Chapter Text
Lying in wait, he pounced on her in the back of the grocer’s market. He had to be careful, this was one of those fruity health food places with nuts in barrels so he knew Sam was probably somewhere nearby dancing in the aisles. He resisted the urge to grab her by the throat and settled for an arm.
“You better start talking lady cause I’m about two seconds away from calling Raphael and the gang down here so they can stick you back on the end of a spit. What the hell did you do to me and my angel?” She looked calmly down at his arm, then back to his face and smiled. They were both aware she could break his hand off at the wrist even at half power but she didn’t move away.
“You know what I like about you? You don’t even think about whether or not you can carry out all your threats, just have total faith that you’ll find a way if you want it enough. Piss and vinegar, I once heard someone say. It fits you, it’s what I look for.”
“Is this how you get your kicks, make people insane, make them feel things that aren’t real just so you can get a laugh?” He squeezed harder but she didn’t bat an eyelash.
“And that’s what you think, that I put these things inside you? That I’m creating an illusion of emotion like some low level siren? You need to get your own head out of your ass and look at the facts.” And she did the very last thing he expected when she reached up and grabbed him by the neck, pulling him down into a firm and probing kiss. He tried to pull away, it wasn’t unpleasant, it wasn’t anything at all. After a moment she let him go and he dropped his grip on her arm in a panic to examine if anything else had changed in him. “Look at me Dean, my vessel is smoking hot. I can please anyone, but only if they wish to be pleased by me. I do not create things out of dust like my Father, I inspire, I direct. I take what is within and shine a holy light upon it because most people with greatness are too stupid to recognize what is sitting in their own heart.” He held her gaze for a moment, his anger hardening into something darker.
“So, what, this was your great blessing? Make me realize I want to sleep with Cas? Nice work, but you can shove it up your ass. He’s an angel and he’s my friend and he deserves a hell of a lot more than some broke down human all hoped up on a holy aphrodisiac.” She laughed at him, then reached up to slap his cheek affectionately. He guessed immediately she knew how much that would piss him off.
“Too late buttercup, and wrong to boot. You would have come to that conclusion on your own eventually, you were already on your way. So go ahead and fuck Cas, if you think it will help. Take him to one of those swanky motels and grunt it out on top of him like he’s one of your classy barflies.” She scowled at him now and something like little prickles of electricity danced along the skin of his arms, making the hair stand on end. “And just so we’re clear, you are in no position to decide what Castiel deserves. You don’t even know what you deserve little human.”
“What did you do to him?” He couldn’t tell if it was fear or a threat that was making his voice a whisper. She turned to go, throwing her answer over a retreating shoulder.
“Why don’t you ask him? He’s already got you beat at figuring it out. Smart little angel.”
*
For the remainder of the trip, Castiel sat huddled in the front seat, still and silent as if he’d been carved from stone, a graveyard angel. When Dean had pulled into the strip mall, Castiel thought his heart might stop in anticipation of the things he would see. But thankfully this time, nothing came. It was getting worse, this brightness inside him that Delia had given him. He had guessed as to the nature of his blessing, had confirmed as much with Delia at the diner. A loss of control, she was letting him see inside of Dean each time the hunter thought of him without the need for an addressing prayer, and it appeared Dean was thinking of him almost constantly. This would normally have given him great joy, but the increasingly graphic nature of these thoughts were agony. He had promised the Holy Spirit he would stay, and he would keep that promise, but never before had he wanted to flee his human’s side more than he did now. And it shamed him, for sitting next to the man he could feel the waves of unnatural heat pouring off his body and knew he must be suffering too. If he hadn’t known differently, he would have thought the human was afflicted with a fever, and he supposed in a way he was. Castiel thought he understood why Delia had given him this, she must have known how much he always wanted to know more of Dean’s thoughts and dreams. But what he couldn’t understand, no matter how many miles passed by the window as he considered it heavily, was what exactly she was doing to benefit Dean. The greater the brightness burned in him, the angrier and more sullen he became. In the few quick glances he stole when Dean wasn’t looking, Castiel could clearly see the hatred, the disgust which furrowed deeper into the lines of his face and he began to despair that once Dean had finished loathing every aspect of himself that harbored these thoughts, he would turn this hatred upon him.
