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tracy_loo_whoCastiel is still in my head, what can I say? *tries to inject some SPN into this sad excuse for a Thursday* D:
Title: The One In Which Castiel Doesn't Fall
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~5,700
Spoilers: 4.10 - Heaven and Hell
Notes: Not to say I don't love fics in which Castiel falls, because I do, but I was in the mood for something a little different today.
Summary: This is how Castiel's love story goes.
You're some heartless sons of bitches, you know that?
As a matter of fact we are. And?
And this is where it begins, because Dean's words sting. They sting in a way that being called a dick didn't because that isn't true, and they sting in a way that being stabbed in the heart didn't because he doesn't have one. They sting because for once, Dean's contempt may be warranted.
The kiss -- that kiss -- and Anna's words add salt to the wound, and Castiel faces Alistair with the soft touch of lips to lips flashing before his eyes and you don't know the feeling ringing in his ears. He is foolish to think such distractions won't cripple him in battle. When they do, no one is more surprised than Castiel.
It is ironic, he thinks as Alistair chants at him, that his death should be caused, however indirectly and unknowingly, by the human he rescued from Hell. But then Dean turns the tables, and that is almost more ironic because he thinks he is saving Castiel. Castiel is relieved, perhaps, but when everything is over and Dean's eyes meet his, he doesn't feel saved at all. He flees.
***
"What was that about?" Uriel demands, as if he is the boss here. "That piece of demon filth should not have been a problem for you."
Castiel doesn't quite look at him. "It was a momentary lapse; it will not happen again," he says, but Uriel doesn't believe it. Castiel doesn't believe it, either.
Uriel's eyes narrow. "Your soft spot for that insolent mudmonkey compromises too much, Castiel."
I know, he wants to say, but doesn't. Not even Uriel knows just how much is being compromised here, how much Castiel fears all the things Dean is making him feel. He is afraid Uriel would try to put an end to it.
***
The two of them save a Seal the next day. It is Castiel who kills the last demon, and as he looks into her eyes to watch her soul burn beneath his palm, he thinks, I am not a heartless son of a bitch. I am a son of God.
Later, he tells this to Dean in a dream.
Dean looks less than impressed. In fact, he looks smug. "You wouldn't still be dwelling on that if I hadn't struck a nerve," he points out. "And I wouldn't have struck a nerve if it wasn't true. You're a son of God; fine, I get it. But you're also a heartless son of a bitch, and you know it."
And just like that, Castiel forgets what made him believe otherwise. At the same time, he is reminded of why he wanted to believe otherwise. Dean can't see it, but Castiel's wings droop a little as he looks away.
"So is that all you invaded my dreams for or do you actually have something important to say?" Dean's voice is impatient and Castiel shakes his head. This is important to him, but Dean wouldn't care.
He suddenly feels out of place here, standing around in a human's dream, seeking his approval when he shouldn't need it. Castiel sighs and wishes he hadn't come. "Go back to sleep, Dean."
Luckily, it is easy to make sure Dean forgets his dreams.
***
The next day, Castiel saves a kitten from a tree just because he can.
As he stares at it, the small furry thing in his hands with its big eyes and tiny paws, he wonders if he should feel something -- satisfaction, maybe, or tenderness, or all those other things he isn't sure he can name but felt anyway when he saved Dean from Hell.
He doesn't feel anything, so he puts the animal down. Castiel decides that kittens are nothing like Dean, and is both relieved and disappointed.
***
Dean dreams of Hell again, and this time, Castiel is there to wake him.
"What do you want?" he asks, voice low and gruff.
Castiel doesn't want to tell Dean that he wants to save him again so he can re-experience those feelings, so instead he says, "I came to make sure you have a restful night."
Before Dean can reply, Castiel touches two fingers to his forehead and sends him into a deep, dreamless sleep. He stays to watch Dean's uncharacteristically peaceful expression for a few minutes, or maybe it's a few hours, and remembers what satisfaction and tenderness feel like. He should go, he knows, but doesn't.
Eventually Uriel calls to him, and Castiel reluctantly leaves Dean to go to his brother. "Why have you called?" he asks.
Uriel gives him a look. "Who else was going to save you from the Winchester boy?"
***
They catch wind of Lilith's plan to capture Sam by using Dean. Uriel thinks they should lay a trap for her and let it play out. Castiel thinks the risks for Dean are too high and too unnecessary.
Uriel sneers at him, but in the end, Castiel is still the boss.
***
In the morning, Dean is actually in a good mood. He smiles when Castiel appears at the foot of his bed, and Castiel takes a moment to bask in it. "Sleep well?" he asks lightly.
"Yeah." Dean pushes the covers off and stretches. (Castiel stares.) "Thanks for that." Castiel is reminded of the last time Dean thanked him for anything. This time, there is no accompanying knife to the heart; they've come a long way.
There is no time to dwell on that, though. "You have a long drive ahead of you," Castiel tells him, and feels bereft when Dean's smile fades.
"Why?" He is immediately suspicious. "What are you going to do?"
"We are not going to smite the town," Castiel promises. "But Lilith is coming for you, which is why you must leave immediately."
Dean makes a face. "Why me?"
"To get to your brother."
For a moment Dean looks thoughtful. "What if you let her get me, and then jump in to gank her? Sam doesn't even have to be involved."
Castiel tilts his head. "You would offer yourself as bait?"
Dean shrugs. "Why not?"
"There is no guarantee Lilith will show up in person, Dean," Castiel says gravely, and he is glad he came alone. Uriel would convince Dean to do it. "More likely it will be Alistair. He is not dead, you know. Nor will he hesitate to drag you back to Hell if he thinks Sam will come for you regardless."
At the mention of Alistair, Dean's expression darkens. "But if there's a chance--"
"No, Dean," Castiel says firmly, and for a moment he thinks Dean looks grateful. "When Sam returns with breakfast, the two of you will leave immediately."
"Fine." Dean turns to pack his bags, and Castiel leaves him be.
***
As it turns out, Castiel is right about Lilith and Alistair. It is Alistair who shows up, and this time, Castiel is ready for him.
He thinks of the things Alistair did to Dean in Hell, and his wrath is magnificent. Alistair tries to flee his vessel in a cloud of black smoke before he burns, but Castiel's enormous wings trap him. The angel personally drags the demon back down to Hell and locks him there.
When Castiel returns, not even Uriel has anything to say.
***
He visits Dean's dreams again that night. (He tells himself he just needs to check on the Winchesters to see that they are alright.) "I have taken care of Alistair," he tells Dean. "But as I predicted, Lilith was not there."
Dean quirks an eyebrow and sits up in his dream-bed. "You took care of Alistair? A few days ago you didn't stand a chance against him."
"That's not true." Castiel looks away. "I was merely... distracted, that day."
"Distracted by what?"
Castiel wonders if it would be wise to tell Dean the truth. Probably not, but he can't help himself. "You... and Anna," he says, still not looking at Dean. "She kissed you."
Dean's laugh is what draws Castiel's gaze back to him. "What, was she your girlfriend or something? Had a thing for your ol' boss, did you, Cas?"
"It was not her, Dean." Castiel shares none of his amusement. "It was... you."
"Me?" Dean doesn't get it. "What about me?"
For someone who has kissed so many, Dean really can be dense, sometimes. Castiel sighs. "I wondered what she experienced -- what she felt -- when she kissed you."
"Oh." Dean considers this for a moment, then grins. "I'll help you pick up a chick if you want. Should be easy, you chose a good lookin' bloke to possess." After a second he adds, "I can't believe I'm trying to hook up an angel."
If kittens are nothing like Dean, Castiel has no reason to believe women would be like Dean, either. He shakes his head. "It has to be you."
