Fic: And I Will Walk On Water (6/18)
Aug. 19th, 2009 10:18 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tracy_loo_whoTitle: And I Will Walk On Water (6/18)
Characters: Dean and Castiel, Sam, Zachariah
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~7,900
Summary: Various things happen, but most notably, an angel gets a hug. (Actually, he gets a whole bag of them.)
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5
Zachariah stopped in front of Dean with Ruby's knife in one hand and ordered, "Give me your arm." He was no longer smiling.
Dean gritted his teeth and gave it to the son of a bitch in the form of a hard punch to the jaw, but unlike Castiel, Zachariah didn't give way and turn his head, and the loudest sound was that of the bones in Dean's hand crunching. Dean let out a wordless yell of agony and frustration and tried to snatch his hand back, but Zachariah caught his wrist in an iron grip and twisted it to expose the underside of his forearm.
"I wouldn't try that again if I were you," he said conversationally. "Never know what might happen to your precious Sammy and sweet Cas, right?" Then he winked, and Dean would have punched him again with his good hand, but he didn't think the bastard's threats were empty and the fight left him even if the fury didn't.
"Good boy." Zachariah smiled in the face of Dean's sneering glare, and then turned his attention to Dean's forearm. "Now, then, let's get this oath over with, shall we?" He pressed the tip of the blade into the soft skin there and applied just enough force to cut through it. A heavy silver bowl suddenly appeared to hover below Dean's arm and catch the thin stream of blood that welled up from the wound. As Zachariah carved a neat, bloody circle that took up a third of his forearm and then began slowly and carefully filling it in with strange symbols, Dean winced and closed his eyes, more from grief and resignation than from pain.
He had no idea how much power this spell was going to have over him, but he was willing to bet that Zachariah wasn't taking his chances this time. Dean knew with a crushing certainty that he would be as good as theirs when this was finished; their good little bitch for the rest of his life, or at least until they were done with him, just like he'd been Alastair's good little bitch. It made him shake with shame and suppressed rage, but mostly he just wondered if he would ever see Sam or Bobby or Castiel again. Zachariah had said Sam and Castiel would be safe as long as he cooperated, but Dean trusted him about as far as he could throw him, and he couldn't move Zachariah at all. Still, what choice did he have? Dean just hoped that he would still want to see Sam and Bobby and Castiel again, that this spell wouldn't take that away from him, at least. Dean ached at the thought that it might -- that he might forget to care about even his Sammy anymore, because how else would the spell work? -- but Zachariah interrupted his thoughts.
"A work of art, wouldn't you say?" he asked, seeming quite proud of his handiwork. Dean opened his eyes and looked down at it despite himself, distantly surprised that he hadn't even noticed when the searing pain had stopped. His arm was a mess of bloody runes that wouldn't stop gushing, and there was more blood in that silver bowl than he was comfortable with. Zachariah cleared this throat pompously. "Now, repeat after me."
Dean tensed. Last chance to spit in the son of a bitch's face, he thought desperately, but just as he was about to give up his last shred of hope for a miracle, something seemed to distract Zachariah, and he looked up at the ceiling with a frown. The bowl of Dean's blood fell crashing to the floor, right on Zachariah's toes, and he actually yelped and jumped back, releasing his grip on Dean's wrist as he did so--
And then Sam was looming there behind him, suddenly, and Dean could have cried in shocked relief at the sight. Sam had a tire iron which he swung viciously at Zachariah's head to produce a satisfyingly loud and fleshy thud, but even that was nowhere near as satisfying as the sound of Zachariah's skull cracking. He went down with a yell of agony and Sam followed, bringing the metal crashing down onto Zachariah's hands when he raised them to protect his head. He screamed, but it didn't stop Sam from raising the tire iron again with a sneer and preparing for yet another strike.
"Enough!" Castiel's voice thundered from behind Dean, and Dean whirled around to see him standing there, looking a little bloody but otherwise fine. After a tense moment, Sam dropped the tire iron to the floor beside Zachariah, who flinched away from it and curled into a pathetic, whimpering ball in the pool of Dean's blood.
All of them were still for a moment, and silent except for their heavy breaths, and Dean was still completely bewildered, but then he remembered-- "Jo?"
"She's fine," Sam replied, and the weight on Dean's chest that had been getting steadily heavier over the past couple of weeks lifted and he finally allowed the utter relief and gratitude and joy wash over him and set in. Not only were they all fine against the unlikeliest odds, he was still a free man, and he stepped around Zachariah in two strides and pulled Sam into a fierce, breathless hug, not even caring that it hurt his arm and he was probably bleeding all over his brother's shirt. Sam was huge and solid against him as he hugged Dean back, hard, and Dean closed his eyes because Sam was here and everything was okay.
Then he stepped back and remembered that Castiel was here, too, and that brought on a fresh wave of emotion. He turned to see Castiel watching them intently with an unreadable expression on his face and moved toward him, intending to hug him too, but Castiel's expression flashed to one of alarm and he pulled back. Dean stopped immediately and inwardly kicked himself for his momentary lapse in memory, then just stood there awkwardly, a few feet away and watching Castiel watch him warily.
Now that he had a moment to look, Dean could see that Castiel was even paler than usual under the blood from his nose and a bruise on his cheek, and actually shaking a bit. He frowned in sudden concern and asked, Cas, you okay? What did they do to you?"
Castiel shook his head slightly, almost to himself, and replied, "I'm fine." His voice was steady, but he looked uncomfortable in his skin and strangely skittish. Before Dean could press him for an honest answer, he glanced down at Zachariah, said, "Leave him be," and turned on his heel to walk back out of the warehouse.
Dean watched him go with a small frown, and then realized that the reason this scene felt strange was because he'd rarely seen Castiel walk anywhere. He turned to Sam with arched eyebrows and a questioning look.
Sam just shrugged. "I dunno, he kind of freaked out back there when they tried to chain him up. It was pretty badass, though," he added with a little smirk.
"They tried to chain him up?" Dean repeated, and he could imagine how someone who'd spent so much time in brutal captivity would react to that. In his sudden protective rage he almost wanted to kick Zachariah again, but the son of a bitch was already covered in blood and still curled up in a miserable ball, and it made Dean sneer in disgust.
"Give me your arm, dude," Sam said, like he'd only just noticed that Dean was bleeding. Dean was still angry but he held out his arm anyway, and Sam frowned as he took it. "You broke your hand, too? Might have to go to the hospital for this." Then he sighed, and ripped off the already torn sleeve of his shirt to bandage Dean's hand and arm with it.
Dean grimaced at the pressure Sam applied, but Sam distracted him by talking while he worked. "They locked me up in some kind of room with no doors. Actually it was probably the same one you told me about, the green room. Except there were chains and manacles on one wall, must've been angel proof, 'cause when they brought Cas in and tried to chain him up, he freaked." Sam paused and shook his head. "Man, you should've seen him. Punched the one angel -- he reminded me of Rod Blagojevich, actually --" (Dean snorted.) "Anyway, he punched him right through the wall. Then Jo attacked him, but he freaked out again and pushed her against the wall and managed to get her chained up instead, somehow, so after that she couldn't do a thing. Blago came back and while they were going at it, I managed to draw up the angel repellent spell. Cas brained the dude with a harp of all things -- that was pretty sweet -- and then came over to finish the spell and send him packing." Sam finished up bandaging Dean's arm but continued, "I guess it didn't work on Jo because she was contained, so that was lucky, and Cas exorcised the angel out of her and sent her back to Ellen's. Then he grabbed me and, you know those symbols the demons had drawn to keep him in the holding cell? Well, he drew the same ones on the outside of this warehouse and then sent me in to take care of Zachariah."
Dean listened to all of this quietly, and now he was pretty impressed. "Not bad," he whistled, "especially considering they didn't give us any time to come up with a plan. And you guys have impeccable timing, this asshole was about to make me swear some kind of oath of obedience under some serious blood mojo." He nudged Zachariah none too gently with his foot, and Zachariah moaned a little. Probably had one hell of a headache, Dean though with cruel satisfaction. Part of him wanted to just kill him and be done with it, but Dean didn't even know if that was even possible and anyway Castiel had said to leave him be.
He sighed and wondered where Castiel had run off to, and then figured he'd probably just been uncomfortable inside the warehouse since he'd have been powerless as well and Dean didn't doubt that must have triggered some bad memories. Maybe that was also why he'd looked so pale and shaky, even after everything had settled down. With that thought in mind, Dean turned and said over his shoulder, "Whatever, let's just go."
When they got outside, though, Castiel was nowhere to be seen. Dean pursed his lips in mild concern as they padlocked the warehouse doors to keep Zachariah in there for just a bit longer and then wondered out loud, "How the hell are we supposed to get back to the motel?" There weren't even any abandoned vehicles around for them to hotwire.
Sam hesitated, and then said, "The car's parked in the back."
"What?" Dean stared at him for a long moment, eyes narrowing as the implications became clear. "You drove here? Came here of your own free will?"
"Dean, they called and it was Jo's voice and she threatened to snap her neck if I didn't come alone."
And boy, didn't that sound familiar? Dean wasn't appeased, though. "Did you know they were angels?" he asked.
Sam hesitated, looking uncomfortable, and Dean's voice hardened. "Sam."
"No, okay? I didn't know," Sam snapped.
