Fic: To Have and To Hold [2/?]
AUTHOR: arawol
TITLE: To Have and To Hold
FANDOM: Supernatural
RATING: R
PAIRING: Destiel
WORD COUNT: WIP
WARNING: Mild swearing.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Set after 5x16 Dark Side of the Moon. Thank you so much to my amazing beta reader tfw_ftw SUMMARY: Dean Winchester always thought his marriage would be with a beautiful woman, white picket fence and 2.5 children. He never dreamt it would be with a badass Angel of the Lord, in a male body… and that he wouldn’t even know he was doing it.
Tell you what though: it’s way less boring this way.
[Chapter One]
It wasn’t long before someone noticed their little scheme. When the sound of wings filled the air, Sam and Bobby were still in the living room. Dean had managed to convince Cas to stay for once and was now bitterly regretting it as Cas was just staring at him. Which, yeah, he was used to but it didn’t normally last for hours like this. Dean eventually had to move to the kitchen, only to find Cas followed him, found a place where his line of sight wasn’t interrupted and then continued staring. All in all, he was grateful when the angelic dick showed up.
“What the hell have you done?” Zachariah asked in a tightly controlled voice, storming towards Cas in a way that was eerily similar to just a year ago, when he caught him drawing a sigil in his own blood.
“A human? Really? Have you lost all sense of self-worth?” he hissed. Castiel drew into himself. “Our Father would be ashamed.”
Dean still hadn’t talked to Cas about finding out his dad had abandoned him to fight the apocalypse alone, but he was betting Cas wasn’t dealing well. The last thing he needed at this point was for some jerk to use daddy dearest as a weapon. Dean deflected the attention in the room to himself, puffing himself up and striding forward.
“What we’ve done is win our war!” he crowed. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to start doing your jobs and actually fight the Devil now, because Michael isn’t getting his slimy hands on me.”
Zachariah froze, then did a double-take. He peered intently and Dean felt tendrils of Grace crawling across his mind. Comprehension dawned and suddenly he exploded into action, shoving Dean up against the wall. As his head slammed back, supernovas of pain clouded his vision. A distant part of him reminded him to check for a concussion when this was over. Sam ran into the room, Bobby quickly wheeling in after, and began to try peeling Zachariah off - futilely, of course. What was he thinking? Maybe Sam was the one that needed to be checked for concussion.
“Stop,” commanded Cas and Dean had clearly imagined him seeming small, because there was no way this amount of righteous fury could be hidden. The shadow of his wings flared out and the lights shattered into thousands of glittering shards. Each jagged edge seemed blunt compared to the sharpness of Cas’s death glare.
To his surprise, Zachariah’s grasp weakened and Dean dropped to the floor. The angel rounded on Castiel and shook with silent anger. After a moment, he was contained enough to lean in and hiss, “I hope your little boyfriend is worth it. Sometime in the next millennia, call me and tell me how you find it; giving your most intimate self to someone who hates you for all time. Because he will hate you, you know. Stuck with you for eternity - who’d want that?”
Then Zachariah was gone.
The silence hung heavy in the air. A stalemate formed, with no one wanting to be the first to brave breaking it. Eventually Bobby, never one to back down from a fight, grumbled, “Would someone mind explaining what the hell just happened?”
Expectant eyes turned to Castiel, who shifted guiltily but stayed silent. Dean added, “He didn’t know we’d stopped Michael. It wasn’t until I pointed it out that he saw it. So… why was he angry? What have you done, Cas?”
“I did as you asked, Dean,” he gritted out. “That’s all. It’s all I ever do.”
Dean pitied the guy, really he did, but there really wasn’t any time for his burgeoning identity crisis. Cas was keeping something from them and, in his experience, secrets never worked out well. He crossed his arms determinedly. Apparently Cas recognised the steely glint in his eye as he folded instantly.
“The ‘bond’ the spell speaks of. It’s hard to describe but the nearest human equivalent would be… marriage.”
“Marriage?” Dean squeaked (in a very manly way).
“And you didn’t think it was important to tell us this?” chimed in Sam.
“Marriage?” Dean asked again.
“It makes no difference. The apocalypse needed to be stopped at any cost,” he paused for a moment then added, “Besides, as a human, the ritual isn’t binding. Once Lucifer has been defeated, you may ‘divorce’ me.”
“Like, rings and vows and ‘forever hold your peace’ and marriage?” Dean said, still reeling. He was so out of it that it took Dean some time to notice the sniggers coming from Sam. Immediate problems solved, he had seemingly decided this dilemma was hilarious.
“Well, we don’t have any flowers but…” he dashed into the living room, picked up the catnip roots used in the spell - no, wedding! - and placed it in Dean’s arms. “A bouquet for the blushing bride.”
“Shut up, bitch. I am so not the girl in this relationship.”