"What?" Instead of leaning away like Castiel expects, Dean leans forward, closer. "You want to kiss me? Dude, I'm a dude."
Castiel shrugs. "It does not matter; angels are not separated by gender. Anna was one of our brothers, too, until she was born into a female body. Likewise, I could just as easily have chosen a female vessel."
"Whoa. That's messed up." Dean doesn't look disturbed, though. "So does that mean you could go possess Halle Berry?" he asks, and seems to warm up to the idea as he speaks. "If you do, I'll kiss you all night long." His grin fades quickly, though. "Please don't send me back to Hell."
"I am not going to send you back to Hell, Dean," Castiel chides. "But nor can I possess an unwilling vessel. Would it be so horrible to kiss this one, male as it is? I sent his soul to Heaven long ago, so I am the only one in here."
"I..." Dean licks his lips nervously. "I guess not. I mean, I've never kissed a dude before, but you're -- you --"
Castiel leans in close, so close, but it is his finger that he presses to Dean's lips. Dean falls silent, and his hazel eyes go wide for a moment before they flutter shut. Castiel understands this as permission. This is his moment -- his chance -- to find out what it would be like to kiss Dean Winchester, if only in a dream. It is exactly what he has longed for, and that is exactly why it terrifies him, now. He thinks of Anna, who lost her wings and fell from Heaven, and flees.
Dean mustn't remember this dream, either, he decides.
***
Because Dean doesn't remember being told about Alistair, Castiel has to do it again. He comes in person this time, and appears in the passenger seat of Dean's car as he waits for his brother. Though Castiel touched Dean's lips in a dream only, he can feel his finger tingle when he sees the human. He ignores it and says, "We took care of Alistair, but as I predicted, Lilith was not there."
Dean nods, and Castiel knows he assumes other angels helped. That's fine, because he knows where the conversation would lead otherwise. Part of Castiel is tempted to recreate the scene from last night, though. That's the part of him that is angry with himself for getting cold feet. Dean distracts him from his internal debate. "So is he dead or just back in Hell?"
"Back in Hell," Castiel replies. "But rest assured that he will not be returning here."
"I'm more worried about me going to him than him coming to me," Dean mutters.
Castiel feels a flare of something in his chest. Protectiveness, perhaps. "Why?"
Dean just shrugs and looks out the window. "I dunno, feels like I'm on borrowed time up here, I guess. Like everyone from Uriel to Lilith wants me back down there, so it's only a matter of time before they get their way."
"I will not let them take you," Castiel promises, and he means it.
Dean looks like he is fighting with himself over whether or not to believe it, but then Sam comes out of the gas station and Castiel does not wait around to see which half of Dean wins the fight.
***
Castiel tries to stay out of Dean's dreams that night, he really does. He tells himself he has no reason to go. But when Hell plagues Dean's dreams again, it gives Castiel a reason.
He puts himself in the middle of the screams and the blood and the metallic stench, and Dean latches onto him like a lifeline. He squeezes his eyes shut and clings to Castiel until the screams fade and the stench is gone. When he opens his eyes again, there is no red, only the blue of Castiel's eyes and a dingy bed in a motel room. "Thanks," he says hoarsely, and lets go. Castiel isn't sure when his own arms wrapped themselves around Dean's body, but he doesn't let go. Surprisingly, Dean doesn't seem to mind.
They lie in silence for a few minutes, until Dean's breaths become slow and regular. "Did you mean it?" he asks quietly. "About not letting them take me." They are so close Castiel can feel Dean's breath on his chin.
"Yes," he whispers, because he is afraid his voice will shake if he tries to speak louder than that.
It would be easy, so easy, he thinks, to lean in and close those last few inches between their lips. And before he can stop himself, before fear and reason can take over, Castiel does it. He presses his lips to Dean's, softly, uncertainly, breathlessly. Dean's lips part under his and his tongue darts out, and Castiel wants to drown in the thrill of this, because he can almost taste Dean's soul, can feel them coming together in a way that's so much more than lips and tongues and teeth, can feel his vessel's heart beat in his chest as if it is his own, can feel himself falling --
"What the fuck," Dean snarls, and shoves at Castiel so hard he falls off the tiny bed. He is gone before he hits the ground.
This one, Dean definitely must forget.
***
A week passes before Castiel sees Dean again, either in his waking or sleeping hours.
"Where have you been?" Dean asks when Castiel appears across the table from him. He looks too tired, too tense.
"Another Seal was broken," Castiel says, "but you already know that."
Dean laughs shortly, scornfully. "Yeah, I know. Thanks for that, massive demon invasions are always loads of fun."
"I hear your brother put them down."
"Sure, and then we had another row about him using those damned powers of his," Dean says bitterly. "Haven't seen him since last night. I swear to God, Cas, if your buddy Uriel chucked him into the pit, I'll follow. You may be able to stop others from taking me there, but you can't stop me from going there myself." His lip quivers as he says it, just a bit.
Castiel sighs. "Then I will follow, too, and drag you out again."
Whatever Dean expected, it wasn't this. "What? Why? Haven't you got anyone better to save? Some foxy little lady somewhere or something?"
"No," Castiel says simply. "You are all I have."
Dean stares at him, and Castiel stares back. When they hear the door of the café open, Dean looks over his shoulder just in case it's Sam. It isn't, Castiel notes as he takes off.
***
In his hurt anger, Sam bites off more than he and Ruby can chew. Uriel thinks he deserves what he is about to get and is more than content to let it happen. Castiel leaves without a word to his brother.
"Dean," he says urgently. "Wake up."
"Wha--?" Dean rubs at his eyes. "Jesus, Cas, for once I'm not having a nightmare, and you--"
Castiel cuts him off. "Listen, Dean, your brother is in trouble." That gets Dean up instantly. "He is at 721 Elmira. Bring silver knives."
Dean is out the door almost before Castiel finishes speaking.
***
"You told him," Uriel states as the two of them watch Dean embrace and curse at a bruised and bloodied Sam. It isn't a question, so Castiel doesn't feel the need to nod.
Uriel disapproves, but Castiel doesn't care. Dean needs his brother, and that is all that matters.
Both of them are limping a bit as they head out to the car, and Castiel makes a note to check up on them later.
***
He intends to see to their injuries while they sleep, but when he gets there, only Sam is sleeping.
Dean is writhing in his bed and Castiel's first thought is he must be having a nightmare. But he isn't asleep, Castiel realizes, and his hips are moving too much --
Oh. Oh. Castiel catches his breath. He shouldn't be seeing this. He should leave. Now. But he remains rooted to the spot, unseen in the darkest corner of the room where the moonlight doesn't reach.
Dean's pants are pooled at his ankles and the covers are shoved away just enough that Castiel can see Dean's hand working furiously between his legs. The only sounds in the room are Sam's snores, Dean's shallow, labored breaths, the rustle of the sheets as Dean undulates his hips, and the sinful sound of friction between Dean's hand and his cock. His grip is tight, and the strokes are long and fast, up down up down up down up down. The tip glistens, and Dean makes a low sound in the back of his throat when he brings his hand all the way up to rub it over the head and smear the precome there. Then it is back to the relentless pulling and jerking, and all the while Castiel watches with guilty hunger.
He takes in everything before him -- Dean's cock in his fist, the way his hips buck up to meet his hand, his other hand cupping and rubbing his balls, the quiver of taut muscles beneath the skin of his thighs, the light sheen of sweat on his stomach and chest, the way his bottom lip is swollen and caught between his teeth -- and nearly loses himself. Castiel has to brace himself against the wall to keep from flying over there and covering Dean's mouth with his own and pressing their bodies together until they are melded. His own body aches badly enough to send him into a near-frenzy, and he doesn't know how much of this he can take.