Dean looked away, jaw clenching and unclenching in building fury, and then said in a carefully even tone, "So, you thought they were demons, and you drove all the way here without Ruby's knife and without backup." He turned back to glare at his brother. "How were you planning on killing them, Sam?"
They both knew the answer to that, and Sam looked away, guilt and frustration written all over his face. Dean wanted to punch him. First he'd trusted that Sam wouldn't use his powers again and Sam had proven him a fool, and then he'd trusted that Sam at least didn't want to use his powers and would avoid putting himself in situations where he'd have to. Turned out Dean was the fool again, and now he didn't know whether he was more angry about that or more hurt about the fact that he'd spent all these months thinking he and Sam had been getting closer again because Sam had been getting better when in fact Sam hadn't been getting any better at all. He'd just been getting better at lying to Dean.
"Dean--" Sam began helplessly.
"I don't want to hear it," Dean said coldly. He didn't trust himself to be able to carry on this conversation without either blowing up at Sam or just breaking down, and he didn't want to do either. "Give me the damn keys."
Sam did so, and Dean stalked angrily around the warehouse to the back, not bothering to see if Sam followed him. Both of them got into the Impala wordlessly, and neither said a word on the drive back, either. It was a little awkward and painful, trying to shift gears with a broken and bandaged hand, but Dean welcomed the distraction.
When they reached the motel, he parked the car, waited for Sam to get out, and then gunned it on a whim, tires screeching as he left Sam behind. He didn't go to the hospital.
***
Several hours later, it was dark out and Dean was drunk. The alcohol didn't make him any less miserable and hopeless and lonely, but the hot brunette who kept matching him shot for shot did. Or at least, she was an okay distraction for now, and he took her hand with his good one and led her, stumbling and giggling, out of the bar and toward the Impala. When they got there, though, Dean looked through the rolled down window and saw the dark figure of a man sitting in the passenger seat. His hackles rose and he tried to remember what he had on him that could be used as a weapon, but then he saw who it was.
Castiel watched him so fucking calmly, as if everything was okay, and that just reminded Dean of how far from okay everything was and pissed him off. "Fuckin' cockblocking me now, Cas? What do you want?" he snapped.
Castiel looked surprised and even faintly hurt for a moment, and started, "Sorry, I shouldn't have--"
But Dean suddenly remembered that Castiel had had a pretty rough day too, and was ashamed of himself because Castiel had saved him and then Dean had forgotten about him. He shook his head and said, "No, I'm just being an asshole, hang on a minute."
He turned to the brunette, who was hanging off of him and peering at Castiel with a drunken curiosity, and gently pried her away from his side so he could walk her back inside. She protested when he sat her down on a bar stool, but Dean only smiled and apologized and then ignored her in favor of downing a glass of water. It refreshed him and cleared his mind a little, and then he made his way outside again. He didn't realize he'd been worried Castiel would leave until he saw that he was still there and felt something like relief. Dean supposed that meant he was glad to see Castiel after all, but fuck if he really knew how he felt about anything at the moment.
"Sorry," he said as he slid into the car and closed the door. He turned to look at Castiel under the dim light from the streetlamps and neon signs, and was glad to note that he at least looked fine. "Are you okay?" he asked anyway.
Castiel tilted his head. "I'm fine," he said, and he even sounded like he meant it this time. "Are you?"
Dean let out a short, bitter laugh, and turned away to rest his forehead on the steering wheel, closing his eyes and willing the world to stop spinning. Castiel said nothing, and Dean was grateful for that. For the knowledge that Castiel would wait until he was ready to talk, and even if he was never ready, Castiel would still be there to keep him company. Dean didn't even have to put on charming smiles for him or entertain him or pleasure him to make sure he wouldn't leave. He didn't have to do anything at all, and Dean decided he definitely preferred this over a night with the brunette, celibate as it was.
He didn't know if he wanted to say anything or even where to begin, but apparently he'd drunk enough to loosen his tongue because after a few minutes, Dean found himself talking, even though he kept his forehead on the steering wheel and didn't look up. "I trusted him," he said thickly. "Even after everything he did, Cas. I trusted him." He stopped, swallowed, went on. "And maybe it was just because I needed him to be around and I needed us to be okay, not because I really thought he'd changed, but then I really did think he'd changed." His lips twisted into a bitter smile and he shook his head slightly. "Guess not, though, huh?"
Castiel was quiet for so long Dean began wondering if maybe he'd left him after all, and he both wanted to look up and didn't want to just in case. But then Castiel said, "I don't think your brother wants to use his powers anymore."
Dean was so relieved Castiel was still there that it embarrassed him, and he smiled again, humorlessly, both at himself and at Sam. "I think you're wrong," he said.
"He isn't... power hungry, as he was before."
Dean snorted. "That's just because he doesn't think he could defeat Lucifer even if he did polish his powers up. If he thought he could do it, though, he would, and he wouldn't care if it turned him into something dark."
He could hear Castiel sigh. "He cares, Dean."
Dean shook his head and wanted to believe Castiel's calm, soothing words so fucking much, but his head was woozy and he didn't know what to believe, so he didn't say anything. He mostly just didn't want to think about Sam anymore, because it was so messy and he was so tired of it, so he thought about Castiel instead, and simple things like sharing baked goods with him. After awhile, Dean felt some of the tension leave his body and he turned his head to look up at Castiel, so familiar beside him. "I'm glad you're okay, Cas. I was worried when they took you," he confessed softly, because he was drunk and apparently in the mood to share. "And thanks for saving my hide. Heard you were pretty badass with that harp." He paused and perked up a tiny bit. "I should get you one for Christmas, since I don't think you have a birthday, and then you could play it like a proper cherub." The idea amused Dean, and he even tried to give Castiel a lopsided sort of smile, but he didn't have enough feeling in his cheeks to tell if he'd pulled it off.
For a moment Castiel tilted his head and looked like he didn't know how to respond, but then he returned a faint smile and said, softly, "Give me your arm."
It was the third time someone had said that to him today, and it almost made Dean feel like he was whoring his arm out. The thought made him snort, but he did as Castiel asked.
Castiel took it gently, and unwrapped Sam's bandage so he could hold Dean's hand in both of his own. The pain was dulled by alcohol, so Dean merely watched with a distant interest as a dim glow appeared between Castiel's hands and he felt it seep warmly into his own to push away the pain. "You told Sam you couldn't heal me last time," Dean said, bemused and feeling a little bit like a girl, what with Castiel holding his hand and making it all better. He was just drunk enough to let it slide.
"I meant I wasn't allowed to," Castiel admitted, sounding rueful. "Did you really think I couldn't? I remade your entire body, Dean." And there was something about the way he said that that seemed far too intimate, and Dean might have actually blushed a little at the thought of how well Castiel must know his body. At the same time, it made him relax more, because Castiel was his angel, and he didn't reply as he felt those hands moved up to his forearm. The warmth in his arm seemed to suffuse throughout his whole body and calm his mind, too, and Dean closed his eyes.
Before he could fall asleep, though, Castiel let go of his arm and said, "You should go to bed."
"Can't drive back like this," Dean mumbled with a small frown. His head and limbs were too heavy and he was too drunk. Sleep, though, sleep did sound like a wonderful idea. Maybe he could sleep here, he was comfortable enough..
"You don't have to drive back," Castiel told him. "Look up."
Dean groaned a little in protest because looking up would require moving, but eventually he managed to push himself off the steering wheel and looked ahead, out the window. Then he stared blankly at the "172" on the motel door for a beat before he realized it was his room. "I didn't even feel--" Dean glanced around, but he was still in the Impala, only now they were parked right in front of his door instead of at the bar. "Huh. Thanks."
"Sleep," Castiel reminded him.
"Mm," Dean agreed. "Night, Cas." He got out of the car with some effort. It was only a few steps to the door, and when he reached it, the light on the lock turned green before he even reached for his wallet to get the key. Dean snorted softly and let himself in.
Sam had already gone to bed, but he'd left one of the small lamps on, and Dean stared at the outline of his back for a moment. He could no longer muster much anger and now the sight just kind of made him ache, but then he shook his head, kicked off his shoes and got into bed, and turned off the lamp. Dean was asleep moments later.
***
He woke to the sound of Castiel's voice, and the first thing he registered was that he wasn't hungover, surprisingly enough. He wondered if Castiel had something to do with that. The second thing he registered was that Castiel wasn't talking to him.
"If I told you I could burn the demon blood out of you, would you let me?" Castiel asked. He sounded like he was over in the kitchenette, and Dean fought to wake up completely because this was important.
Sam's voice came from over there as well. "Can you?" he asked in return, too many different emotions mixed into his voice for Dean to decipher this early in the morning. It did clear the last vestiges of sleep from his head, though, and he listened intently even though he didn't open his eyes. Let Sam think he was still asleep. He wanted to know what his brother would say.
"Answer my question first."
There was a long pause, and Dean held his breath. Please say yes, please say yes, please say yes. Sam sighed and said, "Of course. Yeah." Dean's heart leapt and he let out his breath and wanted to go hug his stupid brother again, but Sam spoke again and he stayed put. "Do you really think I want to be the freak with the demon blood?"
"Dean thinks so," Castiel replied evenly.
More silence, and then Sam said, softly, "He's pretty mad at me, huh?"
"Dean will forgive you, Sam," Castiel said. "He always does."