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Three weeks later, things were still awkward. They’d been kicked out by Bobby, who wanted his house back, but Cas had decided to stay with the boys. The uninterrupted staring apparently came with married life, as he hadn't stopped since that fateful day. Dean felt claustrophobic and trapped, taking any and every opportunity to get away from him. You need a soda? I'll get it. Haven't got wireless connection? Tell, you what, I'll walk around town until I find somewhere with free wi-fi. Sam stopped letting him do these jobs after a while, half because Dean dragged it out twice as long as it would’ve taken to do it himself and half because he thought that avoiding the problem was never going to solve it. What did he know anyway?
Things came to a head one night when Sam loudly announced he was going to research in the local library. As he pushed past Dean, he leant in and whispered, "You better have made up with your angel by the time I get back or I swear...."
He slammed the door shut and Castiel sighed. "I didn't mean to upset your brother."
"What, so you did mean to upset me?"
"That's not what I meant and you know it," he bitched.
"You're insufferable sometimes."
"Impressive Dean, insufferable is a big word. Are you sure you know what it means?"
Was that a joke? Clearly he'd been hanging round with Dean too much. Cas didn't look like he was trying to be funny though - he just seemed tired. 'You and me both, sister,' he thought.
"That sounded like sarcasm. You sure you know what that means?"
Cas snarled, "Just because I don't keep up-to-date on your puny race's latest developments, doesn't mean I'm ignorant or stupid."
Something about that reminded him of the night spent trembling against the kitchen sink and the words 'Show me some respect'. The unpleasant reminder finally snapped his threadbare patience and Dean lashed out.
"Oh, and don't you feel mighty, now you've tied yourself to a 'puny human'. Now you've... what was it Zach said... given your 'most intimate self' to one." Dean snorted derisively at the innuendo. They both breathed loudly in the heated silence. "Get out."
The angel's mouth flapped open and closed as he struggled to find words. His knuckles turned white as he clenched his fists. "Dean..."
"No, seriously, I've had it up to here with your angel perving. Get out."
As wings beat the air, Dean realised Sam wasn't going to like this one bit.
---------
That night, Dean headed out to a bar to flee from Sam’s immense disapproval. He hadn’t had a chance to flirt for three weeks as everyone assumed he and Cas were together, what with the whole staring thing. It wasn’t as if he could argue, either, considering he was apparently married to the guy. He sat down and winked at a couple of gorgeous girls. Eventually, one sauntered over to him and sat down beside him, sliding her hand down his leg. He grinned at her forwardness and started boasting about himself, casually lying about his job. Sammy hated this too but it wasn’t as if she actually expected him to stick around anyway. She wanted something, he wanted something, might as well get it together and have a good time doing it, right? Quickly, their small talk dried up and she began trailing kisses down his neck.
He wondered where Cas had gone after he’d kicked him out. The search for God had been dropped ever since Dean had passed on Joshua’s message and it was unlikely the socially-awkward angel had made any friends since rebelling against Heaven. He tried picturing Cas in a pub, picking up chicks, but the idea made his stomach churn. There was something profoundly wrong with some anonymous girl fucking Castiel. She wouldn’t care that he was a virgin or that women terrified him. He deserved someone who would make love to him, not fuck him, for his first time. He was an angel after all. No, Cas was probably sitting on a mountain somewhere, observing his Father’s creation. The corners of his mouth lifted in a smile. That sounded more like his nerd angel. He’d have to introduce him to National Geographic sometime.
“Let’s take this back to my place,” whispered the girl in his lap huskily.
Blinking, Dean suddenly remembered he was in the middle of something. Wincing guiltily, he realised he was going to have to call this off. This woman obviously wasn’t his type if he was drifting off. “Listen Chrissy-”
“It’s Leah.”
Not a good start. “Actually, I made prior arrangements so…”
She saw through his lie with ease, stuck her nose in the air and stormed off. Cas didn’t even have to be here to cockblock him apparently. Ashamed, Dean felt like sneaking back home quietly. That, of course, would tip Sam off more than anything. Instead he burst through the doors professing the wonders of the bar’s alcohol, staggered to his bed swaying from side to side and then collapsed face down on the covers, pretending to have lost consciousness. Unfortunately, Sam had lived out of Dean’s pocket for long enough to know when he was faking it.
“I know you’re still awake. We are going to have that talk, you know.” Then he sighed and turned off his computer, “Luckily for you though, I’m way too tired to do anything about it now. You have until tomorrow.”
Far too quickly, dawn came and found Dean was wondering whether shooting himself to escape Sam’s heart-to-heart would be overdoing it. Figuring that the angels would just bring him back anyway, he got dressed and then waited anxiously for the axe to fall. Sam wavered and eventually perched on the bed next to him.
“Look, Dean, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable but we’ve got to talk about what has been going on with you lately.”
“What do you mean? Nothing’s been ‘going on’ with me. I’m just the same old Dean.”
“Then why’ve you been fighting with Cas pretty much non-stop since you… married… him? I mean, he’s always been able to get under your skin,” and what was that supposed to mean? “But this is ridiculous!”