Castiel had found that if he kept movement to a minimum, focused on his breathing and looked at the scenery of the landscape, he could pretend there wasn’t a near constant reel of imagery pairing himself and the human in every conceivable sexual situation and position flickering through his head. But when Dean had touched him, had sent him the sensation of his unexpected climax while looking him dead in the eyes, Castiel had to call on every molecule of his grace to keep him strong. His wanting was so brutal it felt like pieces of himself were being hacked off and jammed back into the wrong place so that nothing worked properly. His mind was screaming at him to take him, take him now, fly off to somewhere remote where no one would hear the screams he would take days dragging from the hunter.
It was exhausting, so when they finally reached a motel, the closest to their destination before nightfall, he had never been so relieved.
The brothers got two rooms, Dean very pointedly picking up both his and Sam’s bags and taking them to one room after handing the other key to Delia. Castiel offered to spend the night patrolling the area, keeping watch for any signs someone might be looking for her.
“That’s so sweet, Castiel, thank you!” And he had spent enough time around Dean to recognize mischievous sarcasm when he heard it. Everyone retired to bed almost immediately, and Castiel was left to wander the barren concrete grounds, the scrubby grove of trees behind the motel. It was blissfully silent, Dean was resting in a dreamless sleep and Castiel took deep cleansing breaths, his heart rate retuning to a normal rhythm for the first time in what felt like eons. Sometime near midnight, Castiel heard a noise and sensed movement by the brother’s room. He tensed like a cat and slipped through the ether to a shadowy spot facing the door, ready to attack. But it was Sam, padding out as quietly as a man of his size could on bare feet to creep over to Delia’s room and slip into the already unlocked door. He didn’t hear them, but he knew the moment Dean had when he felt the human’s mind stirring. Castiel moved fast, appearing at the hunter’s side so that his body wasn’t trapped outside when he was pulled into the dream.
This one was different than the others, for he felt no desire in it, only desperation. The hunter was in a motel, running through halls, ripping open doors to puzzle box rooms that nested and opened to new chambers deeper and deeper inside. And all the while he was calling Castiel’s name, chasing down the fleeting glimpses of the angel’s twin he caught in a window or the open frame of a door. It went on like this for a long while until the hunter no longer seemed to be chasing but running, looking for a way out. Castiel was having trouble tracking him, trying to stay out of the way but still keep the human in sight.
Cas help! Cas please you have to get me out of here! Cas!
He couldn’t take it anymore. He ran for the hunter, reaching him just as the dream broke. Dean shot up in a panic, clutching Castiel’s wrist and going over his features with wild eyes.
“I’m here Dean, it is alright. You’re not dreaming anymore, this room is real.” And as Dean’s breathing began to slow, reality dawned on his face.
“You—how did you know about the rooms?” He stood without releasing his grip on Castiel’s wrist.
“I heard you…” He couldn’t lie to Dean, but prayed this answer would not lead him to the truth.
“I was talking? In my sleep?” Castiel sighed and tried to pull away, but Dean wasn’t having it.
“No, Dean. I could see it.” Even with his ability to see clearly in such darkness, Castiel still couldn’t make out the emotion behind that expression.
“Do you…have you been going into my dreams lately?” The softness in his voice was heartbreaking. “Cas?”
“I’m sorry Dean, it has not been by choice.” The hunter sank to the bed, but didn’t seem to be angry with him, much to Castiel’s relief. He stood there watching as Dean leaned into his hands, rubbing his face and coming to some sort of decision.