"So can you?" Sam pressed. "Burn the demon blood out of me?" Dean almost held his breath again.
Castiel sighed. "No, but--"
"Then why ask?" Sam cut in angrily, sounding just as disappointed as Dean felt.
"Azazel was too powerful," Castiel said, louder now, like he was trying to talk over Sam. "I can't do it, but an archangel could."
Sam snorted. "No offense, Cas, but I've had about enough of all this angel crap."
"Then content yourself with the knowledge that this was what Dean needed to hear," Castiel said, and Dean was pretty sure Sam couldn't hear the slightly smug note in his voice, but Dean could. It made him grin inwardly.
"What?" Sam sounded surprised, and maybe a little suspicious. "Dean's asleep."
"Not so much, actually," Dean replied, finally opening his eyes and getting up. He shot Sam a smirk.
Sam glared indignantly at Castiel and said, "You knew."
Castiel gave him a serene look only an angel could give someone, and that only made Sam glare harder. Dean snorted in amusement and said, "Glaring at angels is about as productive as swearing at the TV during a baseball game, I've tried, trust me."
Sam's eyes slid over to him and they turned all big and uncertain and puppyish, and Dean nearly rolled his own eyes because, well, that look still worked on him, the little shit. Castiel had been right; Sam had said exactly what Dean had needed to hear, and he was willing to let the issue go. (For now, at least.) It was a relief, and it was easiest, this way, because the fact that he needed for them to be alright hadn't changed. Dean got up and went over to mess up Sam's hair like the kid wasn't a head taller than him, and he didn't miss the way Castiel watched them closely, with something guarded about his expression, but now that things with Sam had been smoothed over for the time being, Dean's attention was on the fridge. He'd missed dinner last night, after all, and passed them both to go digging for food.
"Dude." Sam whined, but he sounded more relieved than annoyed and was no doubt trying to fix his hair. "What was that for?"
Dean did roll his eyes this time. "You keep looking at me like a damned puppy and I'm gonna start treating you like one, it's only fair, right?" Then he looked over his shoulder at Sam and grinned. "Wanna go play fetch?"
Sam bitchfaced at him, and Dean just smirked. Today was looking better already.
***
Half an hour later, Dean was fed and freshly showered and bored. And tearing off bits of his napkin to roll up and flick at Sam's head. Sam had bothered to look up from his computer to glare at Dean the first few times and whine at him to stop it, but now he wasn't even whining anymore. He merely ignored Dean, who was feeling a little resentful of being made to miss his bitchy whining. Even Castiel was ignoring him and simply staring out the window. Dean was actually a little surprised he was even still around, and wondered briefly if he'd only been avoiding them before because he'd thought they hadn't wanted him around. In any case, Dean flicked a piece of napkin at him, too.
Castiel, at least, humored him with a head tilt, and Dean brightened as he remembered something. "Candy store!" he said, beaming and getting up. "Come on, Cas, it's tomorrow, let's go."
"You're taking an angel to a candy store?" Sam snorted, finally looking up. He had a piece of napkin in his hair, and Dean picked it out for him just because it was annoying him.
Then he glanced at Castiel (who was staring at him, as usual), and lowered his voice until it was appropriately tragic. "Dude, he's probably never had Twizzlers before." Sam only rolled his eyes and returned his attention to his research. "You coming along?" Dean asked over his shoulder as he grabbed his keys.
"Nah, you two have fun," Sam replied wryly. "Maybe I'll even find something good once you and your napkin get out of my hair."
Dean shook his head at his brother, but then smiled at Castiel, who followed him out.
"We don't have to drive," Castiel commented.
Dean opened the car door anyway and said, "Just because you can apparate us everywhere like Harry Friggin' Potter doesn't mean you have to. Get in, half the fun is driving there, you'll see. Builds anticipation."
Castiel didn't look like he knew who Harry Potter was, but he got in beside Dean and it still struck Dean as strange, that it wasn't Sam sitting shotgun, but he pushed the thought away. "I don't know what to anticipate," Castiel admitted once they were off.
"Chocolate," Dean replied immediately, and grinned at him. "Lots and lots of chocolate. Which I know you like, so don't even pretend."
"Oh." Castiel actually smiled a little at that, and it certainly wasn't the most joyful expression Dean had ever seen a guy make, but it was up there in Dean's mental catalog of Content Castiel Moments. Not, of course, that he had any such silly thing in his head.
When they got there, Dean took Castiel straight to the chocolate isle and watched him scan all the different kinds with a bemused expression. "Lindt is where it's at," Dean declared, and because he remembered that Castiel liked caramel, too, he picked up a box of Lindt's caramel assortment and handed it to him. So what if it was a little pricey? It was the end of the world, after all; he couldn't let Castiel face that without having tasted Lindt. What kind of crappy friend would he be then?
As they moved down the isle, Dean grabbed and handed Castiel Ferrero Rocher chocolates, a bag of Emily's chocolate covered strawberries, Snickers bars, Rolos, some Whitman's, a box of Belgian chocolates that he carefully didn't glance at the price tag on, and a couple of plain Hershey's milk chocolate bars. At the end of the isle there were bins with individually wrapped candies, and Dean grabbed one from the Hershey's Hugs pile and turned to hand it to Castiel, saying, "You gotta try these, Cas, perfect blend of milk and white chocolate."
But Castiel was already using both hands to hold on to everything else (and in fact Dean suspected only angel mojo was keeping some of it from sliding off the top), so Dean unwrapped it for him and said, "Open your mouth."
Castiel hesitated and gave him a look which Dean interpreted to mean he was weighing the pros of having chocolate in his mouth against the cons of looking ridiculous and effectively stealing. He opened his mouth, and Dean smirked as he tossed the little chocolate inside. "Angel approved?" he asked.
Castiel's eyes darted down to the bin as his mouth worked, and for a moment he looked faintly surprised or confused or both, but then he looked back up at Dean and said softly, "Yes." There was something almost shy about it, but Dean didn't dwell on it because he caught sight of a bag of candy apple rings and got distracted.
They also picked up Twizzlers and Fruit Roll-ups (the Batman Battle Rolls, of course), gummy bears and Skittles for Sam ("Because he's gay and likes rainbows," Dean confided), a box of Nerds, and a bag of Jawbreakers. (Castiel frowned at the name, but Dean assured him his angel mojo was more than a match for the candy.) Castiel followed him around just as he had in the bakery, quietly and without much input, and seemed to enjoy Dean's enthusiasm and the simple fact that they were there, which was just fine with Dean.
While they were standing in the checkout line, Dean glanced back at Castiel and caught him staring rather wistfully at something. He followed his eyes and saw that it was a 12 ounce bag of Hershey's Hugs on the shelf beside them, and smirked. "Knew you'd like those," Dean said with a wink, and grabbed the bag for Castiel. Castiel looked up at him and then quickly away, like he was embarrassed, and Dean chuckled. "You're not the only one who likes chocolate, Cas."
Castiel didn't reply, but Dean was used to that, so he didn't think anything of it. Something did occur to him, though, and he asked, "What does Jimmy like?"
"Jimmy?" Castiel repeated, turning to him with a look of faint surprise. Then his brow creased and he admitted, a little sadly, "I don't know." Which Dean supposed meant that the poor guy was still angry with Castiel and not talking to him, or whatever it was that they did inside their head, so he merely turned back to the cashier and smiled at her when it was his turn.
On the drive back, Castiel kept looking at him. Dean glanced over and asked, "Do I have something on my face or something?"
But Castiel only shook his head and looked away, with a murmured, "No."
Dean lifted an eyebrow. "Cas. What's up?"
For a moment Castiel parted his lips and looked like he was about to say something, but then he bit his lip uncertainly and didn't. Dean sighed and decided not to push it. What he did do was reach into the bags in the backseat and pull out what felt like the bag of Hershey's Hugs, hoping it would cheer Castiel up. He handed it to Castiel, who glanced at him in surprise and then took it with a soft, "Thanks." What surprised Dean was that Castiel's fingers brushed against his own as he did so, even though the bag was more than big enough that that could have been avoided.
But he didn't comment on it, and a moment later Castiel looked much more pleased with chocolate in his mouth, and Dean turned to hide a smile.
***
Out of everything they bought that day, Castiel's favorite was still the Hugs, and Dean would have rolled his eyes if that hadn't meant there would be more Lindt and Belgian chocolates for himself. Not to mention the chocolate covered strawberries -- he particularly liked those and actually pried the gummy bears out of Sam's hand to force him to try one. After that, they had to wrestle for the bag (Dean won, but only by taking Sam's laptop hostage), and Castiel watched their antics in what could pass for amusement. He kept eating Hugs the entire time, one after another.
***
The next day, he appeared in the backseat while Dean was slapping Sam's hand away from the cassette player and ate a few more. Dean didn't even startle or swerve dangerously, which he was proud of himself for, but he did eye Castiel and his chocolate incredulously in the rear view mirror. "Dude," he said above the sound of Metallica, "did you really just fish those out of the trunk while we were going eighty miles an hour?"
"Angel mojo has its uses," Castiel told him solemnly. "Would you like one?"
Dean snorted. "Nah. They're all yours, buddy." For a moment he thought Castiel looked disappointed, but then he looked down and occupied himself with unwrapping another Hug.
