Fic: Look, Up In The Sky (Supernatural; Dean/Castiel, Superhero AU, PG-13) Part 1
Title: Look,Up In The Sky
Author: misachan
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: Dean/Castiel, Sam
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Character death, implied torture, comic book violence
Word Count: 9993
Spoilers: None, AU. With superheroes!
Prompt: For direbanshee as part of the Everlasting Birthday Challenge: "Superhero!AU Dean and Cas are both refugees from dying planets sent to Earth as infants, Cas has wings and Dean has more Superman-like powers, and they hate each others guts... or do they?"
Summary: In this exciting issue we cast our eyes on the mysterious metropolis of Lawrence City, and its two valiant protectors, strangers from another world striving to save the helpless citizens from the most dire threats imaginable! As threats mount from without and within, can these two unlikely partners overcome their differences in time to defeat the deadliest enemy they've ever faced? Or in a world where smoke can dress itself in human skin, can this tale that can only end in tragedy? Face Front, True Believers, and find out!
The sunrise was beautiful, reds and golds spreading over the Lawrence City skyline and Dean thought he would trade every second of it for a bottle of aspirin. "Cas, why do you keep dragging me up here?"
"Perhaps in the hope that one day you'll be sober enough to appreciate it."
Dean rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes; the drumming in his head felt like a mariachi band gone rogue. "I am sober. That's kind of the problem."
Castiel didn't look at him but Dean saw his jaw tighten. "Your exploits made the news again." He held his white wings curled loosely around him but Dean saw them twitch as he spoke. He knew the look of Castiel gearing up for a lecture. "I don't understand why you feel the need to comport yourself that way."
"Because Maxim throws the best parties." Castiel sighed and Dean continued, "Look, I was the guest of honor. They gave me a little award and everything." Not that he knew where it was now, but it had been the thought that counted. The thought and the cover models. "I'm allowed to have fun, Cas. We can't all be monks like you." Dean knew he sounded like a petulant teenager but was too hungover to care.
"You don't have to be like me. I would be happy if you would only stop embarrassing yourself whenever someone aims a camera your way."
"You're not my dad, Cas."
"No, I'm your Guide," Castiel snapped. "It's my duty to help you reach your potential."
And here it comes. "Can the speech. I was tired of it the first thousand times I heard it." Castiel stiffened, actually having the nerve to look hurt - Dean suspected Castiel actually liked giving pompous speeches. He just wished the guy would get some new lines, because it was the same story he'd been hearing since the day Castiel had dropped down in the middle of Bobby Singer's scrap yard and blown his life apart. Told him that the reason Dean could do the things he could do was because he wasn't human. Told him that neither of them were human, that they were both last survivors of doomed planets, threw around words like Guide and Champion and Demons and informed Dean that he was now destined to fight a war he still knew practically nothing about. And Castiel wondered why he liked to party.
"What were your plans for today?" Castiel asked, seemingly willing to let things drop for once.
Dean shrugged. "Patrol. The usual. You coming?"
"I thought perhaps we could train," Castiel said, a note of hope in his voice.
Dean shook his head. "Every time we do one of your weird-ass alien zen training sessions I'm wiped out for a week. I can't lay off patrolling that long, last time I did all that arson bullshit happened."
Castiel's lip twisted, like he'd expected that answer but was still disappointed and wanted to make sure Dean knew it. "You're a Champion, Dean. You're the only hope this planet has against the Demons. That should be your priority. Petty crime will always exist." His voice went soft. "It's a great honor, Dean. I don't understand why you keep sidestepping your destiny."
"I'll pick my own destiny, thanks."
"I'm fairly certain that's not how destiny works." He sighed. "You were born to this. As I was born to help you unlock your potential."
Dean rolled his eyes. "That's not why you were born, Cas. That's just the crap they filled your head with. And besides, my potential's pretty damn unlocked. I've practically got more powers than I know how to handle."
"You could be better. You should be better." There was a trace of bitterness there, that how did I get stuck with this duty tone that always made Dean want to shove him right off the roof. "Champions of old had an almost immeasurable number of abilities. Nearly gods. You haven't even scratched the surface."
"I'm happy with what I've got."
"You shouldn't be. I'm not." The wings were curled tight around him, like an angry white shield. "But I can't give you discipline, much as I would like to."
"I've got all the discipline I want."
"You have no idea what you want." Dean glared at him but Castiel didn't back down. "You want to be a comic book hero, with your cape and cowl...."
Dean snorted. "Says the guy who dresses like Captain Accountant."
Castiel blinked, then glanced down at his suit. "I don't understand. This is perfectly normal human attire."
"It's just not the most inspired costume, Cas."
Castiel frowned, and Dean wasn't sure if it was because he knew Dean was trying to change the subject or because Dean was criticizing his fashion sense. "You want to play the hero, and the celebrity, and sometimes even the Champion. You pull yourself in so many directions you have no focus. Until you discover what exactly it is you want you'll always only be a fraction of what you could be."
"Pretty rich coming from a guy who's never wanted anything unless he was told he did."
Castiel was quiet for a long time. "That's very much untrue. I've known what I've wanted since I was very small."
Dean raised one eyebrow. If anything went on in Castiel's head besides bitching at Dean and yammering on about dead planets this was the first he'd heard of it. "So what do you want?"
"It's not relevant to the conversation."
Dean was going to push but something about the tense set of his shoulders warned him. "Fine, keep your secret. But if there is something you want, you should go for it. I'd hoped you'd picked up at least that much from hanging with me."
Castiel closed his eyes for a moment, then looked at Dean with one of his unfathomable thousand-yard stares. "Sometimes what we want is out of our reach." Dean saw him shake the thought away as he rolled his shoulders. "I think I'll stretch my wings for a while. We'll continue this later." And with that he crouched at the edge of the roof and jumped, his wings flaring out and catching the air, carrying him up, up, up.
Dean watched him for a while, wondering how talking to Cas always managed to make him feel so lousy about himself. Then he heard a clatter on the fire escape and grinned, knowing before he looked down he would see a tall, gangly figure leaning over its edge. "If you're fishing for an exclusive you know the drill, Sam."
"I really need the favor, Cap. You're splashed all over the front page of every paper except ours. My editor says that if I don't get one good quote from you I'm going to be sleeping in a box on Main Street."
Almost all superheroes wound up with their own personal reporter if they stuck with it long enough; Dean didn't know who he'd pissed off to wind up with Sam Winchester instead of a trouble-prone, ambitious lady reporter he could rescue and romance, but Sam was a good guy, all in all. He watched Sam push his shaggy hair out of his eyes and smirked. "Dude, you need a haircut."
"They don't pay me enough for haircuts."
"They pay you? That's one hell of a scam you have going." Sam rolled his eyes and accepted Dean's hand up to the roof. "When are you going to see the light and become my personal flack already? I could use a good publicist, the last two quit on me."
"Because you slept with them."
"Only the one. The other one quit because I slept with her sisters. This close to having a triplet fourway, Sam."
"You sure are living the dream," Sam said, shaking his head. He nodded up at Castiel flying above them. "You know church attendance is up 27% since he started doing his thing?"
Dean shook his head. "Whatever you do, please don't tell him that. His head doesn't need to get any bigger. Bad enough you hacks started calling him the Angel as it is."
Sam snorted. "Says the guy who calls himself 'Captain Awesome'."
"Hey that name totally fits."
Sam rolled his eyes again. "Look we needed something to call him. He's your partner and you won't even let us get a quote from him."
Dean fidgeted, uncomfortable with how the conversation had turned. He'd never been able to hammer home to Cas what a snake pit the press corp was, even the good ones like Sam. Letting them at Castiel would be like throwing a puppy into a shark tank; he'd orchestrated his last publicist walking in on that little familial three-way because he knew she's quit, and quitting meant he could enforce the nondisclosure contract he made all of his flunkies sign. She'd been snooping around trying to dig up info on Castiel, planning to sell it to one of the local rags. "I don't like sharing my ink. Thought we had a deal."
Sam sighed. "Yeah, I know. Lay off the Angel, you give me exclusives."
"And you buy me lunch at Tessie's Grill."
Another sigh. "And I buy you lunch."
"Hey, I'm why you're not still copy boy. Be grateful."
"Believe me, if my editor thought you'd go for it he'd move me into your house."
"That would take a whole lot of lunches."
They watched Castiel cut his wings into a sharp turn, looping around with perfect grace. "You gotta admit," Sam said,"Angel kind of fits for him, too."
Dean wouldn't admit it under torture, but he really did get a kick out of watching Castiel fly. Dean was faster but no one would ever call him a graceful. "Yeah, maybe. Just don't let him hear it." Dean tore his gaze away. "C'mon. Bacon double cheeseburger's the special on Tuesdays. You treat, I give you the whole scoop about last night. Well, what I remember, anyway."
***
Patrol was uneventful - a mugger here, a gang scuffle on the east side, no big deal - quiet enough that he let Sam tag along and take notes, then afterward they went to O'Malley's and did some shots to celebrate a good night's work. Probably a few too many shots, actually; he had dim memories of bundling Sam off in a taxi and almost crashing into a single-engine Cessna as he flew home. All of which explained why he found himself coming to face down on his bed still in full costume.
It didn't explain why the first thing he saw when his eyes blinked open was Castiel staring at him through the balcony window like a suit-wearing gargoyle. Dean groaned and fumbled for the window remote (he'd spared no expense on his penthouse.) "Dude. Thought we talked about this."
Castiel tilted his head to the side like a confused bird. "You said that if people saw me watching you sleep rumors would start. I'm not visible to anyone from this angle."
Dean groaned again; the light stabbed his eyes like thousands of tiny needles. He'd lost count of how many times he'd woken up to Castiel watching him and he still hadn't managed to explain to Cas what was so creepy about it. Not well enough to get him to stop, anyway. "Whaddaya want, Cas?"
"It's dawn. I thought you would like to join me."
"I've only been sleeping for like, three hours."
"That's hardly my fault, is it?" And with that Dean heard his wings cut through the air as they carried him up to the roof.
Every cell of Dean's body screamed at him to him to stay in bed and let Castiel's feathery, passive-aggressive ass enjoy his damned sunrise alone, so Dean didn't know what masochistic urge it was that made him drag himself up there. By the time he did the sun was long since up and Dean found Castiel curled up against the roof's ledge, his wings wrapped tight around himself and his lips silently forming words Dean knew were in no language that had ever been spoken on Earth. The roof immediately felt too small; Dean leaned far out over the ledge, trying to give Castiel his space, but all the same he turned his hearing up high enough to hear the whispered prayer, the rise and fall of the words.
"Why does it disturb you so much when I pray, Dean?"
Castiel's soft voice was like a gong to Dean's enhanced hearing. He shook it off, dialing down his hearing before answering. "I just don't get it, that's all."
"Prayer was very important to my people. Before the last war with the demons I had hundreds of brothers and sisters. Perhaps thousands. I don't remember them and I'll never know them, but when I pray to the same God they did I'm connected to them. Even if only for a fleeting moment."
"Praying didn't do them a whole lot of good, did it?" The words slipped out before Dean could stop them and Castiel gave him a startled look. Dean sighed and sat down beside him. "I didn't mean it like that," he said, although really, he knew he did. "Doesn't it feel like you're praying into the void, Cas?"
"That God doesn't answer doesn't mean he's not listening, Dean."
Dean bit back the urge to say, Yes it does, you moron and took a good look at Castiel, noticing for the first time that he didn't look like he'd slept a whole lot either. "Dude, you okay?"
Castiel nodded, his eyes darting towards Dean; Dean saw his wings twitch up, a nervous tic Dean knew meant Cas had news. "I think I've found a demon nest."
Dean felt the hair on his neck rise. Castiel had senses Dean didn't - although Cas assured him Dean could have them and more if he worked at it - and sometimes it seemed like he was attuned to the bastards. It had been a year since the last demon had shown its creepy black-eyed face in Lawrence City and Dean hadn't been looking forward to them coming back. "You sure?"
