. "Thank you," he said and then stepped back to allow Dean to pass him. He walked on and Dean watched him go, wondering at the encounter. He decided he definitely needed some sleep.
He made it back to the motel and crawled into bed, anxious for a restful night. But exhaustion and drinking had caught up with him and he was plagued with strange dreams, most disturbingly, a pair of intense blue eyes locked with his own, the feel of a rough jaw on his thigh, and strong hands pressing against him.
Castiel was somewhat alarmed that he had neglected to wear shoes. He hadn’t realized until the stranger on the street had informed him of their absence. It was a rookie mistake, he decided, and not one he could afford to make again. He had taken great care to study human dress, and to now miss something as basic as footwear once he was actually in the field was both embarrassing and worrisome. What else could he have forgotten? He’d remembered "excuse me" for walking into the man, and "thank you" for the money. He looked down at the thin paper rectangle in his hands and marveled at human society.
He would continue his survey of a human city that night, but his first stop in the morning would be to purchase shoes. Following that, he would begin his specific mission of getting close to the hunters that guarded the Enochian wards keeping angels off of the Earth. There were four in total, but he was only after the one in North America. He would have to discover its location and then the identity of the humans guarding its access.
The humans had been clever in their fight against the angels. Someone had disclosed to them the Enochian sigils that would banish an angel, and the warding that could be drawn to prevent angels from passing through it... The humans hadn’t taken long to make warding areas bigger and bigger, until finally they spanned the whole globe and no angel could pass in or out. They’d rounded up the angels already on Earth and had made effective use of their angel-killing blades. Castiel frowned when he thought of his defeated comrades, those angels he had known in the garrison who never came back from the war. He thought of his dearest friend Anna, so badly scarred when she staggered back home. It was his duty, his honor, to do everything he could to bring down those wards and give the Earth back to the angels.
Chapter Two
Dean almost didn’t recognize Barefoot Man when he saw him again. It had been a month, and though he still popped up in his dreams from time to time, he hadn’t seen him again or thought of him once while awake. Okay, maybe once or twice while he was awake - the guy had really blue eyes.
Still - that didn’t explain why he was here, in a house with a poltergeist problem. Then he caught sight of the shotgun in his hand and some sort of pagan amulet around his neck. "Are you a hunter?" he asked in surprise.
Beside him, Sam turned to look at him incredulously. "Why else would he be here, Dean?" he asked.
Dean spluttered and couldn’t come up with a good explanation. Luckily, he didn’t need one as Sam was grabbed by the poltergeist and tossed into a staircase. The metallic tinsel on the banister unhooked itself and wrapped around his throat until his face turned red and he started gasping for air. Dean hurried to him, but the tinsel had been reinforced with wire and he couldn’t get it to break. He couldn’t even get it to give when he pulled. Sam was pulling with him, but the material was too strong. His brother was getting choked to death with Christmas decorations and he couldn’t do anything to stop it.
"Allow me to assist you," Barefoot Man said and gripped the tinsel at opposite sides of Sam’s neck. He pulled back in one quick jerk and the wire snapped into two pieces.
Sam gasped for breath and his skin started its retreat to normal hues. Dean stared at Barefoot Man in shock. "How did you do that?"
Barefoot Man shrugged uneasily. "It was already weakened from your efforts," he explained.
Dean nodded, but he wasn’t sure he believed it. "Thanks, man."
"You are welcome," he said stoically, as though he hadn’t just saved Sam’s life.
"C’mon, we need to waste this sucker." He pulled out an energy bag that they’d been given to clear the house of the malevolent presence. There needed to be one in each corner, and the south and west sides had been taken care of, just the north and east remained. He handed one to Sam, but to his surprise, Barefoot Man took the other before he could run off with it. "Have you done one of these before?" he asked. The spiritual backlash could be strong and he didn’t want the dude to be unprepared.
"I am familiar with the subject," he told him and moved toward the north corner of the house. Dean followed Sam to the east and watched his back as they placed that last bag. Sure enough, the energy bags connected with each other and the effect swept through the house. Dean nearly lost his balance and Sam sagged to the ground. These things were always tougher on him because of the demon blood, but he did his best not to show it and so Dean didn’t call attention to it.
"Think that got it?" he asked Sam.