Thankfully, Dean makes quick work of it. The movement of his hips loses its rhythm and becomes erratic, and his hand speeds up even more. He sucks in a sharp breath, and then throws his head back, mouth opening into a silent O as his whole body arches off the bed and he comes. Castiel flees before Dean's orgasm ends.
***
He doesn't make it very far, only a few doors down. It is the first empty motel room he sees, and Castiel lands hard, breathing raggedly. His holy tax accountant pants are too tight, too constricting, and he shoves them off with so much force they rip. His cock springs free, long and hard, and for a long while Castiel simply stares down at it. He has never touched it before because that would be wrong, and dirty, and unholy, but then it has always been easy to will it down before. Castiel knows without trying that this is an ache that cannot be willed away, and at any rate he doesn't want to will it away. He wants to feel his hand wrap around it, like Dean's did, and he wants to feel what Dean felt in that final moment of open-mouthed ecstasy.
So Castiel climbs onto the bed, sits against the headboard, and reaches between his legs to wrap his hand around his cock. It spasms, and his breath catches. The shock of sensations makes Castiel's whole body shudder once, and he eagerly gives it a squeeze. But he has never pleasured himself before, so it takes a few long minutes of experimental rubbing and squeezing and stroking before he begins to learn what feels good. He closes his eyes and thinks of Dean, remembers the way Dean's skillful hands moved around his balls and up and down his cock, and tries to copy that until finally, he finds it. He finds just the right pressure and just the right speed to make his hips buck of their own accord, and he makes a small sound deep in his throat.
The better it feels, the more sinful must be, but Castiel can't stop now, not with the pleasure building in his groin until it's almost too much to bear, not with Dean's arching, glistening body flashing through his vision and pushing him further. He doesn't have to think about it anymore, because his body knows exactly what it needs and his hands deliver automatically. It feels so good, too good, and Castiel can't believe he has never done this before.
He can feel the orgasm winding up, and strokes harder, faster, eager to reach the peak and fall over the other side, because if he already feels this good, he cannot even imagine what that will be like. A few more -- one more -- and suddenly he's there, coming and coming and coming, and moaning shamefully as he thrashes against the waves of pleasure so intense they wrack his body through and through.
When it is over, Castiel feels numb and weak and sated, and barely notices that he has made a mess. Eventually, he will have to deal with that and all the heavier consequences that will come from this, but for now, he thinks he can afford to rest awhile. He thinks of Dean, who must be in a similar state, and imagines lying next to him. Then he remembers that he can do better than imagine.
***
Dean is dreaming of his old home in Lawrence. His bed is much too small for him now that he is a grown man, but Castiel finds space to sit on it anyway. Dean stirs and looks up. "You again," he mumbles, but he doesn't sound displeased. "What're you doing here?" He looks around. "And why did you bring me back home?"
"I didn't," Castiel replies. "I only came to see to your injuries. The rest of the dream is your own."
"My injuries?" Dean looks bemused. "What are you gonna do, work your angel mojo on me till I'm brand new again? You gonna rehymenate me too?"
Castiel isn't sure how to respond, so he merely does one of his rare blinks.
Dean grins. "Nevermind. Seriously, though, what's it to you if I have a few cuts and bruises?"
"I...do not like to see you in pain, Dean," Castiel replies, and it is a very simple truth.
"Does this mean you're not a heartless son of a bitch after all?" One corner of Dean's mouth curves up in a half-smirk as he rolls up a pant leg to reveal a swollen ankle.
Castiel touches it, and the flesh beneath his fingers heals instantly. "Angels will never have hearts, Dean. Not unless we fall. Though I will say your use of the term bitch is unwarranted."
Dean laughs. "First you show up in my dream to fix me up, and now you're swearing? What's next, gonna kiss me or something?"
"If you want me to," Castiel says placidly, and takes advantage of Dean's sudden stillness to heal the gash on his left cheek. Dean doesn't pull away or flinch when he touches it, only stares at Castiel. And as always, Castiel stares back.
Eventually, Dean breaks the silence. "Why does this feel like déjà vu?" he asks softly. "You know, like Neo and his black cat. Like this isn't the first time you've been this close to me on my bed. Like you're supposed to kiss me now."
Castiel stiffens. Has he been too careless? Before he can react, it is Dean who leans into the small space between them and presses their lips together. It is much longer and slower this time, a warm meeting of lips and tongues and souls that overwhelms them both and leaves them shaky and breathless.
"You're shaking," Dean says after a few minutes, and Castiel can feel his smirk against his lips.
"So are you."
"I'm a human. You're an angel."
Castiel's hand is still on his cheek, and he moves it to the back of Dean's neck to play with the small hairs there. "Your angel," he amends quietly. "You can do this to me."
"Can I keep you?" Dean asks, and the question sounds so innocent, so childlike.
"Yes," Castiel replies, because he is incapable of giving any other answer.
Dean pulls him closer, on top of him in this tiny bed, and Castiel can feel something hard against his thigh. It makes him realize his own body has reacted, too. There is nothing innocent or childlike about the way Dean arches up into him and shoves his trenchcoat off his shoulders. "I've been thinking about this, you know," Dean rasps. The tie is undone deftly and flung away, and his shirt and belt and pants follow. "Why have I been thinking about this?"
Castiel doesn't reply. He is too busy touching as much of Dean as he can, letting his hands roam over hot skin and hard muscles, feeling every rise and fall of Dean's chest and every beat of his heart. Dean is so alive, he thinks as he tugs off the cotton shirt and flannel pants. Dean's boxers go, too, and Castiel gets his first good look at his cock, standing straight up as if straining to be touched. So human. The angel obliges, wraps his hand around it and watches Dean moan and spread his legs wider.
Dean Winchester, naked and wanton, is truly a work of art. His Father's greatest, Castiel thinks. Then Dean reaches for the lube, because it's his dream and he can dream of lube if he wants to, and licks his lips. "Can I...?" he asks, and it doesn't matter that Castiel doesn't know what he's asking for, exactly.
"Anything," he promises, and kisses Dean again to make sure he believes him.
Dean does believe him, and squeezes far too much lube onto his cock in his haste. He spreads it liberally with his hand and Castiel has only a moment to revel in being able to watch openly before Dean's hands are on his hips, his butt, pulling him forward and guiding him down --
Castiel exhales sharply as he feels the slick head of Dean's cock touch him there, probing and pushing until it's in, finally in, and it hurts but then Dean moans in a way that makes Castiel think God designed Dean's cock to be inside him. "Fuck," Dean breathes, and pushes up more, as deep as he can. "Fuck. I wanked to this, Cas," he says as he pulls out and thrusts up again. "I fucking jerked off to this right before bed and now here you are in my goddamn dream and it's actually happening --" He pulls Castiel down, hard, and makes a helpless growling sound. "This doesn't just happen, Cas, I don't have fantasies about fucking male angels and I certainly don't have dreams about it. God, fuck fuck fuck, I'm going to Hell for this. What have you done to me?" he grits out, and fucks Castiel with such desperation that Castiel wonders why he hasn't broken yet. "What have you done to me?"
He doesn't know what to say, because Dean's cock hits a spot inside of him that makes Castiel cry out and arch. This body and its fleshly pleasures are still new to him, but he learns quickly and angles himself just the right way so that every thrust drives the head of Dean's cock into that one spot, until he is writhing and whimpering and squeezing his eyes shut against the wetness there. Dean's lube-covered hand closes around Castiel's cock and jerks, and it is nothing like his own touch. Castiel throws his head back, unfurls his wings, and comes so hard the whole house and the ground it stands on shake violently. Dean swears and comes, too, into Castiel, his whole body vibrating under the powerful beat of the angel's wings.
