A Demon by Any Other Name, Part 1

[otp_destiel]

Title: A Demon by Any Other Name
Pairings: Dean/Cas, Sam/Ruby
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Up to and including 4.07
Warnings: AU of season 4, slash, bottom!Dean, dom!Cas, torture, bare backing, dark, first time, orgasm denial
Word Count: 25,462
Note: This is a response to one of marourin's Everlasting Birthday Challenge prompts on the deancastiel comm. The prompt has been put at the end of the fic to prevent spoilers.
Summary: Castiel is unlike anything Dean expected an angel to be, arousing both terror and lust within him.
PDF version of fic

"Who are you?"

"Castiel."

"Yeah, I figured that much, I mean what are you?"

"I'm an angel."

"Get the hell out of here. There's no such thing."

"That is your problem, Dean. You have no faith."

Lightning flashed and suddenly Dean could see the shadowy representation of two massive, black wings unfolding from Castiel's back and arching high above the creature onto the barn walls and ceiling. His breath hitched and he had a brief flash of something before it was gone, though it left a rush of unfamiliar emotions behind in his chest in its wake. Momentarily it rendered him speechless, the sheer power of those emotions overwhelming him and filling him with such a longing, such a yearning, for more that he couldn't quite wrap his mind around them. The resulting ache felt like a physical wound and so he reacted as he always did when something hurt him, he jumped immediately to the offensive and attacked while simultaneously trying to bury the emotional crap that had injured him to begin with. Besides, a part of him was absolutely terrified of what it was that he'd stumbled onto and the horror that went with it made him want to never revisit those emotions again even as another part of him wanted to do nothing else but exactly that.

"Look pal, I'm not buying what you're selling, so who are you really?"

"I told you."

"Right. And why would an angel rescue me from Hell?"

"Good things do happen, Dean."

"Not in my experience."

"What's the matter? You don't think you deserve to be saved?"

"Why'd you do it?"

"Because my Lord commanded it, because we have work for you."

/

Facts and theories were still buzzing through Dean's head as he climbed the stairs to the shower that he and Sam used whenever they were staying at Bobby's. His eyes felt dry from all of the reading he'd done on angels but his mind didn't seem to want to shut itself off. Though Bobby had made a pretty convincing argument in favor of this Castiel character being an angel, he still had a hard time believing it. There was just something about the creature that didn't sit right with him. Besides, why would God give a crap about him? He might have seemed to ease and settle down around the others, but he hadn't let go of that particular thought. After all, neither Sam nor Bobby knew what he had done in Hell.

What he still wanted to do on some level.

Dean wanted nothing more than to shove the awful thought from his mind, but he couldn't. He hadn't exactly lied when he told the others that he didn't remember Hell, rather he hadn't told them the entire truth. He simply didn't remember all of Hell. Well, he guessed that he had lied to Bobby when he'd first come back here, but to Sam he'd been a bit more careful. Oh who the hell was he trying to deceive anyway? He knew the truth. He'd outright lied to them, not wanting to have to face questions about what it had been like down there, about what he'd experienced and, ultimately, what he'd become. Yes, neither Bobby nor Sam knew about that last, about how he'd broken and given Alastair what he'd wanted and had become a monster himself, but he was afraid that if he started talking about it that he'd let something slip, that he'd say something that would alert them to the fact that he'd become more demon than human while down there.

That he might still be more demon than human even now, angels be damned.

It was part of what made Dean so hesitant to believe that Castiel was an angel as he claimed to be. After all, why would an angel, or why would God for that matter, care about him? He'd broken. Yes, he'd held out for thirty years, but in the end he'd broken and become no better than Alastair himself. If it had simply been a matter of self-preservation then that would be one thing, but it hadn't been simply about self-preservation, at least not after the first few days. No, then it had become as much about his own pleasure and enjoyment as anything else. He'd tortured souls and he'd liked it. No, he'd loved it and a traitorous part of himself wanted nothing more than to be back down there doing that again as it would definitely be easier than being here, pretending that he hadn't become that which he'd always fought and killed. That he hadn't become a monster.

At the top of the stairs, Dean glanced at the bedroom he normally used while at Bobby's and wasn't surprised to find it filled with boxes of all shapes and sizes. Bobby had said that he'd put the room to other use after what had happened to him and he couldn't blame the guy, even if it did mean that he'd have to crash on the floor until they got around to clearing both his and Sam's rooms again. The fact that the older hunter actually had space somewhere else to put it all touched him as it clearly told him what had been going through Bobby's mind.

Those thoughts were only just able to keep out the others as Dean stepped into the bathroom and closed and locked the door behind him. How the hell was he going to do this? How was he going to be able to keep the truth hidden from both his brother and surrogate father? The simple truth of the matter was that both of them just knew him too well for this kind of deception to work for any length of time. Sure, he knew that he'd be able to hold them off for a while by pretending to be somewhat disoriented from his death and subsequent resurrection, but he knew only all too well that it wouldn't work for long. As it was he was already amazed that neither of the other two had called him out on his lies already. It had never used to be this easy to lie to them. He supposed it had to do with the fact that his being back was as much of a shock to them as it was to him.

Yeah, that's what it had to be, Dean told himself as he stripped, carefully avoiding the mirror. He resolutely squashed the little voice that tried to tell him that there had to be more to it than that. That tried to tell him that Sam should have noticed and called him on it. That his brother should have been focused enough on him to notice. He'd only just come back from Hell and death after all, didn't that call for a little more regard?

It was the same voice that Dean had deliberately ignored when he'd gotten out of the motel after Castiel's little fly by and could finally think about where Sam was and why his brother hadn't been in their room in the middle of the night. Just like he'd forced himself not to think too closely on the slight pause in Sam's answer when he'd questioned his brother on his whereabouts over the phone. No, he simply couldn't deal with all of that right now, not on top of everything else that was currently going on. Wasn't it enough that he'd just gotten out of Hell and had to deal with what had happened to him there? It should be.