Sam nodded. "I don’t feel it anymore."
Case closed in Dean’s book. He helped Sam to his feet and went back to the living room in time to see Barefoot Man emerge from the kitchen where he had planted the bag. "Good job back there," he told him. He really needed a new name for the guy. One glance at his feet showed him that he was no longer barefoot. The shoes were cheap, and didn’t look all that comfortable, but they were still shoes. It dawned on Dean that he could just call him by his name if he knew it. "I’m Dean," he introduced himself with an extended hand. "This is my brother, Sam."
Barefoot Man shifted the shotgun to his other hand and clasped Dean’s in that strong grip. "I am Castiel. I sell ad space on AM radio."
Dean blinked and looked at him again. He was still wearing that same suit and coat, and he didn’t really look like a hunter. But he clearly knew what he was doing... "Wow," he said. "That sounds really boring."
"It is," Castiel was quick to agree.
Dean pounced on the subject. "Is that why you’re doing this?" he asked with a wave of his hand to the previously infested house. Sam cleared his throat and Dean belatedly realized that he was still shaking Castiel’s hand. He immediately released it, which was more awkward than the extended shaking. Sam laughed under his breath and Dean wanted to kick him.
"I am looking for someone," he explained unhelpfully.
Dean nodded thoughtfully. "Well, we’re pretty well-known. Give us the name and we’ll ask around."
Castiel frowned for the first time. "I do not know his name," he said.
That made things harder. "Well, do you-"
"I think we need to go before the owners get back," Sam cut in. Dean remembered that they were in fact standing in someone’s house in the middle of the night and quickly agreed.
"Where are you parked?" he asked Castiel.
"I did not drive a car," he said. "I walked here."
Dean scoffed before catching on that Castiel was serious. "Okay, wow. We’ll give you a lift back to town."
Castiel settled in the back seat of the Impala without complaint. He was looking with interest at the car and Dean grinned. "She’s a beauty, isn’t she?"
He nodded slowly. "I have never seen an automobile like this before," he said.
Dean thought he was surely missing out on the world of classic cars. The poor bastard probably drove a hybrid to work every day.
"Castiel," Sam said from beside him. "That’s an interesting name."
"My father named me," he explained. "My family has always been very religious."
Dean winced. "Then it must suck with the angels always trying to smite the hell out of us," he said. His family had never had much faith. There had been a time when Sam had prayed, but he’d quickly realized the error of his ways when he finally told him how their mom had died.
Castiel looked a little older than he was, so he’d probably been a young child when the angels had tried to take over Earth. Dean could relate to that. He’d been a young child when they’d finally been stopped.
"I have never had a conflict with an angel," he said seriously.
Dean laughed. "Of course not. Not with our giant bug zapper keeping them off of our planet."
Sam reached over and smacked Dean on the back of the head and he realized what he said. He shut up and tried to change the conversation as soon as possible, but without being too obvious. He spent so much time with Sam and Bobby that it was sometimes hard to remember that he needed to filter what he said about it.
Unfortunately, Castiel was showing interest in something for the first time all night. "Bug zapper?" he repeated.
Sam caught Dean’s eye and gave him a warning look. Dean made a face and then locked eyes with the man in the back seat. "So I’ve heard. I mean, anyone can slap up a sigil, right? There’s bound to be a big one that people are slapping all the time to keep them out of our hair." Which was complete bullshit. Sam gave him an ‘are you crazy’ look, but Dean skillfully ignored it.
"So, Castiel -Cas? - how did you get into this business?"
"I learned about ghosts in school, and when I was on my own, went looking for them," he explained.
Sam looked like a distressed puppy. "That’s really dangerous," he told him. "If you don’t know what you’re doing, you can get killed in this job."
Cas looked at him speculatively, but didn’t comment that it was Sam, not Cas, who had been choked by Christmas tinsel. "I attended a very thorough school," he told him.
Dean wanted to comment on that, but they’d just reached town and it would have to wait. "Where to, Cas?" he asked. Sam would want to go back to the motel to meet Loki, but that was on the other side of town and he’d drop Cas off on the way.
"I have no plans for the evening," Cas told him flatly.