***
A couple of days later, Dean began to worry that he'd gotten Castiel addicted to them. He didn't actually see Castiel eat that many more, but every time Sam distracted his attention away from Castiel for more than a few minutes, he'd turn back and see several more empty wrappers. Dean shook his head and tried to clear them off the table, but Castiel caught his wrist. He glanced at Castiel, questioningly, but Castiel was staring intently down at his own hand on Dean's wrist. Then he looked up to meet Dean's eyes and smiled a little, releasing his grip as he did so.
"I'll get it," he said, and a moment later the wrappers were gone.
***
"You gonna buy him more when this bag runs out?" Sam snickered at one point, when Castiel wasn't around.
Dean eyed the three-quarters-empty bag of Hershey's Hugs dubiously. "Do you think this is healthy?"
Sam shrugged. "It's not like there's a manual on how to take care of pet angels and what to feed them, so your guess is as good as mine."
"He is not my pet angel, Sam," Dean said with a roll of his eyes and a glare. If it had been anyone else, he'd have been offended on Castiel's behalf, but he knew Sam was teasing. His brother wasn't exactly having any heart to hearts with Castiel yet -- and in fact they didn't speak to each other too much in general -- but at least Sam had stopped being so suspicious of him ever since Castiel had saved them and intervened in their rift, and he didn't seem to mind Castiel's more frequent presence these days. It was getting comfortable, Dean thought.
Sam tried to hide a smile, but Dean saw it anyway. "What?" he demanded.
"Nothing," Sam replied glibly, and ignored the Hug Dean threw at him from across the room.
***
"You have feathers in your hair," Sam smirked one morning, when Dean yawned and sat up in bed. He glared at his brother, and then glared at the motel's cheap down pillow with its feathers poking out. Then he ruffled his hair to dislodge the feathers and swung his legs over the edge of the bed.
Before he could stand up, though, Castiel appeared beside him, suddenly, and seemed to hesitate, but then he reached out and picked a small white feather out of Dean's hair. "You missed one," he said.
Dean stared blankly from the feather caught between Castiel's fingers up to his eyes. He wasn't surprised to see Castiel, but he was surprised to see Castiel so... close, especially first thing in the morning when he was only wearing a t-shirt and boxers. Picking shit off of him was something Sam did, but he hadn't expected it from Castiel. "Uh," he said uncertainly. "Thanks. It's just a feather, though, and I was about to go shower anyway."
Castiel stepped back and looked away, and left Dean to trudge to the bathroom feeling like he'd missed something. Soaping up under the warm spray woke Dean up, though, and then he could appreciate Castiel's awkward little gestures of reaching out as, well, Castiel reaching out. Dean remembered telling him once that he might not regret it if he decided to give the human touch thing another shot, and of course he'd been talking about sex at the time, but if Castiel wanted to start out small, with Dean, well, Dean didn't mind that.
Later, when he was all filthy again from dirt and demon blood and Castiel pulled Ruby's knife out of a demon's chest to hand to him, Dean tested his theory out. He brushed his fingers against Castiel's as he took the knife, and Castiel didn't flinch. Their eyes met, Castiel's seeming even wider and bluer than usual, and Dean quirked his lips.
***
That night, when Dean got out of the shower, Castiel was sitting on the couch and looking down at the Hershey's Hug in his hand. It was the last one, and Dean smiled dryly as he turned on the TV and flopped down beside him, close enough to share heat but not quite touching.
"I'll buy you another bag, don't worry," he teased. "Or do you want Kisses instead? Those are pretty good too, but they don't have the white chocolate swirl." He heard Sam snort behind him, but then his brother disappeared into the bathroom without saying anything. Castiel didn't say anything either, and after a moment Dean glanced away from the TV to see him still staring down at the little piece of chocolate. Dean nudged him with an elbow. "Hey."
"I don't want Kisses," Castiel replied, glancing first at Dean's elbow in the small space between them and then up at Dean's eyes.
"Alright," Dean shrugged and returned his attention to the TV, flicking through channels as he tried to find something worth watching. Castiel kept staring intently at him, though, he could feel it, and it made it impossible for him to concentrate on anything that was on. Dean gave up with a sigh and turned back to him. "What is it, Cas? I know it's not about your weird celestial addiction to chocolate."
Castiel bit his lip and lowered his gaze and said eventually, almost too softly, "You wanted to hug me, like you hugged Sam. Last week, when we came back to the warehouse."
Dean remembered. He wasn't sure where Castiel was going, though, so he said with a shrug, "Sorry."
After a few seconds, Castiel looked up again and asked, uncertainly, "Do you still want to?"
Dean blinked. And then he understood why Castiel had been popping Hugs all week and almost laughed, but he managed to stop himself because he didn't want Castiel to think he was laughing at him. Even so, he couldn't keep the amusement from his voice. "Are you asking me for a hug, Cas?"
Castiel bit his lip again and looked away, clearly uncomfortable, and Dean contemplated him for a moment before making up his mind. He stood up and said, "Come on, Cas, stand up." Castiel looked up at him and tilted his head questioningly, so he explained, "Look, we can't hug on the couch, that's cuddling. You gotta stand up."
A beat later, Castiel nodded, set aside the little chocolate, and stood slowly, facing Dean and looking nervous. It was a little awkward because Dean had never really made such a conscious decision to hug anyone who wasn't a woman or a child before -- the hugs he'd shared with Sam and Bobby had always been spur-of-the-moment decisions made while emotions ran high -- but he took a deep breath and reminded himself that this was an angel rather than a guy, and that this particular angel apparently needed this. Then he closed the distance between himself and Castiel and put his arms around him.
Dean had expected him to be stiff and uncomfortable, but he hadn't quite expected Castiel to jerk in his arms and whisper harshly, "No, let me go, I don't want--" Castiel pushed him away roughly enough that Dean stumbled, but then he stopped, breathing shallowly and looking at Dean with eyes widened in fear but also surprise, as if realizing suddenly that Dean had actually let go the moment he'd asked him to, even before he'd pushed him. Castiel didn't seem to know what to do with that, so he closed his mouth and glared at the floor, looking kind of resentful and letting the silence stretch out between them.
So maybe this was going to be a little more difficult than Dean had thought, but he wasn't about to give up just yet. It must have taken a lot for Castiel to even ask, and Dean didn't know if it would happen a second time if it didn't work out now. So he stepped in closer again and dipped his head to catch Castiel's gaze and asked softly, "Can I try again?"
Castiel's look of resentment turned into one that was surprised and gratified and maybe even a little hopeful, and after a moment he nodded slightly.
This time, Dean moved slowly, leaning in and slipping one arm under Castiel's and the other over his shoulder, gently and giving him plenty of opportunity to pull away. He kept his eyes on Castiel's the entire time, holding his gaze steadily. Castiel was tense and unyielding against him, but he held still, and eventually Dean wound his arms all the way around his body and pulled him in, closer, until their chins were resting on each other's shoulders. Neither of them moved a hair for almost half a minute, and Dean was barely even breathing anymore and standing at kind of an awkward angle, but then Castiel finally began to let some of the tension ease from his body and he brought his own arms up, tentatively, and put them around Dean, his touch feather-light.
Dean relaxed and let out his breath and even smiled a bit. "See?" he murmured in Castiel's ear, "This isn't so bad, right?"
Castiel nodded, and then he turned his head to bury his face in Dean's neck. And. Well, that immediately steered this hug off of the course called "manly" and made it veer toward "gay" and Dean wasn't too comfortable with that. His first instinct was to pull away, but then he bit his lip and closed his eyes and reminded himself sternly that this was for Castiel, who was an angel, and that there was nothing gay about it. In fact, he used to hold Sam like this, back when he'd been Sammy, the tiny little kid trying to grow up with no mother and not much of a father, and Dean remembered the way he used to rub Sammy's back. He tried that with Castiel, now, one palm flat against the angel's back and stroking slowly up and down. The first time he moved down, Castiel tensed again, but Dean never ventured lower than the small of his back before bringing his hand up again and using his thumbs to massage circles into Castiel's shoulders and the nape of his neck. Eventually, Castiel tightened his arms around Dean and just melted into him, completely boneless, and Dean knew that he'd done the right thing.
He had no idea how long he actually stood there for, holding an armful of warm angel and actually petting him (though he'd never admit to it), but the longer it went on, the more comfortable Dean felt. There was something very gratifying in knowing that he was the one who Castiel trusted enough to let in, and Dean thought back to every protective urge he'd ever felt for this guardian angel figure of his. The first time had been when they'd seen Jimmy laid out and unconscious in the middle of a wreckage, and Anna had told him they'd dragged Castiel back up to Heaven to punish him painfully. And after that, well, suffice to say Dean had felt it quite a few more times, and quite a bit more strongly. So it was alright now, then, that he got this chance to hold Castiel close and feel like he was helping.
Eventually the sound of the running shower stopped, though, and they both knew Sam would come back out soon. Still, Dean waited for Castiel to give him one last squeeze and then pull back first. When Castiel smiled at him, it was small but quietly joyful, and he said with a very human warmth, "Thanks."
Dean grinned a little in response and reached down for the last Hershey's Hug Castiel had left on the couch. "Don't forget your chocolate, Cas," he said as he tossed it to him, and Castiel caught it easily. Then he gave Dean a last fond look and disappeared with a quiet rustle.