"It'll require more research, but yes, I think so." He gave Dean a hard, measuring look. "You're not nearly as enthused as I hoped you'd be."
"When am I ever enthused about demons, Cas?"
"Is it because you can't later brag about the battle at a press conference?"
This was an old argument. "That's not even close to fair. Nothing wrong with getting a little credit, but I don't brag about everything I do, you know that. I don't like that I can't tell anyone. Demon hunts mean going off grid and if the cops need me for something, if something's going down in the city I can't be there and I can't tell anyone why."
"The secrecy was on your insistence. I don't see why we don't tell the public they're under attack."
"Yeah, let's tell people there's a race of shape-shifting, planet-destroying aliens hiding right in plain sight. I can't see how that can go wrong at all."
Castiel was giving him that look, the one that said just how disappointed he was in Dean. "Doesn't it bother you that the creatures who destroyed both our worlds are now plotting against this one?" Dean knew his history, how both his and Castiel's home planets were wrecked by the demons and had made a last, desperate counter attack.
It hadn't worked. At least not in any way that mattered as far as Dean was concerned; they'd destroyed the demon's planet but not the beings themselves. The Demons had survived the firestorm by relegating themselves to some kind of half life, an existence of smoke and shadow, wearing the faces of those they'd killed.
Dean and Castiel were all that were left of their respective people now. And Castiel seemed determined to never let Dean forget that for a single second. "You were prophesied to defeat these beings. The first Champion born in generations. It had been hundreds of years since anyone was born with the abilities you possess."
"Didn't do any of them any good, did it."
"It saved me." Castiel's eyes were distant, looking into a past Dean knew he didn't remember. "My people have always guided the Champions. If I hadn't been chosen I would be gone with the rest." He put one hand on Dean's shoulder, overlapping the hand print Dean kept hidden under his clothes. "This is the sign of our connection, Dean. Our alliance in this war. It's holy."
Dean shrugged Cas' hand off his shoulder, ignoring how the lines around his mouth deepened for an instant. "If you're not moved by duty," Castiel continued, his voice hard, "I would expect you to be moved by vengeance against the demons. Your mother was burned by the heat of their leader's yellow eyes. Your father sacrificed himself to them to ensure your safety. I would expect that to provide adequate motivation."
Dean squeezed his eyes shut. He had brief, fractured memories of his real parents, not that he didn't love Bobby and Karen Singer to death. He'd been dreaming about them his entire life, a beautiful blonde woman with sad eyes and a kind smile, a tall, dark-eyed man with deep, rumbling voice. "Shut up about my parents, Cas. Easy for you to talk like that when you don't remember your own."
Dean heard the sharp intake of breath from Castiel and was glad the other man was looking away. "It's true," he said, and Dean could hear the hurt buried under anger. "I wasn't granted those memories, but if I had been I like to think I would honor them better than you do." He sighed, his wings held tight against his back. "I often wish your ship had not malfunctioned...."
"So I would be more like you?" Dean couldn't keep the cruel twist out of his voice and told himself that Cas had started it by bringing up his parents in the first place. "I give thanks every fucking day that I crash-landed in Bobby Singer's yard. I was raised to be a person, not stuck in my robot ship my entire life getting my head filled with bullshit until it decided I was ready."
"I was trained to have the knowledge I would need...."
"You were trained to be another robot, Cas. They may as well have put a wind-up key in your back and you don't even know enough to be pissed off about it."
Castiel's mouth snapped shut. Dean didn't watch as he flew off.
When Castiel was safely out of sight Dean lay back against the roof with his hands over his face. That hadn't been fair and Dean felt the remorse coil in his gut like a spring. Dean knew for a fact that day in Bobby Singer's junkyard was the first time Castiel had ever spoken to an actual person. It wasn't his fault he'd been taught tactics and history but not how to have a conversation. That quick flash of hurt in Cas' eyes followed Dean through the whole day's patrol.
When Dean saw him the next morning he told Cas he was on board with the demon hunt, whatever he needed and watched Castiel's eyes light up with surprise. It was so fucking easy to make him happy that Dean didn't know why he screwed it up so often.
***
The Demons were holed up in an abandoned tenement that couldn't be seen from the outside. He and Castiel crept in an upstairs window, Dean hoping like hell the little bit of magic Cas had done really could keep them hidden long enough to get the drop on them. The air inside was hot and stale; Dean's cowl itched and his hands were already sweating inside his gloves. "We should split up," Castiel whispered, his drawn sword glinting in the dim light. The sword was alien tech, designed to kill demons and anything else it hit. "We'll cover more ground that way."
Dean frowned. "Okay," he finally said. "You find anything, you shout, Cas. You hear me?" Castiel nodded and Dean grabbed his shoulder before he could disappear around the corner. "Remember that I'm the invulnerable one here, okay?" Castiel nodded again, eyes bright with the promise of the hunt to come as he slipped away.
Dean hit pay dirt two more rooms in; as his targets coalesced into dark-eyed shapes around him Dean smiled. He didn't need a sword to kill demons.
One rushed him with a knife and Dean let the blade crunch into an accordion against his chest. He grabbed the demon by her shirt and lifted her over his head one-handed. "Hey, gorgeous. Sorry, don't have the time right now," he said, then threw her into two of her friends. They went down in a tangled heap and Dean opened up with his heat vision, bright red beams of light shooting from his eyes and sending them all up like kindling. He caught the demon trying to sneak up behind him with a hard elbow right to the nose (Dean never got tired of morons trying to sneak up on someone with super hearing), then flew up over it, grabbing it by the hair mid turn and slamming it hard to the floor. He fried that one, too, then faced off against the last one left.
This one he grabbed by the throat before she could smoke away, throwing her hard against the wall. "How many of you bastards are in here?"
The demon just grinned back at him. "You shouldn't have let your pretty friend go off on his own." She leaned forward, like she wanted to whisper in his ear. "Alastair's gonna cut his heart out." Dean hit her full in the face with the heat vision and let what was left drop. He backed up, keeping an eye on the demons in the unlikely event that one was still breathing or whatever it was demons did.
It was too quiet. If demons jumped him he knew they'd probably jumped Cas too, and Dean had never heard Castiel fight without there being a lot of screaming.
He turned up his hearing, feeling his blood freeze when he heard a muffled cry. Dean blinked, activating his X-Ray vision; it took a second of looking but clear across the tenement he saw a room full of dead demons - dead demons and one still standing, its hand clamped tight over Castiel's mouth. Blood trickled down Castiel's face from a cut over his temple; before Dean could blink he saw the demon grab Castiel by one wing and wrenched him down to his knees, Cas' eyes going wide with pain, the sword dropping from his hand.
Dean blinked off the X-Ray and took one step back. He centered himself to where he'd seen that demon standing and launched himself forward, arms held stiff in front as he flew through wall after wall. He burst into the room and had a split second to take in the demon leaning over Castiel, pressing the tip of a long, curved knife against his throat. Dean didn't slow his momentum and slammed into it, sending it flying into the far wall. Dean pulled up short before hitting the wall himself and hovered over Castiel, letting out a long sigh of relief that Cas was already getting up and looking more surprised and angry than hurt.
Unfortunately, the Demon was also moving. It pulled itself to its feet, its milky white eyes examining them both. "Now, that wasn't very friendly," it said in a strange, almost sing-song voice, like Christopher Walken doing a Marlon Brando impression.
"You Alastair?" Dean said, giving Cas a hand getting to his feet.
"It's always lovely to meet a fan," it purred, its eyes darting between them. "But I'm afraid we have to part now. We'll continue this all later." And with that it turned to smoke and escaped.
Dean barely noticed, though, because suddenly the room was full of smoke. Demon after demon manifested around them, 10, 20, more demons than Dean had ever seen in one place. He and Castiel went back to back, watching as the demons kept coming. Dean glanced behind him. "You good for this?"
Castiel indulged in a grim smile, his reclaimed sword gleaming in his hand. "I was born for this."
Dean loved watching Cas fight. Dean fought with all the finesse of a mack truck, and it was damned effective, but Castiel fought with quick, precise, graceful strikes, dodging blows like a dancer. Dean forced himself to focus on his own fight, zeroing in on the demons in front of him; he'd done enough structural damage to the building that he wanted to be sparing with the heat vision. Dean didn't mind so much. There was something to be said about a good, old-fashioned fight.
Dean had just smashed his fist into one demon's face with a nice, satisfying crack when out of the corner of his eye he saw one demon get lucky and stab Castiel through the shoulder; he felt Cas stagger back and put out an arm to steady him. They switched places, Dean giving Castiel a crack at finishing off the ones he'd softened up. Still, as many as they put down (even one-handed Castiel stabbed his first target right through the chest, black blood spraying everywhere) more just kept coming. "We're treading water here," he said. "Duck and cover, I'm gonna open up."
Castiel crouched down, shielding his eyes and Dean cranked his heat vision up full throttle, swiveling around to to catch everything around him in a burning circle of death. After a full minute at that level the power sputtered out and Dean doubled over, trying to catch his breath.
"That was...that was very impressive," he heard Castiel say. He glanced down and saw his partner staring up at him with enough awe that Dean wanted to look away. He was paler than Dean liked to see, one hand pressed to the stab wound in his shoulder.
"You okay, Cas?"
Castiel nodded. "I'll survive."
Dean narrowed his eyes when he saw how shaky Castiel was on his feet but before he could say anything he heard the low, droning sound of metal and wood collapsing. "This place is coming down, Cas, we gotta move."
"There's...there's no windows," Castiel said, leaning against Dean.
The droning got louder, the building shaking itself apart around them. "We're gonna make our own." He grabbed Castiel around the waist. "Hang on, it'll be faster going up." He felt Cas' wings wrap tight around him, then he took a deep breath and flew straight up through level after level of rotten floors. With one solid punch they were through the roof, up and out and landing on the roof of the apartment building next door. Dean crouched by the edge, ready to grab any idiots who got too close while the building finished caving in on itself. When the smoke cleared Dean let out a long, long breath. That could have gone a lot worse.
He heard a pained sound from behind and turned around; Castiel was slumped against the roof stairway entrance, blood still streaming down his suit. Dean walked over and tipped his chin up, looking carefully for signs of shock. "Anything hit you on the way up?" Castiel shook his head and Dean gently moved his hand away to look at the stab wound. He switched over to X-Ray and let out a relived breath
that the Demon's knife had missed bone. A quick burst of heat vision stopped the bleeding and Dean knew Cas was going to be okay by the way he glared at Dean for doing that with no warning. "You're lucky, Cas. That knife caught you right in the meat."
"Yes, I feel very fortunate."
"Baby." Castiel glared at him and Dean grinned; he knew full well a dagger through the shoulder would have most people on the ground screaming. "Move your arm, Cas," Dean said; Castiel grimaced but the range of motion looked about right. "You can move your fingers, you've got feeling everywhere?"
Castiel nodded. "Yes. Yes, that all seems fine."
"I said you were lucky." He walked over to Cas' other side. "I'm gonna take a look at your wing, okay?"
Cas nodded, his lips a thin line. A quick check with the X-Ray confirmed that Alastair hadn't managed to break any of the delicate bones in Castiel's wing. Cas hissed when Dean touched the area where Alastair had grabbed him and Dean backed off. "You okay?"
Castiel nodded, his face white. "The wing pains me more than the shoulder, if I'm to be honest."
"Sensitive, huh?" Castiel nodded; Dean took his gloves off and carefully worked his way down, smoothing the soft feathers out of the way. He knew he'd hit the edge of the bruise when Castiel hitched in a quick breath. "Steady, steady. I just want to see how bad it is." He felt Cas hold himself very still, letting Dean move the feathers aside to better look. Dean winced; Alastair hadn't broken the skin but from what Dean could see the bruise was already going dark and angry, that section of the wing starting to swell. "You should ice this."