Dean met his eyes in the mirror. "Really?" he asked. "Do you want to have a, um, victory drink with me?" Beside him, Sam was fighting to keep his expression blank. Dean knew when the kid was amused, though, and at that moment he wanted to crack up.
"What is being celebrated?" Castiel asked. The night was little different than any he had had in the past few weeks.
Dean scoffed. "The poltergeist!" he exclaimed. "Dude, you saved my brother’s life - I am buying you a drink."
"Oh." Castiel did not see why ending the existence of such a creature would incite the need to consume alcohol, but this could be one of those aspects about humans that he had not learned in his classes. He had seen a few examples of them so far, and they always left him momentarily confused and perplexed as to his next actions. "I would be pleased to join you," he finally told Dean.
Dean grinned at him and Castiel felt a strange, warm sensation in his gut.
They stopped by the motel room to let Sam leave. The brothers exchanged a series of meaningful glances when they left that had Sam snickering as he walked away and Dean looking ruffled. "You can sit in the front," Dean told him after Sam walked away.
Castiel did not see why the front seat of the car held any special value. It would be inefficient to switch seats when they would be stopping soon anyway. "I am fine here," he told Dean. Dean’s shoulders sagged, but he didn’t comment. Castiel wondered if he’d done something wrong.
Dean ended up taking them to a bar with a neon mostly-naked woman sign over the door. The atmosphere was crowded, but Dean led the way to the bar and ordered a drink that Castiel did not recognize. Alcoholic drinks had been one of the weak points of his studies and he could barely tell beer from whiskey. The bartender looked at him for his order and, at a loss, he ordered the same drink Dean had.
Dean grinned at him. "Finally, someone with taste!" He reached over and clapped Castiel on the back. His hand against Castiel’s coat-covered shoulder was warm and sent tingles along his skin. Castiel was startled to realize that he was flushed. He wondered if the humans had engineered some type of bio-warfare with which to attack the angels. He had never been ill in his very long life, and -
The drinks arrived and Castiel reached for his nervously. He drained it one gulp to have something wet against his throat. Afterwards, he was clued in to the fact that that might have been something a human wouldn’t do. Dean had seen him do it and had frozen with his glass halfway to his lips. "Dude," he said in awe and then knocked his own glass back.
"Have you been hunting long?" Dean asked him.
Castiel answered as honestly as he could. "Not long enough." He knew that it was hunters who guarded the wards that repelled the angels. None of the ones he had encountered so far could give him information on the specific hunter who was in charge of the wards’ protection.
Dean must have read some other meaning in his words because he looked sympathetic to him. "You and me both, pal," he said and called for another drink.
Gabriel let Sam catch his breath before kissing it away again and then curling up beside him and pressing his lips to his shoulder. Sam was pleasantly warm and the sweat beaded on his skin was salty. "And where is Dean this evening?" he asked. It was almost more trouble than it was worth to still be in bed with Sam when his older brother came home.
Sam laughed. "He’s got it bad for this hunter we met today. I imagine they’re at a bar getting wasted and Dean is staring soulfully into his eyes." He said the last part with a laugh and a high-pitched voice as he recalled Becky Rosen’s views on the subject.
Gabriel snorted. "That sounds about right. Will he be gone all night?"
"Probably. The guy is completely oblivious to Dean’s flirting. He won’t get anywhere and then will spend the rest of the night drinking in defeat."
He laughed and brushed Sam’s hair away from his forehead. His hands trailed down to his neck and rubbed over the bruising there, his smile slipping away. It would be so easy to fix... but healing wasn’t something he was known for, and he couldn’t afford to take any chances.
"This new hunter saved you?" he asked. He had listened to the story earlier, but it just hit him how bad it could have been. Humans were too fragile.
Sam nodded sleepily. "Yeah, he just walked over and snapped the wire like it was nothing."
Gabriel felt the first stirrings of unease in his gut.
Chapter Three
"Him again? Really?" Sam asked as they stepped into the diner. Castiel was seated at a table with a mug of coffee in front of him. He was still wearing that same suit, that same coat, and those same cheap shoes. Dean assumed he didn’t have any money - it wasn’t an uncommon thing for hunters. He’d claimed to sell something with radios - Dean didn’t really remember - but he didn’t see how that could be true. This was the fifth town where they’d crossed paths. Sam was suspicious, but Dean believed it was an honest coincidence. Hunters went where the hunts were. He was also glad to see him again.
