He lied to him to get him into the back of the car. Well, he was actually telling the truth, Sam still needed healing but having Castiel suddenly right there, in front of him, had knocked his priorities sideways. It had knocked everything sideways.
Castiel, or not Castiel, had asked why he couldn’t sit shotgun and Dean had told him to just get in the back. He needed space to think. He didn’t all together trust himself.
“I beg your pardon?” Castiel said. Dean took a deep breath. Corrected himself. Emmanuel said.
“You don’t remember anything? Anything at all?” Dean was getting impatient. Not having Cas there was one thing but having him sit right there, staring back at him in the rear view mirror but not actually being Cas was something else all together, something he couldn’t handle.
“Nothing before I woke up...” Emmanuel started but he was interrupted.
“Don’t. I don’t need your life story, I can guess. You walked out of a reservoir soaking wet, bumped into whats-her-name and now you’re living the perfect life.” Dean pulled a face. He knew he was acting like a bitter, petulant child but he didn’t care.
“Actually, yes.” He looked confused. Of course he didn’t know what he’d missed, he couldn’t understand how Dean was feeling.
“Nothing about a civil war? Going darkside? Leaving me behind to clear up the mess?”
“I don’t...” Emmanuel looked even more confused.
“How about pulling me out of hell? Telling me I was special and that’s why I got to come back while other people had to stay dead?”
“Dean, I’m sorry but I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He sighed and Dean pulled the car over.
He couldn’t quite tell if he was frustrated because this Emmanuel couldn’t remember who he really was or if it was anger left over at how he and Cas had parted or if he even knew what he was feeling at all.
Everything that had collided in his head at seeing Castiel, happiness, relief, love, had been snatched away by a poor substitute for his Castiel replacing those feelings with disappointment, humiliation and grief all over again.
He wasn’t sure if he was thinking he would not let Castiel do this to him again or he would not let them do this to Castiel but he slid into the back seat next to what once had been his Castiel.
“Do you remember this?” He took Emmanuel by surprised when he kissed him and for a few seconds he could pretend nothing had happened. But as soon as Emmanuel regained his senses and realised what Dean was doing, he started struggling. Dean had to hold his head, keep him still and keep the illusion going.
Eventually he had to break the kiss to breathe and he ran the risk of losing him.
“What are you doing?” Emmanuel asked, breathless and wide-eyed. Almost like Castiel used to be.
“It’s ok. I’m going to make you remember who you are.” Dean whispered, convinced that if Castiel was in there somewhere, making love to him would bring him out.
He pressed his body against Emmanuel, keeping him pinned against the car door. He kissed him again to stop him protesting. He slid his hand between them, feeling for his cock and finding physical reassurance he was doing the right thing.
“See? You’re already starting to remember?” Dean said, palming his cock through his pants.
“I can’t help it. I don’t know why.” Emmanuel said shakily.
“It’s because we used to play games like this, you and me, in the back of my Impala. You’d struggle and moan and I’d tie your wrists with your own tie and pretend to take away your purity. You loved it, you’d beg for it.”
“And you’d wait until we’d finished before you healed up all the bites and the scratches and the bruises. You’d let me kiss each one better first.”
“What?” Emmanuel went from looking panicked back to looking confused.
Dean leant into his ear and whispered “You’re an Angel, Cas.”
“What?” He said again, trying to get his head round what Dean had said and it made him momentarily distracted. He let Dean kiss along his neck. He let him unzip his pants.
“These are honestly the most horrible pants I’ve ever seen, Cas.” Dean had got them half way off him before Emmanuel noticed and when he did, he started kicking, unknowingly making them come off easier. Dean smiled and took this as encouragement.
“If I am this Angel of yours, why don’t I remember you?” He asked, confusion and fear taking turns to be the dominant emotion.
Dean worked his hand under his shirt, one hand against his bare chest, holding him down so he could remove the shirt. Still holding him in place he took his underwear off as well, leaving him naked. He was so much like Castiel; it made Dean pause and suck in a sharp breath that hurt his chest. He was Castiel. Somewhere in there. Trapped under all this Emmanuel bullshit. He just had to bring him out.
