Looking to the Sky to Save Me (Destiel AU, NC-17)
Title: Looking to the Sky to Save Me
Author: Vera
Pairing: Dean/Castiel, AU
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Me no own.
Word Count: 8.700
Summary: Sam and Castiel are bounty hunters. When a warrant is out for Dean, Sam convinces Castiel to catch him. Loosely based on Killjoys.
Author’s Note: Written for spn-reversebang and based on friendlypigeon’s art prompt located HERE. Thanks to jdl71 for beta-reading.
=> AO3 <=
I KNOW MY LAYOUT LOOKS LIKE HELL RIGHT NOW. PLEASE JUST READ IT ON AO3. THANKS! (Damn new photobucket rules.)
Sam was sitting in the control room, looking out at the vast space surrounding the ship. They hadn’t set a new course yet and were just drifting aimlessly for now. It was probably a waste of fuel, but both he and Castiel felt much better up here. Just the two of them and Jess. Not bound to a planet, just a small ship among thousands of stars.
Some people might feel insignificant up here, but it filled Sam with a sense of peace and security that had taken him a long time to acquire. He smiled, thinking back to the first time he met Cas. They’d both been on the run. The only difference had been that Cas had been running from actual enemies while Sam had just been running from life.
He sighed and spun in his chair, his thoughts interrupted when Jess called for him.
“Sam?” The ship’s computer addressed him through the intercom. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but you asked me to keep an eye out for Dean Winchester?”
Sam froze, the smile he usually wore when the computer talked to him dropping from his face. “Yes? What did you find?” He’d written a sub program looking for any mention of his brother almost two years ago. Nothing ever came up. Which had been fine. No news meant he could pretend Dean was alive and well on some planet somewhere, living his life.
The holo screen in front of him came to life and a level five warrant was on display. “Fuck,” Sam swore under his breath. He hadn’t seen Dean in years, but the image attached left no room for doubt.
“I’m sorry if I upset you, Sam,” Jess apologized.
“No, don’t worry,” Sam bit his lip, scanning the relevant information on the warrant. “I’m glad you brought this to my attention, Jess. Thank you.”
“Of course, Sam,” the computer chirped cheerfully. “You gave me the order.”
Sam cringed. “Yeah, uh, Jess?”
“Don’t tell Castiel?” She suggested and Sam wondered how an artificial program could be so damn perceptive. Then again, he’d specified it in his search. He was the only person to be notified of any results.
“Yes. I’m sorry, Jess. I know you’re Castiel’s ship.” Sam transferred the warrant onto his tablet, already wondering what he was gonna tell Cas.
“I’m your program, Sam. You take care of me,” Jess replied, bringing a smile back to Sam’s face. Yes. Yes, he did. And back in the beginning, before Cas had opened up to him, Jess had been the only company he had on this ship. And while it was peaceful in space, it could also be very lonely.
“Always,” Sam promised, before setting a course to E-02, a planet which used to just be ‘the Moon’, back before space travel started and people realized there were many, many moons.
The ship lurched into motion and Sam sighed. Well, he had to tell Castiel something, because he sure as hell felt that.
Castiel met him in the corridor, shirtless, carrying his two short swords and looking frazzled. “Sam, what the hell? I was just doing my routine.”
Sam would feel bad that Cas might have hurt himself, but he knew the other man better than that. He was too skilled to be bothered by the ship’s movement. “Sorry, Cas. I found us a warrant and it’s kinda time sensitive.”
Cas frowned. “How high is it?”
“Four thousand credits,” Sam replied. It would keep them fed and fuelled for a month. Also, it was high enough that soon everybody would be coming after Dean. And he had to get there first.
Castiel cocked his head, humming thoughtfully. “Let me see that.” Sam held out his tablet and he knew what was coming next. “That’s a level five, Sam.” Castiel’s eyes narrowed. “We don’t do level five.”
“No, you won’t let me do level five. You’ve caught plenty yourself,” Sam held his chin up high. He knew this was coming. Level five was a ‘dead or alive’ warrant. It was the highest it could get, only reserved for the worst of them.
“You’re not ready.” Castiel looked Sam up and down, shaking his head.
“Fuck you, yes I am.” Sam stole one of Castiel’s swords and held it up threateningly.
In a flash, Cas was on him. Before Sam really had time to react, he’d been pinned to the wall, breath cut off by Castiel’s forearm while Cas’s other hand hovered the second sword close to Sam’s eye. Sam dropped the sword he was holding with a clang. “You are ready when I say you are ready,” Castiel hissed.
Castiel let up a little and Sam sucked in a deep breath. “Just let me have this one,” Sam pleaded. “Please.” He averted his eyes when Castiel’s calculating gaze was too probing for comfort.
But whatever Castiel saw, it must have been enough. “Alright.” He let up fully and took a step back. “But you let me do the dirty work.”
Sam nodded. He was about to beg Cas to not kill Dean, but that would have raised more questions he wasn’t prepared to answer yet. And Cas almost never killed the mark. He knew a lot of them had just fallen on hard times and the warrants were not always justified. If they could help, they did. It had cost them a lot of money, but as long as they were getting by, they didn’t need to cash in every warrant. Some fugitives were better off at large. He just hoped that Dean was one of the innocent ones.
***
They arrived on E-02 about two hours later. Enough time for Castiel to suit up, so to speak. It always helped to look inconspicuous, so he wore his protective gear under a suit and hid his swords underneath a baggy trench coat. They were made out of a non-detectable polymer of rare metals and the only thing he’d kept from his old life. He always thought it poetic to use them for good. Or at least that’s what he told himself on nights he couldn’t sleep. Or whenever he had to use them to take a life, the way they were intended.
Castiel sighed and looked down at his hands. Sometimes it amazed him that they hadn’t turned a perpetual red yet. That’s when Sam took a hold of them and squeezed. Castiel looked up at his smiling companion and couldn’t help but offer a wry smile in return. Sam always seemed to sense when he needed him.
“Thanks for doing this, Cas.” After another squeeze, Sam let go of his hands. “Try, uhm, not to kill the target?”
Castiel frowned. “You know I always try to do that; Sam.” He cocked his head. “Is there something else you need to tell me?” Sam avoided his gaze guiltily and Castiel had his answer. “Sam,” he prodded. “You better tell me now.”
“No,” Sam breathed out, still not meeting his gaze. “I just don’t want my first level five to be a DOA.”
‘Bullshit,’ Castiel thought, but Sam never prodded with him, so he’d give him that. “Just make sure you stay clear. This guy is wanted for multiple murders. Don’t need to add your name to the toll.”
Sam gave him his bitchface. “I’m ready for this. You trained me.”
Castiel gave a short nod. He was still going easy on Sam, but he couldn’t very well tell him so. Maybe it was a mistake, but Castiel liked Sam. He never wanted killing to come as easy to Sam as it did for him. If only Castiel wasn’t so weak, he’d have cut Sam loose long ago. But Castiel knew that he wouldn’t make it without his friend anymore. He’d succumb to his own darkness and not come out again.
Clenching his fists, Castiel thrust his nails into the flesh of his palm, forcing himself to be present. They had a level five to catch. Now was not the time to zone out. He opened the hangar door and they left the ship. The latest intel suggested Dean was in the seedy part of the main colony. But that’s where he would have started his search anyway. Criminals rarely spent their time in high class resorts.
He looked up at the sky. One could clearly see Earth through the clear sphere that had been built to create a liveable atmosphere. It looked pretty from up here, but Castiel knew it was an uninhabitable toxic wasteland. Pity that humanity hadn’t learned from their mistakes. But as long as they kept discovering new planets to settle and to mine for resources, nothing would change.
Case in point, this dump. The mining resources were almost exhausted and the colonists were dirt poor, but they still clung on to the only home most of them had ever known. Castiel got out some credits and stopped the first local he came across. “Where does one go for fun around here?”
The guy looked him up and down, no doubt taking in his expensive looking suit and thinking him an easy sucker to rip off. “Depends on what you’re looking for. Gambling or hookers?”
“Gambling,” Sam answered for him and the local frowned.
Castiel placed his hand on Sam’s ass and squeezed possessively. “I already took care of the latter,” he grinned sleazily at the local. It wouldn’t do to raise suspicions with a mouthy companion. And Sam had decided to dress down, claiming he couldn’t fight well in his suit.
Sam threw him a deathly glare, but kept silent.
The local grabbed for the credits Castiel was still holding out. “The Foxtrap. They also sell rooms by the hour.” He winked and Castiel made sure to give him an appreciative and bright smile.
“Thanks. Come on, babe,” Castiel couldn’t resist slapping Sam’s ass. “You know winning more money makes me horny.”
Sam grunted but kept pace with Castiel as they went in the direction the local indicated. “Was that necessary?” Sam asked when they were out of earshot.
“Yes,” Castiel smirked. It would teach Sam to stick to the roles they’d come up with. And if he couldn’t be his obedient servant, he had to be his whore. “How are you so sure the target is gambling anyway?”
“Just a hunch,” Sam shrugged.
Castiel couldn’t argue with that. Sam was usually right about these things.
And he’d be proven right again. They opened the doors to the Foxtrap to find their mark wielding two halves of a broken cue, fending off three pissed off attackers. On the pool table behind him, Castiel spotted a stack of money and he was pretty sure their mark had just hustled some poor sobs who couldn’t accept a loss.
“Dean,” Sam exclaimed loud enough to be heard over the scuffle. The man in question turned to look at them.
“Sammy?” The mark questioned and his moment of distraction was enough for one of the other guys to get the upper hand and punch him square in the jaw.
Before Castiel could process that Sam apparently knew the mark, quite personally from the look of it, he had to jump in and rescue him from the attackers. He threw himself between them and punched the first guy, then ducked an attack from a second, kicked out his leg to swoop away the guy’s legs and made him stumble to the ground.
“What the fuck?” The mark groused, pushing him out of the way. “This is my fight. Stay out of it.”
Apparently their commotion had alarmed the rest of the bar and suddenly they weren’t facing off against three guys, but at least twenty others had come to aid their local buddies. Awesome. Castiel rolled his eyes and pushed Dean out of the way and behind him once more. He fielded the attacks expertly and used his elbow to send one man crashing into another, then drop-kicked his way to a chair, which he quickly broke to use two of the legs as weapons in lieu of his swords. No use killing some drunks for being idiots.
He was just about to knock out two others, when suddenly Castiel was pushed aside once more. “I told you to stay out of my fucking fight, you dick.” The mark was still wielding his broken cue in a similar matter as Castiel, and Castiel would have been impressed, had he not been so pissed off.
Nobody told him to stay out of a fight, least of all the damn guy he was trying to protect. Castiel pushed his way back in and just before the mark - Dean. Castiel supposed he earned the right to be called by his name at least, before he killed him - could push him off once more, shots were fired and they both reacted on pure instinct.