"I don't think I have any at home."
Dean sighed. "Of course you don't. I've got ice back at the penthouse, we'll take care of it there." Castiel started to move away when Dean stopped him. "Hey. Let me try something." Cas' brow furrowed and Dean explained, "Remember that cold breath thing we figured out I could do a few months ago?"
The crease between Castiel's brows deepened. "Yes, but I'm not sure I'm following."
"Well, it kind of lingered, right? Might be as good as an ice pack, at least short term." He glanced over at Castiel, meeting his eyes. "You up for giving it a go?"
Cas' expression softened. "I trust you, Dean."
Dean frowned, suddenly feeling put on the spot even though it had been his idea. He stood the feathers up to expose as much bruised skin as possible. "Okay. Just hold still." He blew gently on the injured patch of wing, his breath forming into a crystalline cloud that made Castiel shiver when it touched him.
"Oh," Cas whispered. "That's...that's interesting."
"Let it settle a second." He smoothed down the ruffled feathers and felt the wing quiver under his hands. "Did I hurt you?"
"No," Cas said, shaking his head. "I...I'm not used to them being touched."
"Fair enough." He saw Cas' mouth open, as if he'd been on the verge of saying something before deciding against it. The wing twitched after him as he moved his hand away, the strong pinfeathers brushing against his arm. "You okay to fly?"
Castiel stretched out both wings, wincing slightly, but three strong beats lifted him from the roof. "Yes. I should be able to make it home safely."
Dean saw him sway ever so slightly when he touched back down and made up his mind. "That's dumb, Cas. I'm like, five minutes away, you're clear across town. You heal fast but not that fast, I'm not letting you fly all that way hurt."
Castiel scowled. "I don't need to be coddled."
"Look, all we need is you crash landing through some church. People are gonna think it's the end times."
"Dean...."
"Dude. We're not arguing about this. You're crashing at my place and that's that."
Cas' mouth set into a thin line, then he walked to the edge of the roof and launched himself off. "Try to keep up, then."
Dean shook his head and went after him, noting how Cas' face was a mask of concentration as he flew. "What was with that demon sporting the white eyes, Cas? That Alastair joker."
Castiel took long enough to answer that Dean almost asked again. "I have no idea."
Dean was so startled that he almost flew into a billboard. "What? I thought you knew everything about these jerks."
"Knowledge was lost in the Cataclysm. Apparently this was part of it. I know their leader has yellow eyes but I don't know what other colors might signify." He was silent for a few moments as they flew around a startled flock of pigeons. "My sword didn't work on it," he said, so softly Dean almost missed it.
"Shit." Dean almost couldn't count the reasons that was bad news. "Does that mean it wouldn't work on Yellow Eyes, either?"
"I don't know."
The sight of Castiel at a loss about the one thing he was always so sure about was so disturbing Dean couldn't think of a single thing to say the rest of the flight.
***
Castiel stumbled and fell landing on the roof of Dean's penthouse and it took all of Dean's self-control not to say I told you so. He stood close enough to reach out a hand if Cas needed it but not close enough for Castiel to snap at him for hovering. "You okay?"
Cas answered with one curt nod, fury mingling with embarrassment in his eyes. Dean kept an eye on him as he opened the trick lock on the skylight and flew down, turning the lights on with a snap of his fingers. Unlike most of his colleagues in the masked crime-fighting biz, Dean didn't bother with the hassle of keeping up secret identity. He had a job, he didn't see the point in pretending to be a 9-5 cubicle drone on top of that. He's found that if he just pretended he didn't have a legal name, creating a rocket-to-earth story for the press that was kind of almost true most reporters were willing to play along, and he'd taken steps to hide his legal identity to baffle even the most persistent snoops. After all, Bobby had told him when he'd started all this that if one of the lunatics he made a living pissing off ever showed up at his door there'd be hell to pay and Dean was way more afraid of him than anyone they fought. Everything was under the Captain Awesome name, even his taxes thanks to his very talented accountants.
And being a more or less "public" superhero meant he'd been able to learn all about the magic of endorsements. He had upwards of thirty deals going on at any one time, everything from razors to sports cars to gimmicky fitness equipment (not that he used most of it). All of which meant he could afford his absolutely bitchin' penthouse. "Well, Cas? Whaddaya think?"
Castiel folded his wings as he landed and looked around. "You've not invited me to your home before."
That didn't sound right to Dean. "You sure about that? Pretty sure you had a standing invite."
Dean couldn't interpret Castiel's expression. "I'm sure, Dean. That I certainly would have remembered." He ran one finger along a framed picture of Dean shaking hands with the governor. "I hadn't realized you lived so much like the humans."
"We all can't live in our space ships, Cas," Dean said, pushing his cowl back from his face and pulling off his gloves.
"My ship has what I require," Castiel said. He peered intently at one of the wall panels, jumping back when the section opened and swiveled around to reveal Dean's top of the line entertainment center as he touched it."
"Cool, huh?" Dean said, beaming with pride. "Just like Tony Stark's." He saw Cas' brow furrow, his eyes going blank and sighed. "Of course you don't know who that is." He shook his head, motioning for Castiel to follow. "C'mon. I'll patch you up."
Dean led him into the master bathroom and motioned for him to undo his shirt. As he was bandaging up the stab wound Castiel said, "How do you know to do this?"
Because I have a dumbass partner who acts like he's invulnerable when he's not. "The invulnerably didn't show until I was a teenager. Scraped myself up all the time when I was a kid." He cleaned the cut along Castiel's hairline and the scrapes on his hands from the fall on the roof. "There you go. Pretty sure you'll make it, Cas."
Castiel flexed his hands, wincing at the sting. "Thank you, Dean," he said softly, not looking at him. "I don't like burdening you this way."
Dean quirked an eyebrow. "Dude. Don't be a moron." He led Castiel back into the bedroom. "You'll find stuff you can sleep in over there," Dean said, pointing to one of the drawers. "Probably won't fit you all that great, but it'll do for one night." Cas opened the drawer like he was concerned it would explode. "I'll send your stuff out to get cleaned and fixed up. I know you're picky about your clothes."
"I am not...." He gave up with a sigh. "Thank you, Dean. I do appreciate it."
He ducked back into the bathroom to give Cas a little privacy and to get changed himself. "You decent, Cas?"
"I believe so."
Dean poked his head back out and felt himself pull up short.
Castiel stood with his back to Dean, stripped to the waist with the bottom half of Dean's old silk pajamas riding low on his hips and pooling around his legs. Dean forgot sometimes how toned Cas was under that suit of his, the powerful muscles in his back and shoulders that worked his wings moving under his skin. He turned around, catching Dean staring, and Dean almost thanked Cas' dumb god for making him too socially unaware to think anything of it. "I didn't want to damage your clothing," he said, gesturing at the pajama top spread out on the bed and then in the general direction of his wings.
"Oh. Right, of course." It struck Dean what a good thing it was that Castiel really didn't conceive of how impressive he looked with his wings unfurled that way. "How's the wing feel?"
Castiel stretched them out, their tips almost brushing each wall. "Still sore, but bearable." His gaze dropped for a moment. "I can still feel your breath." He folded his wings back and sat on Dean's bed, his eyes widening slightly as it dipped under his weight.
Dean grinned. "Like it? The mattress is one of those NASA foam things."
Castiel gave it an almost suspicious look, as if he couldn't trust something so comfortable. "Is that as decadent as it sounds?"
Dean chuckled. "Sure as hell was expensive, if that's what you mean. Relax while I make the couch up for you, okay? Live a little."
He stood there with his arms crossed until Castiel lay down on the bed, looking like was about to be tortured. "See? Not so bad, is it?" Dean strolled out of the room chuckling to himself; he arranged the pillow and blankets across his leather couch, then went to his fridge to grab himself a beer. "Hey, Cas, you want a beer too, while I'm up?" There was no answer; Dean took out two anyway. "Cas? You okay in there?"
When there was still no answer Dean frowned and walked back into the bedroom. "Cas? You hear me? I asked if you wanted...." Dean trailed off when he entered the room and saw Castiel stretched out on his stomach, eyes shut and fast asleep. "Cas. Dude. My bed." One wing drooped over the edge of the bed, white feathers brushing the floor; Dean shook his head and lifted it up, arranging it next to him. Castiel sighed in his sleep and curled up on his side, his wings curled over his back. He looked like...Dean chuckled. He looked for all the world like those kittens-with-wings posters every girl in his high school seemed to have had hanging on their walls. "Fine, you win," he said, pulling a blanket up over his shoulders. "Keep the bed."
As Dean was about to leave the room he saw Cas' wings twitch; a moment later Castiel's whole body tensed, his hand clenching the pillow. He whimpered, his eyes moving rapidly under his lids and Dean sat on the edge of the bed. "Shh, shh, Cas," he whispered, brushing one hand down the soft feathers along his wing. "Relax."
"Dean?" he murmured, voice thick with sleep.
"Yeah, it's me Cas. You're dreaming."
"...sword didn't work...." He shivered and Dean could almost see the nightmare, that white-eyed bastard pinning him to the floor, one hand covering his mouth and the other holding a blade to his throat.
"We kicked their asses anyway." He felt the feathers slide between his fingers. "Go back to sleep." He stroked along Castiel's wing until Dean felt him slowly relax, his breathing growing slow and deep. He traced one finger down the scratch on Castiel's throat and let out a long breath. "Too fucking close this time, Cas."
Dean carefully got up and left the room, being sure not to make a sound. He stretched out on the couch, arms folded behind his head, and ran over the battle in his mind. For all the bickering they did, when he and Cas managed to get on the same page it was like.... Dean shook his head. It always just felt right. It was almost enough to make Dean believe in destiny and all the other crap Cas was always talking about.
As he closed his eyes, though, Dean couldn't deny that it felt damn good.
And that feeling lasted right up until the next morning when he woke up and turned on the news.
***
Dean's low simmering rage at the crime scene was so consuming he barely heard Castiel land beside him. "Why did you leave this morning with no word? It took me nearly an hour to find you...."
"Take a look, Cas," Dean said, so furious he forgot to use Castiel's superhero name in public, something he'd never slipped on before. "Tell me what you see."
Castiel frowned but examined the sidewalk, his head tilted to the side. "It appears to be a common crime scene...."
"Shut up before I hit you." Castiel's mouth hung open and Dean refused to let himself care. "'Cause I'm gonna tell you what I see." He pointed out the two taped outlines on the sidewalk. "Yesterday while you had me off grid preparing for the hunt some scumbag walked up to his ex-girlfriend's place with a gun. He found the girlfriend, the girlfriend's sister and the girlfriend's kid all sitting on the front stoop. Eating ice cream. Broad fucking daylight." He grabbed Castiel by the arm and turned him, forcing him to look. "Scumbag and the ex got into a fight, then he pulled out the gun and shot the sister in the face," he said, pointing to the outline to the left. He pointed to the second outline. "Then he made his ex get on her knees, right in front of her daughter, and he shot her in the back of the head." He felt his lips twist into a snarl. "After making her say she was sorry." Dean shook the image away. "And then to top everything off he grabbed the kid and took her God knows fucking where." He stepped up to Castiel, an inch away from his face. "I told you, this is what happens in this city when I'm not there. People die."
"That is not fair," Castiel said, to his credit not backing away. "You can't know you would have..."
"I would have been patrolling, damn right I would have stopped it. I would have been listening. Even if I missed the argument and couldn't stop it all, I sure as fuck would have heard that first shot. That woman would still be alive and that little girl would still be safe with her mom."
"The war against the demons is of the utmost importance. This is the security of the planet...."
"Yeah? The planet so much safer now? You really think we did enough yesterday to sacrifice two people, maybe three?" He saw Castiel's eyes dart towards the outlines. "That little girl watched her mother die. Right now she's scared and alone and God only knows what's happening to her. You gonna stand there and tell me this war of yours is more important than her life? You gonna tell her that?"