With a grace he didn't feel, Dean stepped into the shower and turned on the cold water tap. In the past he'd always taken hot showers, so much so in fact that Sam had often bitched at him for using up all of it if he took his shower first, but he found that he just couldn't now. While he still couldn't recall everything that had happened to him in Hell, he could only remember all too well the feel of the hot blood as it gushed over him both from when he'd been cutting into a soul or from when Alastair had poured it over him, both his own and that of others. The mere thought was enough to have the bile rising in his throat and it was all that he could do to force it back down. He wasn't going to get sick, not now with Bobby and Sam so close by.

Neither was he going to think about how part of him liked the memory and wanted nothing more than to sink his hands into a warm, blood slick body cavity again.

In a desperate attempt to distract himself, Dean looked at his left shoulder and the handprint branded into it. On some level he was still in shock about it, unable to fully believe that it was really there despite the evidence that was literally right before his eyes. It felt surreal and yet also more real than anything else had so far. Ever since he'd first woken in his grave and realized that he actually was trapped in a small pine box instead of some illusion of Alastair's, he'd felt like everything was off somehow. Like in a dream before he fully realized that it was a dream and he still thought it was reality but everything already had that hint of wrongness to it, bugging him.

Without really thinking about what he was doing, Dean reached up and touched the scar, gasping in shock at the wave of emotions that suddenly washed over him. It was a hopeless jumble of feelings that he couldn't even begin to sort through and suspected that he wouldn't even if he were more prone to contemplating those kinds of things. Besides, even the ones he could identify didn't make any sense. At least not together anyway. There was lust and terror, hope and abandonment, pain, desire, misery, safety, disgust, possessiveness. Darkness. The emotions swamped him, eating him alive and refusing to let go even as he fought to shut them out. It was too much, too good and too bad. He wanted it to end and yet go on forever, never letting him go. Never abandoning him to cold mercilessness of just the horror, shame and wretchedness of his current reality.

By the time it passed enough for Dean to regain some semblance of where he was, he was huddled on the floor of the shower, icy water raining down on him and feeling more abandoned and alone than he'd ever felt before even after his mother's death or when his brother and father had walked out on him. It was as if he'd lost something infinitely precious and he didn't even know what it was, but he felt like he'd do anything to get it back if only he could figure out what it was he wanted so desperately.

/

From the moment that Dean woke, he knew that he and Sam weren't alone anymore but somehow that didn't immediately alarm him like it should have done. Given their jobs and especially after what they had just gone through with the Witnesses, an unfamiliar presence should have instantly triggered his sense of danger and need to attack, but it hadn't and that worried him more than the presence itself did. Slowly he turned and was somehow unsurprised to find Castiel in the kitchen leaning back against the sink, watching him.

The moment he met those unearthly blue eyes, Dean felt a shiver run through him. His mouth went dry and his heart sped up at the sheer power and presence the creature seemed to radiate and a part of him, the part that Alastair had molded and shaped deep inside of him, wanted to do nothing more than to submit to it and let Castiel do with him as the creature pleased. The rest of him was horrified and he forced himself to his feet so he could approach the angel and at least pretend that he wasn't as affected by that gaze as he was. It made him feel small and trapped, as if ensnared by a predator that could do whatever it wished with him.

Dean wasn't sure how much it would work until Castiel opened his mouth and revealed that he knew about what had happened. That just served to awaken his anger and he let it out, needing to shake off the other emotions. Of course he wasn't so sure that mouthing off God to a so called angel was his brightest idea ever but the words were already out of his mouth and there was no way he was going to back down from them now. Not with Castiel being a self-righteous dick just now. Unexpectedly, he thought that he caught a flash of satisfaction and triumph in the creature's eyes, but then it was gone and only long suffering annoyance remained. He must have been mistaken, besides there were more important things to consider here.

"So Bobby was right," Dean stated. "About the Witnesses, this is some kind of a sign of the Apocalypse?"

"That's why we're here," Castiel stated.

The confirmation of his friend's theory made Dean's heart sink. When Bobby had first mentioned it, it had seemed so far out there, so impossible, that he hadn't been able to fully believe it. After all, the Apocalypse? That was just ridiculous, right? Well, not so much apparently and he just didn't know what to think of that. He couldn't wrap his mind around it and all that it meant, not only for them but for everyone else as well. They were talking about the possible end of the world here. This was big, far bigger than anything they'd ever dealt with before and it made the whole thing with Azazel look like nothing in comparison. Still...

"Why break the seal anyway?"

"You think of the seals as locks on a door."

"Okay, the last one opens and?"

Most of Dean didn't really want to know the answer to that question as he knew that it would be horrible. They were talking about the freaking Apocalypse here after all and not just in jest, but seriously. Man, if anyone had told him even a few months ago that he'd be contemplating Biblical stories, he'd have laughed in their face and told them to go see a shrink. Yet here he was, having a conversation in Bobby's kitchen at God only knows what time in the morning with a creature that claimed to be an angel. About the Apocalypse.

Those thoughts left Dean as Castiel shifted and suddenly moved closer to him, easily invading his personal space as if the creature had every right to be there. He would have snapped at the angel to move back if his breath hadn't caught in his throat and the desire to submit didn't rise within him again as the air around him fairly crackled with the power that flowed from Castiel in waves. He had the insane desire to reach out and touch the creature, just to see what it would feel like, but thankfully he didn't actually do so as he normally would have, though he feared it had more to do with the fact that Castiel hadn't given him permission to do so rather than any true caution or control on his own part.

"Lucifer walks free."

The words completely derailed Dean's thoughts as shock jolted through him. "Lucifer? I thought Lucifer was just a story they told at demon Sunday school. There's no such thing."

"Three days ago you thought there was no such thing as me. Why do you think we're here, walking among you now for the first time in two thousand years?"

"To stop Lucifer?"

The creature titled his head. "It's why God's angels have arrived."

"Well, bang-up job so far, stellar work with the Witnesses. It's nice."

"The angels tried. There are other battles, other seals, some will be won, some will be lost. This one was broken."