"Mind if we join you?" he asked, ignoring Sam rolling his eyes.
Castiel looked startled to see them, but not unfriendly. "Please," he said. They joined him and ordered their breakfasts. Dean couldn’t stand seeing Cas’s lack of food and ordered him some, too. He didn’t see why Cas didn’t find another source of income. Dean and Sam didn’t have steady jobs - very few hunters did. The money he spent came from pool and cards. Cas had one hell of a poker face, too; he could make a killing.
"It’s a surprise to see you here," Sam said dryly. "What brings you to town?" It was Sam at his sarcastic best, but Cas seemed oblivious.
"Skinwalkers," Cas said earnestly.
Dean nodded happily. That was the reason they were in town, too. There was nothing suspicious about Cas appearing on the same hunts they were on. They’d been on a trail, from one place to the next and the jobs weren’t too far apart. If they drove to California and Cas was suddenly there, Sam might have a point. But for now, it was just coincidence. He looked pointedly at Sam, but his brother was ignoring him. "You’re going to be disappointed," Sam told him. "We already took care of them."
Cas didn’t look disappointed. He inclined his head as though in gratitude. "I am grateful," he told Sam with that same earnestness. "It doesn’t matter to me who rids the world of these aberrations of nature, so long as they stop preying on the innocent."
Sam said nothing, and Dean could only grin. Their meals arrived and Dean dug in while Sam looked at his eggs in distaste. Dean was about to rib him about his delicate palate, but he noticed Cas looking at his own plate with an unreadable expression. He kept opening his mouth like he wanted to speak but thought better of it. Finally, with a face of brave determination, he cut his sausage in half and prepared to bring it to his mouth.
"Cas, if you don’t want it, you don’t have to eat it. I can buy you something else."
Cas looked unsure, but steeled himself and shook his head. "No, this is satisfactory. I appreciate your kindness." He took a bite of the sausage and his whole face froze as he slowly chewed. The poor guy looked like he’d never had sausage in his life. He chewed for a long time and Dean stopped eating just to watch him and wonder if he would ever finish. Sam was looking at him like he was from outer space. Finally, Cas swallowed and then drank from his coffee. He painstakingly cut another piece and brought it to his mouth, chewed with the same thorough slowness.
"Wow," Dean heard Sam say under his breath. Dean watched Cas’s throat as he swallowed his meal, bite after bite. Wow, indeed.
Later, after breakfast, Sam and Dean returned to the motel to pack up. Bobby had called about a rugaru and Sam wanted to head out as soon as he could. Flesh-eating monsters were something that couldn’t wait. The hunt was in Minnesota, which was four states away. If Cas showed up there, he could definitely be filed under ‘stalker.’ Dean didn’t like the thought of not running into him. He knew that hunters didn’t generally stick together in groups... He had no logical reason to want Cas nearby... but he did and couldn’t make himself stop.
He’d given Cas his number before they left the diner. He had correctly guessed that the other hunter didn’t have a phone, but at least if he had his number he could call him from a payphone if he got into a tight enough spot. Dean felt better knowing he had it.
"You are such a girl," Sam told him from his bed where he was neatly folding his clothes and arranging them by color.
Dean snorted, but he wouldn’t rise to the bait. He tossed his own shirts into a duffel and then gathered up the hex bags from where they’d been displayed all night. They hadn’t had trouble with demons in months, but they couldn’t afford complacency, either. If they decided they wanted Sam again....
Sam sighed. "Look, just ask him if he wants to sleep with you and get it over with. You pining like this is embarrassing."
"Pining?" Dean repeated. He scoffed. "I don’t need you giving me sex advice. I can pick up anyone I want to pick up." Which was mostly true. And, yeah, he did want a good time with Cas, but doing other hunters was tricky. They weren’t like random girls at a bar. The hunters had a community, one that knew Dean’s real name, the names of his family and friends... If things soured, then it could very well come back to bite him on the ass.
"Sure you don’t," Sam humored him. Dean narrowed his eyes and was about to retort when there was a knock on the door. He went for his gun and shot a "get ready to fight" look at Sam, then did a double-take when Sam just finished packing up his clothes with a smirk and slid the zipper closed on his bag.