Castiel's lips pressed to a thin line. "We'll find the child."
"Damn fucking right we will."
***
It was good to have Castiel's scary focus completely on Dean's side for once. One side bonus of Castiel's obsessive demon investigation was that he had an almost encyclopedic knowledge of the city's hidden places, even better than Dean's, and to Dean's absolute shock he actually seemed to have a working network of contacts. He disappeared for an hour and came back five solid leads, none of them anything the police had stumbled on.
They hit pay dirt on lead three. Dean thought he was going to pass out when they found that kid tied to a chair, scared but seemingly none the worse for wear. Her kidnapper walked in before they could untie her, drawing his gun in a panic; Dean stepped in front of the girl but Castiel went right for the crook, his sword in hand. Dean felt his heart almost stop when the guy aimed the gun right at Cas' head.
Castiel didn't even seem to notice. Dean didn't have a shot with his heat vision and he didn't dare leave the girl, not when it would be so easy for the guy to change targets. Castiel kept advancing until the gun was barely a foot away, his wings flared out and his sword up like the very epitome of wrath. For a moment Dean could almost believe Cas was the avenging angel he pretended to be.
To Dean's amazement, their target seemed to be having the same thought; Castiel took one more step forward and the guy dropped to his knees, audibly praying. Castiel raised his sword and Dean realized just in time that Cas wasn't going to stop. Dean rushed forwards and grabbed his arm. "No," he whispered, making sure only Cas could hear. "We give him to the cops. We don't kill humans, Cas."
"Why?" Castiel said, the rasp in his voice so low and vicious the crook cringed to the floor. "What makes him so worthy of life?"
"It's not about him," Dean said. "It's about us. We don't kill, that's what makes us different from them."
Castiel sneered. "Many things make us different from them."
Dean shook his head. "Don't you think that kid's seen enough bullshit today?"
That got through. Dean felt Castiel shudder once, then he nodded his head and stalked back to the girl. Dean relieved the perp of his gun and followed; the guy was so cowed Dean didn't even need to threaten him to stay put.
Castiel already had the girl untied by the time Dean got there. "I'm so sorry," Dean heard him whisper, so much emotion in his voice Dean almost felt like he was intruding.
The little girl reached for his wings. "Are you really an angel?" she whispered back, like they were sharing secrets. Castiel nodded and she bit her lip. "Do you know if my mommy's in heaven?"
Dean saw him pause for an instant, then he nodded again. "Yes. I'm sure she is."
The girl wrapped her arms around his neck like she was never going to let him go. He shot Dean a panicked look, like he didn't know what he was supposed to do now. Dean made a hug her back gesture; when Cas awkwardly patted her on the back Dean rolled his eyes and decided it was time to rescue him. "C'mon, hero," he said, taking the kid and letting her wrap herself around him instead. "Let's get her home, huh?"
Back at the police station Dean watched the kid run into her grandmother's arms and felt the warm satisfaction of a job well done. He saw Castiel watching too, but with a very different expression on his face. For one inexplicable instant Dean almost thought it looked like longing. "Dude. You okay?" he asked, making his way over.
Castiel was so lost in thought he startled visibly at Dean's voice. "Yes. I..." He glanced at Dean. "I was afraid she would be alone."
"Nah," Dean said, looking back at the heartwarming scene. "Kid's got plenty of family going for her. It's gonna suck for a long time, but she'll be okay."
Castiel nodded. "I'm glad." He was looking at Dean with almost the same awe as when Dean had killed all those demons. "Is this what you do every day?"
Dean frowned. "You've patrolled with me before."
"I don't believe I've seen one to completion like this."
Dean supposed that was true. Cas did have a habit of flitting off to take care of whatever important thing he was working on. "So? What'd you think?"
Dean couldn't even begin to name the expression in Castiel's eyes. "I had no idea."
Dean clapped him on the shoulder. "That's what I've been telling you all this time." Then he sighed. "Well, wish me luck. Off to face the firing squad." Castiel's brow furrowed and Dean explained, "Time for the press conference. Let's see how many of them are calling for my head."
The furrow deepened. "But you were successful. We recovered the child."
Dean almost laughed. "I know these guys. Something tells me that's not gonna matter."
***
The roar when he opened the floor for questions almost made Dean step back. "Captain, why did it take you almost twenty-four hours to respond to the Commissioner's summons?" demanded the beat writer from the Times, his reedy voice rising over the fray.
"Well, Sheldon," Dean said, watching the reporter's expression sour as snickers broke over the room. His sensitivity over his first name was legendary. "I never actually got the summons. I found about the case from the lovely Sasha Bell's morning newscast. Hey, Sasha," he said, grinning into the cameras, hoping that would defuse some of the tension.
It didn't. "Commissioner Hendrickson is on record as thinking you should be censured. What's your response?"
"Well, I'm on record as saying the Commissioner's a dick. Someone rescued that kid and it wasn't one of his people, was it?"
"Captain, Samantha Brown from the Tribune," said another reporter, standing up and Dean almost groaned. They'd had a...thing and it hadn't ended pretty. "Something similar happened a year ago where no one was able to contact you for thirty six hours. Six months before that, the same. Nine months before that, same story. How do you explain what's clearly become a pattern?"
Dean saw Castiel lurking in the back, sporting the battered trenchcoat he broke out when he needed to hide his wings in public; he didn't know how that made no one recognize Cas, but it always seemed to work. Dean's jaw tightened. "Pretty sure you're reaching."
"Is it true you didn't didn't respond to the summons because you were too inebriated?" called out a voice from the back, a new reporter Dean didn't recognize.
"I ever got that drunk, pretty sure the whole city would know."
"What do you make of the Post's claim that they're about to publish interviews with two Victoria's Secret models claiming you were with them that day?"
"The Post's a rag and they're liars."
"How do respond to accusations that you would have responded faster had the victims been white---"
"That is bullshit, that's how I respond---"
"Where were you for those twenty-four hours, Captain? The public that puts its trust in you has the right to know."
Dean hated the guy from the free weekly. "I was investigating a case," he said, realizing the second the words were out that he'd just thrown a steak to a pack of wolves.
"What case? Captain, is Lawrence City under attack?"
Dean saw Castiel stare at the floor. "The city's safe."
"But do you confirm there's a secret threat?" asked another voice.
"I can't...."
"Is it terrorism?"
Dean couldn't tell the reporters apart anymore. "No. I mean, not like...."
"What was it, Captain?"
Dean swallowed hard. "I can't say."
Another explosion of questions, voices blending and rushing together into one sold wall of noise. Dean felt a bead of sweat roll down his neck and wondered which network had just gotten a close up of it. Just like before, Sheldon's voice was the one that came through loud and clear. "Don't you think the people of this city deserve an explanation?"
Dean narrowed his eyes, staring the man down until he took his seat. "It was important. That's all I can say." He looked to the back of the room and saw that Castiel had left and thought that sounded like a damn good idea. "That's it, no more questions. Press conference is over, look forward to reading all your lies and slander in the morning." Then he jumped off the podium and flew over the mass of them, landing at the back of the crowd without a glance back. Most of them were too busy mobbing the rep from the Commissioner's office to notice.
Most, but not all. "Libel," Dean heard a soft voice say just as he was one step from escaping and turned to see Sam leaning against the wall. "Lies and libel. Slander's spoken."
Dean told himself that heat visioning the guy right now wouldn't be worth having to sit through another press conference about it. "You were quiet."
Sam shrugged. "They seemed to have it covered."
"Yeah, well. Thank for not joining the dogpile."
"Don't thank me yet. You haven't heard what my editor wants me to lead with tomorrow."
"Yeah, well, looks like I'll be dealing with a lot of that shit."
"Hey, Cap," Sam said, grabbing his arm; Dean turned to glare at him but his heart wasn't in it. Sam's puppy dog eyes were always too pitiful to threaten. "For what it's worth, I believe you."
Dean shook his head, a mirthless smile on his face. "Not worth a whole lot right now. But thanks anyway." He shook Sam's hand away and flew out through the open window.
***
Dean found Castiel sitting on his roof as if it was the crack of dawn instead of just approaching dusk. His wings were curled around him, his arms resting on his knees. "Hello, Dean," he said softly, not looking up.
"Cas."
"The humans were very unfair to you."
Dean scowled, sitting down next to him. "How many time do I have to stop telling you to calling people 'the humans?' It makes us sound like lab rats."
"Us," Castiel repeated. "You're not human, Dean. Neither of us are."
"Well, I was raised by them. Raised like them, so yeah, I feel like one most of the time."
"I don't." It was starting to rain, a slow, cold drizzle. "I never have. I've known almost before I could speak that I would always stand apart. That I had a purpose. I thought...." His voice faltered. "I thought you had come to realize that as well."
"I don't want to be apart, Cas."
"But you are. You're not like them, Dean." His lips twisted into a sneer. "No matter how much you wish otherwise."
"I thought I was human - a human with awesome powers, anyway - way longer than I knew otherwise. Where is this shit even coming from? I thought that rescue finally brought you around."
Castiel stared at his hands. "There's more to what you do than I had realized," he allowed. "I see better now how...powerful a distraction it can be."
Dean knew he had a short fuse under the best of times and after the press conference he just didn't have enough left to deal with Castiel and his never ending cosmic war. "All right, I'm gonna try to explain this in words you'll understand," he said. He was too angry to keep the cruel twist out of his voice and when Cas' wings bristled it just encouraged him to keep going. "I'm already fighting a war. And these people you keep calling a distraction, they're the ones I'm fighting for. Not you, not dead planets, but actual living, breathing people. And when push comes to shove, they're who I'm always going to choose. This whole thing, the destiny, all of that? That's your war, not mine. Do you get that, Cas?"
Dean braced himself for the usual lecture on duty and honor but it never came. Castiel never even looked at him. "I won't ask you again," he said, his voice very, very even. He stood up so quickly he almost stumbled. The rain was starting to come down and Dean put out out a hand, about to ask him if he was okay to fly in this when Cas rounded on him with fierce, don't touch me look. Dean pulled back and let him go, telling himself that he didn't care if Cas flew into a skyscraper. Dean didn't even watch him leave.
The remorse set in about an hour later and Dean told himself he'd make it up to Castiel in the morning.
***
And Dean would have - he even got up early, which he told himself Cas sure as hell had better appreciate - but Cas didn't show up. It wasn't the first time Castiel had taken a morning off to sulk after a fight, and in a way, Dean was relieved. Now his eventual apology wouldn't have to be nearly as good.
He didn't show the next morning either, which also wasn't unheard of. Dean didn't see him at all during the day, which was a little strange, but Dean pushed the thought deep, deep down.
It was when the third morning came with no sign that Dean felt the first twinge of real worry. He opened up his hearing; this was the time Castiel usually took out to pray; even though it should have been easy Dean couldn't pick his rasping voice out from the rest of the crowd. Dean felt off-center all day, that faint twinge from the morning growing into a roar as he made his usual rounds. He dialed up the hearing a few more times that day but there was still nothing. Somehow Dean managed to convince himself that was a good sign.
There was a function that night, some charity thing he'd been too distracted to come up with a speech for. Instead of fumbling his way through it, Dean saw an opportunity and deliberately delivered a horrible speech, one that mixed up the charity's cause, roasted the founders (who had only started it as a PR move anyway, so he wasn't overwhelmed with guilt), anything he could think of to force the press to cover it. Anything he could think of that Castiel would bitch at him not to do, he did: drunk in public, almost getting into a fight, all of it. He even walked out of there with the hottest woman in the room on his arm, and if she happened to be married to the biggest, most dick billionaire in the city, well, so much the better.
The next morning, when Dean dragged himself up to the roof at dawn to find no lecture waiting for him, no disappointment, Dean felt a cold stab of fear so intense he didn't even feel his aching head. It had been years his he'd behaved like that in public and when he screwed up that badly he knew Castiel considered it his God-given duty to get on Dean's case about it. That he wasn't there could no longer be chalked up to anger or hurt feelings.