Somehow this time, they fought alongside each other, quickly disposing of the brawlers while using them as shields if the bullets came too close. Bullets. Castiel looked around frantically, finally spotting Sam sneaking up on one of the shooters. His expression must have given him away and the shooter turned around. Thankfully not before Sam could knock him out and grab his weapon.
“Sammy, no! Duck!” Dean yelled, and before another shooter could take aim at Sam, Dean had knocked the gun out of his hand by throwing one of his sticks with perfect aim. He was sharing a look with Castiel and they both shifted their priority. Dean grabbed a knife from one of the brawlers and proceeded to make quick work of the others, just as Castiel ditched his wood to go for his swords instead. The time to save random lives was over. Not when Sam was in peril.
Even though the man in question was actually doing a good job of handling himself. Castiel could see Sam taking out two more shooters. But contrary to how Castiel and Dean were handling their attackers, Sam was aiming for shoulders and legs. Castiel was oddly proud of him.
They’d fought their way to the exit, waiting for Sam to join them again. As soon as Sam was close, they both positioned themselves in front of him, shielding him from possible harm. But for now, the attack had stopped.
“How?” Dean asked Sam, reaching for the other man and squeezing his arm, as if he was checking if Sam was really there.
“I’ll tell you later,” Sam shrugged him off, sharing a look with Castiel instead. “Guess we weren’t fast enough. Those were hunters, same as us.”
Castiel nodded. “Level five with a bounty this high? I’ll be surprised if we make it back unscathed.” He surveyed the bar again, only seeing dead or broken bodies and a few neutrals in hiding. Time to get out. “Meet you at the ship,” Castiel ordered, leaving out the ‘if anything happens’, since they all knew it wouldn’t be that easy.
He took a hold of Dean and shoved him out first. He knew he was somehow important to Sam, but out of the three of them, Castiel was more comfortable if the mark caught a bullet.
“Hey,” Dean complained but didn’t stop. Thankfully no bullets came flying at them.
But the momentary peace didn’t last long. Before they could be on their way, they realized a couple of vehicles were approaching them way too fast to disappear unseen. Castiel looked around, spotting motorcycles. He knew Sam could hardwire them. It was one of the things Sam had taught him pretty early on in their partnership.
“Sam, you go straight to the ship, you hear me?” Castiel ordered, pushing Dean along with him to claim an orange model with a bee painted on the side. It was just fucking odd enough to suit him.
Sam claimed a dark blue model and was already fiddling with the wires. “Cas,” he tried to protest, but before Castiel could cut him off, Dean did.
“You heard him, Sammy.” Dean barked, leaving no room for argument. He even willingly joined Castiel on the back of his motorcycle instead of claiming his own. Castiel somehow knew that he’d have been able to hardwire his own model, but instead he chose not to. Interesting. He wondered who this Dean was to Sam. But he’d find out soon enough. Now was not the time to ask.
Castiel started his motorcycle and with Dean sitting behind him, he sped away just as the approaching vehicles were almost in range. He ducked instinctively and could hear the first bullets fly. Taking the long route back to the ship, Castiel just hoped they’d let Sam pass undisturbed. They wanted Dean, after all.
A quick glance in his rear-view mirror confirmed that he was the one being tailed. Castiel let out a muffled curse and pushed down on the gas. This caused Dean to let out his own curse and suddenly, Dean’s legs were wrapped firmly around Castiel’s middle.
Before Castiel had time to question it, he could see Dean leaning back until he was almost flat out on the motorcycle, pulling out a gun - when did he have time to grab that? Castiel was getting sloppy - and shooting at their pursuers. He was a skilled shot and the first two vehicles soon swerved off their pathway. Castiel wasn’t so sure, but he only heard one tire explode. The rest was shattering glass. He gritted his teeth, concentrating on swerving enough to deflect the still flying bullets, but not enough to knock Dean off his back. He also would have aimed at the drivers rather than the tires. It was more efficient and prevented further pursuit at a later date. He could see why Dean was level five.
It wasn’t long before Dean had disposed of all but two of their pursuers. With another curse, Dean threw his gun at one of the vehicles, apparently out of bullets. But by this time, they were getting close to the ship.
Castiel glanced at the communicator on his wrist. The light was on, which meant they were close enough for contact. Letting out a sigh of relief, Castiel pressed the button. “Jess. We’re coming in hot. Open the hangar door and close it as soon as we’re in.”
He was almost close enough to enter but the hangar was still closed. Castiel sped up anyway, trusting in his ship. Just when he considered a hard swerve after all, the door started to open. “Hold on tight,” he yelled at Dean and hit the brakes hard while pulling up the front of the motorcycle. It let him jump the necessary distance and reach the hangar before the doors were even fully down. “Now, Jess. Close the doors!”
Tires screeching Castiel didn’t manage a smooth landing. He had to swerve hard once more to avoid crashing into the walls and the motorcycle finally gave out and tumbled over, causing them to slide a few feet buried under the machine. But a few scrapes and bruises were better than a bullet to the head.
“Son of a bitch,” Dean cursed, stumbling out from under the motorcycle and putting as much distance between himself and Castiel as possible.
Castiel quickly got up and assumed a fighting stance as soon as he realized Dean was scanning for weapons and their momentary truce was apparently over. The ship lurched, bringing them into orbit, and it was enough to distract Dean. Castiel was on him in a flash, knocking him to the ground and sitting astride the other man, his arm at his windpipe, ready to cut off his oxygen.
Before Dean could try anything, however, Sam stormed in and placed a hand on Castiel’s shoulder. “Cas, let him go. Please.”
Looking up, Castiel could see the honest plea on Sam’s face and after one last warning glare, he swiftly moved back up, leaving Dean lying on the ground.
Sam offered him a hand, which Dean reluctantly accepted. The movement of getting up made Dean wince and Castiel realized he was also favouring his right shoulder. “You’re hurt,” Castiel deducted.
Dean glared at him. “S’ the only reason I let you lay me on my back, sweetheart.”
Castiel snorted, about to reply, when Sam cut him to it.
“You’re hurt?” Sam reached for Dean, peeling off his shirt. “How bad is it?”
The fact that Dean just let Sam this intimately close to him, while he was hurt no less, spoke volumes. Castiel relaxed. Whoever Dean was, he wouldn’t hurt Sam. “I’ll get the med-kit,” Castiel announced, leaving the hangar. As soon as he was out of earshot, he signalled the ship. “Jess. Get me everything you can on Dean Winchester.”
“Sorry, Castiel. I can’t comply with your request,” Jess replied to him over the intercom.
“That wasn’t a request.” Castiel frowned.
“There are no files on Dean Winchester, other than the warrant I know you’ve seen,” Jess informed him.
“Are you lying to me?” Castiel passed his hand over his face in frustration.
“I’m a computer program, Castiel. I am by design incapable of lying,” Jess replied with an edge to her voice that belied those very words.
“Sam told you not to give me those files, didn’t he?”
“I am your ship, Castiel. And Sam told me no such thing,” Jess deflected.
Yeah. Castiel knew Sam wouldn’t need to actually talk to the computer. “But he altered your code forcing you to hide those files, didn’t he?”
Castiel received no reply at all this time. He’d have to find out the old fashioned way then.
***
As soon as Castiel had left them alone, Sam enveloped his brother in a tight hug. After a few seconds, Dean reciprocated and hugged him back.
“Good to see you, Sammy. Circumstances aside,” Dean joked.
Sam huffed, pulling back and resuming his task of pulling Dean’s clothes off his wound carefully. “You’re in some serious shit, Dean.”
“I don’t wanna talk about it.” Dean clamped up. “It’d be cool if you just dropped me off at the next planet.”
“Are you serious?” Sam raised his eyebrows. “The fuck I will. There’s a level five warrant out on you.”
“And you what? Want to collect the money yourself?” Dean asked.
Sam’s face hardened. “Yep. You got me, Dean. That money’s gonna help me a lot more than my worthless brother ever did.”
Dean flinched like he’d been hit. “Sam. You know I did my best. But dad…”
Sam closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I don’t want to talk about this.”
Dean chuckled. “So… Nice ship you got.”
Nobody was ever better at changing the subject than his brother and Sam couldn’t help but smile. “It’s Castiel’s.”
“Castiel? What kind of a name is that?” Dean joked.
“It is my name,” Castiel replied tartly, coming back in with the med-kit under his arm.
Sam cringed. He knew Cas was a little touchy about his name. It took a while until he accepted Sam’s nickname for him, even.
“Really?” Dean replied, narrowing his eyes. “You know, I met someone with a similar name once. Uriel. He was part of this sect of assassins, all named after angels. Apparently they’d all been snatched up as kids and brainwashed, then trained to be perfect little killers. Know anything about that?”
“Why would I?” Castiel replied, face an unreadable mask. “But it sounds awful. Poor kids.”
“Yeah, wouldn’t know about that. This Uriel guy was pretty lethal. It was almost hard to kill him. Almost,” Dean shrugged nonchalantly.
Castiel swallowed hard, jaw clenched. “Guess I won’t have to ask you if your warrant is justified, huh?”
Sam stepped between them, holding out his arms. “Please stop.” He wasn’t sure what he expected, but he couldn’t stand by and watch the two people he cared for the most rip each other apart. He wondered how Dean even knew about Angels. Sam had never heard of them before Castiel opened up to him. “Dean, Castiel has been with me for years. He stepped in when you weren’t there. So shut the fuck up.”
Dean opened his mouth to reply but then snapped it back shut, crossing his arms in front of his chest instead.
“And Cas, Dean is my brother,” Sam finally confessed.
“Your brother?” Castiel blinked. “You never told me you had a brother.”
Dean growled in response and Sam sighed. “I didn’t really when we met. Dean chose to cut me out.”
“That’s bullshit, Sammy.” Dean looked at him. “I looked for you. After dad died, I looked for you.”
“Yeah, well. Too late, Dean.” Sam had changed his last name to Campbell, his mother’s maiden name, for a reason. He was done with the Winchester side of his family. Or so he thought. But Dean was still his brother, dammit.
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner, Sam?” Castiel questioned. “I could have killed him.”
“No, you couldn’t,” Dean protested, but a raised eyebrow from Castiel shut him up. Instead Dean sighed in defeat. “Because he thought I’d deserved the warrant and he was embarrassed his big brother’s a killer. Isn’t that right, Sam?” Dean suggested.
Sam took a deep breath. Was that it? He wasn’t so sure himself, if he was honest. He just knew he couldn’t tell Cas until he absolutely had to just now. “Is it?” Sam asked in a small voice.
Dean huffed, but then he looked at the ground. “No. I’ve killed people, you know that. We’re soldiers, after all. Winchesters.”
“I’m a Campbell,” Sam threw in, a defiant tone in his voice.