Dean snorted. Now that was an understatement if he'd ever heard one. It hadn't just been broken, it had been cracked wide open and they had the body count to prove it as well and all of them hunters. With so much hunter blood spilled, they'd be that much harder pressed to prevent other seals from being broken and he couldn't help but wonder if that had been why Lilith had chosen to start off with this particular seal. Or didn't she have a choice? Part of him wanted to ask Castiel, but he wasn't so sure the angel would tell him and he didn't think that opening his mouth just now was the best idea ever either. Not with the creature standing so close, radiating power like it was nothing.

"Angelic numbers are not unlimited. Six of my brothers died in the field this week. You think the armies of Heaven should just follow you around? There's a bigger picture here, you should show me some respect. I dragged you out of Hell, I can throw you back in."

The words were like a bucket of ice water, causing his breath to catch in his throat. Dean froze up, wanting to shout and scream, enraged at how terrified he was so quickly, but the fear was greater. This being, this creature, that stood only a few inches away was the same one that had freed him from Hell and he didn't doubt for a second that Castiel could follow through on his threat. That he could just chuck him back into the Pit. It horrified him that there was a part of him (and not as small of a part as he'd like either if he had to have it) that actually wanted to go back. It longed for the pleasure and power of standing before a rack, of being the one to wield the knife instead of being on the business end of it. It loved the warm, shame free and guilt free environment of Hell where he could do whatever he wanted without needing to fear his consciousness or the condemnation of others who couldn't possibly hope to understand what it was like to be down there, to be tortured for decades without mercy or pause. What it felt like to cut and slash and burn.

Even worse, Dean found that the hints of arousal he'd felt earlier when Castiel had first invaded his personal space weren't going away, if anything they grew with the creature's proximity. It caused a rush of mixed emotions within him not unlike what had happened in the shower when he'd touched the angel's scar on his shoulder and he shuddered at the memory. This time, though, the lust and fear dominated and he wondered desperately how that was even possible; how it was that the two didn't cancel each other out, those were not two emotions that should be going hand in hand after all.

Then suddenly Castiel was gone and Dean made a little noise in the back of his throat. If anyone else had been present he would have claimed that it was a sound of surprise, but really he knew it was one of loss. He didn't know where it came from, but he wanted nothing more than for the creature to return and stay with him no matter how much the angel terrified him.

The next thing Dean knew, he was lying on the floor again, blinking his eyes and waking up. He had absolutely no recollection of moving back from the kitchen into the study or of lying back down to go to sleep once more and momentarily he had the crazy thought that he'd dreamt the entire thing. For a split second he felt the relief that came with knowing that something had been a nightmare, but then reason reasserted itself and he knew that it wasn't true. Just because he couldn't remember coming back to the study and going back to sleep didn't mean that he hadn't, just that he'd forgotten it. He knew that the meeting with Castiel had actually happened and that the Apocalypse wasn't merely something his imagination had conjured up. No, it was real no matter how much he wished that it weren't.

Reluctantly Dean sat up and looked at his brother. How was it that Sam could accept all of this so easily? He'd definitely not learned faith from him or their father as neither of them had ever had an ounce of it. Briefly he wondered if his mother had believed, truly believed and not just that crap she'd told him about how angels were watching over him, but he shoved it aside. It was too painful to contemplate and it really wasn't relevant just now. However if what Castiel had said about Lucifer and the Apocalypse was right, then he might just have to accept that the creature really was an angel.

But if that were true, then what the hell was Castiel doing with him?

/

He'd been having so many nightmares lately about Hell, both about what had been done to him and what he'd in turn done to others, that Dean wasn't at all surprised to wake up from yet another one. It was amazing that he'd even fallen asleep to begin with as most nights just the fear of another nightmare was enough to keep him awake well into morning, tossing and turning much to his brother's dismay. It wasn't like he could help it and Sam's irritation was starting to annoy him as it wasn't as if he was doing it on purpose. The fact that he couldn't tell his brother why he was so reluctant to sleep or the real reason why he'd wake up so suddenly and, sometimes, so violently all added to the swiftly rising tensions between them.

Sam had changed. Dean couldn't quite put his finger on how or even what had tipped him off, but his brother was definitely different from before. Beyond the sudden snappiness and easy irritation there was something else, something far less definable and it freaked him out. The first two he could easily excuse as tension due to the fact that they were now suddenly facing the freaking Apocalypse or even the fact that he kept inadvertently waking Sam and thus his brother wasn't getting as much sleep as he'd like to, but the last one was far harder to pin down and not only because of its intangible nature. It called out to him on some level and yet also freaked him out at the same time. What was it that his brother was hiding from him? Just because he didn't know what it was didn't mean that he couldn't tell that something was up and it hurt that Sam didn't seem to think that he could tell him.

The thought reignited Dean's anger at his brother's sudden babying of him. Although he hadn't caught on as soon as he should have, he had noticed that Sam seemed to be picking only easy cases for them to deal with as if he were some rookie with more enthusiasm than experience and in need of careful watching and handling. He hadn't yet confronted his brother about it but if Sam didn't cut it out and damn soon, they'd have words. Just because he'd been torn to shreds by a hellhound and had been sent to Hell didn't mean that he couldn't hold his own on a hunt. Heck, if anything he was even more qualified now than he was before, what with all of his new expertise with knives and all of the other torture implements he'd perfected his knowledge of under Alastair's tutelage and watchful eye. In addition he now knew even more ways to take someone down and cause pain with his bare hands than ever before, though he had to admit that the eagerness he had to put those skills to use scared the crap out of him whenever he truly allowed himself to think about it.

So no, Dean wasn't surprised to find himself awakening from a nightmare, but he was surprised by the voice that came from behind him.

"Hello, Dean. What were you dreaming about?"

Dean jerked around to find Castiel sitting on the other side of his bed. Surprise was the first emotion that rocked through him followed swiftly by relief, though the undertone in the angel's voice, almost as if he knew exactly what his nightmare had been about, caused fear and desire to rise within him. It was the same strange and impossible mix of emotions that he'd experience before during their last meeting and which always made him think of the shower incident as well. So far he'd yet to work up the courage to actually touch the scar like that again, at once terrified and enthralled with the idea and that scared the living daylights out of him. He'd seriously contemplated asking Bobby and Sam for help on it except that he didn't do emotions. Ever. At least not without someone dragging them out of him and, surprisingly, Sam just wasn't doing that. In a way it pissed him off even if it relieved him at the same time. Sam just wasn't acting like Sam and he couldn't help but wonder if his little brother could perhaps sense the taint and darkness on him and was now revolted with him.