“Delia?” And the half-cocked smile Dean offered hinted at his solution. “So what’d she do to you?” It was said causally. No need to feel bad, this had all been Delia’s fault. It was strange to Castiel, realizing in that moment what Dean was doing and feeling sadness at it. He chastised himself for this selfishness; Dean didn’t want to dream of Castiel, was willing to forgive the angel’s intrusions if Delia had done something similarly uncomfortable to him. Yes, fine, anything you wish. His words rushed out in earnest before he could think.
“Yes Delia, I’m afraid she understands even less than I do the proper parameters for….friendship. I have always been curious as to your internal life, but I would never intrude Dean, please believe that. But she bent the rules somehow, forced my awareness of your thoughts of me even without the address of a prayer, pulling me into your dreams against my will. But I know what I’ve seen is not really you Dean, I know this.” That was a mistake. Something he’d said set the gears going in Dean’s mind and his silence was painfully full.
“What do you mean the address of prayer?” Dean was looking at him now with an intensity that unsettled him. “Cas, what does that mean? Have you heard me?” The silence was enough of an answer. “We’re going to skip over the fact that you’ve had a front row seat to the carnival of porn that’s been spinning in my head these last few days, what I want to know is if you’ve been able to hear my internal prayers before all this.”
“Yes.” It was almost a whisper. “And it’s more than your words. Every time you say my name, those thoughts become my own and all the attendant emotions.” Castiel felt sick, it felt like a betrayal somehow even though he’d only been trying to save his human from the unpleasantness of having such private thoughts known. “I’m so sorry Dean, I did not want you to feel ashamed and I—“
Dean catapulted off the bed and came right into Castiel’s space. It was disconcerting, he realized, when it was so unexpected. Castiel stilled himself and lifted his chin, prepared for the blow that was sure to come. If Dean needed to strike him, he was more than willing to allow it.
But it never came. Instead Dean traced a finger along the worn edge of his lapel, watching the progress of his own hand, unable to look up.
“I’ve been thinking of you a lot Cas, are you saying you’ve…always been able to see it?” Something was on the edge of breaking in the man and Castiel reached for anything that might save him.
“You couldn’t help it, Delia is very powerful and I do not think of you as—“
“Cas.” He sighed. “We both what I’m talking about.”
*
He should be begging for the sweet release of death, but the near clinical mortification Dean was feeling still couldn’t hold a candle to the riot of other emotions tearing through him. Cas had heard him, from day one. And not just heard him, seen it, felt it, every time he thought the angel’s name. He tried to think back to all the times he’d done it before Delia had cranked it to eleven, there were too many to count but he knew for certain the contents of most of them. Something other than his heart was pounding at the lining of his chest. He had to know, had to see for himself. So he locked eyes on his angel, making sure he stood under the full weight of that stare before reaching out.
Cas…Delia didn’t make me want you, she just made it impossible for me to deny it anymore.
Those deep blue eyes went wide.
“Fuck Cas, the things I’ve been imagining….and you’ve seen all of that.” Now it was Dean’s turn to drop his eyes, his hands falling limp at his side. You don’t deserve that, he wanted to say, Cas was the only person to ever have complete faith in him, he had given him so much and now Dean had assaulted him with how much more he wanted to take. But all he managed was, “I’m so sorry.”
“You want me.” It was a statement more than a question and, god, in that voice. Dean was shaking, and when those long fingers came up to trace the line of his jaw, brush slowly across his lips, he thought he might collapse. “I would like to try kissing you. It seemed very agreeable.”
With a ragged little cry, Dean surged up against him and pressed his lips to Cas’ own. Softly, barely a touch. He was on the bleeding edge of control. What he wanted, what he needed more than air was to pin Cas against a hard surface and devastate him, but he couldn’t bear the thought of frightening his angel away. So instead, he took Cas’ face in his hands and coaxed him into a deeper kiss, tongue unhurried and exploring. He memorized every inch of that mouth, sucked at those full lips, sweeping his tongue inside to find and capture Cas’ own. The angel responded with such eagerness, pulled and sucked and bit with growing fervor, Dean thought he might lose his fucking mind from the pleasure of it.