Dean snorted. “You may deny your name, Sammy, but don’t fool yourself. You grew up the same way as me.”
“No, I didn’t.” Sam stood up straighter. “You drank the kool-aid and believed everything dad told you. I always wanted out.”
Dean looked sad for a moment, but then his face hardened again. “And where are you now, Sammy? Hunting fugitives with another killer by your side. Way to escape the lifestyle.”
Sam clenched his fists. In that moment he wanted nothing more than to punch his stupid, smug brother in the face. But that would just prove his fucking point, wouldn’t it? Castiel’s hand on his shoulder soothed him.
“Your brother is a good man, Dean,” Castiel explained calmly. “You obviously don’t know him at all and I’m beginning to see why Sam’s never told me about you.” He turned away from Dean and looked straight at Sam. “We can just turn him over, collect the bounty and you can go back to your life as it is now. Or you hear him out and then we decide what’s next. Together. Choice is yours, Sam.”
Sam closed his eyes for a moment, weighing his options. Though there really was no choice. Turning Dean in had never been an option. Ever since he’d seen the warrant, Sam knew. Even if his brother ended up being guilty of the murders he was wanted for, Sam wouldn’t have the heart to turn him in. “Alright, Dean. Talk.” Sam’s gaze fell on his brother’s still neglected wound again. “But first we’ll get that patched up.”
***
A few hours later, Castiel was in his cabin, trying to unwind. But he just felt too restless. Dean had told them about stumbling over a secret military experiment trying to create super soldiers. When he tried to blow the whistle, they killed everybody, not high up on the chain of command, who also knew about the program and framed Dean for it. Castiel was sceptical at first, but Dean had details they could cross-check and it all seemed to work out. He even had an alibi - he was on a different planet when it happened - but that didn’t seem to help him any.
Still. Castiel couldn’t get rid of this niggling feeling that Dean was still lying about something important. But he’d left him with Sam to get sorted in his own cabin for the foreseeable future while they came up with a plan to clear his name. After that, he had better be on his way.
Dean irritated him. It wasn’t just that he knew about Angels, it was everything about the man. The way he moved, the way he talked, the way he fought… It was all just so smooth and flawless. Castiel could tell that he’d be a worthy adversary and part of him was still always itching for a good fight, no matter how hard he tried to repress his urges. And Dean would fight him, of that he had no doubt. And they’d both fucking enjoy it.
Castiel had felt Dean get hard on that motorcycle, pressed close as he was. He’d tried his best to ignore it, but right now, cooped up in his own quarters, he couldn’t help but think about it. Dean seemed carefree in a way Castiel wasn’t, yet he also carried a deep burden. Castiel could see it in the other man’s eyes and in the guarded way he was around Sam. There was so much regret in him. Yet he still seemed to enjoy fighting. Hell, Dean seemed to enjoy killing people. And Castiel still remembered what that was like.
Getting up from the bed he was sitting on, Castiel started pacing the room. He had two options. He could try meditation or work Dean out of his system through training. Or the unmentionable number three: He could go find Dean and… Castiel thrust his fist against the wall. Fuck no. Seeing the other man was the last thing he needed.
He could tell that meditation was not an option at this point either, so Castiel pulled off his shirt and pulled on his training pants, then opened his door and made his way to the training hall. Once he opened the door to his presumed sanctuary, he stopped dead in his tracks though. - Because Dean was already in it, performing a practised routine with Castiel’s bo staff.
Castiel sucked in a deep breath, about to turn back around, but Dean had already spotted him. He finished the movement he was currently on and then did a small bow and fuck, why was it so hot that he even respected his training? Castiel’s eyes narrowed. Why was Dean in his space, messing him up?
“Heya, Cas. Sam told me it was ok to use the room. Wanna spar with me?” Dean offered.
“Leave,” Castiel managed to growl out, remaining frozen in his spot close to the door. The audacity of this man. Did Castiel want to spar? A few hours ago Dean would have probably happily killed him. And Cas would just as happily strangle him right the fuck now.
“What?” Dean’s demeanour changed and he leaning against the stick, head held high. “Fuck you. What is your problem?”
“You,” Castiel answered truthfully, voice still pitched low. “You are my fucking problem.” He snarled through his teeth and moved closer. Slowly. Stalking Dean like prey.
Dean’s expression changed yet again and a small smirk played around his lips. He was still casually leaning against the stick, but Castiel could tell that Dean was flexing his muscles, preparing for the upcoming fight. Then he did something unexpected. Dean threw away the bo staff, a weapon which would have surely given him the advantage, and waved his hand at Castiel in a clear invitation to come at him.
And Castiel charged.
Dean easily parried him, blocking his attack with his arms, his feet in constant movement so Castiel had no chance to kick out one of his legs. God dammit, Dean was good. And this was fun. It didn’t take long before Castiel found himself grinning madly. Dean’s own smile brightened and it put a little dampener on things. This was not supposed to be fun for either of them. Castiel was not supposed to get hard. But he wanted to throw Dean down and dominate him like nothing else. He could almost taste it on his tongue. Dean would submit. Castiel would make him.
With a low snarl, Castiel charged in earnest, forcing Dean closer and closer to the wall. Neither of them broke eye contact, their limbs flying without much conscious thought, yet neither of them were losing their stride. Except for when they got closer to the wall. Dean missed a step and Castiel was able to push Dean up against it, forcing his shoulders against Dean’s to block the other man’s arm movements.
Castiel crowed in victory, yet Dean was once again ruining it by winking at him. That fucker. He’d purposely let Castiel win and… and Castiel couldn’t even be mad anymore. He reached down, hitching Dean’s legs up and around his waist while simultaneously leaning forward and claiming Dean’s lips in a bruising kiss. He tasted salty and Castiel realized they’d both broken out into a sweat.
Dean’s arms, now free, found their way into his hair, gripping some strands and tugging harshly. Castiel retaliated by thrusting Dean against the wall forcefully, momentarily knocking the breath out of the other man. He didn’t give him much time to suck in new air before he was kissing him again. Dean didn’t seem to complain. Instead, he just held on tighter, undulating his hips against Castiel’s.
Then, Dean’s hands were gone. But he was just trying to pull off his shirt. Castiel let up a little until Dean could discard of it, then dove right back in, kissing his way down Dean’s neck, licking up the sweat that pooled around his collarbone and nosing closer. Dean hissed, tugging on his hair again and Castiel belatedly thought of Dean’s wound. He threw a glance at the bandage, realizing blood had seeped through. But Dean didn’t give him a chance to let up.
“Fuck me,” Dean demanded, pushing his heels into Castiel’s ass and bringing their groins even closer together. Castiel moaned harshly and reached between them to undo the buttons of Dean’s pants. “Yes,” Dean exclaimed happily. “Make it hurt.”
And something in his voice made Castiel stop dead in his tracks and look at the other man. He wasn’t smiling anymore, but instead he looked expectant, anxious and a little sad. Dean believed that he deserved to be hurt. And while just a little earlier, Castiel might have agreed with him, he also knew that nobody, nobody, ever deserved to be hurt like that. “No.” Castiel pulled back.
“What?” Dean looked crestfallen for a moment, then angry. “What the fuck? Come on, Cas. I know you want it.” He grabbed Castiel’s cock and squeezed hard.
Castiel pushed his hand away, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Oh, I can hurt you, Dean,” he promised. “And I can fuck you. I can fuck you real good,” he purred. “But you have to make a choice. Only one of the two at a time. Which will it be?”
Dean gaped at him. Castiel could tell that Dean was considering his offer, weighing the options. He really hoped he’d make the right choice, or Castiel couldn’t guarantee to anything. If it were him in Dean’s place, he knew what he’d choose. And it wasn’t the pleasure.
Dean pushed him off and Castiel expected him to choose neither and just leave, some of the adrenaline leaving his body already. But instead, Dean reversed their positions in a flash and pushed Castiel against the wall instead. Dean did quick work of pulling Castiel’s pants down around his ankles and then he sunk down on his knees, nuzzling Castiel’s cock.
Castiel’s eyes rolled back in his head and he shivered in anticipation. But instead, Dean moved back up, tugging Castiel’s pants back up along with him. Castiel blinked in confusion, which only intensified when Dean gave him a short peck to the cheek and then leaned in close to whisper in his ear. “Fucking fuck me already, you asshole.” He ended it by slapping Castiel’s ass.
Castiel only had a brief second to recollect himself, then he took Dean’s hand and dragged him out of the training hall. “Oh, I’m gonna hurt you a little,” he promised and led Dean to his cabin.
***
Later, they were both propped up against the headboard, sitting together in Castiel’s bed. It had felt weird to cuddle, but Castiel didn’t want to kick Dean out and Dean didn’t seem to want to leave. Instead, they were comparing scars and sharing war stories. Castiel redacted his stories a lot and skipped over some of his worse scars, but he had a feeling Dean was doing the same. And while this was kind of amusing, it was all just talking around the bigger issues.
With a sigh, Castiel decided to just go for it. “I know you were lying to us earlier,” Castiel announced. When Dean opened his mouth to reply, he held up his hand. “Or at the very least omitted a huge chunk of your story.”
Dean didn’t say anything. Instead, he moved to get out of bed.
Castiel stopped him with a hand against his back. “Dean, please. I can’t help you if I don’t know everything. And I’d…” He hesitated. “You’re Sam’s brother. Let me help.”
Dean sat back down, still not saying anything. After a while, he finally looked at Castiel. “You’re an Angel, aren’t you?”
Castiel panicked instantly, but he hoped he didn’t let it show. “Why thank you, Dean. I’m flattered, but…”
Dean interrupted him. “Cut the crap. I’ve seen your blades. I’ve seen the way you use them. I’m not stupid.”
“Why does it matter?” Castiel replied, looking anywhere but at Dean. He must have been pretty high up in the military ranks if he knew about Angels.
“Please,” Dean pleaded. “I need to know.”
Castiel sighed. He’d only told Sam. And never told the whole story. Dean seemed to already know a fair bit though and he’d obviously already made up his mind about Castiel anyway. And when this was all over, Castiel would never see him again, never have to look him in the eye and see the reaction. “Yes.”
“But you left.” It wasn’t a question. “Your mind is your own?”
Castiel nodded. He wasn’t sure what had ultimately made him break out of his programming, but in a way, he’d always been rebellious. Or so he was told when he’d received the harshest punishments out of all of them. And he’d been sent in for re-alignment several times. Yet he’d still persisted.
“The program,” Dean started. “It was based on yours. The military knew about you, of course. They’d managed to infiltrate the Angel program. But instead of… instead of rescuing you, they took notes and they decided to modify it for themselves.”
Castiel frowned. He hadn’t know that. He’d managed to make sure the Angel program was ceased a few years back. His brothers and sisters were still out there, but Castiel had made sure everybody else associated with it was dead, so no new children could be indoctrinated, abused, turned into something like him. He’d personally killed dozens of his teachers once he’d finally broken free.