Something was wrong.
On to part 2
Author: misachan
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: Dean/Castiel, Sam
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Character death, implied torture, comic book violence
Word Count: 9993
Spoilers: None, AU. With superheroes!
Prompt: For direbanshee as part of the Everlasting Birthday Challenge: "Superhero!AU Dean and Cas are both refugees from dying planets sent to Earth as infants, Cas has wings and Dean has more Superman-like powers, and they hate each others guts... or do they?"
Summary: In this exciting issue we cast our eyes on the mysterious metropolis of Lawrence City, and its two valiant protectors, strangers from another world striving to save the helpless citizens from the most dire threats imaginable! As threats mount from without and within, can these two unlikely partners overcome their differences in time to defeat the deadliest enemy they've ever faced? Or in a world where smoke can dress itself in human skin, can this tale that can only end in tragedy? Face Front, True Believers, and find out!
The sunrise was beautiful, reds and golds spreading over the Lawrence City skyline and Dean thought he would trade every second of it for a bottle of aspirin. "Cas, why do you keep dragging me up here?"
"Perhaps in the hope that one day you'll be sober enough to appreciate it."
Dean rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes; the drumming in his head felt like a mariachi band gone rogue. "I am sober. That's kind of the problem."
Castiel didn't look at him but Dean saw his jaw tighten. "Your exploits made the news again." He held his white wings curled loosely around him but Dean saw them twitch as he spoke. He knew the look of Castiel gearing up for a lecture. "I don't understand why you feel the need to comport yourself that way."
"Because Maxim throws the best parties." Castiel sighed and Dean continued, "Look, I was the guest of honor. They gave me a little award and everything." Not that he knew where it was now, but it had been the thought that counted. The thought and the cover models. "I'm allowed to have fun, Cas. We can't all be monks like you." Dean knew he sounded like a petulant teenager but was too hungover to care.
"You don't have to be like me. I would be happy if you would only stop embarrassing yourself whenever someone aims a camera your way."
"You're not my dad, Cas."
"No, I'm your Guide," Castiel snapped. "It's my duty to help you reach your potential."
And here it comes. "Can the speech. I was tired of it the first thousand times I heard it." Castiel stiffened, actually having the nerve to look hurt - Dean suspected Castiel actually liked giving pompous speeches. He just wished the guy would get some new lines, because it was the same story he'd been hearing since the day Castiel had dropped down in the middle of Bobby Singer's scrap yard and blown his life apart. Told him that the reason Dean could do the things he could do was because he wasn't human. Told him that neither of them were human, that they were both last survivors of doomed planets, threw around words like Guide and Champion and Demons and informed Dean that he was now destined to fight a war he still knew practically nothing about. And Castiel wondered why he liked to party.
"What were your plans for today?" Castiel asked, seemingly willing to let things drop for once.
Dean shrugged. "Patrol. The usual. You coming?"
"I thought perhaps we could train," Castiel said, a note of hope in his voice.
Dean shook his head. "Every time we do one of your weird-ass alien zen training sessions I'm wiped out for a week. I can't lay off patrolling that long, last time I did all that arson bullshit happened."
Castiel's lip twisted, like he'd expected that answer but was still disappointed and wanted to make sure Dean knew it. "You're a Champion, Dean. You're the only hope this planet has against the Demons. That should be your priority. Petty crime will always exist." His voice went soft. "It's a great honor, Dean. I don't understand why you keep sidestepping your destiny."
"I'll pick my own destiny, thanks."
"I'm fairly certain that's not how destiny works." He sighed. "You were born to this. As I was born to help you unlock your potential."
Dean rolled his eyes. "That's not why you were born, Cas. That's just the crap they filled your head with. And besides, my potential's pretty damn unlocked. I've practically got more powers than I know how to handle."
"You could be better. You should be better." There was a trace of bitterness there, that how did I get stuck with this duty tone that always made Dean want to shove him right off the roof. "Champions of old had an almost immeasurable number of abilities. Nearly gods. You haven't even scratched the surface."
"I'm happy with what I've got."
"You shouldn't be. I'm not." The wings were curled tight around him, like an angry white shield. "But I can't give you discipline, much as I would like to."
"I've got all the discipline I want."
"You have no idea what you want." Dean glared at him but Castiel didn't back down. "You want to be a comic book hero, with your cape and cowl...."
Dean snorted. "Says the guy who dresses like Captain Accountant."
Castiel blinked, then glanced down at his suit. "I don't understand. This is perfectly normal human attire."
"It's just not the most inspired costume, Cas."
Castiel frowned, and Dean wasn't sure if it was because he knew Dean was trying to change the subject or because Dean was criticizing his fashion sense. "You want to play the hero, and the celebrity, and sometimes even the Champion. You pull yourself in so many directions you have no focus. Until you discover what exactly it is you want you'll always only be a fraction of what you could be."
"Pretty rich coming from a guy who's never wanted anything unless he was told he did."
Castiel was quiet for a long time. "That's very much untrue. I've known what I've wanted since I was very small."
Dean raised one eyebrow. If anything went on in Castiel's head besides bitching at Dean and yammering on about dead planets this was the first he'd heard of it. "So what do you want?"
"It's not relevant to the conversation."
Dean was going to push but something about the tense set of his shoulders warned him. "Fine, keep your secret. But if there is something you want, you should go for it. I'd hoped you'd picked up at least that much from hanging with me."
Castiel closed his eyes for a moment, then looked at Dean with one of his unfathomable thousand-yard stares. "Sometimes what we want is out of our reach." Dean saw him shake the thought away as he rolled his shoulders. "I think I'll stretch my wings for a while. We'll continue this later." And with that he crouched at the edge of the roof and jumped, his wings flaring out and catching the air, carrying him up, up, up.
Dean watched him for a while, wondering how talking to Cas always managed to make him feel so lousy about himself. Then he heard a clatter on the fire escape and grinned, knowing before he looked down he would see a tall, gangly figure leaning over its edge. "If you're fishing for an exclusive you know the drill, Sam."
"I really need the favor, Cap. You're splashed all over the front page of every paper except ours. My editor says that if I don't get one good quote from you I'm going to be sleeping in a box on Main Street."
Almost all superheroes wound up with their own personal reporter if they stuck with it long enough; Dean didn't know who he'd pissed off to wind up with Sam Winchester instead of a trouble-prone, ambitious lady reporter he could rescue and romance, but Sam was a good guy, all in all. He watched Sam push his shaggy hair out of his eyes and smirked. "Dude, you need a haircut."
"They don't pay me enough for haircuts."
"They pay you? That's one hell of a scam you have going." Sam rolled his eyes and accepted Dean's hand up to the roof. "When are you going to see the light and become my personal flack already? I could use a good publicist, the last two quit on me."
"Because you slept with them."
"Only the one. The other one quit because I slept with her sisters. This close to having a triplet fourway, Sam."
"You sure are living the dream," Sam said, shaking his head. He nodded up at Castiel flying above them. "You know church attendance is up 27% since he started doing his thing?"
Dean shook his head. "Whatever you do, please don't tell him that. His head doesn't need to get any bigger. Bad enough you hacks started calling him the Angel as it is."
Sam snorted. "Says the guy who calls himself 'Captain Awesome'."
"Hey that name totally fits."
Sam rolled his eyes again. "Look we needed something to call him. He's your partner and you won't even let us get a quote from him."
Dean fidgeted, uncomfortable with how the conversation had turned. He'd never been able to hammer home to Cas what a snake pit the press corp was, even the good ones like Sam. Letting them at Castiel would be like throwing a puppy into a shark tank; he'd orchestrated his last publicist walking in on that little familial three-way because he knew she's quit, and quitting meant he could enforce the nondisclosure contract he made all of his flunkies sign. She'd been snooping around trying to dig up info on Castiel, planning to sell it to one of the local rags. "I don't like sharing my ink. Thought we had a deal."
Sam sighed. "Yeah, I know. Lay off the Angel, you give me exclusives."
"And you buy me lunch at Tessie's Grill."
Another sigh. "And I buy you lunch."
"Hey, I'm why you're not still copy boy. Be grateful."
"Believe me, if my editor thought you'd go for it he'd move me into your house."
"That would take a whole lot of lunches."
They watched Castiel cut his wings into a sharp turn, looping around with perfect grace. "You gotta admit," Sam said,"Angel kind of fits for him, too."
Dean wouldn't admit it under torture, but he really did get a kick out of watching Castiel fly. Dean was faster but no one would ever call him a graceful. "Yeah, maybe. Just don't let him hear it." Dean tore his gaze away. "C'mon. Bacon double cheeseburger's the special on Tuesdays. You treat, I give you the whole scoop about last night. Well, what I remember, anyway."
***
Patrol was uneventful - a mugger here, a gang scuffle on the east side, no big deal - quiet enough that he let Sam tag along and take notes, then afterward they went to O'Malley's and did some shots to celebrate a good night's work. Probably a few too many shots, actually; he had dim memories of bundling Sam off in a taxi and almost crashing into a single-engine Cessna as he flew home. All of which explained why he found himself coming to face down on his bed still in full costume.
It didn't explain why the first thing he saw when his eyes blinked open was Castiel staring at him through the balcony window like a suit-wearing gargoyle. Dean groaned and fumbled for the window remote (he'd spared no expense on his penthouse.) "Dude. Thought we talked about this."
Castiel tilted his head to the side like a confused bird. "You said that if people saw me watching you sleep rumors would start. I'm not visible to anyone from this angle."
Dean groaned again; the light stabbed his eyes like thousands of tiny needles. He'd lost count of how many times he'd woken up to Castiel watching him and he still hadn't managed to explain to Cas what was so creepy about it. Not well enough to get him to stop, anyway. "Whaddaya want, Cas?"
"It's dawn. I thought you would like to join me."
"I've only been sleeping for like, three hours."
"That's hardly my fault, is it?" And with that Dean heard his wings cut through the air as they carried him up to the roof.
Every cell of Dean's body screamed at him to him to stay in bed and let Castiel's feathery, passive-aggressive ass enjoy his damned sunrise alone, so Dean didn't know what masochistic urge it was that made him drag himself up there. By the time he did the sun was long since up and Dean found Castiel curled up against the roof's ledge, his wings wrapped tight around himself and his lips silently forming words Dean knew were in no language that had ever been spoken on Earth. The roof immediately felt too small; Dean leaned far out over the ledge, trying to give Castiel his space, but all the same he turned his hearing up high enough to hear the whispered prayer, the rise and fall of the words.
"Why does it disturb you so much when I pray, Dean?"
Castiel's soft voice was like a gong to Dean's enhanced hearing. He shook it off, dialing down his hearing before answering. "I just don't get it, that's all."
"Prayer was very important to my people. Before the last war with the demons I had hundreds of brothers and sisters. Perhaps thousands. I don't remember them and I'll never know them, but when I pray to the same God they did I'm connected to them. Even if only for a fleeting moment."
"Praying didn't do them a whole lot of good, did it?" The words slipped out before Dean could stop them and Castiel gave him a startled look. Dean sighed and sat down beside him. "I didn't mean it like that," he said, although really, he knew he did. "Doesn't it feel like you're praying into the void, Cas?"
"That God doesn't answer doesn't mean he's not listening, Dean."
Dean bit back the urge to say, Yes it does, you moron and took a good look at Castiel, noticing for the first time that he didn't look like he'd slept a whole lot either. "Dude, you okay?"
Castiel nodded, his eyes darting towards Dean; Dean saw his wings twitch up, a nervous tic Dean knew meant Cas had news. "I think I've found a demon nest."
Dean felt the hair on his neck rise. Castiel had senses Dean didn't - although Cas assured him Dean could have them and more if he worked at it - and sometimes it seemed like he was attuned to the bastards. It had been a year since the last demon had shown its creepy black-eyed face in Lawrence City and Dean hadn't been looking forward to them coming back. "You sure?"