“God Cas, you taste so good.” He breathed against him as he somehow managed to tear away from those lips to kiss along the pulse line of his throat. When he reached the collar of the white dress shirt, Dean bit down, felt the shiver run through Cas, felt the vibration of his moan as it ran under his mouth, heard that sound he had been craving and knew immediately he needed more. “You have to stop me Cas, I’m going to ruin everything.” He begged through his kiss even as his fingers worked open the buttons of his shirt.
“I don’t wish to stop you Dean,” Cas’ hands ran up Dean’s back, pressing until their bodies were fitted together perfectly. “I love you.”
Dean’s heart froze. His breath, the world around him, froze.
Cas no…
He couldn’t have that, couldn’t let him do this. They could have a night together, maybe more, but love meant Dean would lose him. They would never let him have Cas, love meant the angel would have to fall, leave his family and home, or if not that, then their world would come up with some other sacrifice he’d have to make. And he would do it, Dean was sure, but he couldn’t take that much, he didn’t deserve that much. It was too big.
Dean kissed him, quick, desperate kisses between pleas for forgiveness as he muscled back hot tears. SorrysorryI’msorry. The hands at his back clenched into the fabric of his shirt as the angel began to panic because this felt like goodbye. Dean used every ounce of strength he had left to rip himself out of those arms, let himself take in the shock and sadness in that face that he had put there, grabbed his jacket and shoes without putting them on and fled out the door into the night.
*
Dean walked for hours before fatigue made him realize that he was cold without his coat and his feet were bruised since he’d never bothered to put on his shoes. He paused long enough to slip both on, pull out his phone and leave a message for Sam, it was still early enough that he knew his brother would be asleep. He kept it brief, something had come up, not to worry, finish up the job with Delia and Cas and he would talk to him soon. Sam would be livid, he knew this, but the guy always did bitch and moan that Dean never really trusted him, so here you go big boy, trust you to finish up this bullshit mission.
He found a car to hot wire and drove south until the tank was empty, ditched it in a parking lot and repeated with another car. He did this until he’d made it to Arizona then looked up to find he was about ready to pass out from lack of sleep and hunger. The small ranch home with foreclosure signs and knee high grass would do. Dean found a dusty corner, curled up with his head on his arm and fell asleep. That’s when he realized sleep would be an enemy.
The very minute he drifted into unconsciousness, Cas was there. And he knew this was his Cas and not the fevered imaginings Delia had given him because that same look of hurt and shock was painted on his face.
“Dean, we need to talk. Tell me where you are.” They stood in a non-place, a grey expanse filled with looming, shapeless shadows. There was nowhere for Dean to go. Cas was brilliantly beautiful, a corona of soft light outlining his figure, setting fire to his eyes. Dean’s hands itched to touch him, felt himself reaching even as he backed away as if from a dangerous animal.
“Get the fuck outta my head Cas! I don’t want you here!” But the angel moved in closer.
“You know I don’t have a choice Dean, Delia is far more powerful than I am. Every time you dream I am brought here, every time you think of me I will hear you.” Dean looked around for a way out, began to strain and pull, anything to make his body wake up, but it was no use. Cas was closer now. “She may have put me here, but I can keep you here. I will have an answer Dean, you will give me more than cowardice and disrespect. I told you that I loved you, and I do. I don’t need for you to return it, but I would hear you say that. I believe I merit that much.”
The way out was right there, exactly what he needed to end it. Just tell Cas, tell him you don’t love him, this was all just stupid, mixed-up human lust. The words pricked his lips, but he couldn’t say them, they hurt more than all the rest of it. So he did what he knew best, tried to hurt back. “You’re right, I’m a coward, ok?! But you knew what I was doing and you didn’t say anything! You let me pray to you the most—god Cas, why didn’t you just tell me so I could make it all stop?!” A look of shame darkened the angel’s features and he knew he had hit his mark. It gave him no satisfaction. “Cas, you deserve so much more than me. I mean, look at me, I can’t take any more from you, it isn’t right. All I do is bring pain…” To the people I love. Cas was inches away now, leaning in, taking Dean’s breath away with the anticipation.