"Sam?" he questioned in a whisper, looking guardedly at the door.
"Well," Sam said and slung his bag over his shoulder. "At the very least, I am sick of watching you pine over him. Which is why, when you were in the bathroom in the diner, I told him you needed to talk to him." He smirked. "Get it out of your system."
"Son of a bitch," Dean hissed just as Sam opened the door. Sure enough, there was Cas on the other side. Sam ushered him in and waved at Dean over his shoulder as he walked to the Impala. A moment later, Dean heard the rumbling motor and saw him drive towards town.
"Um, Dean?" Cas queried from his spot in front of the door. He had hesitantly closed it behind him after Sam left, but looked unsure of his welcome.
"Oh, hey, Cas." He rubbed a hand through his hair and wondered how he should phrase this. There was no sense in wasting an opportunity. He had the subject of his interest alone in a room with a bed, and he was Dean Winchester - the battle was half-won already.
Castiel surveyed the room speculatively, looking for any sign of the cause of Dean’s strange behavior. There was none forthcoming, but there must be some reason that Sam had suggested he meet with Dean.
"Are you unwell?" he asked. He knew that sickness could cause personality changes. He was prepared to escort Dean to a hospital if he needed one.
Dean laughed and shook his head. "No," he said. "No, I’m okay." He came to a decision and sighed loudly. "I’m just going to come right out and say it. Cas, I like you, and I have for a while now." He cringed afterwards as though he wished he could recall the words.
Castiel was confused. "I like you, too, Dean," he told him honestly. He did like Dean - the human was a skilled hunter and Castiel enjoyed meeting him on his hunts. He was still no closer to finding the hunter he needed, but there was satisfaction in destroying evil. Dean was a worthy companion.
Dean’s face shifted into an expression Castiel had never seen before in his human emotions textbooks. "No, I mean, I think we should sleep together."
Castiel blinked and wondered if he had heard that correctly. ‘Sleep together’ was a human euphemism for sexual intercourse. He was aware of how humans mated... angels did not procreate the same way, but there were a few similarities - the joining of forms, the exchange of essence. Humans enjoyed mating with people that they had feelings for or found visually attractive. Castiel was no expert on human beauty, but he couldn’t deny that Dean was physically appealing. Castiel’s human form seemed pleased by the idea. His blood was pumping harder and his skin was flushed.
"I am not opposed to the idea," he told Dean. Dean flushed and the tension coiled in his shoulders eased away. Castiel found Dean visually appealing and he also liked his personality. Those were two of the major suggestions for humans engaging in sexual intercourse. That didn’t fit an angel’s guidelines for picking a partner, but on Earth Castiel was not meant to be an angel.
"I have to take off in two hours," Dean told him apologetically. Ah, that meant they would be engaging in sexual activities now if they were to happen. Castiel wasn’t opposed to that, either. Now or months from now would have no bearing on his physical or mental health. There was something he should be upfront with about...
"I’ve never," he said awkwardly and hoped Dean would understand.
Dean didn’t look shocked or upset. "With a guy?" he asked but didn’t wait for a response. "You’ll be fine, I promise." He had misinterpreted Castiel’s statement, something that humans did frequently in order to fit their expectations. Castiel had never been with a human, despite how well-read he was on the subject. If he were going to be honest with himself, he’d never been with an angel, either, despite how close he’d been with Anna. He reminded himself that this didn’t really count as losing his virginity... He was an angel, and in the way angels counted things, this was not sex and certainly not love.
"I have studied the subject before," he told Dean and wondered if that was too strange for human behavior.
Dean just laughed. "Porn?" he asked.
"Educational books," he corrected.
Dean laughed louder. "That’s what Sammy did when he decided he was going to sleep with Loki." His face twisted in dismay. "And I can’t talk about my brother when I’m about to kiss you."
That was all the warning Castiel had before Dean stepped forward, their chests pressed against one another, and brought his mouth down to Castiel’s. At first it was just a press of lips, then Dean brought his warm hand up to Castiel’s jaw and he found himself opening his mouth in invitation. Dean’s tongue was hot and wet and pressed against his own tongue and teeth. He tasted like this morning’s breakfast, which was almost enough to make him pull away, but underneath that was spearmint toothpaste and that was something much better to focus on.