When Castiel stops trembling, so does the house. Dean looks up at him and whispers, "What have I done to you?"
"You've made me feel," Castiel says, voice too low and too scratchy.
"Does this mean you're going to fall?"
Castiel bows his head. "If you want me to, I will fall for you." It is a statement, a question.
And it is the first time Castiel has seen Dean happy, he thinks. It's not a huge, childish grin, but Castiel can see happiness written into the small curve of Dean's lips. He waits for Dean's answer.
But neither of them say anything for awhile, until Dean glances around. "My room is in ruins," he laughs. "Good thing this is only a dream, huh? Imagine what the neighbors would say. And remind me not to have sex with you again until you're human."
Castiel returns his smile.
***
The thing about dreams, Castiel remembers with a nasty shock the next morning, is that humans will forget them even without his help if they sleep for long enough afterward. "Jesus, Cas," Dean groans when he wakes up to Castiel sitting even closer than normal on his bed. He looks uncomfortable, and Castiel briefly wonders if his boxers are sticky. "I know you're too busy worrying about seals and apocalypses to concern yourself with issues of personal space, but you're really kind of in mine right now."
Castiel frowns and shifts back. "You don't remember...?"
"Remember what?" Dean squints at him.
"Nothing." Castiel is gone with a sigh.
***
It's alright, really, Castiel convinces himself. The feelings are there, and they're real. All he has to do is remind Dean of them. That can come tomorrow.
Today, he finds a church and kneels in prayer to his Father. He prays for forgiveness for his sins, for courage to give up his grace, for wisdom to know what the right choices are, and for a heart to give in love. He prays until Dean's screams penetrate his silent monologue.
***
Castiel is there in a wingbeat, but even still, he is almost too late. There are Hellhounds everywhere, snarling and ripping at Dean and Sam, and Castiel puts himself between the humans and the monsters. He stands there and doesn't give an inch as they leap at him, as their teeth tear at his arms and wings. Castiel crushes them with his hands, smothers them with his wings, and burns them with his grace until they have all turned tail and run or been destroyed.
Then he turns and kneels by Dean, reaches a hand out to his open and bleeding chest, but Dean pushes him away. "Sam," he wheezes, and it is a wonder he can talk at all with only one unpunctured lung.
Castiel doesn't argue. He goes to Sam and closes the worst gashes in his chest first. The boy is unconscious, but Castiel knows he will survive. When he returns to Dean, the elder Winchester is barely holding on. "Your brother will be fine, Dean," Castiel tells him as he holds the open flaps of Dean's chest together. (He can see Dean's red, beating heart before he does.) "Stay with me."
So Dean stays, and his strength returns slowly under Castiel's healing hands. "You didn't let 'em take me," he says eventually, and Castiel looks up.
"I promised you I wouldn't." They are close, so close, and Castiel is still touching him even though the skin under his fingertips is unbroken now.
Dean stares, and then he looks confused. "Why does this feel like déjà vu?" he asks. "You know, like Neo and his black cat. Why do I get the feeling you're gonna kiss me or something?" He pauses. "And why the hell am I okay with that?"
"Dean," Castiel starts, and he wants to tell him that he will fall for him, that he loves him and that he's no longer terrified. He wants to take Dean into his arms and kiss him, and he wants to bring Dean to bone-melting ecstasy with his hands and mouth and body. But he says and does none of these things, becauses he realizes, suddenly, that these things aren't what Dean needs.
Dean needs his brother to be sane, Dean needs to save the world before he can forgive himself, and Dean needs an angel to perch on his shoulder and guard him from Hell. None of the others would, Castiel knows, especially now that another Seal has been broken. That would make it the thirty-third, and he wonders briefly if they could have stopped the releasing of the Hellhounds if he had been there to help them today.
"Castiel?" Dean licks his parched lips, and Castiel tries not to look at his tongue. "Kiss me," he says softly, and closes his eyes. It is a request Castiel wants to grant more than Dean can possibly guess. But he knows exactly what will happen if he does, knows that once Dean's lips touch his it will be even better than those kisses they shared in Dean's dreams, knows that no power in Heaven or Hell will be able to stop him from falling. And Dean would let him fall, because Dean rarely knows what's best for himself.
So it is Castiel's decision to make, because he is Dean's angel and he does know what's best for Dean. It isn't a lover. He remembers Dean's small smile of happiness from the dream, but knows how fleeting it would be. His Father has given him forgiveness, courage, wisdom, and the capacity to love Dean Winchester after all, he thinks.
"No," Castiel whispers, and lets Dean go.
If Dean were to open his eyes now, he would see Castiel's heart break. Because he does have a heart, now; maybe it's not a fleshy muscle that pumps blood through his body, but Castiel knows he has a heart because something breaks in this moment, and if not his heart, then what could it be? But Dean doesn't open his eyes now, so he will never know, and that will be for the best.
Castiel flees, and this is where it ends.
Title: The One In Which Castiel Doesn't Fall
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~5,700
Spoilers: 4.10 - Heaven and Hell
Notes: Not to say I don't love fics in which Castiel falls, because I do, but I was in the mood for something a little different today.
Summary: This is how Castiel's love story goes.
You're some heartless sons of bitches, you know that?
As a matter of fact we are. And?
And this is where it begins, because Dean's words sting. They sting in a way that being called a dick didn't because that isn't true, and they sting in a way that being stabbed in the heart didn't because he doesn't have one. They sting because for once, Dean's contempt may be warranted.
The kiss -- that kiss -- and Anna's words add salt to the wound, and Castiel faces Alistair with the soft touch of lips to lips flashing before his eyes and you don't know the feeling ringing in his ears. He is foolish to think such distractions won't cripple him in battle. When they do, no one is more surprised than Castiel.
It is ironic, he thinks as Alistair chants at him, that his death should be caused, however indirectly and unknowingly, by the human he rescued from Hell. But then Dean turns the tables, and that is almost more ironic because he thinks he is saving Castiel. Castiel is relieved, perhaps, but when everything is over and Dean's eyes meet his, he doesn't feel saved at all. He flees.
***
"What was that about?" Uriel demands, as if he is the boss here. "That piece of demon filth should not have been a problem for you."
Castiel doesn't quite look at him. "It was a momentary lapse; it will not happen again," he says, but Uriel doesn't believe it. Castiel doesn't believe it, either.
Uriel's eyes narrow. "Your soft spot for that insolent mudmonkey compromises too much, Castiel."
I know, he wants to say, but doesn't. Not even Uriel knows just how much is being compromised here, how much Castiel fears all the things Dean is making him feel. He is afraid Uriel would try to put an end to it.
***
The two of them save a Seal the next day. It is Castiel who kills the last demon, and as he looks into her eyes to watch her soul burn beneath his palm, he thinks, I am not a heartless son of a bitch. I am a son of God.
Later, he tells this to Dean in a dream.
Dean looks less than impressed. In fact, he looks smug. "You wouldn't still be dwelling on that if I hadn't struck a nerve," he points out. "And I wouldn't have struck a nerve if it wasn't true. You're a son of God; fine, I get it. But you're also a heartless son of a bitch, and you know it."
And just like that, Castiel forgets what made him believe otherwise. At the same time, he is reminded of why he wanted to believe otherwise. Dean can't see it, but Castiel's wings droop a little as he looks away.
"So is that all you invaded my dreams for or do you actually have something important to say?" Dean's voice is impatient and Castiel shakes his head. This is important to him, but Dean wouldn't care.