“What makes you think,” he whispered darkly against the human’s lips. “That you get to decide how much I give… or what I deserve to have?” And just as he pressed into the kiss there was a blast of sound and Dean was ripped from sleep into wakefulness. A car horn, right outside the house. He was in a crumbling house, heart pounding furiously from the sudden noise and not the fact that he could feel the aching loss of Cas’ touch.
He’d turned off his phone. No point in listening to the thing ring at all hours. Dean came up with a working solution until a permanent one was found, wake up, get a new car, drive until he was falling down dead from exhaustion then find a place to crash and drink himself into oblivion. Stay moving, have a destination, reach it, start again. Don’t think of Cas, or Sam or how long this can go on, just simple tasks that wear you down to the wires. Maybe then you can come up with some way to fix this. His higher reasoning was shot to shit with want Cas want need have Cas, so shut it down. Deeper than instinct, cause that was gone too, give it over the reptile brain with its taste for fear and basic math. And those times when his mind was too alert, wasn’t hung over from booze or lack of sleep, Dean would do his level best not to think of his angel. Without Cas near him, the thoughts, the fevered visions strung together in an unending sensation that thrummed ceaselessly beneath his skin but never changed pitch. He was almost able to ignore it now, most of the time. When the burn would surface and become too much to bear, Dean would turn to running, miles and miles sometimes, even pulling over to the side of the road and abandoning his current ride just to give his mind and body something else to focus on. Sam would get a real kick out of this, he would think bitterly at those times, all this running he’d be healthier than Sammy. Perish the thought. But it worked because he hated it, and hate was a familiar old friend.
It was breaking him down. The distance, the abuse. This was the most raw Dean had ever felt. There was a crack forming right at his center, and if he was stupid enough to poke it with a stick, he could hear a voice that might not actually be his own starved and battered innermost conscience, filtering in.
What exactly are you fighting, sugar?
You’re a special brand of fucked up Dean Winchester.
Ever break a wild horse? How do you teach it not to throw and bite?
It was nearly two weeks before he turned on his phone again, and the sheer volume that lit up the screen almost made him shut it back down.
“Jesus Dean, where the fuck are you? What happened?!” Sam had obviously moved past anger to outright worry, Dean had the sense to feel guilty about that. “Cas said you just took off but he won’t tell me why and he’s acting really strange and—“
“Strange how, is he ok?” He heard Sam’s frustrated huff over the line.
“No he’s not ok, he keeps popping in and out of here like a gopher, it’s getting really irritating. Do you know he showed up in the bathroom while I was taking a shower just to ask which places you enjoyed visiting most as a child? I think he’s looking for you Dean.” He could just feel the disapproving look Sam had on his face right now, those ridiculous sad earnest eyes.
“Look, I’m really sorry man, I know I dropped the ball but I got some things that came up and I just got to handle them on my end for a bit. I’ll call you next week, I promise. Hey, how’d it go with Debby Does Jefferson Creek? “ At least he got Sam to laugh.
“It was…interesting. I don’t think those people knew what hit them. She just…you know what, I’ll tell you the whole story when you get back. You are coming back…right?” God he felt like a heel.
“Yeah Sammy, soon. I’m uh…I’m in Oregon right now, gonna head down the coast.” It was a lie, but he knew it would make his brother feel better. “You just, take care. And take care of Cas, too.” He hung up just in time, hoping against hope Sam hadn’t heard his voice begin to crack.