"It'll require more research, but yes, I think so." He gave Dean a hard, measuring look. "You're not nearly as enthused as I hoped you'd be."
"When am I ever enthused about demons, Cas?"
"Is it because you can't later brag about the battle at a press conference?"
This was an old argument. "That's not even close to fair. Nothing wrong with getting a little credit, but I don't brag about everything I do, you know that. I don't like that I can't tell anyone. Demon hunts mean going off grid and if the cops need me for something, if something's going down in the city I can't be there and I can't tell anyone why."
"The secrecy was on your insistence. I don't see why we don't tell the public they're under attack."
"Yeah, let's tell people there's a race of shape-shifting, planet-destroying aliens hiding right in plain sight. I can't see how that can go wrong at all."
Castiel was giving him that look, the one that said just how disappointed he was in Dean. "Doesn't it bother you that the creatures who destroyed both our worlds are now plotting against this one?" Dean knew his history, how both his and Castiel's home planets were wrecked by the demons and had made a last, desperate counter attack.
It hadn't worked. At least not in any way that mattered as far as Dean was concerned; they'd destroyed the demon's planet but not the beings themselves. The Demons had survived the firestorm by relegating themselves to some kind of half life, an existence of smoke and shadow, wearing the faces of those they'd killed.
Dean and Castiel were all that were left of their respective people now. And Castiel seemed determined to never let Dean forget that for a single second. "You were prophesied to defeat these beings. The first Champion born in generations. It had been hundreds of years since anyone was born with the abilities you possess."
"Didn't do any of them any good, did it."
"It saved me." Castiel's eyes were distant, looking into a past Dean knew he didn't remember. "My people have always guided the Champions. If I hadn't been chosen I would be gone with the rest." He put one hand on Dean's shoulder, overlapping the hand print Dean kept hidden under his clothes. "This is the sign of our connection, Dean. Our alliance in this war. It's holy."
Dean shrugged Cas' hand off his shoulder, ignoring how the lines around his mouth deepened for an instant. "If you're not moved by duty," Castiel continued, his voice hard, "I would expect you to be moved by vengeance against the demons. Your mother was burned by the heat of their leader's yellow eyes. Your father sacrificed himself to them to ensure your safety. I would expect that to provide adequate motivation."
Dean squeezed his eyes shut. He had brief, fractured memories of his real parents, not that he didn't love Bobby and Karen Singer to death. He'd been dreaming about them his entire life, a beautiful blonde woman with sad eyes and a kind smile, a tall, dark-eyed man with deep, rumbling voice. "Shut up about my parents, Cas. Easy for you to talk like that when you don't remember your own."
Dean heard the sharp intake of breath from Castiel and was glad the other man was looking away. "It's true," he said, and Dean could hear the hurt buried under anger. "I wasn't granted those memories, but if I had been I like to think I would honor them better than you do." He sighed, his wings held tight against his back. "I often wish your ship had not malfunctioned...."
"So I would be more like you?" Dean couldn't keep the cruel twist out of his voice and told himself that Cas had started it by bringing up his parents in the first place. "I give thanks every fucking day that I crash-landed in Bobby Singer's yard. I was raised to be a person, not stuck in my robot ship my entire life getting my head filled with bullshit until it decided I was ready."
"I was trained to have the knowledge I would need...."
"You were trained to be another robot, Cas. They may as well have put a wind-up key in your back and you don't even know enough to be pissed off about it."
Castiel's mouth snapped shut. Dean didn't watch as he flew off.
When Castiel was safely out of sight Dean lay back against the roof with his hands over his face. That hadn't been fair and Dean felt the remorse coil in his gut like a spring. Dean knew for a fact that day in Bobby Singer's junkyard was the first time Castiel had ever spoken to an actual person. It wasn't his fault he'd been taught tactics and history but not how to have a conversation. That quick flash of hurt in Cas' eyes followed Dean through the whole day's patrol.
When Dean saw him the next morning he told Cas he was on board with the demon hunt, whatever he needed and watched Castiel's eyes light up with surprise. It was so fucking easy to make him happy that Dean didn't know why he screwed it up so often.
***
The Demons were holed up in an abandoned tenement that couldn't be seen from the outside. He and Castiel crept in an upstairs window, Dean hoping like hell the little bit of magic Cas had done really could keep them hidden long enough to get the drop on them. The air inside was hot and stale; Dean's cowl itched and his hands were already sweating inside his gloves. "We should split up," Castiel whispered, his drawn sword glinting in the dim light. The sword was alien tech, designed to kill demons and anything else it hit. "We'll cover more ground that way."
Dean frowned. "Okay," he finally said. "You find anything, you shout, Cas. You hear me?" Castiel nodded and Dean grabbed his shoulder before he could disappear around the corner. "Remember that I'm the invulnerable one here, okay?" Castiel nodded again, eyes bright with the promise of the hunt to come as he slipped away.
Dean hit pay dirt two more rooms in; as his targets coalesced into dark-eyed shapes around him Dean smiled. He didn't need a sword to kill demons.
One rushed him with a knife and Dean let the blade crunch into an accordion against his chest. He grabbed the demon by her shirt and lifted her over his head one-handed. "Hey, gorgeous. Sorry, don't have the time right now," he said, then threw her into two of her friends. They went down in a tangled heap and Dean opened up with his heat vision, bright red beams of light shooting from his eyes and sending them all up like kindling. He caught the demon trying to sneak up behind him with a hard elbow right to the nose (Dean never got tired of morons trying to sneak up on someone with super hearing), then flew up over it, grabbing it by the hair mid turn and slamming it hard to the floor. He fried that one, too, then faced off against the last one left.
This one he grabbed by the throat before she could smoke away, throwing her hard against the wall. "How many of you bastards are in here?"
The demon just grinned back at him. "You shouldn't have let your pretty friend go off on his own." She leaned forward, like she wanted to whisper in his ear. "Alastair's gonna cut his heart out." Dean hit her full in the face with the heat vision and let what was left drop. He backed up, keeping an eye on the demons in the unlikely event that one was still breathing or whatever it was demons did.
It was too quiet. If demons jumped him he knew they'd probably jumped Cas too, and Dean had never heard Castiel fight without there being a lot of screaming.
He turned up his hearing, feeling his blood freeze when he heard a muffled cry. Dean blinked, activating his X-Ray vision; it took a second of looking but clear across the tenement he saw a room full of dead demons - dead demons and one still standing, its hand clamped tight over Castiel's mouth. Blood trickled down Castiel's face from a cut over his temple; before Dean could blink he saw the demon grab Castiel by one wing and wrenched him down to his knees, Cas' eyes going wide with pain, the sword dropping from his hand.
Dean blinked off the X-Ray and took one step back. He centered himself to where he'd seen that demon standing and launched himself forward, arms held stiff in front as he flew through wall after wall. He burst into the room and had a split second to take in the demon leaning over Castiel, pressing the tip of a long, curved knife against his throat. Dean didn't slow his momentum and slammed into it, sending it flying into the far wall. Dean pulled up short before hitting the wall himself and hovered over Castiel, letting out a long sigh of relief that Cas was already getting up and looking more surprised and angry than hurt.
Unfortunately, the Demon was also moving. It pulled itself to its feet, its milky white eyes examining them both. "Now, that wasn't very friendly," it said in a strange, almost sing-song voice, like Christopher Walken doing a Marlon Brando impression.
"You Alastair?" Dean said, giving Cas a hand getting to his feet.
"It's always lovely to meet a fan," it purred, its eyes darting between them. "But I'm afraid we have to part now. We'll continue this all later." And with that it turned to smoke and escaped.
Dean barely noticed, though, because suddenly the room was full of smoke. Demon after demon manifested around them, 10, 20, more demons than Dean had ever seen in one place. He and Castiel went back to back, watching as the demons kept coming. Dean glanced behind him. "You good for this?"
Castiel indulged in a grim smile, his reclaimed sword gleaming in his hand. "I was born for this."
Dean loved watching Cas fight. Dean fought with all the finesse of a mack truck, and it was damned effective, but Castiel fought with quick, precise, graceful strikes, dodging blows like a dancer. Dean forced himself to focus on his own fight, zeroing in on the demons in front of him; he'd done enough structural damage to the building that he wanted to be sparing with the heat vision. Dean didn't mind so much. There was something to be said about a good, old-fashioned fight.
Dean had just smashed his fist into one demon's face with a nice, satisfying crack when out of the corner of his eye he saw one demon get lucky and stab Castiel through the shoulder; he felt Cas stagger back and put out an arm to steady him. They switched places, Dean giving Castiel a crack at finishing off the ones he'd softened up. Still, as many as they put down (even one-handed Castiel stabbed his first target right through the chest, black blood spraying everywhere) more just kept coming. "We're treading water here," he said. "Duck and cover, I'm gonna open up."
Castiel crouched down, shielding his eyes and Dean cranked his heat vision up full throttle, swiveling around to to catch everything around him in a burning circle of death. After a full minute at that level the power sputtered out and Dean doubled over, trying to catch his breath.
"That was...that was very impressive," he heard Castiel say. He glanced down and saw his partner staring up at him with enough awe that Dean wanted to look away. He was paler than Dean liked to see, one hand pressed to the stab wound in his shoulder.
"You okay, Cas?"
Castiel nodded. "I'll survive."
Dean narrowed his eyes when he saw how shaky Castiel was on his feet but before he could say anything he heard the low, droning sound of metal and wood collapsing. "This place is coming down, Cas, we gotta move."
"There's...there's no windows," Castiel said, leaning against Dean.
The droning got louder, the building shaking itself apart around them. "We're gonna make our own." He grabbed Castiel around the waist. "Hang on, it'll be faster going up." He felt Cas' wings wrap tight around him, then he took a deep breath and flew straight up through level after level of rotten floors. With one solid punch they were through the roof, up and out and landing on the roof of the apartment building next door. Dean crouched by the edge, ready to grab any idiots who got too close while the building finished caving in on itself. When the smoke cleared Dean let out a long, long breath. That could have gone a lot worse.
He heard a pained sound from behind and turned around; Castiel was slumped against the roof stairway entrance, blood still streaming down his suit. Dean walked over and tipped his chin up, looking carefully for signs of shock. "Anything hit you on the way up?" Castiel shook his head and Dean gently moved his hand away to look at the stab wound. He switched over to X-Ray and let out a relived breath
that the Demon's knife had missed bone. A quick burst of heat vision stopped the bleeding and Dean knew Cas was going to be okay by the way he glared at Dean for doing that with no warning. "You're lucky, Cas. That knife caught you right in the meat."
"Yes, I feel very fortunate."
"Baby." Castiel glared at him and Dean grinned; he knew full well a dagger through the shoulder would have most people on the ground screaming. "Move your arm, Cas," Dean said; Castiel grimaced but the range of motion looked about right. "You can move your fingers, you've got feeling everywhere?"
Castiel nodded. "Yes. Yes, that all seems fine."
"I said you were lucky." He walked over to Cas' other side. "I'm gonna take a look at your wing, okay?"
Cas nodded, his lips a thin line. A quick check with the X-Ray confirmed that Alastair hadn't managed to break any of the delicate bones in Castiel's wing. Cas hissed when Dean touched the area where Alastair had grabbed him and Dean backed off. "You okay?"
Castiel nodded, his face white. "The wing pains me more than the shoulder, if I'm to be honest."
"Sensitive, huh?" Castiel nodded; Dean took his gloves off and carefully worked his way down, smoothing the soft feathers out of the way. He knew he'd hit the edge of the bruise when Castiel hitched in a quick breath. "Steady, steady. I just want to see how bad it is." He felt Cas hold himself very still, letting Dean move the feathers aside to better look. Dean winced; Alastair hadn't broken the skin but from what Dean could see the bruise was already going dark and angry, that section of the wing starting to swell. "You should ice this."
"I don't think I have any at home."