He suddenly feels out of place here, standing around in a human's dream, seeking his approval when he shouldn't need it. Castiel sighs and wishes he hadn't come. "Go back to sleep, Dean."
Luckily, it is easy to make sure Dean forgets his dreams.
***
The next day, Castiel saves a kitten from a tree just because he can.
As he stares at it, the small furry thing in his hands with its big eyes and tiny paws, he wonders if he should feel something -- satisfaction, maybe, or tenderness, or all those other things he isn't sure he can name but felt anyway when he saved Dean from Hell.
He doesn't feel anything, so he puts the animal down. Castiel decides that kittens are nothing like Dean, and is both relieved and disappointed.
***
Dean dreams of Hell again, and this time, Castiel is there to wake him.
"What do you want?" he asks, voice low and gruff.
Castiel doesn't want to tell Dean that he wants to save him again so he can re-experience those feelings, so instead he says, "I came to make sure you have a restful night."
Before Dean can reply, Castiel touches two fingers to his forehead and sends him into a deep, dreamless sleep. He stays to watch Dean's uncharacteristically peaceful expression for a few minutes, or maybe it's a few hours, and remembers what satisfaction and tenderness feel like. He should go, he knows, but doesn't.
Eventually Uriel calls to him, and Castiel reluctantly leaves Dean to go to his brother. "Why have you called?" he asks.
Uriel gives him a look. "Who else was going to save you from the Winchester boy?"
***
They catch wind of Lilith's plan to capture Sam by using Dean. Uriel thinks they should lay a trap for her and let it play out. Castiel thinks the risks for Dean are too high and too unnecessary.
Uriel sneers at him, but in the end, Castiel is still the boss.
***
In the morning, Dean is actually in a good mood. He smiles when Castiel appears at the foot of his bed, and Castiel takes a moment to bask in it. "Sleep well?" he asks lightly.
"Yeah." Dean pushes the covers off and stretches. (Castiel stares.) "Thanks for that." Castiel is reminded of the last time Dean thanked him for anything. This time, there is no accompanying knife to the heart; they've come a long way.
There is no time to dwell on that, though. "You have a long drive ahead of you," Castiel tells him, and feels bereft when Dean's smile fades.
"Why?" He is immediately suspicious. "What are you going to do?"
"We are not going to smite the town," Castiel promises. "But Lilith is coming for you, which is why you must leave immediately."
Dean makes a face. "Why me?"
"To get to your brother."
For a moment Dean looks thoughtful. "What if you let her get me, and then jump in to gank her? Sam doesn't even have to be involved."
Castiel tilts his head. "You would offer yourself as bait?"
Dean shrugs. "Why not?"
"There is no guarantee Lilith will show up in person, Dean," Castiel says gravely, and he is glad he came alone. Uriel would convince Dean to do it. "More likely it will be Alistair. He is not dead, you know. Nor will he hesitate to drag you back to Hell if he thinks Sam will come for you regardless."
At the mention of Alistair, Dean's expression darkens. "But if there's a chance--"
"No, Dean," Castiel says firmly, and for a moment he thinks Dean looks grateful. "When Sam returns with breakfast, the two of you will leave immediately."
"Fine." Dean turns to pack his bags, and Castiel leaves him be.
***
As it turns out, Castiel is right about Lilith and Alistair. It is Alistair who shows up, and this time, Castiel is ready for him.
He thinks of the things Alistair did to Dean in Hell, and his wrath is magnificent. Alistair tries to flee his vessel in a cloud of black smoke before he burns, but Castiel's enormous wings trap him. The angel personally drags the demon back down to Hell and locks him there.
When Castiel returns, not even Uriel has anything to say.
***
He visits Dean's dreams again that night. (He tells himself he just needs to check on the Winchesters to see that they are alright.) "I have taken care of Alistair," he tells Dean. "But as I predicted, Lilith was not there."
Dean quirks an eyebrow and sits up in his dream-bed. "You took care of Alistair? A few days ago you didn't stand a chance against him."
"That's not true." Castiel looks away. "I was merely... distracted, that day."
"Distracted by what?"
Castiel wonders if it would be wise to tell Dean the truth. Probably not, but he can't help himself. "You... and Anna," he says, still not looking at Dean. "She kissed you."
Dean's laugh is what draws Castiel's gaze back to him. "What, was she your girlfriend or something? Had a thing for your ol' boss, did you, Cas?"
"It was not her, Dean." Castiel shares none of his amusement. "It was... you."
"Me?" Dean doesn't get it. "What about me?"
For someone who has kissed so many, Dean really can be dense, sometimes. Castiel sighs. "I wondered what she experienced -- what she felt -- when she kissed you."
"Oh." Dean considers this for a moment, then grins. "I'll help you pick up a chick if you want. Should be easy, you chose a good lookin' bloke to possess." After a second he adds, "I can't believe I'm trying to hook up an angel."
If kittens are nothing like Dean, Castiel has no reason to believe women would be like Dean, either. He shakes his head. "It has to be you."
"What?" Instead of leaning away like Castiel expects, Dean leans forward, closer. "You want to kiss me? Dude, I'm a dude."
Castiel shrugs. "It does not matter; angels are not separated by gender. Anna was one of our brothers, too, until she was born into a female body. Likewise, I could just as easily have chosen a female vessel."
"Whoa. That's messed up." Dean doesn't look disturbed, though. "So does that mean you could go possess Halle Berry?" he asks, and seems to warm up to the idea as he speaks. "If you do, I'll kiss you all night long." His grin fades quickly, though. "Please don't send me back to Hell."
"I am not going to send you back to Hell, Dean," Castiel chides. "But nor can I possess an unwilling vessel. Would it be so horrible to kiss this one, male as it is? I sent his soul to Heaven long ago, so I am the only one in here."
"I..." Dean licks his lips nervously. "I guess not. I mean, I've never kissed a dude before, but you're -- you --"
Castiel leans in close, so close, but it is his finger that he presses to Dean's lips. Dean falls silent, and his hazel eyes go wide for a moment before they flutter shut. Castiel understands this as permission. This is his moment -- his chance -- to find out what it would be like to kiss Dean Winchester, if only in a dream. It is exactly what he has longed for, and that is exactly why it terrifies him, now. He thinks of Anna, who lost her wings and fell from Heaven, and flees.
Dean mustn't remember this dream, either, he decides.
***
Because Dean doesn't remember being told about Alistair, Castiel has to do it again. He comes in person this time, and appears in the passenger seat of Dean's car as he waits for his brother. Though Castiel touched Dean's lips in a dream only, he can feel his finger tingle when he sees the human. He ignores it and says, "We took care of Alistair, but as I predicted, Lilith was not there."
Dean nods, and Castiel knows he assumes other angels helped. That's fine, because he knows where the conversation would lead otherwise. Part of Castiel is tempted to recreate the scene from last night, though. That's the part of him that is angry with himself for getting cold feet. Dean distracts him from his internal debate. "So is he dead or just back in Hell?"
"Back in Hell," Castiel replies. "But rest assured that he will not be returning here."
"I'm more worried about me going to him than him coming to me," Dean mutters.
Castiel feels a flare of something in his chest. Protectiveness, perhaps. "Why?"
Dean just shrugs and looks out the window. "I dunno, feels like I'm on borrowed time up here, I guess. Like everyone from Uriel to Lilith wants me back down there, so it's only a matter of time before they get their way."
"I will not let them take you," Castiel promises, and he means it.
Dean looks like he is fighting with himself over whether or not to believe it, but then Sam comes out of the gas station and Castiel does not wait around to see which half of Dean wins the fight.