*
Whatever methods Dean had been using were effective, but not 100% of the time. There were no more dreams, which frustrated Castiel to no end for it was the only real way he had of communication. He wouldn’t answer the phone and was lying to his brother. Castiel was aware his increasingly irrational behavior was causing some measure of concern for the younger Winchester, so he thought it wise not to inform him that after a thorough search of the entire west coast, Dean was nowhere to be found.
Those first few days Sam had fretted that Dean might have come to some harm, and Castiel did what he could to assure him that Dean was ok, without going into too much detail as to how, exactly he knew.
He knew because, though Dean was making a concerted effort not to let his thoughts linger on the two of them together, Delia’s mark had burned too deep and no one can resist that pull all the time. So he got flashes, blinding shots of desire and image and sound that struck him like a bolt and then were gone before he was able to turn his full attention on them. It was worse in a way than the near continuous loop of shameless scenes he’d been forced to observe, for he could feel Dean fighting and knew it was costing him. If he could only find him, speak to him, but really he had nothing more to say. Castiel focused himself to the task of locating his human, all the while offering up his own silent prayer to the heavens.
God help Dean Winchester if I ever find him.
*
Three weeks later, somewhere in West Virginia, Dean was sitting on the back porch of another broken down house, just shy of a shack really, sipping his way through the first of his self-prescribed sleeping medication when something landed with a crash beside him. The planks splintered and cracked, but it was the loud ‘TADAAAHH!’ that sent the ducks and blue heron flapping to the sky. He nearly launched himself out of the seat in shock, realized who it was, then launched himself at her in anger. She was much quicker, merely twirled out of reach like a matador. Dean considered another attack, but thought better of it when he saw how smugly Delia smiled at him.
“How the fuck are you even standing here, I got this joint angel-proofed out.” Which was plainly evident from the spray painted sigils covering the porch, the walls, the doors and windows.
“Wow are you ever slow on the uptake. I told you, I’m not an angel sweetie, not even sexing cousins. But those aren’t really for me are they?” He scowled at her, wishing he had his gun just for the satisfaction it would give him to unload a few rounds into her chest. “You’re a stubborn thing aren’t you? I love a guy that plays hard to get.” She hopped up on the railing, swinging her legs and considering him for a moment. “As much fun as it’s been watching the Dean Winchester Heartbreak and Alcoholism Summer Tour, I think it’s time we got to the good stuff, the real nut up or shut up final act.”
“You stay away from me, I don’t want anything more from you.” He swept a hand at the lonely landscape. “Real bang up job with that blessing, this is the life I’ve always wanted, thanks.” He didn’t even see her move, but she was on him in the next breath.
“Tell me Dean, what exactly do you want? And you’ll have to be specific, I’m a bit of stickler for details.” He stuttered, gaping at the fierceness in those silver eyes he had only seen hints of, but was now focused entirely on him, through him. He could sense her raking those eyes through his soul and it was a feeling of terrible vulnerability. Her hand found the hem of his shirt, slid cool fingers up the skin of his stomach to rest on his sternum. Dean opened his mouth to protest, but the pain that shot through him at that spot took away the words. He grabbed her wrist, pulled and twisted but it would have been of more use on a statue. Just when he though the agony would make him black out, it began to fade until there was nothing left but a general sort of soreness.
“Wh-what was that?”
“Legal clause, cutie, to those sexy little carvings you got on your ribs. Now it states no angel may find you except…”
“Fuck!”
“That’s about the sum of it! You can thank me later. All aboard!” And when the world came back into focus, Dean was horrified.
“Bobby’s panic room?! Why the hell did you bring me here?” They were, in fact, now standing in the middle of the panic room as Dean eyed the open door.
“Why the hell are you whispering? Sam and Bobby are in Ohio hunting something with too many teeth and a foot fetish. They won’t be back for a while so if I were you…” And she was gone.
He could never be sure later what happened first. That he thought, loud and clear and with no will of his own to stop, the name he’d been trying to bury for five weeks, or that the angel himself appeared in the door.