He took Castiel’s, Emmanuel’s, cock in his hand and his struggling changed. It stopped being a real struggle. It was half hearted struggle of someone who knew that if they did get away, the hand on his cock would go away and the pleasure would stop. Dean watched as stroke by stroke, he won and Emmanuel’s head fell back against the window, his breath steaming it up.
While his eyes were closed, Dean leaned reached under one of the seats, thankful that past games with Castiel had taught him that it was just as important to keep lube nearby as it was a gun. He unscrewed the cap with his teeth, his other hand staying on Emmanuel’s cock, keeping him placid.
As soon as he felt the cold lube and Dean’s already coated fingers, he started struggling again.
“ Come on,” He said and Dean smiled at how beautifully his voice cracked, just like Cas’ used to. “There’s a difference between...this” He couldn’t seem to bring himself to admit to what he had let Dean do. “...and that.”
“There is. Trust me, this is even better.”
There was a moment of uncertainty and he stilled. “He liked this?”
“You liked this. You’ve just got to remember.”
Emmanuel let himself be pushed back down. He seemed to give up entirely, the bewilderment of being told who he was and Dean’s hand still working his cock taking all the fight out of him. “But you said he was an Angel.”
“You’d be surprised.” He remembered the first hand job he’d given Cas had gone down similarly to this. Castiel spent about five minutes protesting that it was sin and that he was above such base human needs, even if Dean wasn’t. So Dean had shoved his hand down his pants and that had ended that argument. It was the last time Castiel had ever said the word sin like it was a bad thing. Or claimed to be above any base human need, for that matter.
He smiled at the memory and pushed one finger inside him. Emmanuel squirmed at the sensation but Dean knew he was just getting used to it, not fighting it. Castiel used to squirm like that too, for the first minute or so. He pushes another finger inside and held him down as he squirmed more. Dean crooked his fingers, knowing exactly where to press them and he stops moving and cries out instead. He preps him like he used to prep Cas, almost forgetting that wasn’t exactly what he was doing.
He lets go of Emmanuel, now reaching for the button and zip of his own jeans. There’s a moment where Emmanuel looks up at him, slightly dazed from the fingering, while Dean fights with his jeans, his fingers sticky and slippery from the lube. For a minute Dean wonders if he’s going to help him or punch him and run, because now would be his chance. But he does neither; he just lies back and makes himself comfortable, waiting for Dean.
Dean finally gets his cock free and rubs the leftover lube from his hands onto it. He presses his body against Emmanuel’s again, it’s not the easiest of positions but he wants to watch his eyes, so that he can see the second Castiel returns to them.
He expects Castiel to return to him the instance his cock enters him, but he doesn’t. It still isn’t quite Cas. He’s too reluctant, too self-conscious, too...human. Castiel used to bring up his hips to meet Dean’s thrust and he used to moan on cue as Dean dragged his nails and his teeth over every bit of skin he could reach. Emmanuel doesn’t make a sound, other than his unsteady, ragged breathing. He’s holding himself back, Dean thought, so he grasped his cock again, firmer this time, determined to make him come. If he came, he’d have to loosen that tight self-control he had and then Castiel could surface and shake off this human persona that was holding him back.
He twists his wrist just at the right second and runs his thumb over the head, like he’d done a hundred times. Knowing Castiel’s body nearly better than his own, he watches as it starts to glow, the Grace inside filling up the vessel, nearly to breaking point. Dean laughs slightly hysterically, this had to be it. This had to be him. Really him.
He feels Emmanuel’s, Castiel’s, come drip over his hand as he comes himself, the contracting of Castiel’s muscles around him tipping him over an edge he was already hanging off of.
When he comes down, he pulls out of Emmanuel forgetting for a moment that he hadn’t been Cas all along. Then he notices the strange way he was looking at him and he see light, real light in those blue eyes.
“I remember you. I remember everything.” He said and Dean breathed, at last he knew that he’d gotten his Castiel back.
He paused for a second, not reassured by the way Castiel had said everything. Did he still think Dean cared about purgatory and the souls, the Leviathan? Or did he mean the last hour? Dean was suddenly very aware of what he’d done, what he’d be willing to do a thousand times over if it meant having Castiel back.
But the moment passed and Castiel grabbed a fistful of his shirt, pulling him flush against him so he could kiss him.