And now it was back? It was all back?
“The difference was, they started later. They didn’t abduct kids. They used volunteers for the training,” Dean explained. “What they didn’t tell u… them.” Dean passed a hand over his face. “What they didn’t tell them was that they used drugs and the total brainwash wasn’t exactly advertised either.”
”Dean,” Castiel started, unsure what to say.
“My, uhm… my dad. He was one of the founding fathers. And when he asked, I…” Dean’s voice broke. “I’m just so fucking glad Sammy had left us at that point.” He passed his hand over his face again and Castiel could tell he was fighting back tears. “So fucking glad.”
Castiel didn’t say anything for a while, he just let Dean find his way back on his own. He knew comfort wouldn’t be appreciated. It wasn’t easy to admit you’d been a victim and receiving pity in reply just made it so much worse.
“Fuck this,” Dean muttered suddenly, turning around and vanishing under the covers. Before Castiel could fully comprehend what was happening, Dean had wrapped his lips around his cock and was swallowing him deeply.
“Oh. Oh, fuck,” Castiel fisted his hands in Dean’s hair, not pushing him in but also not pulling him up. “You…” He moaned. “Don’t have to…” Castiel gathered all his strength and tried pulling Dean up. “Dean.”
Dean slid off with a pop and peaked his head out from under the sheets. “I know. Shut up. Geeze, what is it with you?” Dean’s hand was stroking Castiel’s cock instead and Castiel had trouble concentrating.
When Dean slid back down, he let him. Dean was still fisting his cock and just licking teasingly around the head until Castiel buried his hands back in his hair and tugged. “Goddamn,” Castiel cursed, throwing back his head with his eyes closed.
He could feel Dean smirk against his cock and then he was swallowed down once more. Dean took him deep, holding him until his throat started to flutter and then licking along the big vein of his cock when he pulled back up. He repeated it a few more times until Castiel just couldn’t take it anymore. His hands tightened in Dean’s hair and he started thrusting his hips. Dean just relaxed his throat and let him, even encouraging him with a hand stroking Castiel’s hipbone.
“Fucking, fuck, Dean,” Castiel yelled. He pushed one hand against the mattress to get a better leverage and thrust faster. It didn’t take long for him to reach his climax and afterward, Dean was biting his way back up, stopping at one of Castiel’s sensitive nipples, still raw from their first round. Dean bit down hard and Castiel twitched, senses momentarily on overload.
Before he got his bearings back enough to maybe reciprocate he could feel Dean splash his seed against his thigh. Castiel used both hands to detach Dean from his nipple and he cradled Dean’s head against the crook of his neck instead. He could feel Dean panting against him and he shivered again.
When Dean had regained his breath, he started mouthing at Castiel’s neck. Castiel lazily played with Dean’s hair and rubbed circles over his back. But before it could go anywhere, Dean abruptly pushed back and slid out of bed.
“Alright, this was fun,” Dean announced and then turned around, looking for his pants.
“Uhm,” Castiel rubbed his eyes, trying to get his brain fully functioning again. “You don’t have to…”
Dean snorted and turned around, giving Castiel a withering look. “Fuck yes, I do.”
Begrudgingly, Castiel nodded. Yeah. If he was honest, he didn’t want to sleep next to anybody, no matter how amazing the sex had been. And now that his mind started working again, he could see that it would be a spectacularly bad idea. Castiel still had nightmares and waking up with a stranger in his bed could end decidedly bad. Killing was still second nature to him and he doubted that would ever change. And from what Dean had told him earlier, he wouldn’t be surprised if Dean could relate.
Dean was standing at the door, but before he left, he turned around again. “I’m sorry about earlier,” Dean almost whispered. “Uriel. Was he a friend of yours?”
Castiel didn’t expect this. He cocked his head in contemplation. “He was my brother,” he started, thinking of growing up together. And the one time Uriel had reported him to the authorities for his heretical talk, before Castiel had learned to keep his thoughts to himself. He rubbed at the scar on his inner thigh where they’d tried to carve a cross into his skin. “But no,” he concluded. “He wasn’t a friend. He’d have killed either of us without a second thought.”
Dean nodded, averting his face. It seemed that Dean wasn’t as carefree about killing as Castiel had initially assumed. “Goodnight, Castiel.”
“Goodnight, Dean,” Castiel replied. The door closed and Dean was gone. Castiel slid down more comfortably in his sheets. He should get cleaned up, but he’d slept way more filthy than this and he didn’t want to erase the night just yet. So instead he just closed his eyes and fell into a fitful sleep.
***
The next day, Castiel woke up feeling frazzled. He’d dreamed about his past all night long and now he was feeling itchy. He quickly took a shower and then went back to the training hall.
Not bothering with weapons, he went straight to his punching bag to vent out some of his anger. It wasn’t killing he’d dreamed about the night before, it had been all the other things they’d made him do. Angels were perfect assassins not only because they were trained in the art of killing, but because they were able to get close to their victims. Intimately close. Until they could kill in the dark of night and slip out unseen. Nobody would think twice of a whore slinking out of someone’s room at night. The guards always let him pass.
Castiel yelled and kicked the bag hard enough to have some sand drizzle out. But before he could collapse against it, he heard the door open. Quickly straightening himself out, he turned around expecting Sam. Instead it was his brother.
Dean was just standing there, grinning at him. “We gotta stop meeting like this.” He looked Castiel up and down with a hungry look on his face. “And for fuck’s sake. Would it kill you to wear a shirt once in a while?”
“Why? It’d just end up getting destroyed.” Castiel pointed at Dean’s shirt, which was actually one of Sam’s and kind of disturbing. It had to go.
Fortunately, Dean got the hint and took off his shirt before advancing on Castiel. “Alright. Let me have it.”
Castiel smiled, this time still going in angry, but not at Dean. They sparred for a while, showing off their respective hand-to-hand combat skills without either of them really gaining the upper hand. They didn’t go at it lightly though and each of them ended up with a few more bruises.
The third time Castiel landed on his back with Dean perched on top of him, Castiel tapped out. He was aching all over but his mind was finally blissfully empty. “I give.”
Dean raised an eyebrow. “You give?” He leaned closer, his knee pressing down painfully into Castiel’s right side. “Nu-uh. This is over when I decide to let you up.” Dean leaned further down and licked over Castiel’s lips.
Castiel felt a spark go through him and, energy renewed, he jabbed his elbow into Dean’s clavicle and interlaced his legs with Dean, trapping him enough to roll him over so he was on top once more.
Dean grinned up at him, eyes alight, but before they could continue, the door opened again. This time, it really was Sam.
“Ugh,” Sam groaned. “Can you two just…” Sam paused, re-assessing the situation. He looked from Dean to Castiel and back again, both men frozen on the spot, and then Sam’s face twisted in disgust. “Oh fuck no. Goddammit, Dean.” He threw his hands up in the air. “Why do you always have to fuck my best friend?”
Castiel raised his eyebrow in question, not sure if he wanted to hear that story. Then Sam’s words sunk in further and warmth spread through him. It was nice to know Sam valued him just as much as he did Sam. He let go of Dean a little and smirked at Sam. “Who says he did the fucking?”
“Ugh, gross,” Sam exclaimed at the same time as Dean cuffed Castiel upside the head before rolling out from under him and getting up. He didn’t seem ashamed though, just a little chagrined.
“Grow up, Sammy. Sex is a beautiful thing. I’d have thought you’d have learned that by now.” Dean smiled at his brother but then went to grab his discarded shirt and pulled it back on.
Sam rolled his eyes, but then he shrugged. “Better than the two of you killing each other, I guess.”
Castiel sprang to his feet and then winced. Ok, bad move. He shouldn’t be feeling it, but he was. Maybe he was getting old. His old trainers would have surely punished him for showing weakness with an audible wince. But his old trainers were long dead. And soon, the same could be said for Dean’s tormentors. Castiel would make sure of that.
“Sam?” Castiel offered, “You want to train?”
Sam snorted. “Yeah, but not with you. We need you fit for our next mission.”
“Mission?” Castiel questioned.
“Well, yeah. Clearing Dean’s name and dismantling this disgusting program he found out about.” Sam paused. “Or did you two not do a lot of talking?”
“No,” Castiel subtly stretched out his arms. Crap, he was really sore. “He told me. And yes.” He was looking at Dean for his next words. “We’ll make sure to bury the program and everyone involved with it.”
“Except for the soldiers, right?” Sam suggested. “We’ll make sure they’ll get help?”
Castiel bit his lip and Dean averted his gaze as well. Breaking through a thorough brainwashing either took an exceptionally strong mind or a lot of work. Especially if this time, they used drugs to speed up the process. They would be dealing with addicts. And if they used volunteers, chances were high that some of them did not want to be saved. There were still a lot of details Dean would have to disclose, starting with what drugs exactely they used, if he even knew.
“Sure, Sam,” Dean answered for him. “We’ll try.” Castiel could tell Dean wasn’t convinced, but it seemed good enough for Sam.
“I’m just glad you stumbled over this, Dean. Even if it got you framed,” Sam said. “But now we know and we can do something about it.” He smiled optimistically.
“Yeah,” Dean passed a hand through his hair, making the strands stand up a little more. “Real lucky I stumbled into this,” he replied dryly, eyes fixed on Castiel.
Castiel quirked his lips into a half smile. It would be Dean’s decision to tell Sam the whole story. He’d understand if Dean chose to never open up to his brother fully. After all, he’d never told Sam all of his story either. But maybe he would be able to talk to Dean about it. It might help the both of them. In time.
For now though, using each other as an outlet for pent-up physical tension seemed like the perfect fix to get them through the long days it would take to work this - and dredge up painful memories in the process. It wasn’t the worst thing Castiel could imagine. A small smirk found it’s way back to his lips.
“You were right, Sam. I’m exhausted. I’m gonna go back to my cabin and lie down for a while,” Castiel announced and started to leave.
He hadn’t even made it two steps before he heard Dean join him. “Yeah, same,” Dean replied, maybe sounding a little too eager. “In, uhm, my own bed. Obviously.”
Sam’s loud snort made it clear that they weren’t fooling anyone. “I’m not gonna say have fun, but, like, get some actual rest as well. Ok, guys?” Sam sent them off with a rhetorical question neither of them bothered to answer.
Once the door had closed behind them, Castiel made his way to his cabin as announced. He didn’t protest when Dean followed him silently. And he only closed the door after Dean had entered his space as well.
“So, uh. Maybe we should start planning some strategies?” Castiel suggested half-heartedly, his hands already reaching to take off Dean’s offending shirt.
Dean scoffed. “You really need to learn when to shut up.”
“Mmmh,” Castiel hummed, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. Then he sent Dean a heated look. “How about you make me?”
