Fic: Back Seats Are For Angels Only
Title: Back Seats Are For Angels Only
Author: sparseparsley
Rating: PG-13 *evil laugh*
Genre/Pairing: Episode Tag, Angst, Dean/Cas
Wordcount: 2000-ish
Spoilers: YES, up to and including episode 5.08
Warnings: Dean says bad words, implications of sex
Summary: Cas leaves with Sam & Dean at the end of 5.08 and has himself an existential crisis.
Author's Note: I know! I have an unfinished story to work on! Shut up! But it was kind of kicking my ass yesterday and then someone borked the cable internet in town so I couldn't freak out properly with everyone last night over the BEST EPISODE EVER. So stuff sucked and I wrote this instead and it got all heavy on me. Also, writing long fics makes it easier to write short fics, cool!
EDIT: Holy shit, I am completely overwhelmed by all the fantastic feedback you guys are giving me! I got all emotional over it and everything. THANK YOU!
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“Dean, he's still out there.”
Sam lets the curtain fall back from where he'd lifted it to check on the Impala. And on the angel still sitting out there.
“Yeah, I know.”
It's a new hotel room in a new town several hours down the road. Dean had vetoed going back to the green and white Sitcom From Hell room and no one had disagreed. Apparently they all needed a little distance right now.
“Don't you think you should...”
Dean sighs and sets the magazine he'd been reading (for the articles, thank you) on his chest. He's half sitting and half laying on one of the beds, shoes still on, trying not to think about much. It's not working real well. “He said he was fine, just wanted to be alone for a little while.”
Sam lifts the curtain again. It's dark out by now, but there are enough lights in the parking lot that he can still make out the dark statue shape in the back seat.
“It's creepy. And kind of worrying. Shouldn't he have... apparated or whatever by now?”
“If it's bugging you that much, you go out and talk to him. I'm busy not watching TV.” And fuck the Tr- fuck Gabriel for that, 'Dr. Sexy, MD' is never gonna be the same now.
“Right, because we have such a close and, I'm sorry, weirdly intense friendship that I'm sure he'd be fine with that. Oh wait, that's you.”
Dean groans from underneath the magazine that he just smacked over his face. “Fine. Christ.” The bed creaks as he heaves himself to standing, tossing the skin mag behind him. For later. He sticks a finger in Sam's face on the way outside. “It's not weird.”
Sam's 'uh huh' is cut short by the door closing behind Dean.
Okay, so maybe it's a little weird. That was the second archangel that Dean has threatened for Cas. Or on Cas' behalf, anyway. Not the wisest plan, but when someone picks you over Heaven, you man the fuck up.
Cas hasn't moved yet, and Dean might almost believe he was asleep if not for the rigid posture. It had been kind of surprising when Cas slipped into the back seat outside that warehouse. Not unwelcome, just surprising. Dean had asked if everything was okay (for a given value of okay), Cas had said yes with his head turned to the window and that had been that.
But when they got to the new hotel, Cas had just shaken his head at Dean's invitation (“Wanna come in and guard a corner? Swear I won't hang laundry on you this time.”) and said he would be fine out here by himself. It's been like an hour, though, and Dean's as worried as Sam thinks he should be. Maybe more.
Cas moves finally when Dean swings the door open beside him. Well, he tilts his head up to look at Dean. It's a start.
“Out.” Dean sticks his arm inside the doorway and gives Cas the 'come here' gesture, fingers impatient.
Cas gets out slowly and smooths his coat and tie before finally speaking. “I apologize. I'm disturbing you.”
“Lots of things disturb me. Not so much you, though.” Dean slams the door shut as Cas moves aside, turning to lean against it. “Sam was worrying about your man pain. Angel pain. Whatever.”
“I saw him at the window, yes.” Cas is standing as straight as he sat, arms hanging at his sides.
“How's your...” Dean waves his hand around his own face.
Cas take a second to figure out the meaning before brushing fingers over his own nose. He looks almost confused when he finds the flakey dried blood there. “Oh. Fine.”
“Good. Any other permanent damage from... where ever he sent you?” Knowing the Trickster (fucking dick angel), Cas was probably stuck in Heaven's Funniest Home Videos or something equally painful.
“No.”
“Damn.” He says it on purpose, but Dean still feels a little bad about the puzzled look Cas gives him. “That means we have to have chick talk now. Feelings and stuff. Otherwise Sam'll make us stay out here all night and it's fucking cold.” Maybe Cas would lend him his coat, it'd be nice and warm still.
“Feelings.” Cas blinks once, slowly.
“Yup.” Yeah, this isn't awkward at all.
“I feel...” God damn literal bastard. Cas seems to search himself, head turned down. “I feel afraid.”
That's... not what Dean expected. Nothing wrong with being scared, of course. You're just not supposed to talk about it. Especially when you're a super powerful divine being because that's just gonna make everyone else nervous, too. “Uh.”
“Gabriel has been walking the Earth so much longer than I have, If... if in all that time, he has never found even a hint of...” Cas hasn't raised his head yet, but he still turns away as if to hide his face.