“I had perfectly valid reasons.”
“You yelled at him for keeping his trench coat on all the time, then yelled at him for giving in too easily when he took it off!”
“Dude looked stupid either way,” he grumbled, but half-heartedly, knowing Sam had him.
“Is this just because he married you?” Sam asked, appalled, “Because seriously, man, it’s not his fault we didn’t read the small-print.”
Dean was affronted. “No! It’s just… Do you remember what Famine said to me?”
Sam’s eyes widened and he ventured tentatively, “About not hungering for anything?”
Dean couldn’t blame Sam for being surprised. He’d successfully avoided talking about that for weeks and now he was voluntarily bringing it up?
“Yeah. It was like, like I was dead inside, man. Everything I felt was sort of shallow or hollow. Nothing was real like it is in Hell.”
“Dean-”
“And then Cas goes and marries me and messes it all up. I feel like I never made the deal - better even! I’m probably the happiest I’ve been in years.”
Sam looked thoroughly mystified. “And that’s a bad thing?”
Dean said nothing and eventually it clicked. Dean didn’t think he deserved to be happy. He didn’t deserve to be saved. After all this time, he was still beating himself up for what he’d become in Hell. Sam ached for his brother.
“Dean, what you did down there doesn’t mean anything. Anyone would have broken eventually. You held out for 30 years! That’s amazing. Just, for once in your life, be kind to yourself. Let yourself have this, have Cas.”
Sam could see Dean’s walls rising up, his face closing off, and knew that was all he was going to get out of him today. Backing off, he teased, “So now we’ve sorted this, can you two stop fighting like an old married couple? Literally.”
Dean laughed and shoved Sam’s shoulder. “Whatever, bitch.”
“Jerk,” he responded automatically. Sam turned back to his table, which was covered with information on each of the victims from the latest hunt. He’d scoured them last night but he had a feeling that between his tiredness and worrying about Cas, he’d missed something important. His eyes flickered from one to the other, almost catching the connection. At the last second, it slipped away from him again. He groaned and buried his head in his hands.
“You alright?” Dean asked.
“Yeah, sure.”
Dean was not calmed, older brother protective instincts out in full force.
“Maybe you should stop for a minute. This job can be tough sometimes. If you want, we can swap. I might not be as good at researching as you are but it’ll be fine. We both do the same job, you know.”
Sam whipped his head up and stared straight at Dean. “That’s it!”
“What’s it?”
“Julia Anderson was a receptionist. Robert Black was a waiter. Sandra worked in staff management and Nicolas did the cleaning. But, get this: all work for the same hotel. They all do the same job.”
“Well then, guess it’s time for their routine hotel inspection.”
-----------
Sarah Milligan smiled nervously up at the two professionally dressed young men. The FBI agents had taken a tour around to where each of the missing workers had last been seen, looking increasingly frustrated each time. The taller one did one last sweep of the reception with some weird scanner thing and then sighed. Sarah felt her heart sink. She’d hoped that now the disappearances had caught the attention of the FBI that she might be able to get her friends back, but it seemed they were having no more luck than the local police had had.
“Sarah,” said Sam, bending down to her with an empathetic expression on his face, “Have you noticed anything different about the hotel recently? Any sudden cold spots, lights flickering, sulphuric smell?”
“Anything unusual,” added Dean.
She frowned at the strange prompts. “No, not really. Why?”
Dean shrugged as Sam mumbled something about a possible connection to a previous case of theirs.
“What about any changes to hotel since the disappearances started?”
Sarah smiled, more secure now. The police had asked this as well. “Yes, actually. Three days before Robby - he was the first one - went missing, we started building an extension to the hotel. C’mon, I’ll show you it.”
The brothers followed her and searched the bare square of land at the back of the hotel. The building backed onto a forest so there was a clear line where the extension ended marked by chewed stumps and sawdust.
“So you cut down all the trees round here to make room?”
Sarah nodded. “I’ve been thinking; it couldn’t be like, tree-huggers gone mad, could it? People get really upset when it comes to the environment, maybe they thought kidnapping the staff would halt the build?”
Dean gave a reassuring smile and promised, “We’ll look into every prospect.”
Having exhausted all their normal routes of investigation, Dean hustled Sam off. As soon as they were out of sight of the hotel manager, he turned and asked, “So, what’ve you got? I know that look - that’s the look you get when you figure something out!”
“Well, I can’t be sure but… you saw the building site. Maybe Sarah’s right, it is tree-huggers, just not human ones. They pop up all over legends, woodland spirits that get vengeful when their homes are disturbed.”
They shared a relieved smile, glad for the break from apocalyptic monsters. For once, this seemed like a regular hunt. They climbed into the Impala and drove back to the motel. Sam walked in then froze in the doorway. Dean kept going and crashed straight into him.
“Hey, watch where you’re going, you great Sasquatch-”
Dean saw what Sam was staring at and his words caught in his throat. Cas was lying on Dean's bed, curled into a ball and struggling to even breathe.