***
Castiel tries to stay out of Dean's dreams that night, he really does. He tells himself he has no reason to go. But when Hell plagues Dean's dreams again, it gives Castiel a reason.
He puts himself in the middle of the screams and the blood and the metallic stench, and Dean latches onto him like a lifeline. He squeezes his eyes shut and clings to Castiel until the screams fade and the stench is gone. When he opens his eyes again, there is no red, only the blue of Castiel's eyes and a dingy bed in a motel room. "Thanks," he says hoarsely, and lets go. Castiel isn't sure when his own arms wrapped themselves around Dean's body, but he doesn't let go. Surprisingly, Dean doesn't seem to mind.
They lie in silence for a few minutes, until Dean's breaths become slow and regular. "Did you mean it?" he asks quietly. "About not letting them take me." They are so close Castiel can feel Dean's breath on his chin.
"Yes," he whispers, because he is afraid his voice will shake if he tries to speak louder than that.
It would be easy, so easy, he thinks, to lean in and close those last few inches between their lips. And before he can stop himself, before fear and reason can take over, Castiel does it. He presses his lips to Dean's, softly, uncertainly, breathlessly. Dean's lips part under his and his tongue darts out, and Castiel wants to drown in the thrill of this, because he can almost taste Dean's soul, can feel them coming together in a way that's so much more than lips and tongues and teeth, can feel his vessel's heart beat in his chest as if it is his own, can feel himself falling --
"What the fuck," Dean snarls, and shoves at Castiel so hard he falls off the tiny bed. He is gone before he hits the ground.
This one, Dean definitely must forget.
***
A week passes before Castiel sees Dean again, either in his waking or sleeping hours.
"Where have you been?" Dean asks when Castiel appears across the table from him. He looks too tired, too tense.
"Another Seal was broken," Castiel says, "but you already know that."
Dean laughs shortly, scornfully. "Yeah, I know. Thanks for that, massive demon invasions are always loads of fun."
"I hear your brother put them down."
"Sure, and then we had another row about him using those damned powers of his," Dean says bitterly. "Haven't seen him since last night. I swear to God, Cas, if your buddy Uriel chucked him into the pit, I'll follow. You may be able to stop others from taking me there, but you can't stop me from going there myself." His lip quivers as he says it, just a bit.
Castiel sighs. "Then I will follow, too, and drag you out again."
Whatever Dean expected, it wasn't this. "What? Why? Haven't you got anyone better to save? Some foxy little lady somewhere or something?"
"No," Castiel says simply. "You are all I have."
Dean stares at him, and Castiel stares back. When they hear the door of the café open, Dean looks over his shoulder just in case it's Sam. It isn't, Castiel notes as he takes off.
***
In his hurt anger, Sam bites off more than he and Ruby can chew. Uriel thinks he deserves what he is about to get and is more than content to let it happen. Castiel leaves without a word to his brother.
"Dean," he says urgently. "Wake up."
"Wha--?" Dean rubs at his eyes. "Jesus, Cas, for once I'm not having a nightmare, and you--"
Castiel cuts him off. "Listen, Dean, your brother is in trouble." That gets Dean up instantly. "He is at 721 Elmira. Bring silver knives."
Dean is out the door almost before Castiel finishes speaking.
***
"You told him," Uriel states as the two of them watch Dean embrace and curse at a bruised and bloodied Sam. It isn't a question, so Castiel doesn't feel the need to nod.
Uriel disapproves, but Castiel doesn't care. Dean needs his brother, and that is all that matters.
Both of them are limping a bit as they head out to the car, and Castiel makes a note to check up on them later.
***
He intends to see to their injuries while they sleep, but when he gets there, only Sam is sleeping.
Dean is writhing in his bed and Castiel's first thought is he must be having a nightmare. But he isn't asleep, Castiel realizes, and his hips are moving too much --
Oh. Oh. Castiel catches his breath. He shouldn't be seeing this. He should leave. Now. But he remains rooted to the spot, unseen in the darkest corner of the room where the moonlight doesn't reach.
Dean's pants are pooled at his ankles and the covers are shoved away just enough that Castiel can see Dean's hand working furiously between his legs. The only sounds in the room are Sam's snores, Dean's shallow, labored breaths, the rustle of the sheets as Dean undulates his hips, and the sinful sound of friction between Dean's hand and his cock. His grip is tight, and the strokes are long and fast, up down up down up down up down. The tip glistens, and Dean makes a low sound in the back of his throat when he brings his hand all the way up to rub it over the head and smear the precome there. Then it is back to the relentless pulling and jerking, and all the while Castiel watches with guilty hunger.
He takes in everything before him -- Dean's cock in his fist, the way his hips buck up to meet his hand, his other hand cupping and rubbing his balls, the quiver of taut muscles beneath the skin of his thighs, the light sheen of sweat on his stomach and chest, the way his bottom lip is swollen and caught between his teeth -- and nearly loses himself. Castiel has to brace himself against the wall to keep from flying over there and covering Dean's mouth with his own and pressing their bodies together until they are melded. His own body aches badly enough to send him into a near-frenzy, and he doesn't know how much of this he can take.
Thankfully, Dean makes quick work of it. The movement of his hips loses its rhythm and becomes erratic, and his hand speeds up even more. He sucks in a sharp breath, and then throws his head back, mouth opening into a silent O as his whole body arches off the bed and he comes. Castiel flees before Dean's orgasm ends.
***
He doesn't make it very far, only a few doors down. It is the first empty motel room he sees, and Castiel lands hard, breathing raggedly. His holy tax accountant pants are too tight, too constricting, and he shoves them off with so much force they rip. His cock springs free, long and hard, and for a long while Castiel simply stares down at it. He has never touched it before because that would be wrong, and dirty, and unholy, but then it has always been easy to will it down before. Castiel knows without trying that this is an ache that cannot be willed away, and at any rate he doesn't want to will it away. He wants to feel his hand wrap around it, like Dean's did, and he wants to feel what Dean felt in that final moment of open-mouthed ecstasy.
So Castiel climbs onto the bed, sits against the headboard, and reaches between his legs to wrap his hand around his cock. It spasms, and his breath catches. The shock of sensations makes Castiel's whole body shudder once, and he eagerly gives it a squeeze. But he has never pleasured himself before, so it takes a few long minutes of experimental rubbing and squeezing and stroking before he begins to learn what feels good. He closes his eyes and thinks of Dean, remembers the way Dean's skillful hands moved around his balls and up and down his cock, and tries to copy that until finally, he finds it. He finds just the right pressure and just the right speed to make his hips buck of their own accord, and he makes a small sound deep in his throat.
The better it feels, the more sinful must be, but Castiel can't stop now, not with the pleasure building in his groin until it's almost too much to bear, not with Dean's arching, glistening body flashing through his vision and pushing him further. He doesn't have to think about it anymore, because his body knows exactly what it needs and his hands deliver automatically. It feels so good, too good, and Castiel can't believe he has never done this before.
He can feel the orgasm winding up, and strokes harder, faster, eager to reach the peak and fall over the other side, because if he already feels this good, he cannot even imagine what that will be like. A few more -- one more -- and suddenly he's there, coming and coming and coming, and moaning shamefully as he thrashes against the waves of pleasure so intense they wrack his body through and through.
When it is over, Castiel feels numb and weak and sated, and barely notices that he has made a mess. Eventually, he will have to deal with that and all the heavier consequences that will come from this, but for now, he thinks he can afford to rest awhile. He thinks of Dean, who must be in a similar state, and imagines lying next to him. Then he remembers that he can do better than imagine.