Dean grinned and next thing Castiel knew, he was the one getting slammed into the wall and getting kissed until he was breathless.
Author: Vera
Pairing: Dean/Castiel, AU
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Me no own.
Word Count: 8.700
Summary: Sam and Castiel are bounty hunters. When a warrant is out for Dean, Sam convinces Castiel to catch him. Loosely based on Killjoys.
Author’s Note: Written for spn-reversebang and based on friendlypigeon’s art prompt located HERE. Thanks to jdl71 for beta-reading.
=> AO3 <=
I KNOW MY LAYOUT LOOKS LIKE HELL RIGHT NOW. PLEASE JUST READ IT ON AO3. THANKS! (Damn new photobucket rules.)
Sam was sitting in the control room, looking out at the vast space surrounding the ship. They hadn’t set a new course yet and were just drifting aimlessly for now. It was probably a waste of fuel, but both he and Castiel felt much better up here. Just the two of them and Jess. Not bound to a planet, just a small ship among thousands of stars.
Some people might feel insignificant up here, but it filled Sam with a sense of peace and security that had taken him a long time to acquire. He smiled, thinking back to the first time he met Cas. They’d both been on the run. The only difference had been that Cas had been running from actual enemies while Sam had just been running from life.
He sighed and spun in his chair, his thoughts interrupted when Jess called for him.
“Sam?” The ship’s computer addressed him through the intercom. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but you asked me to keep an eye out for Dean Winchester?”
Sam froze, the smile he usually wore when the computer talked to him dropping from his face. “Yes? What did you find?” He’d written a sub program looking for any mention of his brother almost two years ago. Nothing ever came up. Which had been fine. No news meant he could pretend Dean was alive and well on some planet somewhere, living his life.
The holo screen in front of him came to life and a level five warrant was on display. “Fuck,” Sam swore under his breath. He hadn’t seen Dean in years, but the image attached left no room for doubt.
“I’m sorry if I upset you, Sam,” Jess apologized.
“No, don’t worry,” Sam bit his lip, scanning the relevant information on the warrant. “I’m glad you brought this to my attention, Jess. Thank you.”
“Of course, Sam,” the computer chirped cheerfully. “You gave me the order.”
Sam cringed. “Yeah, uh, Jess?”
“Don’t tell Castiel?” She suggested and Sam wondered how an artificial program could be so damn perceptive. Then again, he’d specified it in his search. He was the only person to be notified of any results.
“Yes. I’m sorry, Jess. I know you’re Castiel’s ship.” Sam transferred the warrant onto his tablet, already wondering what he was gonna tell Cas.
“I’m your program, Sam. You take care of me,” Jess replied, bringing a smile back to Sam’s face. Yes. Yes, he did. And back in the beginning, before Cas had opened up to him, Jess had been the only company he had on this ship. And while it was peaceful in space, it could also be very lonely.
“Always,” Sam promised, before setting a course to E-02, a planet which used to just be ‘the Moon’, back before space travel started and people realized there were many, many moons.
The ship lurched into motion and Sam sighed. Well, he had to tell Castiel something, because he sure as hell felt that.
Castiel met him in the corridor, shirtless, carrying his two short swords and looking frazzled. “Sam, what the hell? I was just doing my routine.”
Sam would feel bad that Cas might have hurt himself, but he knew the other man better than that. He was too skilled to be bothered by the ship’s movement. “Sorry, Cas. I found us a warrant and it’s kinda time sensitive.”
Cas frowned. “How high is it?”
“Four thousand credits,” Sam replied. It would keep them fed and fuelled for a month. Also, it was high enough that soon everybody would be coming after Dean. And he had to get there first.
Castiel cocked his head, humming thoughtfully. “Let me see that.” Sam held out his tablet and he knew what was coming next. “That’s a level five, Sam.” Castiel’s eyes narrowed. “We don’t do level five.”
“No, you won’t let me do level five. You’ve caught plenty yourself,” Sam held his chin up high. He knew this was coming. Level five was a ‘dead or alive’ warrant. It was the highest it could get, only reserved for the worst of them.
“You’re not ready.” Castiel looked Sam up and down, shaking his head.
“Fuck you, yes I am.” Sam stole one of Castiel’s swords and held it up threateningly.
In a flash, Cas was on him. Before Sam really had time to react, he’d been pinned to the wall, breath cut off by Castiel’s forearm while Cas’s other hand hovered the second sword close to Sam’s eye. Sam dropped the sword he was holding with a clang. “You are ready when I say you are ready,” Castiel hissed.
Castiel let up a little and Sam sucked in a deep breath. “Just let me have this one,” Sam pleaded. “Please.” He averted his eyes when Castiel’s calculating gaze was too probing for comfort.
But whatever Castiel saw, it must have been enough. “Alright.” He let up fully and took a step back. “But you let me do the dirty work.”
Sam nodded. He was about to beg Cas to not kill Dean, but that would have raised more questions he wasn’t prepared to answer yet. And Cas almost never killed the mark. He knew a lot of them had just fallen on hard times and the warrants were not always justified. If they could help, they did. It had cost them a lot of money, but as long as they were getting by, they didn’t need to cash in every warrant. Some fugitives were better off at large. He just hoped that Dean was one of the innocent ones.
***
They arrived on E-02 about two hours later. Enough time for Castiel to suit up, so to speak. It always helped to look inconspicuous, so he wore his protective gear under a suit and hid his swords underneath a baggy trench coat. They were made out of a non-detectable polymer of rare metals and the only thing he’d kept from his old life. He always thought it poetic to use them for good. Or at least that’s what he told himself on nights he couldn’t sleep. Or whenever he had to use them to take a life, the way they were intended.
Castiel sighed and looked down at his hands. Sometimes it amazed him that they hadn’t turned a perpetual red yet. That’s when Sam took a hold of them and squeezed. Castiel looked up at his smiling companion and couldn’t help but offer a wry smile in return. Sam always seemed to sense when he needed him.
“Thanks for doing this, Cas.” After another squeeze, Sam let go of his hands. “Try, uhm, not to kill the target?”
Castiel frowned. “You know I always try to do that; Sam.” He cocked his head. “Is there something else you need to tell me?” Sam avoided his gaze guiltily and Castiel had his answer. “Sam,” he prodded. “You better tell me now.”
“No,” Sam breathed out, still not meeting his gaze. “I just don’t want my first level five to be a DOA.”
‘Bullshit,’ Castiel thought, but Sam never prodded with him, so he’d give him that. “Just make sure you stay clear. This guy is wanted for multiple murders. Don’t need to add your name to the toll.”
Sam gave him his bitchface. “I’m ready for this. You trained me.”
Castiel gave a short nod. He was still going easy on Sam, but he couldn’t very well tell him so. Maybe it was a mistake, but Castiel liked Sam. He never wanted killing to come as easy to Sam as it did for him. If only Castiel wasn’t so weak, he’d have cut Sam loose long ago. But Castiel knew that he wouldn’t make it without his friend anymore. He’d succumb to his own darkness and not come out again.
Clenching his fists, Castiel thrust his nails into the flesh of his palm, forcing himself to be present. They had a level five to catch. Now was not the time to zone out. He opened the hangar door and they left the ship. The latest intel suggested Dean was in the seedy part of the main colony. But that’s where he would have started his search anyway. Criminals rarely spent their time in high class resorts.
He looked up at the sky. One could clearly see Earth through the clear sphere that had been built to create a liveable atmosphere. It looked pretty from up here, but Castiel knew it was an uninhabitable toxic wasteland. Pity that humanity hadn’t learned from their mistakes. But as long as they kept discovering new planets to settle and to mine for resources, nothing would change.
Case in point, this dump. The mining resources were almost exhausted and the colonists were dirt poor, but they still clung on to the only home most of them had ever known. Castiel got out some credits and stopped the first local he came across. “Where does one go for fun around here?”
The guy looked him up and down, no doubt taking in his expensive looking suit and thinking him an easy sucker to rip off. “Depends on what you’re looking for. Gambling or hookers?”
“Gambling,” Sam answered for him and the local frowned.
Castiel placed his hand on Sam’s ass and squeezed possessively. “I already took care of the latter,” he grinned sleazily at the local. It wouldn’t do to raise suspicions with a mouthy companion. And Sam had decided to dress down, claiming he couldn’t fight well in his suit.
Sam threw him a deathly glare, but kept silent.
The local grabbed for the credits Castiel was still holding out. “The Foxtrap. They also sell rooms by the hour.” He winked and Castiel made sure to give him an appreciative and bright smile.
“Thanks. Come on, babe,” Castiel couldn’t resist slapping Sam’s ass. “You know winning more money makes me horny.”
Sam grunted but kept pace with Castiel as they went in the direction the local indicated. “Was that necessary?” Sam asked when they were out of earshot.
“Yes,” Castiel smirked. It would teach Sam to stick to the roles they’d come up with. And if he couldn’t be his obedient servant, he had to be his whore. “How are you so sure the target is gambling anyway?”
“Just a hunch,” Sam shrugged.
Castiel couldn’t argue with that. Sam was usually right about these things.
And he’d be proven right again. They opened the doors to the Foxtrap to find their mark wielding two halves of a broken cue, fending off three pissed off attackers. On the pool table behind him, Castiel spotted a stack of money and he was pretty sure their mark had just hustled some poor sobs who couldn’t accept a loss.
“Dean,” Sam exclaimed loud enough to be heard over the scuffle. The man in question turned to look at them.
“Sammy?” The mark questioned and his moment of distraction was enough for one of the other guys to get the upper hand and punch him square in the jaw.
Before Castiel could process that Sam apparently knew the mark, quite personally from the look of it, he had to jump in and rescue him from the attackers. He threw himself between them and punched the first guy, then ducked an attack from a second, kicked out his leg to swoop away the guy’s legs and made him stumble to the ground.
“What the fuck?” The mark groused, pushing him out of the way. “This is my fight. Stay out of it.”
Apparently their commotion had alarmed the rest of the bar and suddenly they weren’t facing off against three guys, but at least twenty others had come to aid their local buddies. Awesome. Castiel rolled his eyes and pushed Dean out of the way and behind him once more. He fielded the attacks expertly and used his elbow to send one man crashing into another, then drop-kicked his way to a chair, which he quickly broke to use two of the legs as weapons in lieu of his swords. No use killing some drunks for being idiots.
He was just about to knock out two others, when suddenly Castiel was pushed aside once more. “I told you to stay out of my fucking fight, you dick.” The mark was still wielding his broken cue in a similar matter as Castiel, and Castiel would have been impressed, had he not been so pissed off.
Nobody told him to stay out of a fight, least of all the damn guy he was trying to protect. Castiel pushed his way back in and just before the mark - Dean. Castiel supposed he earned the right to be called by his name at least, before he killed him - could push him off once more, shots were fired and they both reacted on pure instinct.