Dean sighed. "Of course you don't. I've got ice back at the penthouse, we'll take care of it there." Castiel started to move away when Dean stopped him. "Hey. Let me try something." Cas' brow furrowed and Dean explained, "Remember that cold breath thing we figured out I could do a few months ago?"
The crease between Castiel's brows deepened. "Yes, but I'm not sure I'm following."
"Well, it kind of lingered, right? Might be as good as an ice pack, at least short term." He glanced over at Castiel, meeting his eyes. "You up for giving it a go?"
Cas' expression softened. "I trust you, Dean."
Dean frowned, suddenly feeling put on the spot even though it had been his idea. He stood the feathers up to expose as much bruised skin as possible. "Okay. Just hold still." He blew gently on the injured patch of wing, his breath forming into a crystalline cloud that made Castiel shiver when it touched him.
"Oh," Cas whispered. "That's...that's interesting."
"Let it settle a second." He smoothed down the ruffled feathers and felt the wing quiver under his hands. "Did I hurt you?"
"No," Cas said, shaking his head. "I...I'm not used to them being touched."
"Fair enough." He saw Cas' mouth open, as if he'd been on the verge of saying something before deciding against it. The wing twitched after him as he moved his hand away, the strong pinfeathers brushing against his arm. "You okay to fly?"
Castiel stretched out both wings, wincing slightly, but three strong beats lifted him from the roof. "Yes. I should be able to make it home safely."
Dean saw him sway ever so slightly when he touched back down and made up his mind. "That's dumb, Cas. I'm like, five minutes away, you're clear across town. You heal fast but not that fast, I'm not letting you fly all that way hurt."
Castiel scowled. "I don't need to be coddled."
"Look, all we need is you crash landing through some church. People are gonna think it's the end times."
"Dean...."
"Dude. We're not arguing about this. You're crashing at my place and that's that."
Cas' mouth set into a thin line, then he walked to the edge of the roof and launched himself off. "Try to keep up, then."
Dean shook his head and went after him, noting how Cas' face was a mask of concentration as he flew. "What was with that demon sporting the white eyes, Cas? That Alastair joker."
Castiel took long enough to answer that Dean almost asked again. "I have no idea."
Dean was so startled that he almost flew into a billboard. "What? I thought you knew everything about these jerks."
"Knowledge was lost in the Cataclysm. Apparently this was part of it. I know their leader has yellow eyes but I don't know what other colors might signify." He was silent for a few moments as they flew around a startled flock of pigeons. "My sword didn't work on it," he said, so softly Dean almost missed it.
"Shit." Dean almost couldn't count the reasons that was bad news. "Does that mean it wouldn't work on Yellow Eyes, either?"
"I don't know."
The sight of Castiel at a loss about the one thing he was always so sure about was so disturbing Dean couldn't think of a single thing to say the rest of the flight.
***
Castiel stumbled and fell landing on the roof of Dean's penthouse and it took all of Dean's self-control not to say I told you so. He stood close enough to reach out a hand if Cas needed it but not close enough for Castiel to snap at him for hovering. "You okay?"
Cas answered with one curt nod, fury mingling with embarrassment in his eyes. Dean kept an eye on him as he opened the trick lock on the skylight and flew down, turning the lights on with a snap of his fingers. Unlike most of his colleagues in the masked crime-fighting biz, Dean didn't bother with the hassle of keeping up secret identity. He had a job, he didn't see the point in pretending to be a 9-5 cubicle drone on top of that. He's found that if he just pretended he didn't have a legal name, creating a rocket-to-earth story for the press that was kind of almost true most reporters were willing to play along, and he'd taken steps to hide his legal identity to baffle even the most persistent snoops. After all, Bobby had told him when he'd started all this that if one of the lunatics he made a living pissing off ever showed up at his door there'd be hell to pay and Dean was way more afraid of him than anyone they fought. Everything was under the Captain Awesome name, even his taxes thanks to his very talented accountants.
And being a more or less "public" superhero meant he'd been able to learn all about the magic of endorsements. He had upwards of thirty deals going on at any one time, everything from razors to sports cars to gimmicky fitness equipment (not that he used most of it). All of which meant he could afford his absolutely bitchin' penthouse. "Well, Cas? Whaddaya think?"
Castiel folded his wings as he landed and looked around. "You've not invited me to your home before."
That didn't sound right to Dean. "You sure about that? Pretty sure you had a standing invite."
Dean couldn't interpret Castiel's expression. "I'm sure, Dean. That I certainly would have remembered." He ran one finger along a framed picture of Dean shaking hands with the governor. "I hadn't realized you lived so much like the humans."
"We all can't live in our space ships, Cas," Dean said, pushing his cowl back from his face and pulling off his gloves.
"My ship has what I require," Castiel said. He peered intently at one of the wall panels, jumping back when the section opened and swiveled around to reveal Dean's top of the line entertainment center as he touched it."
"Cool, huh?" Dean said, beaming with pride. "Just like Tony Stark's." He saw Cas' brow furrow, his eyes going blank and sighed. "Of course you don't know who that is." He shook his head, motioning for Castiel to follow. "C'mon. I'll patch you up."
Dean led him into the master bathroom and motioned for him to undo his shirt. As he was bandaging up the stab wound Castiel said, "How do you know to do this?"
Because I have a dumbass partner who acts like he's invulnerable when he's not. "The invulnerably didn't show until I was a teenager. Scraped myself up all the time when I was a kid." He cleaned the cut along Castiel's hairline and the scrapes on his hands from the fall on the roof. "There you go. Pretty sure you'll make it, Cas."
Castiel flexed his hands, wincing at the sting. "Thank you, Dean," he said softly, not looking at him. "I don't like burdening you this way."
Dean quirked an eyebrow. "Dude. Don't be a moron." He led Castiel back into the bedroom. "You'll find stuff you can sleep in over there," Dean said, pointing to one of the drawers. "Probably won't fit you all that great, but it'll do for one night." Cas opened the drawer like he was concerned it would explode. "I'll send your stuff out to get cleaned and fixed up. I know you're picky about your clothes."
"I am not...." He gave up with a sigh. "Thank you, Dean. I do appreciate it."
He ducked back into the bathroom to give Cas a little privacy and to get changed himself. "You decent, Cas?"
"I believe so."
Dean poked his head back out and felt himself pull up short.
Castiel stood with his back to Dean, stripped to the waist with the bottom half of Dean's old silk pajamas riding low on his hips and pooling around his legs. Dean forgot sometimes how toned Cas was under that suit of his, the powerful muscles in his back and shoulders that worked his wings moving under his skin. He turned around, catching Dean staring, and Dean almost thanked Cas' dumb god for making him too socially unaware to think anything of it. "I didn't want to damage your clothing," he said, gesturing at the pajama top spread out on the bed and then in the general direction of his wings.
"Oh. Right, of course." It struck Dean what a good thing it was that Castiel really didn't conceive of how impressive he looked with his wings unfurled that way. "How's the wing feel?"
Castiel stretched them out, their tips almost brushing each wall. "Still sore, but bearable." His gaze dropped for a moment. "I can still feel your breath." He folded his wings back and sat on Dean's bed, his eyes widening slightly as it dipped under his weight.
Dean grinned. "Like it? The mattress is one of those NASA foam things."
Castiel gave it an almost suspicious look, as if he couldn't trust something so comfortable. "Is that as decadent as it sounds?"
Dean chuckled. "Sure as hell was expensive, if that's what you mean. Relax while I make the couch up for you, okay? Live a little."
He stood there with his arms crossed until Castiel lay down on the bed, looking like was about to be tortured. "See? Not so bad, is it?" Dean strolled out of the room chuckling to himself; he arranged the pillow and blankets across his leather couch, then went to his fridge to grab himself a beer. "Hey, Cas, you want a beer too, while I'm up?" There was no answer; Dean took out two anyway. "Cas? You okay in there?"
When there was still no answer Dean frowned and walked back into the bedroom. "Cas? You hear me? I asked if you wanted...." Dean trailed off when he entered the room and saw Castiel stretched out on his stomach, eyes shut and fast asleep. "Cas. Dude. My bed." One wing drooped over the edge of the bed, white feathers brushing the floor; Dean shook his head and lifted it up, arranging it next to him. Castiel sighed in his sleep and curled up on his side, his wings curled over his back. He looked like...Dean chuckled. He looked for all the world like those kittens-with-wings posters every girl in his high school seemed to have had hanging on their walls. "Fine, you win," he said, pulling a blanket up over his shoulders. "Keep the bed."
As Dean was about to leave the room he saw Cas' wings twitch; a moment later Castiel's whole body tensed, his hand clenching the pillow. He whimpered, his eyes moving rapidly under his lids and Dean sat on the edge of the bed. "Shh, shh, Cas," he whispered, brushing one hand down the soft feathers along his wing. "Relax."
"Dean?" he murmured, voice thick with sleep.
"Yeah, it's me Cas. You're dreaming."
"...sword didn't work...." He shivered and Dean could almost see the nightmare, that white-eyed bastard pinning him to the floor, one hand covering his mouth and the other holding a blade to his throat.
"We kicked their asses anyway." He felt the feathers slide between his fingers. "Go back to sleep." He stroked along Castiel's wing until Dean felt him slowly relax, his breathing growing slow and deep. He traced one finger down the scratch on Castiel's throat and let out a long breath. "Too fucking close this time, Cas."
Dean carefully got up and left the room, being sure not to make a sound. He stretched out on the couch, arms folded behind his head, and ran over the battle in his mind. For all the bickering they did, when he and Cas managed to get on the same page it was like.... Dean shook his head. It always just felt right. It was almost enough to make Dean believe in destiny and all the other crap Cas was always talking about.
As he closed his eyes, though, Dean couldn't deny that it felt damn good.
And that feeling lasted right up until the next morning when he woke up and turned on the news.
***
Dean's low simmering rage at the crime scene was so consuming he barely heard Castiel land beside him. "Why did you leave this morning with no word? It took me nearly an hour to find you...."
"Take a look, Cas," Dean said, so furious he forgot to use Castiel's superhero name in public, something he'd never slipped on before. "Tell me what you see."
Castiel frowned but examined the sidewalk, his head tilted to the side. "It appears to be a common crime scene...."
"Shut up before I hit you." Castiel's mouth hung open and Dean refused to let himself care. "'Cause I'm gonna tell you what I see." He pointed out the two taped outlines on the sidewalk. "Yesterday while you had me off grid preparing for the hunt some scumbag walked up to his ex-girlfriend's place with a gun. He found the girlfriend, the girlfriend's sister and the girlfriend's kid all sitting on the front stoop. Eating ice cream. Broad fucking daylight." He grabbed Castiel by the arm and turned him, forcing him to look. "Scumbag and the ex got into a fight, then he pulled out the gun and shot the sister in the face," he said, pointing to the outline to the left. He pointed to the second outline. "Then he made his ex get on her knees, right in front of her daughter, and he shot her in the back of the head." He felt his lips twist into a snarl. "After making her say she was sorry." Dean shook the image away. "And then to top everything off he grabbed the kid and took her God knows fucking where." He stepped up to Castiel, an inch away from his face. "I told you, this is what happens in this city when I'm not there. People die."
"That is not fair," Castiel said, to his credit not backing away. "You can't know you would have..."
"I would have been patrolling, damn right I would have stopped it. I would have been listening. Even if I missed the argument and couldn't stop it all, I sure as fuck would have heard that first shot. That woman would still be alive and that little girl would still be safe with her mom."
"The war against the demons is of the utmost importance. This is the security of the planet...."
"Yeah? The planet so much safer now? You really think we did enough yesterday to sacrifice two people, maybe three?" He saw Castiel's eyes dart towards the outlines. "That little girl watched her mother die. Right now she's scared and alone and God only knows what's happening to her. You gonna stand there and tell me this war of yours is more important than her life? You gonna tell her that?"
Castiel's lips pressed to a thin line. "We'll find the child."
"Damn fucking right we will."