***
Dean is dreaming of his old home in Lawrence. His bed is much too small for him now that he is a grown man, but Castiel finds space to sit on it anyway. Dean stirs and looks up. "You again," he mumbles, but he doesn't sound displeased. "What're you doing here?" He looks around. "And why did you bring me back home?"
"I didn't," Castiel replies. "I only came to see to your injuries. The rest of the dream is your own."
"My injuries?" Dean looks bemused. "What are you gonna do, work your angel mojo on me till I'm brand new again? You gonna rehymenate me too?"
Castiel isn't sure how to respond, so he merely does one of his rare blinks.
Dean grins. "Nevermind. Seriously, though, what's it to you if I have a few cuts and bruises?"
"I...do not like to see you in pain, Dean," Castiel replies, and it is a very simple truth.
"Does this mean you're not a heartless son of a bitch after all?" One corner of Dean's mouth curves up in a half-smirk as he rolls up a pant leg to reveal a swollen ankle.
Castiel touches it, and the flesh beneath his fingers heals instantly. "Angels will never have hearts, Dean. Not unless we fall. Though I will say your use of the term bitch is unwarranted."
Dean laughs. "First you show up in my dream to fix me up, and now you're swearing? What's next, gonna kiss me or something?"
"If you want me to," Castiel says placidly, and takes advantage of Dean's sudden stillness to heal the gash on his left cheek. Dean doesn't pull away or flinch when he touches it, only stares at Castiel. And as always, Castiel stares back.
Eventually, Dean breaks the silence. "Why does this feel like déjà vu?" he asks softly. "You know, like Neo and his black cat. Like this isn't the first time you've been this close to me on my bed. Like you're supposed to kiss me now."
Castiel stiffens. Has he been too careless? Before he can react, it is Dean who leans into the small space between them and presses their lips together. It is much longer and slower this time, a warm meeting of lips and tongues and souls that overwhelms them both and leaves them shaky and breathless.
"You're shaking," Dean says after a few minutes, and Castiel can feel his smirk against his lips.
"So are you."
"I'm a human. You're an angel."
Castiel's hand is still on his cheek, and he moves it to the back of Dean's neck to play with the small hairs there. "Your angel," he amends quietly. "You can do this to me."
"Can I keep you?" Dean asks, and the question sounds so innocent, so childlike.
"Yes," Castiel replies, because he is incapable of giving any other answer.
Dean pulls him closer, on top of him in this tiny bed, and Castiel can feel something hard against his thigh. It makes him realize his own body has reacted, too. There is nothing innocent or childlike about the way Dean arches up into him and shoves his trenchcoat off his shoulders. "I've been thinking about this, you know," Dean rasps. The tie is undone deftly and flung away, and his shirt and belt and pants follow. "Why have I been thinking about this?"
Castiel doesn't reply. He is too busy touching as much of Dean as he can, letting his hands roam over hot skin and hard muscles, feeling every rise and fall of Dean's chest and every beat of his heart. Dean is so alive, he thinks as he tugs off the cotton shirt and flannel pants. Dean's boxers go, too, and Castiel gets his first good look at his cock, standing straight up as if straining to be touched. So human. The angel obliges, wraps his hand around it and watches Dean moan and spread his legs wider.
Dean Winchester, naked and wanton, is truly a work of art. His Father's greatest, Castiel thinks. Then Dean reaches for the lube, because it's his dream and he can dream of lube if he wants to, and licks his lips. "Can I...?" he asks, and it doesn't matter that Castiel doesn't know what he's asking for, exactly.
"Anything," he promises, and kisses Dean again to make sure he believes him.
Dean does believe him, and squeezes far too much lube onto his cock in his haste. He spreads it liberally with his hand and Castiel has only a moment to revel in being able to watch openly before Dean's hands are on his hips, his butt, pulling him forward and guiding him down --
Castiel exhales sharply as he feels the slick head of Dean's cock touch him there, probing and pushing until it's in, finally in, and it hurts but then Dean moans in a way that makes Castiel think God designed Dean's cock to be inside him. "Fuck," Dean breathes, and pushes up more, as deep as he can. "Fuck. I wanked to this, Cas," he says as he pulls out and thrusts up again. "I fucking jerked off to this right before bed and now here you are in my goddamn dream and it's actually happening --" He pulls Castiel down, hard, and makes a helpless growling sound. "This doesn't just happen, Cas, I don't have fantasies about fucking male angels and I certainly don't have dreams about it. God, fuck fuck fuck, I'm going to Hell for this. What have you done to me?" he grits out, and fucks Castiel with such desperation that Castiel wonders why he hasn't broken yet. "What have you done to me?"
He doesn't know what to say, because Dean's cock hits a spot inside of him that makes Castiel cry out and arch. This body and its fleshly pleasures are still new to him, but he learns quickly and angles himself just the right way so that every thrust drives the head of Dean's cock into that one spot, until he is writhing and whimpering and squeezing his eyes shut against the wetness there. Dean's lube-covered hand closes around Castiel's cock and jerks, and it is nothing like his own touch. Castiel throws his head back, unfurls his wings, and comes so hard the whole house and the ground it stands on shake violently. Dean swears and comes, too, into Castiel, his whole body vibrating under the powerful beat of the angel's wings.
When Castiel stops trembling, so does the house. Dean looks up at him and whispers, "What have I done to you?"
"You've made me feel," Castiel says, voice too low and too scratchy.
"Does this mean you're going to fall?"
Castiel bows his head. "If you want me to, I will fall for you." It is a statement, a question.
And it is the first time Castiel has seen Dean happy, he thinks. It's not a huge, childish grin, but Castiel can see happiness written into the small curve of Dean's lips. He waits for Dean's answer.
But neither of them say anything for awhile, until Dean glances around. "My room is in ruins," he laughs. "Good thing this is only a dream, huh? Imagine what the neighbors would say. And remind me not to have sex with you again until you're human."
Castiel returns his smile.
***
The thing about dreams, Castiel remembers with a nasty shock the next morning, is that humans will forget them even without his help if they sleep for long enough afterward. "Jesus, Cas," Dean groans when he wakes up to Castiel sitting even closer than normal on his bed. He looks uncomfortable, and Castiel briefly wonders if his boxers are sticky. "I know you're too busy worrying about seals and apocalypses to concern yourself with issues of personal space, but you're really kind of in mine right now."
Castiel frowns and shifts back. "You don't remember...?"
"Remember what?" Dean squints at him.
"Nothing." Castiel is gone with a sigh.
***
It's alright, really, Castiel convinces himself. The feelings are there, and they're real. All he has to do is remind Dean of them. That can come tomorrow.
Today, he finds a church and kneels in prayer to his Father. He prays for forgiveness for his sins, for courage to give up his grace, for wisdom to know what the right choices are, and for a heart to give in love. He prays until Dean's screams penetrate his silent monologue.
***
Castiel is there in a wingbeat, but even still, he is almost too late. There are Hellhounds everywhere, snarling and ripping at Dean and Sam, and Castiel puts himself between the humans and the monsters. He stands there and doesn't give an inch as they leap at him, as their teeth tear at his arms and wings. Castiel crushes them with his hands, smothers them with his wings, and burns them with his grace until they have all turned tail and run or been destroyed.
Then he turns and kneels by Dean, reaches a hand out to his open and bleeding chest, but Dean pushes him away. "Sam," he wheezes, and it is a wonder he can talk at all with only one unpunctured lung.
Castiel doesn't argue. He goes to Sam and closes the worst gashes in his chest first. The boy is unconscious, but Castiel knows he will survive. When he returns to Dean, the elder Winchester is barely holding on. "Your brother will be fine, Dean," Castiel tells him as he holds the open flaps of Dean's chest together. (He can see Dean's red, beating heart before he does.) "Stay with me."