Somehow this time, they fought alongside each other, quickly disposing of the brawlers while using them as shields if the bullets came too close. Bullets. Castiel looked around frantically, finally spotting Sam sneaking up on one of the shooters. His expression must have given him away and the shooter turned around. Thankfully not before Sam could knock him out and grab his weapon.
“Sammy, no! Duck!” Dean yelled, and before another shooter could take aim at Sam, Dean had knocked the gun out of his hand by throwing one of his sticks with perfect aim. He was sharing a look with Castiel and they both shifted their priority. Dean grabbed a knife from one of the brawlers and proceeded to make quick work of the others, just as Castiel ditched his wood to go for his swords instead. The time to save random lives was over. Not when Sam was in peril.
Even though the man in question was actually doing a good job of handling himself. Castiel could see Sam taking out two more shooters. But contrary to how Castiel and Dean were handling their attackers, Sam was aiming for shoulders and legs. Castiel was oddly proud of him.
They’d fought their way to the exit, waiting for Sam to join them again. As soon as Sam was close, they both positioned themselves in front of him, shielding him from possible harm. But for now, the attack had stopped.
“How?” Dean asked Sam, reaching for the other man and squeezing his arm, as if he was checking if Sam was really there.
“I’ll tell you later,” Sam shrugged him off, sharing a look with Castiel instead. “Guess we weren’t fast enough. Those were hunters, same as us.”
Castiel nodded. “Level five with a bounty this high? I’ll be surprised if we make it back unscathed.” He surveyed the bar again, only seeing dead or broken bodies and a few neutrals in hiding. Time to get out. “Meet you at the ship,” Castiel ordered, leaving out the ‘if anything happens’, since they all knew it wouldn’t be that easy.
He took a hold of Dean and shoved him out first. He knew he was somehow important to Sam, but out of the three of them, Castiel was more comfortable if the mark caught a bullet.
“Hey,” Dean complained but didn’t stop. Thankfully no bullets came flying at them.
But the momentary peace didn’t last long. Before they could be on their way, they realized a couple of vehicles were approaching them way too fast to disappear unseen. Castiel looked around, spotting motorcycles. He knew Sam could hardwire them. It was one of the things Sam had taught him pretty early on in their partnership.
“Sam, you go straight to the ship, you hear me?” Castiel ordered, pushing Dean along with him to claim an orange model with a bee painted on the side. It was just fucking odd enough to suit him.
Sam claimed a dark blue model and was already fiddling with the wires. “Cas,” he tried to protest, but before Castiel could cut him off, Dean did.
“You heard him, Sammy.” Dean barked, leaving no room for argument. He even willingly joined Castiel on the back of his motorcycle instead of claiming his own. Castiel somehow knew that he’d have been able to hardwire his own model, but instead he chose not to. Interesting. He wondered who this Dean was to Sam. But he’d find out soon enough. Now was not the time to ask.
Castiel started his motorcycle and with Dean sitting behind him, he sped away just as the approaching vehicles were almost in range. He ducked instinctively and could hear the first bullets fly. Taking the long route back to the ship, Castiel just hoped they’d let Sam pass undisturbed. They wanted Dean, after all.
A quick glance in his rear-view mirror confirmed that he was the one being tailed. Castiel let out a muffled curse and pushed down on the gas. This caused Dean to let out his own curse and suddenly, Dean’s legs were wrapped firmly around Castiel’s middle.
Before Castiel had time to question it, he could see Dean leaning back until he was almost flat out on the motorcycle, pulling out a gun - when did he have time to grab that? Castiel was getting sloppy - and shooting at their pursuers. He was a skilled shot and the first two vehicles soon swerved off their pathway. Castiel wasn’t so sure, but he only heard one tire explode. The rest was shattering glass. He gritted his teeth, concentrating on swerving enough to deflect the still flying bullets, but not enough to knock Dean off his back. He also would have aimed at the drivers rather than the tires. It was more efficient and prevented further pursuit at a later date. He could see why Dean was level five.
It wasn’t long before Dean had disposed of all but two of their pursuers. With another curse, Dean threw his gun at one of the vehicles, apparently out of bullets. But by this time, they were getting close to the ship.
Castiel glanced at the communicator on his wrist. The light was on, which meant they were close enough for contact. Letting out a sigh of relief, Castiel pressed the button. “Jess. We’re coming in hot. Open the hangar door and close it as soon as we’re in.”
He was almost close enough to enter but the hangar was still closed. Castiel sped up anyway, trusting in his ship. Just when he considered a hard swerve after all, the door started to open. “Hold on tight,” he yelled at Dean and hit the brakes hard while pulling up the front of the motorcycle. It let him jump the necessary distance and reach the hangar before the doors were even fully down. “Now, Jess. Close the doors!”
Tires screeching Castiel didn’t manage a smooth landing. He had to swerve hard once more to avoid crashing into the walls and the motorcycle finally gave out and tumbled over, causing them to slide a few feet buried under the machine. But a few scrapes and bruises were better than a bullet to the head.
“Son of a bitch,” Dean cursed, stumbling out from under the motorcycle and putting as much distance between himself and Castiel as possible.
Castiel quickly got up and assumed a fighting stance as soon as he realized Dean was scanning for weapons and their momentary truce was apparently over. The ship lurched, bringing them into orbit, and it was enough to distract Dean. Castiel was on him in a flash, knocking him to the ground and sitting astride the other man, his arm at his windpipe, ready to cut off his oxygen.
Before Dean could try anything, however, Sam stormed in and placed a hand on Castiel’s shoulder. “Cas, let him go. Please.”
Looking up, Castiel could see the honest plea on Sam’s face and after one last warning glare, he swiftly moved back up, leaving Dean lying on the ground.
Sam offered him a hand, which Dean reluctantly accepted. The movement of getting up made Dean wince and Castiel realized he was also favouring his right shoulder. “You’re hurt,” Castiel deducted.
Dean glared at him. “S’ the only reason I let you lay me on my back, sweetheart.”
Castiel snorted, about to reply, when Sam cut him to it.
“You’re hurt?” Sam reached for Dean, peeling off his shirt. “How bad is it?”
The fact that Dean just let Sam this intimately close to him, while he was hurt no less, spoke volumes. Castiel relaxed. Whoever Dean was, he wouldn’t hurt Sam. “I’ll get the med-kit,” Castiel announced, leaving the hangar. As soon as he was out of earshot, he signalled the ship. “Jess. Get me everything you can on Dean Winchester.”
“Sorry, Castiel. I can’t comply with your request,” Jess replied to him over the intercom.
“That wasn’t a request.” Castiel frowned.
“There are no files on Dean Winchester, other than the warrant I know you’ve seen,” Jess informed him.
“Are you lying to me?” Castiel passed his hand over his face in frustration.
“I’m a computer program, Castiel. I am by design incapable of lying,” Jess replied with an edge to her voice that belied those very words.
“Sam told you not to give me those files, didn’t he?”
“I am your ship, Castiel. And Sam told me no such thing,” Jess deflected.
Yeah. Castiel knew Sam wouldn’t need to actually talk to the computer. “But he altered your code forcing you to hide those files, didn’t he?”
Castiel received no reply at all this time. He’d have to find out the old fashioned way then.
***
As soon as Castiel had left them alone, Sam enveloped his brother in a tight hug. After a few seconds, Dean reciprocated and hugged him back.
“Good to see you, Sammy. Circumstances aside,” Dean joked.
Sam huffed, pulling back and resuming his task of pulling Dean’s clothes off his wound carefully. “You’re in some serious shit, Dean.”
“I don’t wanna talk about it.” Dean clamped up. “It’d be cool if you just dropped me off at the next planet.”
“Are you serious?” Sam raised his eyebrows. “The fuck I will. There’s a level five warrant out on you.”
“And you what? Want to collect the money yourself?” Dean asked.
Sam’s face hardened. “Yep. You got me, Dean. That money’s gonna help me a lot more than my worthless brother ever did.”
Dean flinched like he’d been hit. “Sam. You know I did my best. But dad…”
Sam closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I don’t want to talk about this.”
Dean chuckled. “So… Nice ship you got.”
Nobody was ever better at changing the subject than his brother and Sam couldn’t help but smile. “It’s Castiel’s.”
“Castiel? What kind of a name is that?” Dean joked.
“It is my name,” Castiel replied tartly, coming back in with the med-kit under his arm.
Sam cringed. He knew Cas was a little touchy about his name. It took a while until he accepted Sam’s nickname for him, even.
“Really?” Dean replied, narrowing his eyes. “You know, I met someone with a similar name once. Uriel. He was part of this sect of assassins, all named after angels. Apparently they’d all been snatched up as kids and brainwashed, then trained to be perfect little killers. Know anything about that?”
“Why would I?” Castiel replied, face an unreadable mask. “But it sounds awful. Poor kids.”
“Yeah, wouldn’t know about that. This Uriel guy was pretty lethal. It was almost hard to kill him. Almost,” Dean shrugged nonchalantly.
Castiel swallowed hard, jaw clenched. “Guess I won’t have to ask you if your warrant is justified, huh?”
Sam stepped between them, holding out his arms. “Please stop.” He wasn’t sure what he expected, but he couldn’t stand by and watch the two people he cared for the most rip each other apart. He wondered how Dean even knew about Angels. Sam had never heard of them before Castiel opened up to him. “Dean, Castiel has been with me for years. He stepped in when you weren’t there. So shut the fuck up.”
Dean opened his mouth to reply but then snapped it back shut, crossing his arms in front of his chest instead.
“And Cas, Dean is my brother,” Sam finally confessed.
“Your brother?” Castiel blinked. “You never told me you had a brother.”
Dean growled in response and Sam sighed. “I didn’t really when we met. Dean chose to cut me out.”
“That’s bullshit, Sammy.” Dean looked at him. “I looked for you. After dad died, I looked for you.”
“Yeah, well. Too late, Dean.” Sam had changed his last name to Campbell, his mother’s maiden name, for a reason. He was done with the Winchester side of his family. Or so he thought. But Dean was still his brother, dammit.
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner, Sam?” Castiel questioned. “I could have killed him.”
“No, you couldn’t,” Dean protested, but a raised eyebrow from Castiel shut him up. Instead Dean sighed in defeat. “Because he thought I’d deserved the warrant and he was embarrassed his big brother’s a killer. Isn’t that right, Sam?” Dean suggested.
Sam took a deep breath. Was that it? He wasn’t so sure himself, if he was honest. He just knew he couldn’t tell Cas until he absolutely had to just now. “Is it?” Sam asked in a small voice.
Dean huffed, but then he looked at the ground. “No. I’ve killed people, you know that. We’re soldiers, after all. Winchesters.”
“I’m a Campbell,” Sam threw in, a defiant tone in his voice.
Dean snorted. “You may deny your name, Sammy, but don’t fool yourself. You grew up the same way as me.”