Sam came out of the bathroom, then, and Dean sat quickly back down on the couch and pretended to be watching the Jay Leno Show.
Part 7
Characters: Dean and Castiel, Sam, Zachariah
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~7,900
Summary: Various things happen, but most notably, an angel gets a hug. (Actually, he gets a whole bag of them.)
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5
Zachariah stopped in front of Dean with Ruby's knife in one hand and ordered, "Give me your arm." He was no longer smiling.
Dean gritted his teeth and gave it to the son of a bitch in the form of a hard punch to the jaw, but unlike Castiel, Zachariah didn't give way and turn his head, and the loudest sound was that of the bones in Dean's hand crunching. Dean let out a wordless yell of agony and frustration and tried to snatch his hand back, but Zachariah caught his wrist in an iron grip and twisted it to expose the underside of his forearm.
"I wouldn't try that again if I were you," he said conversationally. "Never know what might happen to your precious Sammy and sweet Cas, right?" Then he winked, and Dean would have punched him again with his good hand, but he didn't think the bastard's threats were empty and the fight left him even if the fury didn't.
"Good boy." Zachariah smiled in the face of Dean's sneering glare, and then turned his attention to Dean's forearm. "Now, then, let's get this oath over with, shall we?" He pressed the tip of the blade into the soft skin there and applied just enough force to cut through it. A heavy silver bowl suddenly appeared to hover below Dean's arm and catch the thin stream of blood that welled up from the wound. As Zachariah carved a neat, bloody circle that took up a third of his forearm and then began slowly and carefully filling it in with strange symbols, Dean winced and closed his eyes, more from grief and resignation than from pain.
He had no idea how much power this spell was going to have over him, but he was willing to bet that Zachariah wasn't taking his chances this time. Dean knew with a crushing certainty that he would be as good as theirs when this was finished; their good little bitch for the rest of his life, or at least until they were done with him, just like he'd been Alastair's good little bitch. It made him shake with shame and suppressed rage, but mostly he just wondered if he would ever see Sam or Bobby or Castiel again. Zachariah had said Sam and Castiel would be safe as long as he cooperated, but Dean trusted him about as far as he could throw him, and he couldn't move Zachariah at all. Still, what choice did he have? Dean just hoped that he would still want to see Sam and Bobby and Castiel again, that this spell wouldn't take that away from him, at least. Dean ached at the thought that it might -- that he might forget to care about even his Sammy anymore, because how else would the spell work? -- but Zachariah interrupted his thoughts.
"A work of art, wouldn't you say?" he asked, seeming quite proud of his handiwork. Dean opened his eyes and looked down at it despite himself, distantly surprised that he hadn't even noticed when the searing pain had stopped. His arm was a mess of bloody runes that wouldn't stop gushing, and there was more blood in that silver bowl than he was comfortable with. Zachariah cleared this throat pompously. "Now, repeat after me."
Dean tensed. Last chance to spit in the son of a bitch's face, he thought desperately, but just as he was about to give up his last shred of hope for a miracle, something seemed to distract Zachariah, and he looked up at the ceiling with a frown. The bowl of Dean's blood fell crashing to the floor, right on Zachariah's toes, and he actually yelped and jumped back, releasing his grip on Dean's wrist as he did so--
And then Sam was looming there behind him, suddenly, and Dean could have cried in shocked relief at the sight. Sam had a tire iron which he swung viciously at Zachariah's head to produce a satisfyingly loud and fleshy thud, but even that was nowhere near as satisfying as the sound of Zachariah's skull cracking. He went down with a yell of agony and Sam followed, bringing the metal crashing down onto Zachariah's hands when he raised them to protect his head. He screamed, but it didn't stop Sam from raising the tire iron again with a sneer and preparing for yet another strike.
"Enough!" Castiel's voice thundered from behind Dean, and Dean whirled around to see him standing there, looking a little bloody but otherwise fine. After a tense moment, Sam dropped the tire iron to the floor beside Zachariah, who flinched away from it and curled into a pathetic, whimpering ball in the pool of Dean's blood.
All of them were still for a moment, and silent except for their heavy breaths, and Dean was still completely bewildered, but then he remembered-- "Jo?"
"She's fine," Sam replied, and the weight on Dean's chest that had been getting steadily heavier over the past couple of weeks lifted and he finally allowed the utter relief and gratitude and joy wash over him and set in. Not only were they all fine against the unlikeliest odds, he was still a free man, and he stepped around Zachariah in two strides and pulled Sam into a fierce, breathless hug, not even caring that it hurt his arm and he was probably bleeding all over his brother's shirt. Sam was huge and solid against him as he hugged Dean back, hard, and Dean closed his eyes because Sam was here and everything was okay.
Then he stepped back and remembered that Castiel was here, too, and that brought on a fresh wave of emotion. He turned to see Castiel watching them intently with an unreadable expression on his face and moved toward him, intending to hug him too, but Castiel's expression flashed to one of alarm and he pulled back. Dean stopped immediately and inwardly kicked himself for his momentary lapse in memory, then just stood there awkwardly, a few feet away and watching Castiel watch him warily.
Now that he had a moment to look, Dean could see that Castiel was even paler than usual under the blood from his nose and a bruise on his cheek, and actually shaking a bit. He frowned in sudden concern and asked, Cas, you okay? What did they do to you?"
Castiel shook his head slightly, almost to himself, and replied, "I'm fine." His voice was steady, but he looked uncomfortable in his skin and strangely skittish. Before Dean could press him for an honest answer, he glanced down at Zachariah, said, "Leave him be," and turned on his heel to walk back out of the warehouse.
Dean watched him go with a small frown, and then realized that the reason this scene felt strange was because he'd rarely seen Castiel walk anywhere. He turned to Sam with arched eyebrows and a questioning look.
Sam just shrugged. "I dunno, he kind of freaked out back there when they tried to chain him up. It was pretty badass, though," he added with a little smirk.
"They tried to chain him up?" Dean repeated, and he could imagine how someone who'd spent so much time in brutal captivity would react to that. In his sudden protective rage he almost wanted to kick Zachariah again, but the son of a bitch was already covered in blood and still curled up in a miserable ball, and it made Dean sneer in disgust.
"Give me your arm, dude," Sam said, like he'd only just noticed that Dean was bleeding. Dean was still angry but he held out his arm anyway, and Sam frowned as he took it. "You broke your hand, too? Might have to go to the hospital for this." Then he sighed, and ripped off the already torn sleeve of his shirt to bandage Dean's hand and arm with it.
Dean grimaced at the pressure Sam applied, but Sam distracted him by talking while he worked. "They locked me up in some kind of room with no doors. Actually it was probably the same one you told me about, the green room. Except there were chains and manacles on one wall, must've been angel proof, 'cause when they brought Cas in and tried to chain him up, he freaked." Sam paused and shook his head. "Man, you should've seen him. Punched the one angel -- he reminded me of Rod Blagojevich, actually --" (Dean snorted.) "Anyway, he punched him right through the wall. Then Jo attacked him, but he freaked out again and pushed her against the wall and managed to get her chained up instead, somehow, so after that she couldn't do a thing. Blago came back and while they were going at it, I managed to draw up the angel repellent spell. Cas brained the dude with a harp of all things -- that was pretty sweet -- and then came over to finish the spell and send him packing." Sam finished up bandaging Dean's arm but continued, "I guess it didn't work on Jo because she was contained, so that was lucky, and Cas exorcised the angel out of her and sent her back to Ellen's. Then he grabbed me and, you know those symbols the demons had drawn to keep him in the holding cell? Well, he drew the same ones on the outside of this warehouse and then sent me in to take care of Zachariah."
Dean listened to all of this quietly, and now he was pretty impressed. "Not bad," he whistled, "especially considering they didn't give us any time to come up with a plan. And you guys have impeccable timing, this asshole was about to make me swear some kind of oath of obedience under some serious blood mojo." He nudged Zachariah none too gently with his foot, and Zachariah moaned a little. Probably had one hell of a headache, Dean though with cruel satisfaction. Part of him wanted to just kill him and be done with it, but Dean didn't even know if that was even possible and anyway Castiel had said to leave him be.
He sighed and wondered where Castiel had run off to, and then figured he'd probably just been uncomfortable inside the warehouse since he'd have been powerless as well and Dean didn't doubt that must have triggered some bad memories. Maybe that was also why he'd looked so pale and shaky, even after everything had settled down. With that thought in mind, Dean turned and said over his shoulder, "Whatever, let's just go."
When they got outside, though, Castiel was nowhere to be seen. Dean pursed his lips in mild concern as they padlocked the warehouse doors to keep Zachariah in there for just a bit longer and then wondered out loud, "How the hell are we supposed to get back to the motel?" There weren't even any abandoned vehicles around for them to hotwire.
Sam hesitated, and then said, "The car's parked in the back."
"What?" Dean stared at him for a long moment, eyes narrowing as the implications became clear. "You drove here? Came here of your own free will?"
"Dean, they called and it was Jo's voice and she threatened to snap her neck if I didn't come alone."
And boy, didn't that sound familiar? Dean wasn't appeased, though. "Did you know they were angels?" he asked.
Sam hesitated, looking uncomfortable, and Dean's voice hardened. "Sam."
"No, okay? I didn't know," Sam snapped.