So Dean stays, and his strength returns slowly under Castiel's healing hands. "You didn't let 'em take me," he says eventually, and Castiel looks up.
"I promised you I wouldn't." They are close, so close, and Castiel is still touching him even though the skin under his fingertips is unbroken now.
Dean stares, and then he looks confused. "Why does this feel like déjà vu?" he asks. "You know, like Neo and his black cat. Why do I get the feeling you're gonna kiss me or something?" He pauses. "And why the hell am I okay with that?"
"Dean," Castiel starts, and he wants to tell him that he will fall for him, that he loves him and that he's no longer terrified. He wants to take Dean into his arms and kiss him, and he wants to bring Dean to bone-melting ecstasy with his hands and mouth and body. But he says and does none of these things, becauses he realizes, suddenly, that these things aren't what Dean needs.
Dean needs his brother to be sane, Dean needs to save the world before he can forgive himself, and Dean needs an angel to perch on his shoulder and guard him from Hell. None of the others would, Castiel knows, especially now that another Seal has been broken. That would make it the thirty-third, and he wonders briefly if they could have stopped the releasing of the Hellhounds if he had been there to help them today.
"Castiel?" Dean licks his parched lips, and Castiel tries not to look at his tongue. "Kiss me," he says softly, and closes his eyes. It is a request Castiel wants to grant more than Dean can possibly guess. But he knows exactly what will happen if he does, knows that once Dean's lips touch his it will be even better than those kisses they shared in Dean's dreams, knows that no power in Heaven or Hell will be able to stop him from falling. And Dean would let him fall, because Dean rarely knows what's best for himself.
So it is Castiel's decision to make, because he is Dean's angel and he does know what's best for Dean. It isn't a lover. He remembers Dean's small smile of happiness from the dream, but knows how fleeting it would be. His Father has given him forgiveness, courage, wisdom, and the capacity to love Dean Winchester after all, he thinks.
"No," Castiel whispers, and lets Dean go.
If Dean were to open his eyes now, he would see Castiel's heart break. Because he does have a heart, now; maybe it's not a fleshy muscle that pumps blood through his body, but Castiel knows he has a heart because something breaks in this moment, and if not his heart, then what could it be? But Dean doesn't open his eyes now, so he will never know, and that will be for the best.
Castiel flees, and this is where it ends.
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Date: 2008-12-05 12:00 am (UTC)GOD DAMN, I ADORED THIS FIC!
I loved Castiel doing the deja vu thing and constantly having do-overs and then Dean starting to remember them (Neo's cat! Awesome!). And the thought of Castiel having to have a quiet moment to himself after watching Dean, uh, having a quiet moment to himself... man, that's just genius!
The sex was sooooo hot!
...And there's a sad ending! I'm a sucker for a gutpunch ending like that, and it made perfect sense and I loved this line:
Dean needs his brother to be sane, Dean needs to save the world before he can forgive himself, and Dean needs an angel to perch on his shoulder and guard him from Hell.
Per-fec-tion.
Thank you!
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Date: 2008-12-05 05:21 am (UTC)I'm especially happy you liked the wanking and the sex, cause writing NC-17 stuff usually embarrasses the shit out of me, hahahhaa. :">
And I built the rest of the fic around the ending, so I'm tickled you liked it so much!
THANK YOU! <3333333333333
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Date: 2008-12-05 12:08 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-05 05:22 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-05 12:16 am (UTC)*hugs Castiel*
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Date: 2008-12-05 05:23 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-05 12:23 am (UTC)This is stunning, and wonderful, and thank you for breaking my heart after one of the hottest sex scenes I've read in years. *loves you SO HARD right now*!
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Date: 2008-12-05 05:28 am (UTC)And I'm glad it packed the emotional punch for you, too, means I did something right. Hope you have good dreams, heh. <3333333333333333333
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Date: 2008-12-05 12:25 am (UTC)*mems*
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Date: 2008-12-05 05:29 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-05 05:31 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-05 12:28 am (UTC)This was sad and sexy and just full of angel angst and awesome! I have nothing else to say.
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Date: 2008-12-05 05:32 am (UTC)Thank you so much, I'm absolutely tickled you liked it!
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Date: 2008-12-05 12:29 am (UTC)Really ouchy and shit, but shit. I LOVE it. :D Poor Castiel, but he's sadly right. :(
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Date: 2008-12-05 05:35 am (UTC)Randomly, your "poor Castiel" suddenly makes me so protective of him. awww.
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Date: 2008-12-05 12:32 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-05 05:38 am (UTC)(no subject)
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Date: 2008-12-05 12:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-05 05:41 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-05 05:44 am (UTC)I'm so glad this worked for you, because I sort of alternated between "this feels way too rushed" and "omg it's getting too long", heh. So thank you so much, I'm incredibly flattered!
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Date: 2008-12-05 12:56 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-05 05:45 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-05 01:12 am (UTC)thankyou for sharing.
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Date: 2008-12-05 05:46 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-05 01:16 am (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2008-12-05 05:49 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-05 01:20 am (UTC)Seriously though, this was absolutely wonderful and bittersweet. Poor Castiel, wanting something he can never truly have. I love the stories were Castiel falls and it is because and for Dean that he does, but this is a lovely take on a different perspective that seems right for him. He wants to, but can't, because of his main priority and mission. Resisting such temptation in the end and stopping it before it becomes a problem that he cannot erase, it was heartbreaking and beautiful all at once. Loved it, absolutely loved it.
Also, your characterizations were spot-on, especially Uriel.
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Date: 2008-12-05 06:03 am (UTC)I'm so glad you think this fits Castiel, because I am all about him falling for Dean, just like you are, but the more I read about him falling, the more it feels too perfect and easy. Now that I've written this, though, I am all "wah, Castiel. :( :( :(" and in need of falling fics to comfort him/myself, hahahha.
Uriel was surprisingly fun to write. :)
THANK YOU SO MUCH, seriously, your review totally makes me glee and keymash. ♥
Also, I tried to do the paid time transfer thing, so I hope it worked and stuff.
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Date: 2008-12-05 01:53 am (UTC)SO good!
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Date: 2008-12-05 06:04 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-05 02:08 am (UTC)I'm so happy that yours story was the first one I've read about Dean and Castiel. It's perfect. In each and every way.
Thank you so much for writing it.
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Date: 2008-12-05 06:07 am (UTC)(no subject)
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Date: 2008-12-05 02:17 am (UTC)The whole Neo and the black cat thing? Priceless.
Sex scene: hotter than Hell.
Castiel's failed attempts: awesome. XD
Ending: original, and just perfect. :)
Because he does have a heart, now; maybe it's not a fleshy muscle that pumps blood through his body, but Castiel knows he has a heart because something breaks in this moment, and if not his heart, then what could it be?
Your writing is all delightful to read, but I think this part is my favorite.
In other words: Loved it!
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Date: 2008-12-05 06:11 am (UTC)I'm especially glad you liked the sex scene, cause writing sex makes me squeamish, heh. :">
The whole ending, but that line specifically, is what came to me first and I wrote the rest of the fic just to build up to it, so the fact that it's your favorite part makes me really, REALLY happy. :D :D Thank you so much! <333333333
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Date: 2008-12-05 02:41 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-05 06:12 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-05 04:05 am (UTC):D
Lovely fic. I so feel for Castiel. Maybe after the war, there's a chance...
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Date: 2008-12-05 06:19 am (UTC)I feel for Castiel too, my own fic makes me want to go read other fic in which he has some sort of happy ending. :P But yeah, you're right, maybe after the war!
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