The mere thought hurt like a knife to the gut but Dean just couldn't think of what else it might be. Before he'd gone to Hell Sam had always despaired about his inability to deal with and share his emotions, complaining that it was neither normal nor healthy and his little brother had seemed to have made it a goal in life to get him to do both more often. Now Sam hardly even broached the subject, seeming to want nothing more than to accept his lies and spend as little time with him as possible. It seemed like every time he turned around, his brother was gone or had to go do an errand somewhere and no, really, it was better if he did it alone. The fact that Alastair had conjured up a hundred fake Sams during his time on the rack and the fact that he'd never believed any of them were real as his little brother would never be so callous or disinterested in him and his pain only made the present scenario that much worse as it was like Sam was deliberately setting out to prove that all of his faith, which had carried him through countless years of torture, was all wrong.

It made Dean feel like he'd held out for so long, like he'd taken all of that pain and torture, for nothing.

The thought made him intimately aware of Castiel's intense gaze, locked on his face while he lay in bed.

"What, you get your freak on by watching other people sleep?"

The words caused another flair of desire to shoot through him and he was horrified to feel the first stirrings of actual, physical arousal as well. It was blasphemy and taking things way too far, even for him, to think that an angel might be watching him sleep with less than pure thoughts. Or to like the fact that it might even be true. Besides, it shouldn't even be possible, not with the fear he still felt around the creature or the way the sheer power and energy (Grace?) that crackled from Castiel reminded him only all too much of Alastair. But he'd been thinking about it ever since their last meeting in Bobby's kitchen and while he hadn't been able to figure out why on Earth Castiel might have been sent to save him, he had come to a startling conclusion. His actual rescue was still one of those memories that he hadn't recovered, but there was no doubt in his mind as to what, precisely, he'd been doing when the angel had found him. Which meant that Castiel was fully aware of what he'd done and, more importantly, what he'd become down there and yet Castiel was still here and seemed quite tolerant of him and his snark. True, the creature had threatened to throw him back into the Pit, but Castiel had also seemed genuinely surprised to discover that he didn't believe himself worthy of saving during their first meeting in the barn.

"What do you want?" Dean demanded to distract himself.

"You deserve to know the truth," Castiel stated.

"What truth?"

It was a sign of how messed up he was that Dean didn't react or pull back when Castiel reached out towards him. Under any other circumstance or with any other supernatural creature it would have been an instinctive reaction, not trusting them enough to let them get that close for fear that they might try to incapacitate or otherwise harm him. Yet with Castiel he didn't, some part of him trusting the angel while the rest of him longed to feel his touch, to see if it was as electric as he thought it might be. Besides, he was still half enthralled by the emotions the scar had produced and while he couldn't make himself actively seek more, he could prevent himself from stopping it from happening to him.

That was less damning, right?

There was a brief flash of something before everything went black and the next thing he knew there was a cop standing over him.

/

Dean rounded the corner, intent on following his father, and stopped short when he found Castiel standing there waiting for him. "What is this?"

"What does it look like?" Castiel replied.

"Is it real?"

"Very."

And wasn't that just great? So angels could travel through time and Dean wasn't so sure how he felt about that. Or, if it were true, why they didn't just bend it back to the point where the first seal had been broken and prevent it from happening. It seemed to him like this whole Apocalypse mess could be sorted out real quick with a little judicious use of time travel. It struck him as a perfectly reasonable way to use this particular skill of theirs even if the mere thought of them doing it with anything else they didn't like made him feel sick to his stomach. He could easily see it getting abused, but if they were ever going to use it, surely now was the time? And not like this, like what Castiel was doing right now as it didn't make any sense. Well, unless-

"Or tell me what the hell I'm doing here," Dean demanded.

"I told you," Castiel stated. "You deserve to know the truth."

"What truth? Huh? Is there some skeleton in my dad's closet?"

Instinctively Dean looked over when he heard the screech of tires and the honk of a horn. Even before he turned back he knew that Castiel had used his moment of inattention to vanish, or fly away, or whatever angels did, as the almost electrical charge that always filled the air when the creature was around had cleared. Damn angels.

Dean resolutely ignored the part of him that wanted Castiel back for less than informative purposes. He was gonna get himself sent right back to Hell for having impure thoughts about an angel at this rate.

/

"So what? God's my copilot, is that it?" Dean demanded and was surprised at the stony edge to the ensuing silence. "Well you're a regular chatty Kathy. Tell me something. Sam would've wanted in on this, why not bring him back?"

"You had to see this alone, Dean," Castiel finally said.

"And you don't care that he's tearing up the future looking for me right now?"

At least Dean hoped like hell that his brother was doing so. For once he couldn't ignore the part of himself that had been having doubts and questions about Sam's behavior and attitude as of late. Those few times where he'd seriously thought about it, he'd always known that something was afoot as he knew in his gut that things weren't right, but there was never anything tangible that he could point to and say that right there, that just wasn't right, so he'd just shoved it all aside. He had too much to deal with as it was at the moment, he just couldn't have his faith in his brother crumble away now, he wasn't sure he could survive that with everything else he had on his plate at present. He was afraid of what he might do if his one solid rock vanished from beneath him, not to mention that he really didn't want to think about what it would mean if Sam were lying to him. What it would say about what his little brother saw him as.

"Sam is not looking for you," Castiel stated.

The words cut through Dean like only one of Alastair's razors could, slick and true, hitting straight at the heart. For a moment he couldn't breathe, desperately floundering for help, his whole body trembling, as he sought to deny the truth in those words, but the angel was far too confident in what he'd said and he himself'd had far too many doubts to be able to do so successfully. His foundation, the one upon which he'd built everything and on which he'd always relied, was suddenly gone and he wasn't at all sure that he could survive the subsequent fall. Family had always been everything to him from the moment his mother had died and Dad had made Sam his main responsibility. Instantly the desire to lose himself in darkness and blood rose within him as agony the likes of which he'd only ever experienced in the Pit tore through him. It would be so easy to do, to slip down that path and never look back again like he'd done in Hell, but a shred of sanity remained. He was in the past after all, which meant that things weren't as set in stone as he'd once believed them to be.