Castiel tried to remember the suggested order for where to place his hands, how long to wait before removing clothing, which parts of the human body were acceptable to touch with his mouth. He’d excelled in his human studies, but now his knowledge had deserted him. Dean’s other hand went to his hip and Castiel leaned into the touch. His body knew this, he realized suddenly. He didn’t need his mind to tell him what was next - he needed to just trust his human form.
Castiel leaned into the kiss and slipped his own tongue inside Dean’s mouth, felt the ridges of his palate and the sharp lines of his teeth. He tasted different in his own mouth, some taste that wasn’t food or toothpaste, or anything else so artificial - it was just Dean. His hands went up to Dean’s back and pulled him forward. He could hear Dean’s heart beating inside his chest, the steady sound somehow pleasant to hear. His muscles were firm and sculpted, pressed tight against his own lean body. His penis was hard in his jeans and Castiel was surprised to realize that his own was erect as well. He shifted their hips together and rocked into the friction it made.
Dean tightened his own grip and slid his hand down from Castiel’s jaw to start removing their clothes. He pulled away Castiel’s coat first, then worked on untying the tie. Castiel took his cue from Dean and tugged off his leather jacket and then his thin, unbuttoned shirt. They had to part for the tee shirt to be removed, and then Dean was half-naked in front of him. Castiel’s earlier assessment was correct - Dean was very physically appealing. He wanted a moment to admire him, but Dean moved close again to finish removing Castiel’s clothing.
He seemed pleased by what he saw, also. Castiel had not given any thought to his own physical shape. It was his body, but he identified more with the form he had held for most of his life in Heaven. This was just another form, a shallow reflection of his true self, but he was nonetheless glad that Dean was satisfied with it. Without warning, Dean was kissing him again. Castiel brought his hands up to touch him and was startled at the sensation of feeling so much skin. It was warm and soft, and slightly wet with sweat. Castiel dragged a finger along Dean’s spine, delighting in the feeling of bone underneath skin. Dean purred into the touch and Castiel felt a surge of heat hit his groin.
When Dean broke the kiss, Castiel trailed after him, earning him a chuckle. Dean steered him back to the bed and motioned for him to stand there. He sank onto the floor and quickly untied the laces of Castiel’s shoes. He removed them and then the socks underneath, leaving his feet bare for the first time in nearly two months. It was breaking a human norm, but angels didn’t suffer from the same hygienic problems humans did. His feet uncovered, Dean reached for his belt, removed it, and then unbuttoned his pants. He wasted no time in pulling them down his legs and completely uncovering Castiel. The only thing he wore was the amulet which let him pass through warding and resist banishing sigils.
Dean grinned up at him and urged him to sit at the edge of the bed. He did so and wondered at Dean’s meaning. It soon became clear when Dean licked his lips and leaned forward. He took the head of Castiel’s cock in his mouth and his body exploded in sensation. He’d never imagined a human body could be so sensitive, but now all of his attention was on the wet, hot tongue moving over him. Without him knowing it, his hands moved to touch Dean. One cradled his head as he moved up and down against his groin, and the other settled on Dean’s shoulder. He heard a noise and was startled to find that he was the one making it from the back of his throat as he panted. Dean’s tongue flicked all over him and one of his hands came up to fondle his scrotum. Castiel rocked into the motion and his hand tightened on the back of Dean’s head. "I need-" he started but couldn’t remember what he was going to say. He moaned in frustration as Dean pulled away, a trail of saliva falling from his darkened lips.
"I know what you need," Dean told him as he rose. He peeled off his jeans and underwear and tossed them aside. Like Castiel, the only thing he wore was a strange pendant around his neck. He went to his packed bag and bent over it, giving Castiel a fine view of his ass that sent his blood pumping harder. He turned triumphantly with a tube and a foil packet. Castiel was glad that his education had included the purpose of such materials. The lubricant was much-needed, but Castiel had little use for the latter. He could not transmit nor be afflicted by diseases.
There was one thing left to settle. "How do you want me?" he asked and was surprised that Dean blushed.
"I was actually hoping that you would," he said and crawled into bed next to him. "It’s, ah, been awhile."