***
It was good to have Castiel's scary focus completely on Dean's side for once. One side bonus of Castiel's obsessive demon investigation was that he had an almost encyclopedic knowledge of the city's hidden places, even better than Dean's, and to Dean's absolute shock he actually seemed to have a working network of contacts. He disappeared for an hour and came back five solid leads, none of them anything the police had stumbled on.
They hit pay dirt on lead three. Dean thought he was going to pass out when they found that kid tied to a chair, scared but seemingly none the worse for wear. Her kidnapper walked in before they could untie her, drawing his gun in a panic; Dean stepped in front of the girl but Castiel went right for the crook, his sword in hand. Dean felt his heart almost stop when the guy aimed the gun right at Cas' head.
Castiel didn't even seem to notice. Dean didn't have a shot with his heat vision and he didn't dare leave the girl, not when it would be so easy for the guy to change targets. Castiel kept advancing until the gun was barely a foot away, his wings flared out and his sword up like the very epitome of wrath. For a moment Dean could almost believe Cas was the avenging angel he pretended to be.
To Dean's amazement, their target seemed to be having the same thought; Castiel took one more step forward and the guy dropped to his knees, audibly praying. Castiel raised his sword and Dean realized just in time that Cas wasn't going to stop. Dean rushed forwards and grabbed his arm. "No," he whispered, making sure only Cas could hear. "We give him to the cops. We don't kill humans, Cas."
"Why?" Castiel said, the rasp in his voice so low and vicious the crook cringed to the floor. "What makes him so worthy of life?"
"It's not about him," Dean said. "It's about us. We don't kill, that's what makes us different from them."
Castiel sneered. "Many things make us different from them."
Dean shook his head. "Don't you think that kid's seen enough bullshit today?"
That got through. Dean felt Castiel shudder once, then he nodded his head and stalked back to the girl. Dean relieved the perp of his gun and followed; the guy was so cowed Dean didn't even need to threaten him to stay put.
Castiel already had the girl untied by the time Dean got there. "I'm so sorry," Dean heard him whisper, so much emotion in his voice Dean almost felt like he was intruding.
The little girl reached for his wings. "Are you really an angel?" she whispered back, like they were sharing secrets. Castiel nodded and she bit her lip. "Do you know if my mommy's in heaven?"
Dean saw him pause for an instant, then he nodded again. "Yes. I'm sure she is."
The girl wrapped her arms around his neck like she was never going to let him go. He shot Dean a panicked look, like he didn't know what he was supposed to do now. Dean made a hug her back gesture; when Cas awkwardly patted her on the back Dean rolled his eyes and decided it was time to rescue him. "C'mon, hero," he said, taking the kid and letting her wrap herself around him instead. "Let's get her home, huh?"
Back at the police station Dean watched the kid run into her grandmother's arms and felt the warm satisfaction of a job well done. He saw Castiel watching too, but with a very different expression on his face. For one inexplicable instant Dean almost thought it looked like longing. "Dude. You okay?" he asked, making his way over.
Castiel was so lost in thought he startled visibly at Dean's voice. "Yes. I..." He glanced at Dean. "I was afraid she would be alone."
"Nah," Dean said, looking back at the heartwarming scene. "Kid's got plenty of family going for her. It's gonna suck for a long time, but she'll be okay."
Castiel nodded. "I'm glad." He was looking at Dean with almost the same awe as when Dean had killed all those demons. "Is this what you do every day?"
Dean frowned. "You've patrolled with me before."
"I don't believe I've seen one to completion like this."
Dean supposed that was true. Cas did have a habit of flitting off to take care of whatever important thing he was working on. "So? What'd you think?"
Dean couldn't even begin to name the expression in Castiel's eyes. "I had no idea."
Dean clapped him on the shoulder. "That's what I've been telling you all this time." Then he sighed. "Well, wish me luck. Off to face the firing squad." Castiel's brow furrowed and Dean explained, "Time for the press conference. Let's see how many of them are calling for my head."
The furrow deepened. "But you were successful. We recovered the child."
Dean almost laughed. "I know these guys. Something tells me that's not gonna matter."
***
The roar when he opened the floor for questions almost made Dean step back. "Captain, why did it take you almost twenty-four hours to respond to the Commissioner's summons?" demanded the beat writer from the Times, his reedy voice rising over the fray.
"Well, Sheldon," Dean said, watching the reporter's expression sour as snickers broke over the room. His sensitivity over his first name was legendary. "I never actually got the summons. I found about the case from the lovely Sasha Bell's morning newscast. Hey, Sasha," he said, grinning into the cameras, hoping that would defuse some of the tension.
It didn't. "Commissioner Hendrickson is on record as thinking you should be censured. What's your response?"
"Well, I'm on record as saying the Commissioner's a dick. Someone rescued that kid and it wasn't one of his people, was it?"
"Captain, Samantha Brown from the Tribune," said another reporter, standing up and Dean almost groaned. They'd had a...thing and it hadn't ended pretty. "Something similar happened a year ago where no one was able to contact you for thirty six hours. Six months before that, the same. Nine months before that, same story. How do you explain what's clearly become a pattern?"
Dean saw Castiel lurking in the back, sporting the battered trenchcoat he broke out when he needed to hide his wings in public; he didn't know how that made no one recognize Cas, but it always seemed to work. Dean's jaw tightened. "Pretty sure you're reaching."
"Is it true you didn't didn't respond to the summons because you were too inebriated?" called out a voice from the back, a new reporter Dean didn't recognize.
"I ever got that drunk, pretty sure the whole city would know."
"What do you make of the Post's claim that they're about to publish interviews with two Victoria's Secret models claiming you were with them that day?"
"The Post's a rag and they're liars."
"How do respond to accusations that you would have responded faster had the victims been white---"
"That is bullshit, that's how I respond---"
"Where were you for those twenty-four hours, Captain? The public that puts its trust in you has the right to know."
Dean hated the guy from the free weekly. "I was investigating a case," he said, realizing the second the words were out that he'd just thrown a steak to a pack of wolves.
"What case? Captain, is Lawrence City under attack?"
Dean saw Castiel stare at the floor. "The city's safe."
"But do you confirm there's a secret threat?" asked another voice.
"I can't...."
"Is it terrorism?"
Dean couldn't tell the reporters apart anymore. "No. I mean, not like...."
"What was it, Captain?"
Dean swallowed hard. "I can't say."
Another explosion of questions, voices blending and rushing together into one sold wall of noise. Dean felt a bead of sweat roll down his neck and wondered which network had just gotten a close up of it. Just like before, Sheldon's voice was the one that came through loud and clear. "Don't you think the people of this city deserve an explanation?"
Dean narrowed his eyes, staring the man down until he took his seat. "It was important. That's all I can say." He looked to the back of the room and saw that Castiel had left and thought that sounded like a damn good idea. "That's it, no more questions. Press conference is over, look forward to reading all your lies and slander in the morning." Then he jumped off the podium and flew over the mass of them, landing at the back of the crowd without a glance back. Most of them were too busy mobbing the rep from the Commissioner's office to notice.
Most, but not all. "Libel," Dean heard a soft voice say just as he was one step from escaping and turned to see Sam leaning against the wall. "Lies and libel. Slander's spoken."
Dean told himself that heat visioning the guy right now wouldn't be worth having to sit through another press conference about it. "You were quiet."
Sam shrugged. "They seemed to have it covered."
"Yeah, well. Thank for not joining the dogpile."
"Don't thank me yet. You haven't heard what my editor wants me to lead with tomorrow."
"Yeah, well, looks like I'll be dealing with a lot of that shit."
"Hey, Cap," Sam said, grabbing his arm; Dean turned to glare at him but his heart wasn't in it. Sam's puppy dog eyes were always too pitiful to threaten. "For what it's worth, I believe you."
Dean shook his head, a mirthless smile on his face. "Not worth a whole lot right now. But thanks anyway." He shook Sam's hand away and flew out through the open window.
***
Dean found Castiel sitting on his roof as if it was the crack of dawn instead of just approaching dusk. His wings were curled around him, his arms resting on his knees. "Hello, Dean," he said softly, not looking up.
"Cas."
"The humans were very unfair to you."
Dean scowled, sitting down next to him. "How many time do I have to stop telling you to calling people 'the humans?' It makes us sound like lab rats."
"Us," Castiel repeated. "You're not human, Dean. Neither of us are."
"Well, I was raised by them. Raised like them, so yeah, I feel like one most of the time."
"I don't." It was starting to rain, a slow, cold drizzle. "I never have. I've known almost before I could speak that I would always stand apart. That I had a purpose. I thought...." His voice faltered. "I thought you had come to realize that as well."
"I don't want to be apart, Cas."
"But you are. You're not like them, Dean." His lips twisted into a sneer. "No matter how much you wish otherwise."
"I thought I was human - a human with awesome powers, anyway - way longer than I knew otherwise. Where is this shit even coming from? I thought that rescue finally brought you around."
Castiel stared at his hands. "There's more to what you do than I had realized," he allowed. "I see better now how...powerful a distraction it can be."
Dean knew he had a short fuse under the best of times and after the press conference he just didn't have enough left to deal with Castiel and his never ending cosmic war. "All right, I'm gonna try to explain this in words you'll understand," he said. He was too angry to keep the cruel twist out of his voice and when Cas' wings bristled it just encouraged him to keep going. "I'm already fighting a war. And these people you keep calling a distraction, they're the ones I'm fighting for. Not you, not dead planets, but actual living, breathing people. And when push comes to shove, they're who I'm always going to choose. This whole thing, the destiny, all of that? That's your war, not mine. Do you get that, Cas?"
Dean braced himself for the usual lecture on duty and honor but it never came. Castiel never even looked at him. "I won't ask you again," he said, his voice very, very even. He stood up so quickly he almost stumbled. The rain was starting to come down and Dean put out out a hand, about to ask him if he was okay to fly in this when Cas rounded on him with fierce, don't touch me look. Dean pulled back and let him go, telling himself that he didn't care if Cas flew into a skyscraper. Dean didn't even watch him leave.
The remorse set in about an hour later and Dean told himself he'd make it up to Castiel in the morning.
***
And Dean would have - he even got up early, which he told himself Cas sure as hell had better appreciate - but Cas didn't show up. It wasn't the first time Castiel had taken a morning off to sulk after a fight, and in a way, Dean was relieved. Now his eventual apology wouldn't have to be nearly as good.
He didn't show the next morning either, which also wasn't unheard of. Dean didn't see him at all during the day, which was a little strange, but Dean pushed the thought deep, deep down.
It was when the third morning came with no sign that Dean felt the first twinge of real worry. He opened up his hearing; this was the time Castiel usually took out to pray; even though it should have been easy Dean couldn't pick his rasping voice out from the rest of the crowd. Dean felt off-center all day, that faint twinge from the morning growing into a roar as he made his usual rounds. He dialed up the hearing a few more times that day but there was still nothing. Somehow Dean managed to convince himself that was a good sign.
There was a function that night, some charity thing he'd been too distracted to come up with a speech for. Instead of fumbling his way through it, Dean saw an opportunity and deliberately delivered a horrible speech, one that mixed up the charity's cause, roasted the founders (who had only started it as a PR move anyway, so he wasn't overwhelmed with guilt), anything he could think of to force the press to cover it. Anything he could think of that Castiel would bitch at him not to do, he did: drunk in public, almost getting into a fight, all of it. He even walked out of there with the hottest woman in the room on his arm, and if she happened to be married to the biggest, most dick billionaire in the city, well, so much the better.
The next morning, when Dean dragged himself up to the roof at dawn to find no lecture waiting for him, no disappointment, Dean felt a cold stab of fear so intense he didn't even feel his aching head. It had been years his he'd behaved like that in public and when he screwed up that badly he knew Castiel considered it his God-given duty to get on Dean's case about it. That he wasn't there could no longer be chalked up to anger or hurt feelings.
Something was wrong.
On to part 2