Dean looked away, jaw clenching and unclenching in building fury, and then said in a carefully even tone, "So, you thought they were demons, and you drove all the way here without Ruby's knife and without backup." He turned back to glare at his brother. "How were you planning on killing them, Sam?"
They both knew the answer to that, and Sam looked away, guilt and frustration written all over his face. Dean wanted to punch him. First he'd trusted that Sam wouldn't use his powers again and Sam had proven him a fool, and then he'd trusted that Sam at least didn't want to use his powers and would avoid putting himself in situations where he'd have to. Turned out Dean was the fool again, and now he didn't know whether he was more angry about that or more hurt about the fact that he'd spent all these months thinking he and Sam had been getting closer again because Sam had been getting better when in fact Sam hadn't been getting any better at all. He'd just been getting better at lying to Dean.
"Dean--" Sam began helplessly.
"I don't want to hear it," Dean said coldly. He didn't trust himself to be able to carry on this conversation without either blowing up at Sam or just breaking down, and he didn't want to do either. "Give me the damn keys."
Sam did so, and Dean stalked angrily around the warehouse to the back, not bothering to see if Sam followed him. Both of them got into the Impala wordlessly, and neither said a word on the drive back, either. It was a little awkward and painful, trying to shift gears with a broken and bandaged hand, but Dean welcomed the distraction.
When they reached the motel, he parked the car, waited for Sam to get out, and then gunned it on a whim, tires screeching as he left Sam behind. He didn't go to the hospital.
***
Several hours later, it was dark out and Dean was drunk. The alcohol didn't make him any less miserable and hopeless and lonely, but the hot brunette who kept matching him shot for shot did. Or at least, she was an okay distraction for now, and he took her hand with his good one and led her, stumbling and giggling, out of the bar and toward the Impala. When they got there, though, Dean looked through the rolled down window and saw the dark figure of a man sitting in the passenger seat. His hackles rose and he tried to remember what he had on him that could be used as a weapon, but then he saw who it was.
Castiel watched him so fucking calmly, as if everything was okay, and that just reminded Dean of how far from okay everything was and pissed him off. "Fuckin' cockblocking me now, Cas? What do you want?" he snapped.
Castiel looked surprised and even faintly hurt for a moment, and started, "Sorry, I shouldn't have--"
But Dean suddenly remembered that Castiel had had a pretty rough day too, and was ashamed of himself because Castiel had saved him and then Dean had forgotten about him. He shook his head and said, "No, I'm just being an asshole, hang on a minute."
He turned to the brunette, who was hanging off of him and peering at Castiel with a drunken curiosity, and gently pried her away from his side so he could walk her back inside. She protested when he sat her down on a bar stool, but Dean only smiled and apologized and then ignored her in favor of downing a glass of water. It refreshed him and cleared his mind a little, and then he made his way outside again. He didn't realize he'd been worried Castiel would leave until he saw that he was still there and felt something like relief. Dean supposed that meant he was glad to see Castiel after all, but fuck if he really knew how he felt about anything at the moment.
"Sorry," he said as he slid into the car and closed the door. He turned to look at Castiel under the dim light from the streetlamps and neon signs, and was glad to note that he at least looked fine. "Are you okay?" he asked anyway.
Castiel tilted his head. "I'm fine," he said, and he even sounded like he meant it this time. "Are you?"
Dean let out a short, bitter laugh, and turned away to rest his forehead on the steering wheel, closing his eyes and willing the world to stop spinning. Castiel said nothing, and Dean was grateful for that. For the knowledge that Castiel would wait until he was ready to talk, and even if he was never ready, Castiel would still be there to keep him company. Dean didn't even have to put on charming smiles for him or entertain him or pleasure him to make sure he wouldn't leave. He didn't have to do anything at all, and Dean decided he definitely preferred this over a night with the brunette, celibate as it was.
He didn't know if he wanted to say anything or even where to begin, but apparently he'd drunk enough to loosen his tongue because after a few minutes, Dean found himself talking, even though he kept his forehead on the steering wheel and didn't look up. "I trusted him," he said thickly. "Even after everything he did, Cas. I trusted him." He stopped, swallowed, went on. "And maybe it was just because I needed him to be around and I needed us to be okay, not because I really thought he'd changed, but then I really did think he'd changed." His lips twisted into a bitter smile and he shook his head slightly. "Guess not, though, huh?"
Castiel was quiet for so long Dean began wondering if maybe he'd left him after all, and he both wanted to look up and didn't want to just in case. But then Castiel said, "I don't think your brother wants to use his powers anymore."
Dean was so relieved Castiel was still there that it embarrassed him, and he smiled again, humorlessly, both at himself and at Sam. "I think you're wrong," he said.
"He isn't... power hungry, as he was before."
Dean snorted. "That's just because he doesn't think he could defeat Lucifer even if he did polish his powers up. If he thought he could do it, though, he would, and he wouldn't care if it turned him into something dark."
He could hear Castiel sigh. "He cares, Dean."
Dean shook his head and wanted to believe Castiel's calm, soothing words so fucking much, but his head was woozy and he didn't know what to believe, so he didn't say anything. He mostly just didn't want to think about Sam anymore, because it was so messy and he was so tired of it, so he thought about Castiel instead, and simple things like sharing baked goods with him. After awhile, Dean felt some of the tension leave his body and he turned his head to look up at Castiel, so familiar beside him. "I'm glad you're okay, Cas. I was worried when they took you," he confessed softly, because he was drunk and apparently in the mood to share. "And thanks for saving my hide. Heard you were pretty badass with that harp." He paused and perked up a tiny bit. "I should get you one for Christmas, since I don't think you have a birthday, and then you could play it like a proper cherub." The idea amused Dean, and he even tried to give Castiel a lopsided sort of smile, but he didn't have enough feeling in his cheeks to tell if he'd pulled it off.
For a moment Castiel tilted his head and looked like he didn't know how to respond, but then he returned a faint smile and said, softly, "Give me your arm."
It was the third time someone had said that to him today, and it almost made Dean feel like he was whoring his arm out. The thought made him snort, but he did as Castiel asked.
Castiel took it gently, and unwrapped Sam's bandage so he could hold Dean's hand in both of his own. The pain was dulled by alcohol, so Dean merely watched with a distant interest as a dim glow appeared between Castiel's hands and he felt it seep warmly into his own to push away the pain. "You told Sam you couldn't heal me last time," Dean said, bemused and feeling a little bit like a girl, what with Castiel holding his hand and making it all better. He was just drunk enough to let it slide.
"I meant I wasn't allowed to," Castiel admitted, sounding rueful. "Did you really think I couldn't? I remade your entire body, Dean." And there was something about the way he said that that seemed far too intimate, and Dean might have actually blushed a little at the thought of how well Castiel must know his body. At the same time, it made him relax more, because Castiel was his angel, and he didn't reply as he felt those hands moved up to his forearm. The warmth in his arm seemed to suffuse throughout his whole body and calm his mind, too, and Dean closed his eyes.
Before he could fall asleep, though, Castiel let go of his arm and said, "You should go to bed."
"Can't drive back like this," Dean mumbled with a small frown. His head and limbs were too heavy and he was too drunk. Sleep, though, sleep did sound like a wonderful idea. Maybe he could sleep here, he was comfortable enough..
"You don't have to drive back," Castiel told him. "Look up."
Dean groaned a little in protest because looking up would require moving, but eventually he managed to push himself off the steering wheel and looked ahead, out the window. Then he stared blankly at the "172" on the motel door for a beat before he realized it was his room. "I didn't even feel--" Dean glanced around, but he was still in the Impala, only now they were parked right in front of his door instead of at the bar. "Huh. Thanks."
"Sleep," Castiel reminded him.
"Mm," Dean agreed. "Night, Cas." He got out of the car with some effort. It was only a few steps to the door, and when he reached it, the light on the lock turned green before he even reached for his wallet to get the key. Dean snorted softly and let himself in.
Sam had already gone to bed, but he'd left one of the small lamps on, and Dean stared at the outline of his back for a moment. He could no longer muster much anger and now the sight just kind of made him ache, but then he shook his head, kicked off his shoes and got into bed, and turned off the lamp. Dean was asleep moments later.
***
He woke to the sound of Castiel's voice, and the first thing he registered was that he wasn't hungover, surprisingly enough. He wondered if Castiel had something to do with that. The second thing he registered was that Castiel wasn't talking to him.
"If I told you I could burn the demon blood out of you, would you let me?" Castiel asked. He sounded like he was over in the kitchenette, and Dean fought to wake up completely because this was important.
Sam's voice came from over there as well. "Can you?" he asked in return, too many different emotions mixed into his voice for Dean to decipher this early in the morning. It did clear the last vestiges of sleep from his head, though, and he listened intently even though he didn't open his eyes. Let Sam think he was still asleep. He wanted to know what his brother would say.
"Answer my question first."
There was a long pause, and Dean held his breath. Please say yes, please say yes, please say yes. Sam sighed and said, "Of course. Yeah." Dean's heart leapt and he let out his breath and wanted to go hug his stupid brother again, but Sam spoke again and he stayed put. "Do you really think I want to be the freak with the demon blood?"
"Dean thinks so," Castiel replied evenly.
More silence, and then Sam said, softly, "He's pretty mad at me, huh?"
"Dean will forgive you, Sam," Castiel said. "He always does."
"So can you?" Sam pressed. "Burn the demon blood out of me?" Dean almost held his breath again.