“No, I didn’t.” Sam stood up straighter. “You drank the kool-aid and believed everything dad told you. I always wanted out.”
Dean looked sad for a moment, but then his face hardened again. “And where are you now, Sammy? Hunting fugitives with another killer by your side. Way to escape the lifestyle.”
Sam clenched his fists. In that moment he wanted nothing more than to punch his stupid, smug brother in the face. But that would just prove his fucking point, wouldn’t it? Castiel’s hand on his shoulder soothed him.
“Your brother is a good man, Dean,” Castiel explained calmly. “You obviously don’t know him at all and I’m beginning to see why Sam’s never told me about you.” He turned away from Dean and looked straight at Sam. “We can just turn him over, collect the bounty and you can go back to your life as it is now. Or you hear him out and then we decide what’s next. Together. Choice is yours, Sam.”
Sam closed his eyes for a moment, weighing his options. Though there really was no choice. Turning Dean in had never been an option. Ever since he’d seen the warrant, Sam knew. Even if his brother ended up being guilty of the murders he was wanted for, Sam wouldn’t have the heart to turn him in. “Alright, Dean. Talk.” Sam’s gaze fell on his brother’s still neglected wound again. “But first we’ll get that patched up.”
***
A few hours later, Castiel was in his cabin, trying to unwind. But he just felt too restless. Dean had told them about stumbling over a secret military experiment trying to create super soldiers. When he tried to blow the whistle, they killed everybody, not high up on the chain of command, who also knew about the program and framed Dean for it. Castiel was sceptical at first, but Dean had details they could cross-check and it all seemed to work out. He even had an alibi - he was on a different planet when it happened - but that didn’t seem to help him any.
Still. Castiel couldn’t get rid of this niggling feeling that Dean was still lying about something important. But he’d left him with Sam to get sorted in his own cabin for the foreseeable future while they came up with a plan to clear his name. After that, he had better be on his way.
Dean irritated him. It wasn’t just that he knew about Angels, it was everything about the man. The way he moved, the way he talked, the way he fought… It was all just so smooth and flawless. Castiel could tell that he’d be a worthy adversary and part of him was still always itching for a good fight, no matter how hard he tried to repress his urges. And Dean would fight him, of that he had no doubt. And they’d both fucking enjoy it.
Castiel had felt Dean get hard on that motorcycle, pressed close as he was. He’d tried his best to ignore it, but right now, cooped up in his own quarters, he couldn’t help but think about it. Dean seemed carefree in a way Castiel wasn’t, yet he also carried a deep burden. Castiel could see it in the other man’s eyes and in the guarded way he was around Sam. There was so much regret in him. Yet he still seemed to enjoy fighting. Hell, Dean seemed to enjoy killing people. And Castiel still remembered what that was like.
Getting up from the bed he was sitting on, Castiel started pacing the room. He had two options. He could try meditation or work Dean out of his system through training. Or the unmentionable number three: He could go find Dean and… Castiel thrust his fist against the wall. Fuck no. Seeing the other man was the last thing he needed.
He could tell that meditation was not an option at this point either, so Castiel pulled off his shirt and pulled on his training pants, then opened his door and made his way to the training hall. Once he opened the door to his presumed sanctuary, he stopped dead in his tracks though. - Because Dean was already in it, performing a practised routine with Castiel’s bo staff.
Castiel sucked in a deep breath, about to turn back around, but Dean had already spotted him. He finished the movement he was currently on and then did a small bow and fuck, why was it so hot that he even respected his training? Castiel’s eyes narrowed. Why was Dean in his space, messing him up?
“Heya, Cas. Sam told me it was ok to use the room. Wanna spar with me?” Dean offered.
“Leave,” Castiel managed to growl out, remaining frozen in his spot close to the door. The audacity of this man. Did Castiel want to spar? A few hours ago Dean would have probably happily killed him. And Cas would just as happily strangle him right the fuck now.
“What?” Dean’s demeanour changed and he leaning against the stick, head held high. “Fuck you. What is your problem?”
“You,” Castiel answered truthfully, voice still pitched low. “You are my fucking problem.” He snarled through his teeth and moved closer. Slowly. Stalking Dean like prey.
Dean’s expression changed yet again and a small smirk played around his lips. He was still casually leaning against the stick, but Castiel could tell that Dean was flexing his muscles, preparing for the upcoming fight. Then he did something unexpected. Dean threw away the bo staff, a weapon which would have surely given him the advantage, and waved his hand at Castiel in a clear invitation to come at him.
And Castiel charged.
Dean easily parried him, blocking his attack with his arms, his feet in constant movement so Castiel had no chance to kick out one of his legs. God dammit, Dean was good. And this was fun. It didn’t take long before Castiel found himself grinning madly. Dean’s own smile brightened and it put a little dampener on things. This was not supposed to be fun for either of them. Castiel was not supposed to get hard. But he wanted to throw Dean down and dominate him like nothing else. He could almost taste it on his tongue. Dean would submit. Castiel would make him.
With a low snarl, Castiel charged in earnest, forcing Dean closer and closer to the wall. Neither of them broke eye contact, their limbs flying without much conscious thought, yet neither of them were losing their stride. Except for when they got closer to the wall. Dean missed a step and Castiel was able to push Dean up against it, forcing his shoulders against Dean’s to block the other man’s arm movements.
Castiel crowed in victory, yet Dean was once again ruining it by winking at him. That fucker. He’d purposely let Castiel win and… and Castiel couldn’t even be mad anymore. He reached down, hitching Dean’s legs up and around his waist while simultaneously leaning forward and claiming Dean’s lips in a bruising kiss. He tasted salty and Castiel realized they’d both broken out into a sweat.
Dean’s arms, now free, found their way into his hair, gripping some strands and tugging harshly. Castiel retaliated by thrusting Dean against the wall forcefully, momentarily knocking the breath out of the other man. He didn’t give him much time to suck in new air before he was kissing him again. Dean didn’t seem to complain. Instead, he just held on tighter, undulating his hips against Castiel’s.
Then, Dean’s hands were gone. But he was just trying to pull off his shirt. Castiel let up a little until Dean could discard of it, then dove right back in, kissing his way down Dean’s neck, licking up the sweat that pooled around his collarbone and nosing closer. Dean hissed, tugging on his hair again and Castiel belatedly thought of Dean’s wound. He threw a glance at the bandage, realizing blood had seeped through. But Dean didn’t give him a chance to let up.
“Fuck me,” Dean demanded, pushing his heels into Castiel’s ass and bringing their groins even closer together. Castiel moaned harshly and reached between them to undo the buttons of Dean’s pants. “Yes,” Dean exclaimed happily. “Make it hurt.”
And something in his voice made Castiel stop dead in his tracks and look at the other man. He wasn’t smiling anymore, but instead he looked expectant, anxious and a little sad. Dean believed that he deserved to be hurt. And while just a little earlier, Castiel might have agreed with him, he also knew that nobody, nobody, ever deserved to be hurt like that. “No.” Castiel pulled back.
“What?” Dean looked crestfallen for a moment, then angry. “What the fuck? Come on, Cas. I know you want it.” He grabbed Castiel’s cock and squeezed hard.
Castiel pushed his hand away, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Oh, I can hurt you, Dean,” he promised. “And I can fuck you. I can fuck you real good,” he purred. “But you have to make a choice. Only one of the two at a time. Which will it be?”
Dean gaped at him. Castiel could tell that Dean was considering his offer, weighing the options. He really hoped he’d make the right choice, or Castiel couldn’t guarantee to anything. If it were him in Dean’s place, he knew what he’d choose. And it wasn’t the pleasure.
Dean pushed him off and Castiel expected him to choose neither and just leave, some of the adrenaline leaving his body already. But instead, Dean reversed their positions in a flash and pushed Castiel against the wall instead. Dean did quick work of pulling Castiel’s pants down around his ankles and then he sunk down on his knees, nuzzling Castiel’s cock.
Castiel’s eyes rolled back in his head and he shivered in anticipation. But instead, Dean moved back up, tugging Castiel’s pants back up along with him. Castiel blinked in confusion, which only intensified when Dean gave him a short peck to the cheek and then leaned in close to whisper in his ear. “Fucking fuck me already, you asshole.” He ended it by slapping Castiel’s ass.
Castiel only had a brief second to recollect himself, then he took Dean’s hand and dragged him out of the training hall. “Oh, I’m gonna hurt you a little,” he promised and led Dean to his cabin.
***
Later, they were both propped up against the headboard, sitting together in Castiel’s bed. It had felt weird to cuddle, but Castiel didn’t want to kick Dean out and Dean didn’t seem to want to leave. Instead, they were comparing scars and sharing war stories. Castiel redacted his stories a lot and skipped over some of his worse scars, but he had a feeling Dean was doing the same. And while this was kind of amusing, it was all just talking around the bigger issues.
With a sigh, Castiel decided to just go for it. “I know you were lying to us earlier,” Castiel announced. When Dean opened his mouth to reply, he held up his hand. “Or at the very least omitted a huge chunk of your story.”
Dean didn’t say anything. Instead, he moved to get out of bed.
Castiel stopped him with a hand against his back. “Dean, please. I can’t help you if I don’t know everything. And I’d…” He hesitated. “You’re Sam’s brother. Let me help.”
Dean sat back down, still not saying anything. After a while, he finally looked at Castiel. “You’re an Angel, aren’t you?”
Castiel panicked instantly, but he hoped he didn’t let it show. “Why thank you, Dean. I’m flattered, but…”
Dean interrupted him. “Cut the crap. I’ve seen your blades. I’ve seen the way you use them. I’m not stupid.”
“Why does it matter?” Castiel replied, looking anywhere but at Dean. He must have been pretty high up in the military ranks if he knew about Angels.
“Please,” Dean pleaded. “I need to know.”
Castiel sighed. He’d only told Sam. And never told the whole story. Dean seemed to already know a fair bit though and he’d obviously already made up his mind about Castiel anyway. And when this was all over, Castiel would never see him again, never have to look him in the eye and see the reaction. “Yes.”
“But you left.” It wasn’t a question. “Your mind is your own?”
Castiel nodded. He wasn’t sure what had ultimately made him break out of his programming, but in a way, he’d always been rebellious. Or so he was told when he’d received the harshest punishments out of all of them. And he’d been sent in for re-alignment several times. Yet he’d still persisted.
“The program,” Dean started. “It was based on yours. The military knew about you, of course. They’d managed to infiltrate the Angel program. But instead of… instead of rescuing you, they took notes and they decided to modify it for themselves.”
Castiel frowned. He hadn’t know that. He’d managed to make sure the Angel program was ceased a few years back. His brothers and sisters were still out there, but Castiel had made sure everybody else associated with it was dead, so no new children could be indoctrinated, abused, turned into something like him. He’d personally killed dozens of his teachers once he’d finally broken free.