Dean has seen a lot of painful shit in life. Crushed souls and broken bodies, some of which he did himself. But seeing Cas, Cas, losing hope is always at the top of the list. Castiel was born, bred, and raised to have faith and seeing what he becomes without it... No.
He grabs the angel by the shoulder and turns him so they face each other. “How do you know he even looked, huh? He sure didn't seem like the pro-active type to me, sulking on the porch with his toys while his brothers tear the fucking house apart. I bet he hasn't given half a thought about God since he got down here.” He shakes Cas once, forcefully. “Don't let him fuck with your head, it's what he does.”
Cas is looking at the hand on his arm now, and Dean realizes that he has his hand exactly where Cas' brand would be if that was his arm. He doesn't let go though, just waits.
Eventually, Cas lifts his head and, huh, that's not exactly fear on his face.
“I also feel angry. That you should know my brother better than I do. That he has hidden-” Cas yanks his arm out of Dean's grip, turning away again. The bitterness in his voice is kind of heart stopping.
“Cas?”
“All of-” Jesus, Dean does not need to hear what it sounds like when an angel's voice breaks. Cas takes a breath, gathering himself.“All of Heaven mourned him. When he was lost. Our glorious messenger, the strength of God. We assumed... that demons... we assumed him gone. I...”
Dean is gentler this time, when he turns Cas to face him, hand solid at his shoulder again. Yeah, having your dead brother come back and kick the shit out of you, that would mess you up a little. “Hey. So he's kind of an asshole. Big surprise.”
Cas extends a hand and Dean expects him to touch the hand Dean has on his shoulder. Instead, he mirrors him, sliding his palm over the hand-print buried under Dean's clothes. A vivid memory flashes of another hand there, another angel, heat and sweat and would it be better? Better to have the hand that actually made that mark (sort of) pressed against it? Dean shivers.
Cas' voice is low and harsh. “My brother is alive. This should be a moment of joy and song. Instead... instead, I find myself full of anger. Fury. That he let us believe- when he has been here the whole time! He could have- could have-”
“Hey!” Dean has both hands on Cas now, fingers digging. He leans down to catch Cas' eyes, willing him to listen. “Hey. You spend any time down here, you learn first thing that no one can dick you around better than your family. And then you keep fucking loving them anyway.”
Cas' eyes are wide and lost and Dean feels something clench tight like a fist in his chest. “Why... What is wrong with us, all of us, that we prefer pain over joy? We search it out, angels, demons and humans alike. Gabriel... Dean, he was Heaven's Truth, our good news given name, and now- We have perverted Creation, to turn the Giver of Answers into this deceiver!”
Dean has no fucking clue how to deal with this. How do you hold an angel together with your bare hands? Wordless, he shifts a palm behind Cas' neck and pulls him forward until their foreheads press together. He can feel the tension in the angel's body, like tremors before an earthquake. His eyes are closed but he can hear the pain well enough when Cas speaks again, can feel the shaking breath on his face.
“What if we are not worthy of God?”
Fuck.
Dean has an armful of angel before he knows what he's doing, one hand holding Cas' head tight against his shoulder, the other twisting the coat between his shoulder blades. Cas resists for a second, possibly just shock, and then he's sagging against Dean with one arm around his waist and the other pressed to the car behind them. Good thing, too, Dean thinks they might have hit the ground by now without the Impala's support.
He shakes the hand he has at Cas' back, and whispers roughly into the ear beside his cheek. “You listen to me. You- out of everything- you- Fuck!” His fingers slide into Cas' hair and he grips tight, pulling back to look him in the eye. “If we ever find him, if he's there to be found... If God ever asks me why we deserve this, everything, what makes us worthy of it? What the hell do you think I'm gonna show him?”
Cas' mouth had parted when Dean pulled him back, and the dark space between his lips leads Dean to an answer he didn't know he was looking for. “You, man. I'm gonna show him you.”
Cas' lips are dry as Dean pushes against them. Dry, but past that his mouth is warm and wet and as human as any mouth Dean ever tasted.
Gabriel's probably right about this whole thing ending bloody. Win, lose, or draw, there's not much chance of either him or Cas coming out the other side alive, infinitely less of a chance that they'll both make it. So why waste time, when this is something he can give? Something he knows how to do?
Cas doesn't pull away or even hesitate to push his tongue against Dean's; and the grating, desperate noise he makes is as good a 'yes' as anyone could hope to get.
The car's door-handle is annoyingly elusive as Dean fumbles for it, backwards and blind, but he doesn't want to stop. Doesn't want to give up the dirty suction of Cas' mouth for anything. Finally the damn thing opens, though, and he shifts their bodies a few inches to the side to swing the door wide.
Then he's got the angel by the tie, blue strip wrapped around his fist, and he pushes them apart for a second. Cas looks glorious, devastated for all the right reasons. This is another thing you learn, walking around down here. That it's okay to just forget sometimes.
He slides down into the car, pulling his angel in after him.
“You wanna sing your joy to Heaven? Then come on, let's rock.”