Castiel sighed. "No, but--"
"Then why ask?" Sam cut in angrily, sounding just as disappointed as Dean felt.
"Azazel was too powerful," Castiel said, louder now, like he was trying to talk over Sam. "I can't do it, but an archangel could."
Sam snorted. "No offense, Cas, but I've had about enough of all this angel crap."
"Then content yourself with the knowledge that this was what Dean needed to hear," Castiel said, and Dean was pretty sure Sam couldn't hear the slightly smug note in his voice, but Dean could. It made him grin inwardly.
"What?" Sam sounded surprised, and maybe a little suspicious. "Dean's asleep."
"Not so much, actually," Dean replied, finally opening his eyes and getting up. He shot Sam a smirk.
Sam glared indignantly at Castiel and said, "You knew."
Castiel gave him a serene look only an angel could give someone, and that only made Sam glare harder. Dean snorted in amusement and said, "Glaring at angels is about as productive as swearing at the TV during a baseball game, I've tried, trust me."
Sam's eyes slid over to him and they turned all big and uncertain and puppyish, and Dean nearly rolled his own eyes because, well, that look still worked on him, the little shit. Castiel had been right; Sam had said exactly what Dean had needed to hear, and he was willing to let the issue go. (For now, at least.) It was a relief, and it was easiest, this way, because the fact that he needed for them to be alright hadn't changed. Dean got up and went over to mess up Sam's hair like the kid wasn't a head taller than him, and he didn't miss the way Castiel watched them closely, with something guarded about his expression, but now that things with Sam had been smoothed over for the time being, Dean's attention was on the fridge. He'd missed dinner last night, after all, and passed them both to go digging for food.
"Dude." Sam whined, but he sounded more relieved than annoyed and was no doubt trying to fix his hair. "What was that for?"
Dean did roll his eyes this time. "You keep looking at me like a damned puppy and I'm gonna start treating you like one, it's only fair, right?" Then he looked over his shoulder at Sam and grinned. "Wanna go play fetch?"
Sam bitchfaced at him, and Dean just smirked. Today was looking better already.
***
Half an hour later, Dean was fed and freshly showered and bored. And tearing off bits of his napkin to roll up and flick at Sam's head. Sam had bothered to look up from his computer to glare at Dean the first few times and whine at him to stop it, but now he wasn't even whining anymore. He merely ignored Dean, who was feeling a little resentful of being made to miss his bitchy whining. Even Castiel was ignoring him and simply staring out the window. Dean was actually a little surprised he was even still around, and wondered briefly if he'd only been avoiding them before because he'd thought they hadn't wanted him around. In any case, Dean flicked a piece of napkin at him, too.
Castiel, at least, humored him with a head tilt, and Dean brightened as he remembered something. "Candy store!" he said, beaming and getting up. "Come on, Cas, it's tomorrow, let's go."
"You're taking an angel to a candy store?" Sam snorted, finally looking up. He had a piece of napkin in his hair, and Dean picked it out for him just because it was annoying him.
Then he glanced at Castiel (who was staring at him, as usual), and lowered his voice until it was appropriately tragic. "Dude, he's probably never had Twizzlers before." Sam only rolled his eyes and returned his attention to his research. "You coming along?" Dean asked over his shoulder as he grabbed his keys.
"Nah, you two have fun," Sam replied wryly. "Maybe I'll even find something good once you and your napkin get out of my hair."
Dean shook his head at his brother, but then smiled at Castiel, who followed him out.
"We don't have to drive," Castiel commented.
Dean opened the car door anyway and said, "Just because you can apparate us everywhere like Harry Friggin' Potter doesn't mean you have to. Get in, half the fun is driving there, you'll see. Builds anticipation."
Castiel didn't look like he knew who Harry Potter was, but he got in beside Dean and it still struck Dean as strange, that it wasn't Sam sitting shotgun, but he pushed the thought away. "I don't know what to anticipate," Castiel admitted once they were off.
"Chocolate," Dean replied immediately, and grinned at him. "Lots and lots of chocolate. Which I know you like, so don't even pretend."
"Oh." Castiel actually smiled a little at that, and it certainly wasn't the most joyful expression Dean had ever seen a guy make, but it was up there in Dean's mental catalog of Content Castiel Moments. Not, of course, that he had any such silly thing in his head.
When they got there, Dean took Castiel straight to the chocolate isle and watched him scan all the different kinds with a bemused expression. "Lindt is where it's at," Dean declared, and because he remembered that Castiel liked caramel, too, he picked up a box of Lindt's caramel assortment and handed it to him. So what if it was a little pricey? It was the end of the world, after all; he couldn't let Castiel face that without having tasted Lindt. What kind of crappy friend would he be then?
As they moved down the isle, Dean grabbed and handed Castiel Ferrero Rocher chocolates, a bag of Emily's chocolate covered strawberries, Snickers bars, Rolos, some Whitman's, a box of Belgian chocolates that he carefully didn't glance at the price tag on, and a couple of plain Hershey's milk chocolate bars. At the end of the isle there were bins with individually wrapped candies, and Dean grabbed one from the Hershey's Hugs pile and turned to hand it to Castiel, saying, "You gotta try these, Cas, perfect blend of milk and white chocolate."
But Castiel was already using both hands to hold on to everything else (and in fact Dean suspected only angel mojo was keeping some of it from sliding off the top), so Dean unwrapped it for him and said, "Open your mouth."
Castiel hesitated and gave him a look which Dean interpreted to mean he was weighing the pros of having chocolate in his mouth against the cons of looking ridiculous and effectively stealing. He opened his mouth, and Dean smirked as he tossed the little chocolate inside. "Angel approved?" he asked.
Castiel's eyes darted down to the bin as his mouth worked, and for a moment he looked faintly surprised or confused or both, but then he looked back up at Dean and said softly, "Yes." There was something almost shy about it, but Dean didn't dwell on it because he caught sight of a bag of candy apple rings and got distracted.
They also picked up Twizzlers and Fruit Roll-ups (the Batman Battle Rolls, of course), gummy bears and Skittles for Sam ("Because he's gay and likes rainbows," Dean confided), a box of Nerds, and a bag of Jawbreakers. (Castiel frowned at the name, but Dean assured him his angel mojo was more than a match for the candy.) Castiel followed him around just as he had in the bakery, quietly and without much input, and seemed to enjoy Dean's enthusiasm and the simple fact that they were there, which was just fine with Dean.
While they were standing in the checkout line, Dean glanced back at Castiel and caught him staring rather wistfully at something. He followed his eyes and saw that it was a 12 ounce bag of Hershey's Hugs on the shelf beside them, and smirked. "Knew you'd like those," Dean said with a wink, and grabbed the bag for Castiel. Castiel looked up at him and then quickly away, like he was embarrassed, and Dean chuckled. "You're not the only one who likes chocolate, Cas."
Castiel didn't reply, but Dean was used to that, so he didn't think anything of it. Something did occur to him, though, and he asked, "What does Jimmy like?"
"Jimmy?" Castiel repeated, turning to him with a look of faint surprise. Then his brow creased and he admitted, a little sadly, "I don't know." Which Dean supposed meant that the poor guy was still angry with Castiel and not talking to him, or whatever it was that they did inside their head, so he merely turned back to the cashier and smiled at her when it was his turn.
On the drive back, Castiel kept looking at him. Dean glanced over and asked, "Do I have something on my face or something?"
But Castiel only shook his head and looked away, with a murmured, "No."
Dean lifted an eyebrow. "Cas. What's up?"
For a moment Castiel parted his lips and looked like he was about to say something, but then he bit his lip uncertainly and didn't. Dean sighed and decided not to push it. What he did do was reach into the bags in the backseat and pull out what felt like the bag of Hershey's Hugs, hoping it would cheer Castiel up. He handed it to Castiel, who glanced at him in surprise and then took it with a soft, "Thanks." What surprised Dean was that Castiel's fingers brushed against his own as he did so, even though the bag was more than big enough that that could have been avoided.
But he didn't comment on it, and a moment later Castiel looked much more pleased with chocolate in his mouth, and Dean turned to hide a smile.
***
Out of everything they bought that day, Castiel's favorite was still the Hugs, and Dean would have rolled his eyes if that hadn't meant there would be more Lindt and Belgian chocolates for himself. Not to mention the chocolate covered strawberries -- he particularly liked those and actually pried the gummy bears out of Sam's hand to force him to try one. After that, they had to wrestle for the bag (Dean won, but only by taking Sam's laptop hostage), and Castiel watched their antics in what could pass for amusement. He kept eating Hugs the entire time, one after another.
***
The next day, he appeared in the backseat while Dean was slapping Sam's hand away from the cassette player and ate a few more. Dean didn't even startle or swerve dangerously, which he was proud of himself for, but he did eye Castiel and his chocolate incredulously in the rear view mirror. "Dude," he said above the sound of Metallica, "did you really just fish those out of the trunk while we were going eighty miles an hour?"
"Angel mojo has its uses," Castiel told him solemnly. "Would you like one?"
Dean snorted. "Nah. They're all yours, buddy." For a moment he thought Castiel looked disappointed, but then he looked down and occupied himself with unwrapping another Hug.