"Alright, if I do this, then the family curse breaks, right? Mom and Dad live happily ever after and Sam and I grow up playing little league and chasing tail," Dean demanded desperately, clutching at straws as the darkness beckoned.

"You realize if you do alter the future, your father, you, Sam will never become hunters and all of those people you saved will die," Castiel replied.

Screw them was Dean's first, instinctive reaction. Screw those people and their lives, why should they be more important than that of his Mom? Than the happiness of himself, his father and Sam? Why did he have to put them first anyway? Besides, it wasn't like there weren't other hunters out there like his grandfather and Bobby, or hell even Pastor Jim and Caleb as they wouldn't be dead anymore if he did this right as the yellow eyed son of bitch wouldn't be around to order their deaths. He knew that it was a radically different reaction from the one he would have once had, before he'd gone to Hell, but tough. The fact of the matter was that he had gone to Hell and he had given into his own personal dark side there and not only tortured others, but reveled in it as well. Changing the past would also mean that everyone he'd hurt would be spared their pain as well and he figured that went a long way towards evening the balance, if not righting it entirely.

"I realize," Dean admitted.

"And you don't care?" Castiel questioned, a strange undercurrent to his voice.

It made Dean pause, trying to figure it out. If he didn't know any better he'd say that the creature was almost pleased with that, almost impressed. But surely that couldn't be right, could it? Castiel was an angel for crying out loud, he was supposed to be all about the caring and saving people thing regardless of the sacrifices made to ensure the innocent lived. Well, at least that was how he'd always thought about the idea of angels when he'd pondered them before. Those notions were not exactly something that real angels had lived up to, though. They seemed far more callous and cold, truth be told, and there was something so wrong about that it excited him in a completely inappropriate way.

"Oh I care, I care a lot," Dean lied, well at least partially.

It wasn't that he was completely immune to what would happen to them, but rather that he no longer blindly believed that he had to automatically sacrifice everything to ensure that others were fine. This was his family they were talking about here! The one that seemed to be falling apart before his very eyes and the one whose demise he didn't think he could survive intact.

"But these are my parents, I'm not gonna let them die again. I can't. Not if I can stop it."

/

The moment that Dean turned the last bend in the road and caught sight of his mother kissing his possessed grandfather, he knew that he was too late and that he'd failed.

Just like before.

Just like at Cold Oak.

In the end he was too late to do anything but watch as his mother realized what she had done but he could tell that she didn't truly have it in her to care. Just like he hadn't had it in him to care enough about the people whose lives would have been lost if he'd succeeded in altering the past. Apparently there was a certain amount of selfishness that ran through the Campbell side of the family and he'd most definitely gotten it from his Mom as all he could think of right now was himself. Of how he would now have to go back to the fucked up present that he was from where his own brother apparently no longer cared enough to worry about his sudden, unexplained absence or at the very least didn't care enough to even notice that he'd been kidnapped by an angel and sent back in time.

Like it had earlier, the realization hit Dean like a ton of bricks and he couldn't even find words when Castiel suddenly appeared at his side again and gave him a look filled with so much compassion and sympathy that he wasn't sure he could bear it all. How did it happen that a supernatural creature cared more about him than his own brother?

Dean was so shaken by all of it that the first words out of his mouth when he woke back in his motel room were some nonsense about his failure, as if saying it all out loud might allow him to find some flaw in his logic that he was missing. He'd given up on such fairytale reasoning the night his mother had died, but somehow it was back now, perhaps because he'd just seen her again or perhaps it was a last desperate attempt of his overwhelmed and broken mind to cope with what was going on and the fact that not only was his entire world crumbling around him, but that he wanted nothing more than to become the very thing he'd hated and hunted for so long just to escape it all. Inhumanity and a lack of consciousness sounded really good to him right now.

"Don't be too hard on yourself, you couldn't have stopped it," Castiel stated.

"What?"

"The past can't be changed, Dean. Things would have happened the way they did regardless of what you tried."

"Then why'd you send me back?"

"For the truth. Now you know everything the angels do."

"The hell are you talking about?" Dean demanded and then followed Castiel's gaze to Sam's empty bed. It made his heart stop as it forced him to think about his brother and everything that had been going on with him lately. Still, despite all of that, he found himself desperately trying to repair his crumbling foundation, terrified of what might happen if he didn't. "Where's Sam?"

"Four twenty-five Waterman."

Almost frantic to disprove what he already knew to be the truth, Dean reacted instantly, going for his gear and jacket.

"Your brother is heading down a dangerous road, Dean."

The words froze Dean and he glanced over at the angel, dread like a solid ball in the pit of his stomach. Silently he urged Castiel to say something more, anything more, but the creature didn't, seemingly satisfied with his warning. The desire to rush out and track Sam down was tempered by the knowledge that he wouldn't like what he found when he did so. Azazel's words were also still echoing through his mind, painting lurid pictures of the demon standing over Sammy's crib and bleeding into his mouth. What did demon blood even do to a baby beyond making them manifest psychic powers? Inevitably his mind flashed back to his own experience with drinking blood, at first his own unwillingly whenever Alastair had forced it or parts of himself down his throat, but later it had become voluntary, but only after the first few years on the other side of the rack. He could still taste the thick, cloying liquid in his mouth, it's rich taste bursting to life across his taste buds and he swallowed thickly. The fact that bile didn't immediately rise in his gorge sickening him more than anything else.

He took a step towards Castiel and the angel shifted, tilting his head to one side as he observed him. Dean wasn't sure why he'd done it, but now he wanted nothing more than to close the gap between them and bury his face in the creature's clothing. He wanted to grasp and cling, to make Castiel say that it wasn't real and that it was all just another nightmare that he'd wake up from soon enough in a bed next to Sam's and that everything would be normal once more. No Apocalypse, no Lucifer and most certainly no vanishing and uncaring brother.