Castiel was surprised that Dean would wish to be taken. He knew he was well-acquainted with women and assumed that such roles would carry over to same-sex coupling as well. There were many things he still didn’t understand about human behavior. He took the lubricant as Dean tore the foil open and retrieved the condom. "Let me," Dean said and slowly rolled it over Castiel’s cock.
Dean leaned backwards on the bed and tugged Castiel over him. He wrapped one leg over Castiel’s hip and the other bent upward to press his knee against his shoulder. Castiel settled in the space between his legs and squeezed the lube onto his fingers. He reached downward, past Dean’s hard cock, his balls, and lower to his entrance. He eased a finger inside of him as he leaned forward to kiss him. Dean moaned into it and thrust his hips up to take another finger. Two fingers stretched him, dipping in and out and rubbing him from the inside. Dean writhed against it, his breath coming in pants and his eyes closed. "Now," he said against Castiel’s cheek. "I can take it."
Castiel slipped a third finger inside, stretched them open and then removed all three. He rubbed more lube over his cock and aligned himself against Dean. He sank in slowly, savoring the drag of flesh against flesh. Dean groaned and arched his back up. He held his breath until he was all the way inside and Castiel had to kiss him to make him start breathing again. "Is this okay?" he asked. His body thought it was more than okay, but he wouldn’t let himself hurt Dean.
"It’s more than okay," Dean said in a strangled tone. "Move already!"
Castiel heeded his request and rocked forward. Dean gasped underneath him, and he pulled out a little only quickly thrust back inside. It took a few tries, but he eventually hit just the right angle to make Dean cry out and rock his hips forward to meet his thrusts. Castiel breathed hard and slammed his cock against that spot as hard as he could. The pressure around him was exquisite, just warm and firm enough that he didn’t think his body could last much longer.
Dean was thoroughly enjoying himself, too. His eyes were open but fixed to the ceiling. His skin was reddened and warmed, and he’d brought up one hand to hold against Castiel’s shoulder blades, his short fingernails digging through the skin and leaving welts behind. Castiel knew what he needed to finish and gripped his cock where it was pressed between their bodies. Dean cried out hoarsely and it was only four or five firm touches later that he came in a shuddering mess. Castiel gripped his hips and thrust harder, quicker, trying to bring his body to completion, too. He looked down at Dean, now lying flat against the bed and looking completely relaxed and dazed. The sight overwhelmed him, made something warm spark in his chest, and he came inside him with one last thrust.
As he released, he felt something else yearning to escape, too. The warmth that had sparked inside him swelled and strained against his human body. My wings! he thought in alarm and tried to stuff the feeling deep inside. He couldn’t afford to be revealed - couldn’t let the shadow of his grace spring from his back and tell all. Already, he could see his skin start to glow with an inner light, his angel self wanting to burst from this body.
Dean’s eyes were closed and he didn’t see the warning signs of the imminent lightshow. Castiel fought it down and then in the guise of disposing of the condom, hurried to the bathroom. He shut the door and looked into the mirror just in time to see his eyes and mouth swell with white light. His whole body quivered and he slumped against the sink, overwhelmed. It was the closest he’d ever come to having sex as an angel... there was no denying it now, no more self-deception. He had tried to fool himself into thinking it didn’t matter in human form, but it did. He’d just lost his virginity to Dean Winchester.
When his breathing calmed and he felt he could control himself, he left the bathroom. Dean was mostly dressed and packing up his bag again. He looked up at Castiel with a smile. "Hey," he said.
"Um." Castiel was at a loss for words. He liked Dean, but he had never meant for it to go so far. He had never meant to give so much of himself. He thought he would be horrified, dismayed... but he was at some strange peace with it. He couldn’t explain it, wasn’t sure that he wanted to explain it.
"Sam called and we have to head out," he said, looking unhappy.
Dean had told him that before, but Castiel didn’t know how he felt about it now. He needed to talk to Dean, to try to understand why he had felt such a connection between them -
Dean was standing in front of him and gently pressed his lips against Castiel’s. "I had a good time." He kissed him again. "See you around."
Castiel watched him go and then dressed. He didn’t have time for human connections, he reminded himself. He was an angel on a mission.
-=-=-=-
main header and part one | part two | part three | part four | part five