***
A couple of days later, Dean began to worry that he'd gotten Castiel addicted to them. He didn't actually see Castiel eat that many more, but every time Sam distracted his attention away from Castiel for more than a few minutes, he'd turn back and see several more empty wrappers. Dean shook his head and tried to clear them off the table, but Castiel caught his wrist. He glanced at Castiel, questioningly, but Castiel was staring intently down at his own hand on Dean's wrist. Then he looked up to meet Dean's eyes and smiled a little, releasing his grip as he did so.
"I'll get it," he said, and a moment later the wrappers were gone.
***
"You gonna buy him more when this bag runs out?" Sam snickered at one point, when Castiel wasn't around.
Dean eyed the three-quarters-empty bag of Hershey's Hugs dubiously. "Do you think this is healthy?"
Sam shrugged. "It's not like there's a manual on how to take care of pet angels and what to feed them, so your guess is as good as mine."
"He is not my pet angel, Sam," Dean said with a roll of his eyes and a glare. If it had been anyone else, he'd have been offended on Castiel's behalf, but he knew Sam was teasing. His brother wasn't exactly having any heart to hearts with Castiel yet -- and in fact they didn't speak to each other too much in general -- but at least Sam had stopped being so suspicious of him ever since Castiel had saved them and intervened in their rift, and he didn't seem to mind Castiel's more frequent presence these days. It was getting comfortable, Dean thought.
Sam tried to hide a smile, but Dean saw it anyway. "What?" he demanded.
"Nothing," Sam replied glibly, and ignored the Hug Dean threw at him from across the room.
***
"You have feathers in your hair," Sam smirked one morning, when Dean yawned and sat up in bed. He glared at his brother, and then glared at the motel's cheap down pillow with its feathers poking out. Then he ruffled his hair to dislodge the feathers and swung his legs over the edge of the bed.
Before he could stand up, though, Castiel appeared beside him, suddenly, and seemed to hesitate, but then he reached out and picked a small white feather out of Dean's hair. "You missed one," he said.
Dean stared blankly from the feather caught between Castiel's fingers up to his eyes. He wasn't surprised to see Castiel, but he was surprised to see Castiel so... close, especially first thing in the morning when he was only wearing a t-shirt and boxers. Picking shit off of him was something Sam did, but he hadn't expected it from Castiel. "Uh," he said uncertainly. "Thanks. It's just a feather, though, and I was about to go shower anyway."
Castiel stepped back and looked away, and left Dean to trudge to the bathroom feeling like he'd missed something. Soaping up under the warm spray woke Dean up, though, and then he could appreciate Castiel's awkward little gestures of reaching out as, well, Castiel reaching out. Dean remembered telling him once that he might not regret it if he decided to give the human touch thing another shot, and of course he'd been talking about sex at the time, but if Castiel wanted to start out small, with Dean, well, Dean didn't mind that.
Later, when he was all filthy again from dirt and demon blood and Castiel pulled Ruby's knife out of a demon's chest to hand to him, Dean tested his theory out. He brushed his fingers against Castiel's as he took the knife, and Castiel didn't flinch. Their eyes met, Castiel's seeming even wider and bluer than usual, and Dean quirked his lips.
***
That night, when Dean got out of the shower, Castiel was sitting on the couch and looking down at the Hershey's Hug in his hand. It was the last one, and Dean smiled dryly as he turned on the TV and flopped down beside him, close enough to share heat but not quite touching.
"I'll buy you another bag, don't worry," he teased. "Or do you want Kisses instead? Those are pretty good too, but they don't have the white chocolate swirl." He heard Sam snort behind him, but then his brother disappeared into the bathroom without saying anything. Castiel didn't say anything either, and after a moment Dean glanced away from the TV to see him still staring down at the little piece of chocolate. Dean nudged him with an elbow. "Hey."
"I don't want Kisses," Castiel replied, glancing first at Dean's elbow in the small space between them and then up at Dean's eyes.
"Alright," Dean shrugged and returned his attention to the TV, flicking through channels as he tried to find something worth watching. Castiel kept staring intently at him, though, he could feel it, and it made it impossible for him to concentrate on anything that was on. Dean gave up with a sigh and turned back to him. "What is it, Cas? I know it's not about your weird celestial addiction to chocolate."
Castiel bit his lip and lowered his gaze and said eventually, almost too softly, "You wanted to hug me, like you hugged Sam. Last week, when we came back to the warehouse."
Dean remembered. He wasn't sure where Castiel was going, though, so he said with a shrug, "Sorry."
After a few seconds, Castiel looked up again and asked, uncertainly, "Do you still want to?"
Dean blinked. And then he understood why Castiel had been popping Hugs all week and almost laughed, but he managed to stop himself because he didn't want Castiel to think he was laughing at him. Even so, he couldn't keep the amusement from his voice. "Are you asking me for a hug, Cas?"
Castiel bit his lip again and looked away, clearly uncomfortable, and Dean contemplated him for a moment before making up his mind. He stood up and said, "Come on, Cas, stand up." Castiel looked up at him and tilted his head questioningly, so he explained, "Look, we can't hug on the couch, that's cuddling. You gotta stand up."
A beat later, Castiel nodded, set aside the little chocolate, and stood slowly, facing Dean and looking nervous. It was a little awkward because Dean had never really made such a conscious decision to hug anyone who wasn't a woman or a child before -- the hugs he'd shared with Sam and Bobby had always been spur-of-the-moment decisions made while emotions ran high -- but he took a deep breath and reminded himself that this was an angel rather than a guy, and that this particular angel apparently needed this. Then he closed the distance between himself and Castiel and put his arms around him.
Dean had expected him to be stiff and uncomfortable, but he hadn't quite expected Castiel to jerk in his arms and whisper harshly, "No, let me go, I don't want--" Castiel pushed him away roughly enough that Dean stumbled, but then he stopped, breathing shallowly and looking at Dean with eyes widened in fear but also surprise, as if realizing suddenly that Dean had actually let go the moment he'd asked him to, even before he'd pushed him. Castiel didn't seem to know what to do with that, so he closed his mouth and glared at the floor, looking kind of resentful and letting the silence stretch out between them.
So maybe this was going to be a little more difficult than Dean had thought, but he wasn't about to give up just yet. It must have taken a lot for Castiel to even ask, and Dean didn't know if it would happen a second time if it didn't work out now. So he stepped in closer again and dipped his head to catch Castiel's gaze and asked softly, "Can I try again?"
Castiel's look of resentment turned into one that was surprised and gratified and maybe even a little hopeful, and after a moment he nodded slightly.
This time, Dean moved slowly, leaning in and slipping one arm under Castiel's and the other over his shoulder, gently and giving him plenty of opportunity to pull away. He kept his eyes on Castiel's the entire time, holding his gaze steadily. Castiel was tense and unyielding against him, but he held still, and eventually Dean wound his arms all the way around his body and pulled him in, closer, until their chins were resting on each other's shoulders. Neither of them moved a hair for almost half a minute, and Dean was barely even breathing anymore and standing at kind of an awkward angle, but then Castiel finally began to let some of the tension ease from his body and he brought his own arms up, tentatively, and put them around Dean, his touch feather-light.
Dean relaxed and let out his breath and even smiled a bit. "See?" he murmured in Castiel's ear, "This isn't so bad, right?"
Castiel nodded, and then he turned his head to bury his face in Dean's neck. And. Well, that immediately steered this hug off of the course called "manly" and made it veer toward "gay" and Dean wasn't too comfortable with that. His first instinct was to pull away, but then he bit his lip and closed his eyes and reminded himself sternly that this was for Castiel, who was an angel, and that there was nothing gay about it. In fact, he used to hold Sam like this, back when he'd been Sammy, the tiny little kid trying to grow up with no mother and not much of a father, and Dean remembered the way he used to rub Sammy's back. He tried that with Castiel, now, one palm flat against the angel's back and stroking slowly up and down. The first time he moved down, Castiel tensed again, but Dean never ventured lower than the small of his back before bringing his hand up again and using his thumbs to massage circles into Castiel's shoulders and the nape of his neck. Eventually, Castiel tightened his arms around Dean and just melted into him, completely boneless, and Dean knew that he'd done the right thing.
He had no idea how long he actually stood there for, holding an armful of warm angel and actually petting him (though he'd never admit to it), but the longer it went on, the more comfortable Dean felt. There was something very gratifying in knowing that he was the one who Castiel trusted enough to let in, and Dean thought back to every protective urge he'd ever felt for this guardian angel figure of his. The first time had been when they'd seen Jimmy laid out and unconscious in the middle of a wreckage, and Anna had told him they'd dragged Castiel back up to Heaven to punish him painfully. And after that, well, suffice to say Dean had felt it quite a few more times, and quite a bit more strongly. So it was alright now, then, that he got this chance to hold Castiel close and feel like he was helping.
Eventually the sound of the running shower stopped, though, and they both knew Sam would come back out soon. Still, Dean waited for Castiel to give him one last squeeze and then pull back first. When Castiel smiled at him, it was small but quietly joyful, and he said with a very human warmth, "Thanks."
Dean grinned a little in response and reached down for the last Hershey's Hug Castiel had left on the couch. "Don't forget your chocolate, Cas," he said as he tossed it to him, and Castiel caught it easily. Then he gave Dean a last fond look and disappeared with a quiet rustle.
Sam came out of the bathroom, then, and Dean sat quickly back down on the couch and pretended to be watching the Jay Leno Show.
Part 7