The strength of the desire startled Dean almost as much as the desire itself. He had never been one to seek out comfort like that in others, not even from his father and brother, so he didn't know what on Earth possessed him to even think of it with Castiel, but he did. It was just another way in which he found himself drawn to the angel and it made him feel really bad. He was a disgrace, hardly more than a demon with what he'd done and what he still wanted to do so badly it almost hurt to deny himself, so what right did he possibly have to even think about tainting an angel let alone sexually? He should be thankful about the mere fact that Castiel could stand to touch him long enough to pull him from Hell, not constantly want more and more as if he had any right to it.

His shame finally allowed him to break free from the trance he'd fallen into, staring deep into Castiel's eyes, to force himself to move and track down his brother. It was his duty to look after Sam after all.

/

Watching Sam exorcise the demon from the man it was possessing with just an outstretched hand and his psychic powers was enough to slaughter whatever tiny fragment of hope that had been left within Dean. Then, to add insult to injury, there was what the demon had revealed about Ruby and what she and Sam had been getting up to. Not only did it prove once more that his little brother had outright lied to him about exactly who the girl was that had been with him when he'd first seen Sam again after getting out of Hell, but it also made explicitly clear exactly what their relationship was these days. And seriously, his little brother was sleeping with a demon? If he hadn't already been so completely shattered inside, he would have been sick. As it was, it was just one more betrayal right on top of another.

He had gone to Hell for this? This?!

Dean was so furious and shocked that he found himself totally unable to move. He had sold his soul, been torn to shreds by a hellhound, been tortured for thirty years and then become the very thing he'd always hated just so that his little brother could betray him, lie to his face and then take a demon as a lover. He didn't think he could feel more betrayed or used if Sam had killed him himself. Yes, he knew that his little brother hadn't asked him to do any of those things, had actually condemned him for having made the deal and had subsequently fought tooth and nail to try and break the deal, but still the truth remained that he'd done it all for Sam and his brother had turned around and fucked up his sacrifice and all but rendered it useless.

Although he knew the answer couldn't help but hurt him even more, Dean bitterly wondered just how long Sam had waited before breaking his promise never to use his powers again. Like his brother had said in the car just a short while ago, it had been his dying wish but obviously that hadn't meant a damn thing to Sam except when it was convenient for his brother to use it to deceive him. He would have retched except that he didn't think he had enough life left in him for that. All he kept seeing were scenes of what he had gone through down in Hell just so that his little brother could run around up here, turning himself into a monster and fucking a goddamn demon. He'd known that Ruby was nothing but trouble from the start, but had Sam listened to him? No. Guess he hadn't even been worth listening to back then. He suddenly couldn't help but wonder for just how long his brother had considered him so useless as to not even consider what it was that he said.

It took Sam stepping forwards to check on the poor guy who'd been possessed for Dean to recover enough to actually consider moving. A part of him wanted to just slink away and pretend that nothing had happened, but he knew that wasn't possible anymore. Not with what he had seen. Besides, every step he took was sheer agony, as if his entire insides consisted of nothing but broken glass shards that shifted and stabbed at him with every tiny movement he made and he knew he'd never get away fast enough. No, the best thing for him to do was to confront his brother about this whole issue and pretend like he wasn't back on the rack with Alastair. So no biggie, right? After all, he had the best of motivations to hold on, nor could anyone convince him that Sammy wasn't worth it.

Except apparently Sammy himself. Who'd have thought?

"So, anything you want to tell me, Sam?" Dean demanded.

His brother's pathetic attempts to act like there was anything even remotely salvageable about this situation did nothing but infuriate Dean even more and he nearly tore into Sam right then and there. But then something changed within him and an icy coldness swept over him, a familiar friend in a way whose acquaintance he'd first made in the Pit shortly after he'd gotten off the rack. It was what had allowed him to first cut into other souls to save himself from being placed back upon the rack himself. It was also that which had later allowed him to do most of what Alastair had considered his most impressive work, soothing his bloodlust long enough for him to inflict some serious and thoughtful damage instead of the unthinking slashing work of most demon torturers. It was what had set him apart according to Alastair's albeit expert opinion. What had made him an artist instead of a mere butcher.

Only now instead of urging him to go slower and savor his work a little more, it told Dean to be careful, not to reveal all of his cards at once. It made him pretend to not instantly know who Ruby was and thus served to make him look dumber than he actually was to the two whom he now had no choice but to consider his adversaries at the very best. Not that it seemed to take that much of an effort to make them believe he wasn't so bright. They already seemed to have an incredibly low opinion of him as it was or else they'd never be in this situation in the first place. Unexpectedly he wished that Castiel was here, not only because he was sure that Cas could fry the bitch with a mere thought, but because at least with him he kinda knew where he stood. The angel had rescued him because his Lord had commanded it and because there was something they needed from him. The creature was also the reason why he was here and why he now knew the truth.

Dean nearly snorted at the thought that it was because of a supernatural being that he'd learned the truth which his own brother had hidden from him and lied to his face to protect. So much for family. He was in free fall just now and he knew it. He should have walked away until he'd either found a makeshift ground to prop himself up with or until he'd crashed and burned, but that option simply hadn't been available to him, so here he was, floundering dangerously and almost getting his ass handed to him by Ruby. He didn't know what had possessed him to try and take her then and there, it wasn't like it would have mattered even if he'd succeeded as the damage was already done and done irreparably.

There was no way that he could ever trust his brother again, not after this. Not after Sam had taken his incredible sacrifice and stomped all over it. Dean could only hope that he'd been cold in his grave before the betrayals had even started but at this point he wouldn't even bet five bucks on it. Once Ruby was gone, he found that he simply couldn't stay there with his brother and he left, ignoring Sam's calls for him to come back.

He wasn't sure how long he drove for or even where the hell he was going and honestly Dean didn't care. He'd just had to get out of there fast and at least try to calm his thoughts and deal with the tearing pain inside of him. Though he'd accomplished the first, he hadn't succeeded with either of the latter two and instead found himself running out of gas in the middle of nowhere between Bumfuck, USA and Shithole, Whocares.