And now it was back? It was all back?
“The difference was, they started later. They didn’t abduct kids. They used volunteers for the training,” Dean explained. “What they didn’t tell u… them.” Dean passed a hand over his face. “What they didn’t tell them was that they used drugs and the total brainwash wasn’t exactly advertised either.”
”Dean,” Castiel started, unsure what to say.
“My, uhm… my dad. He was one of the founding fathers. And when he asked, I…” Dean’s voice broke. “I’m just so fucking glad Sammy had left us at that point.” He passed his hand over his face again and Castiel could tell he was fighting back tears. “So fucking glad.”
Castiel didn’t say anything for a while, he just let Dean find his way back on his own. He knew comfort wouldn’t be appreciated. It wasn’t easy to admit you’d been a victim and receiving pity in reply just made it so much worse.
“Fuck this,” Dean muttered suddenly, turning around and vanishing under the covers. Before Castiel could fully comprehend what was happening, Dean had wrapped his lips around his cock and was swallowing him deeply.
“Oh. Oh, fuck,” Castiel fisted his hands in Dean’s hair, not pushing him in but also not pulling him up. “You…” He moaned. “Don’t have to…” Castiel gathered all his strength and tried pulling Dean up. “Dean.”
Dean slid off with a pop and peaked his head out from under the sheets. “I know. Shut up. Geeze, what is it with you?” Dean’s hand was stroking Castiel’s cock instead and Castiel had trouble concentrating.
When Dean slid back down, he let him. Dean was still fisting his cock and just licking teasingly around the head until Castiel buried his hands back in his hair and tugged. “Goddamn,” Castiel cursed, throwing back his head with his eyes closed.
He could feel Dean smirk against his cock and then he was swallowed down once more. Dean took him deep, holding him until his throat started to flutter and then licking along the big vein of his cock when he pulled back up. He repeated it a few more times until Castiel just couldn’t take it anymore. His hands tightened in Dean’s hair and he started thrusting his hips. Dean just relaxed his throat and let him, even encouraging him with a hand stroking Castiel’s hipbone.
“Fucking, fuck, Dean,” Castiel yelled. He pushed one hand against the mattress to get a better leverage and thrust faster. It didn’t take long for him to reach his climax and afterward, Dean was biting his way back up, stopping at one of Castiel’s sensitive nipples, still raw from their first round. Dean bit down hard and Castiel twitched, senses momentarily on overload.
Before he got his bearings back enough to maybe reciprocate he could feel Dean splash his seed against his thigh. Castiel used both hands to detach Dean from his nipple and he cradled Dean’s head against the crook of his neck instead. He could feel Dean panting against him and he shivered again.
When Dean had regained his breath, he started mouthing at Castiel’s neck. Castiel lazily played with Dean’s hair and rubbed circles over his back. But before it could go anywhere, Dean abruptly pushed back and slid out of bed.
“Alright, this was fun,” Dean announced and then turned around, looking for his pants.
“Uhm,” Castiel rubbed his eyes, trying to get his brain fully functioning again. “You don’t have to…”
Dean snorted and turned around, giving Castiel a withering look. “Fuck yes, I do.”
Begrudgingly, Castiel nodded. Yeah. If he was honest, he didn’t want to sleep next to anybody, no matter how amazing the sex had been. And now that his mind started working again, he could see that it would be a spectacularly bad idea. Castiel still had nightmares and waking up with a stranger in his bed could end decidedly bad. Killing was still second nature to him and he doubted that would ever change. And from what Dean had told him earlier, he wouldn’t be surprised if Dean could relate.
Dean was standing at the door, but before he left, he turned around again. “I’m sorry about earlier,” Dean almost whispered. “Uriel. Was he a friend of yours?”
Castiel didn’t expect this. He cocked his head in contemplation. “He was my brother,” he started, thinking of growing up together. And the one time Uriel had reported him to the authorities for his heretical talk, before Castiel had learned to keep his thoughts to himself. He rubbed at the scar on his inner thigh where they’d tried to carve a cross into his skin. “But no,” he concluded. “He wasn’t a friend. He’d have killed either of us without a second thought.”
Dean nodded, averting his face. It seemed that Dean wasn’t as carefree about killing as Castiel had initially assumed. “Goodnight, Castiel.”
“Goodnight, Dean,” Castiel replied. The door closed and Dean was gone. Castiel slid down more comfortably in his sheets. He should get cleaned up, but he’d slept way more filthy than this and he didn’t want to erase the night just yet. So instead he just closed his eyes and fell into a fitful sleep.
***
The next day, Castiel woke up feeling frazzled. He’d dreamed about his past all night long and now he was feeling itchy. He quickly took a shower and then went back to the training hall.
Not bothering with weapons, he went straight to his punching bag to vent out some of his anger. It wasn’t killing he’d dreamed about the night before, it had been all the other things they’d made him do. Angels were perfect assassins not only because they were trained in the art of killing, but because they were able to get close to their victims. Intimately close. Until they could kill in the dark of night and slip out unseen. Nobody would think twice of a whore slinking out of someone’s room at night. The guards always let him pass.
Castiel yelled and kicked the bag hard enough to have some sand drizzle out. But before he could collapse against it, he heard the door open. Quickly straightening himself out, he turned around expecting Sam. Instead it was his brother.
Dean was just standing there, grinning at him. “We gotta stop meeting like this.” He looked Castiel up and down with a hungry look on his face. “And for fuck’s sake. Would it kill you to wear a shirt once in a while?”
“Why? It’d just end up getting destroyed.” Castiel pointed at Dean’s shirt, which was actually one of Sam’s and kind of disturbing. It had to go.
Fortunately, Dean got the hint and took off his shirt before advancing on Castiel. “Alright. Let me have it.”
Castiel smiled, this time still going in angry, but not at Dean. They sparred for a while, showing off their respective hand-to-hand combat skills without either of them really gaining the upper hand. They didn’t go at it lightly though and each of them ended up with a few more bruises.
The third time Castiel landed on his back with Dean perched on top of him, Castiel tapped out. He was aching all over but his mind was finally blissfully empty. “I give.”
Dean raised an eyebrow. “You give?” He leaned closer, his knee pressing down painfully into Castiel’s right side. “Nu-uh. This is over when I decide to let you up.” Dean leaned further down and licked over Castiel’s lips.
Castiel felt a spark go through him and, energy renewed, he jabbed his elbow into Dean’s clavicle and interlaced his legs with Dean, trapping him enough to roll him over so he was on top once more.
Dean grinned up at him, eyes alight, but before they could continue, the door opened again. This time, it really was Sam.
“Ugh,” Sam groaned. “Can you two just…” Sam paused, re-assessing the situation. He looked from Dean to Castiel and back again, both men frozen on the spot, and then Sam’s face twisted in disgust. “Oh fuck no. Goddammit, Dean.” He threw his hands up in the air. “Why do you always have to fuck my best friend?”
Castiel raised his eyebrow in question, not sure if he wanted to hear that story. Then Sam’s words sunk in further and warmth spread through him. It was nice to know Sam valued him just as much as he did Sam. He let go of Dean a little and smirked at Sam. “Who says he did the fucking?”
“Ugh, gross,” Sam exclaimed at the same time as Dean cuffed Castiel upside the head before rolling out from under him and getting up. He didn’t seem ashamed though, just a little chagrined.
“Grow up, Sammy. Sex is a beautiful thing. I’d have thought you’d have learned that by now.” Dean smiled at his brother but then went to grab his discarded shirt and pulled it back on.
Sam rolled his eyes, but then he shrugged. “Better than the two of you killing each other, I guess.”
Castiel sprang to his feet and then winced. Ok, bad move. He shouldn’t be feeling it, but he was. Maybe he was getting old. His old trainers would have surely punished him for showing weakness with an audible wince. But his old trainers were long dead. And soon, the same could be said for Dean’s tormentors. Castiel would make sure of that.
“Sam?” Castiel offered, “You want to train?”
Sam snorted. “Yeah, but not with you. We need you fit for our next mission.”
“Mission?” Castiel questioned.
“Well, yeah. Clearing Dean’s name and dismantling this disgusting program he found out about.” Sam paused. “Or did you two not do a lot of talking?”
“No,” Castiel subtly stretched out his arms. Crap, he was really sore. “He told me. And yes.” He was looking at Dean for his next words. “We’ll make sure to bury the program and everyone involved with it.”
“Except for the soldiers, right?” Sam suggested. “We’ll make sure they’ll get help?”
Castiel bit his lip and Dean averted his gaze as well. Breaking through a thorough brainwashing either took an exceptionally strong mind or a lot of work. Especially if this time, they used drugs to speed up the process. They would be dealing with addicts. And if they used volunteers, chances were high that some of them did not want to be saved. There were still a lot of details Dean would have to disclose, starting with what drugs exactely they used, if he even knew.
“Sure, Sam,” Dean answered for him. “We’ll try.” Castiel could tell Dean wasn’t convinced, but it seemed good enough for Sam.
“I’m just glad you stumbled over this, Dean. Even if it got you framed,” Sam said. “But now we know and we can do something about it.” He smiled optimistically.
“Yeah,” Dean passed a hand through his hair, making the strands stand up a little more. “Real lucky I stumbled into this,” he replied dryly, eyes fixed on Castiel.
Castiel quirked his lips into a half smile. It would be Dean’s decision to tell Sam the whole story. He’d understand if Dean chose to never open up to his brother fully. After all, he’d never told Sam all of his story either. But maybe he would be able to talk to Dean about it. It might help the both of them. In time.
For now though, using each other as an outlet for pent-up physical tension seemed like the perfect fix to get them through the long days it would take to work this - and dredge up painful memories in the process. It wasn’t the worst thing Castiel could imagine. A small smirk found it’s way back to his lips.
“You were right, Sam. I’m exhausted. I’m gonna go back to my cabin and lie down for a while,” Castiel announced and started to leave.
He hadn’t even made it two steps before he heard Dean join him. “Yeah, same,” Dean replied, maybe sounding a little too eager. “In, uhm, my own bed. Obviously.”
Sam’s loud snort made it clear that they weren’t fooling anyone. “I’m not gonna say have fun, but, like, get some actual rest as well. Ok, guys?” Sam sent them off with a rhetorical question neither of them bothered to answer.
Once the door had closed behind them, Castiel made his way to his cabin as announced. He didn’t protest when Dean followed him silently. And he only closed the door after Dean had entered his space as well.
“So, uh. Maybe we should start planning some strategies?” Castiel suggested half-heartedly, his hands already reaching to take off Dean’s offending shirt.
Dean scoffed. “You really need to learn when to shut up.”
“Mmmh,” Castiel hummed, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. Then he sent Dean a heated look. “How about you make me?”
Dean grinned and next thing Castiel knew, he was the one getting slammed into the wall and getting kissed until he was breathless.