"Fucking brilliant," Dean snapped as he yanked the keys free and slammed his way out of the Impala.

Not even sure what he was planning to do, Dean furiously paced first one way and then the other, cursing all the while as he did his best to ignore the past twenty-four hours and failing miserably. Hell, if he'd known that it would have worked then he'd have tried for more than a mere twenty-four hours, he'd have gone for the past twenty-nine years, or was that sixty-nine years now? Fuck he didn't care, just so long as he could forget his entire life he'd be happy. Hopelessly lost and confused but so freaking happy it would probably hurt. No brother, no Apocalypse, no dead-beat dad, no dead mother, no fucking demons or hunting or anything that had made his life nothing but a goddamn parody of a life.

He was still cursing when he turned around only to find Castiel a foot away. Momentarily he froze, merely looking back at the angel in shock but then his fury rose within him again and it didn't care that Castiel hadn't been the one to betray him. It didn't even care that the creature had been the one to point him towards the truth, it just saw yet another person that it didn't fully trust and it immediately went on the defensive.

"How long?" Dean snarled. "How fucking long has it been going on? Was I at least cold in my grave before he started fucking her? Or did they jump right to it?"

Well at least he now knew why Sam had been so eager to break all ties with Bobby, Dean suddenly thought viciously. His little, baby brother hadn't wanted the other hunter catching onto the fact that Sam was now batting for the other team, well at least in supernatural terms. And if that didn't show that his brother knew that what he was doing was wrong on some level, then he didn't know what would. The question was why Sam didn't care and had chosen to do it anyway despite all of the warnings he'd given his brother and everything else. Was Sam really so arrogant as to think that he knew better than the rest of them combined? Apparently so.

"Dean," Castiel began, placatingly.

"How fucking long?" Dean demanded again, shoving at the angel.

The moment he touched the creature, Dean knew it had been a mistake. Not only did Castiel not move in the slightest but there was a flare of anger in his eyes and the next thing he knew he'd been shoved up against the side of the Impala with an angry angel in his face and two fists in his clothes. Castiel's earlier warning of showing him some respect or getting chucked back into the Pit rang in his ears and a sound escaped him before he could stop it. He honestly wasn't sure himself if it was because he wanted to stay up here and live or whether it was because he wanted to get thrown back to where he knew the rules and could just bury himself in something that didn't hurt him like this.

Apparently Castiel put his own interpretation on it and liked what he heard as Dean saw the anger dimming and instead he was subjected to one of the angel's intense stares from just four inches away. He truly couldn't say what possessed him to do what he did next because even he knew it was incredibly stupid as he knew how powerful the creature before him was, not only because of what he'd done- successfully pulling him from Hell- but also because of the power that radiated from him and charged the very air all around him making it hard to breathe, but the next thing he knew he'd closed the distance between them and was kissing the angel.

The skin-to-skin contact was electrifying and Dean moaned involuntarily, terror and lust shooting through him in an intoxicating cocktail that he was rapidly becoming addicted to even though he had absolutely no idea how this particular act of stupidity would end. The very thought that he might end up smited for having dared to defile something so holy merely served to turn him on even more even as it made him want to pull back and drop to his knees and grovel at the angel's feet. Before he had the chance to do either, Castiel reacted and he suddenly found himself shoved up against the Impala even more forcefully, an angel plastered up against him and a hand at his face as Castiel easily took charge of the kiss. The creature's tongue swept into his mouth, dominating it and he moaned again and then once more as the angel pushed a leg between his own and pressed up against his rapidly hardening cock.

Dean could hardly keep up with what was happening but he didn't care in the least. At the moment all he wanted to do was forget and now that Castiel seemed more than interested in reciprocating the messed up feelings he'd been dealing with since first laying eyes on the angel, he was all systems go even though the very idea of getting any closer to the creature scared the living daylights out of him. Since when had he ever let commonsense get in the way of anything he wanted? The only thing that worried him was how quickly he'd lost control even if it turned him on like nothing else. He'd have thought that after forty years in Hell and thirty years at Alastair's complete and utter mercy that he'd find losing control nothing short of a total mood killer but that didn't seem to be case here, not with Castiel at any rate.

Something stirred within Dean at the thought, some memory that he couldn't fully access or place, but he knew that it had to do with the angel and his rescue from the Pit and he just didn't care beyond that. Right now he was so hot and bothered that he didn't give a fuck about logic or reason, just about getting off even if he was terrified the entire time. It turned out fear was a brilliant aphrodisiac when paired so intimately with lust and he didn't want it to end even if this might result in him burning up the way Pamela's eyes had burned out. It would be worth it. Castiel broke the kiss and nudged his face aside so that the angel could get at his neck and he mewled involuntarily as he felt teeth on the delicate skin of his throat. Things were moving faster than he'd expected but his brain kicked him back into action when he felt the creature's hands at his belt and he instantly reciprocated, keening when Castiel's fingers brushed against the skin of his belly in the process. That close to his cock, the contact was even more powerful and he silently cursed himself for not having done this sooner.

"Dean," Castiel breathed, jeans falling away as the angel lowered the zip and pushed them down.

"Cas," Dean replied, not realizing until he'd said it that he was using the nickname he'd come up with but never actually voiced.

Apparently the creature approved as there was a little growl near his ear and then his boxers were gone and a hand closed around his cock. Dean cried out, arching into the touch as much as possible given how well he was pinned down and his hands lost all of their coordination. It was embarrassing almost but the feel of that electrical charge on his cock was amazing, especially after forty years of nothing but pain, dark pleasure and a complete lack of sexual contact. As much as he'd constantly expected to be raped by Alastair, it had never actually happened. On the few occasions where it had seemed like the demon had decided to follow through on his threats, something had always come up to distract Alastair and he'd always been insanely grateful for that even at the worst of times.

Everything that Dean thought he knew about angels, sex and abstinence flew right out of the window at the expert way Castiel worked his cock, milking all kinds of embarrassing noises from him no matter how much he tried to suppress them. All too soon he could feel his orgasm building and he keened, aware that he hadn't so much as gotten the angel's pants open.

"Cas," Dean managed to force out along with the moans. "You gotta... slow down... I can't... I'm gonna come... otherwise."

Instead of slowing the angel, his words only seemed to encourage him and Dean couldn't do anything but cry out as his orgasm was expertly wrung from him with such force that he nearly blacked out. Then Castiel's lips were on his once more, the creature easily claiming his mouth as he came down from his high. He'd just become aware of the angel's erection pressing against his hip through Castiel's pants when there was a brief disorientation and the next thing he knew he was being spun around and bent over the hood of his baby. Confusion washed over him as he tried to figure out how they'd gone from the side of the Impala to her hood, but it vanished as he suddenly felt a slick finger circling his entrance and he realized exactly what Castiel was planning to do.

"Cas!" Dean exclaimed, scrabbling at the polished metal beneath him. "Cas, I don't- I've never-"

"I know."

The two words startled Dean both at the fact that the angel knew and at the supreme confidence with which they were spoken, clearly indicating that Castiel didn't expect that to be a problem whatsoever. The sheer audacity and arrogance made his spent dick twitch with whatever twisted emotion he was now experiencing and then it was too late, the angel's finger sinking into him with a slight burn as it forced his body to accommodate and accept it.

"Shit, fuck! Man that feels weird."

"Shh, just relax," Castiel commanded, his free hand sweeping up under his shirts for a moment, almost soothing him, before it came to rest on his hip just as the other finger started to move inside of him.

All thoughts of reciprocating the angel's attentions with a hand job or hell even a blowjob were completely gone now and instead Dean moaned and dropped his head to the cool metal of his baby as the electrifying touch made him aware of parts of himself that he'd never even known. Though he'd definitely fooled around with a number of guys before, he'd never actually allowed things to get this far and a new fear swept over him but it only served to kindle his lust further and arousal flooded him once more. Impossibly he felt his cock start to respond already and his fingers dug uselessly at metal and paint as he reacted at the same time as Castiel slipped a second finger into him. The burn was stronger now but, just like with the fear, it only seemed to add to his arousal instead of detracting from it and he knew he was lost.

Slowly but surely, Castiel continued to prep him so that when the angel pulled his fingers out, Dean moaned at the loss only to be shushed softly as he was pulled upright again so that the creature could pull his jacket and over shirt off and reach his neck. He was just thinking of pulling his t-shirt off when he felt something that was most decidedly not Castiel's fingers nudging his entrance and his hands dropped back down to the hood to brace himself. As with the preparation, the angel moved at a slow but steady pace and before he could even think twice about it, the head of Castiel's cock was already inside of him. He cried out, back arching and his own cock leaking precum at the delicious burn and charged feel of the angel inside of him.

By the time the creature was fully seated in him, Dean was panting, head hanging between his shoulders and eyes squeezed shut in ecstasy and disbelief. He felt so unbelievably full it was difficult to comprehend, especially with the pleasure and pain sizzling along his nerves and practically short circuiting his mind.

"Cas," Dean moaned, acutely aware of the angel nearly wrapped around him, his power washing over him and making the creature the center of his world. "Cas, please!"

Dean wasn't at all sure what it was that he needed just now, simply that he needed it and trusted Castiel to give it to him. When the angel moved within him, he lost all coherency and was reduced to expressing himself in the most embarrassing of sounds. The first few thrusts were slow and measured and he could practically feel the creature holding himself back and in check to keep from hurting him. The burn, however, was quickly fading, eclipsed by the ever growing pleasure and he started to move himself, matching Castiel's pace. Apparently that was precisely what the angel had been waiting for as the next thrust came harder and faster and he screamed as it hit something deep within him and exquisite ecstasy lit him up from within. Everything else vanished and all that he was aware of was the creature behind him, fucking into him.

Just as it was all becoming too much and as his second orgasm of the night was steadily building, Dean felt the wet touch of an open kiss pressed to the back of his neck. It was followed by another and then another before he felt the barest touch of teeth on skin. He keened low in his throat, his head falling forwards even more on instinct and there was a little growl from his partner. He didn't have any time to ponder what that meant before the gentle nips turned harder and the next thing he knew, Castiel's teeth bit down on the nape of his neck and he had a flash of a wild animal using that exact move on the mate it had mounted and then he was coming, darkness edging into his vision as he did so. He didn't black out though and was therefore able to feel Castiel's last few desperate thrusts before the angel was coming as well and liquid heat filled him.

The blissful lethargy that settled over him meant that Dean was only half aware as the creature pulled out of him and cleaned them up. He was with it enough to sense the slight disorientation from before and the next thing he knew they were in the Impala, stretched out as much as was possible on her backbench. He wanted to turn around and say something- anything!- to the angel, but it was like his bones had become liquid within him with the best haze of satiation that he'd ever felt hung over him and instead he found himself dozing off held securely in his savior's arms. He wasn't asleep exactly, just halfway between it and consciousness, floating pleasantly without a care in the world.

When he came to slightly, he found that Castiel was licking the side of his neck and suddenly Dean had a flash of that documentary he'd seen as a kid of predators toying with their prey. As if to confirm the thought, he suddenly felt teeth biting down gently and tugging at his skin before they were replaced with a tongue once more to soothe the sting. He briefly wondered if he was going to have a hickey there but then found that he really didn't care. So what if his brother made some dig about how he spent his time? Not like Sam could talk, what with fucking a demon and all. Forcing his brother from his mind he discovered that Castiel was no longer licking him but now had his nose pressed up against his pulse point and was scenting him. He immediately flashed back to the predator and another little jolt of fear rushed through him, thrilling him as much as it agitated him. He isn't sure if the angel could sense it or whether Castiel just chose that moment to move, but the creature shifted and then his mouth was next to his ear.

"Mine," Castiel declared as one of the angel's hands came up to land on his newest scar.

There was a rush of emotions similar to what he'd felt in the shower even with the barrier of his shirt that they had never gotten around to removing and Dean couldn't help but moan, his protest dying on his lips.

"Sleep now," Castiel commanded and everything went dark.

Part 2