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The Oscularum Inflame

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The streetlights flashed across Dean’s face, as they drove down the never-ending highway. Castiel stares at the shadows across Deans face, caught in a half exhausted trance of thinking how strange it is that the darkness seems to be playing tag across this man’s face, and what the purpose of keeping his eyes open any longer, is. In the backseat he hears Sam’s steady snores turn into a groans, and Castiel finds himself shaking his head, looking away from the shadows.

“I trust you slept pleasantly?” Castiel asks, turning to look at Sam, who is positioned awkwardly in the backseat, to fit.

“Well enough, Cas, thanks. My neck fricken’ hurts, though. Must have been the angle.” Sam rubs it momentarily, then attempts to stretch in the confided space. “Ughh. My legs are killing me.” The noise he makes sounds truly inhuman. “Where we at?”

“I saw a sign for an exit coming up in a few miles for some town called Bloomington. I don’t know, some place in Illinois. About 400, or so miles away from Branson.” Dean glances at Sam in the review mirror, and chuckles. “Think we’ll stop there for the night.”

Castiel turns and looks at Dean, feeling his own eyes drooping, slightly. Castiel catches him giving a quick sideways glance, and sees his jaw tightening. He sighs, turning his head away. He knows Dean is disappointed in him. He is weak, pathetic, and almost human. He can feel himself growing more and more exhausted as the days wear on. He knows he is getting sick, but this type of sickness has no cure that he can possibly imagine. What good is a sickly-fading-angel to the Winchesters? Just another burden. And the brothers had so much already.

“..good with that, Cas?” Castiel doesn’t turn to Deans voice, instead places his forehead on Baby’s window.

“Good with what, Dean?” His breath fogs the window, as he speaks, voice deep, raspy, heavy with the threat of sleep. The cool of the window feels nice against his warm forehead.

“We’re going to find a place to crash, then grab a bite to eat.” He hears Dean adjust something, or fidget. Castiel is too exhausted to turn around to bother to look, and just sighs. “We’ll probably head out early tomorrow morning. We need to get to Branson and figure out what’s going on. My money is on ghost.”

Castiel hums a reply, and silence fills the car. Sam coughs twice in the backseat, then sounds like he’s trying to stretch again. An anger filled huff escapes Deans lips, and he starts fiddling with radio trying to find some suitable station, as Castiel feels the car turn on the exit. His eyes feel like they have weights pulling them down, and succumbs to the pull. Blackness greats him, as Enter Sandman blares on the background.

~ ~ ~

Dean parks Baby in front of some motel Sam had given him directions to, after they got off the exit. He runs a hand through his hair, turning to look at Cas slumped over, passed out, and sighs heavily.

“I’m going to get us checked in.” His brother says, climbing out of the car.

The sound of the door closing doesn’t even make the angel twitch, he notices. It makes him worry even more about what is really going on with Castiel. He hasn’t really had a chance to talk to him since the last hunt, but that had been about a week ago. Wasn’t really like talking, more like screaming at him to use his angel mojo on some demon behind him, and after he did he collapsed. He was hardly able to walk after that. It seemed he’d been steadily getting weaker and weaker. Hell, angels don’t even sleep! He’s never known his angel to ever sleep, and here he is, drooling all over his Baby.

A knock at the window snaps him out of his thoughts, and Dean opens his door. “All checked in, Room 8.” Sam holds up a key, and Dean steps out, shivering slightly as the cool November air hits his skin. Closing the door behind him, they walk to the back of the car, opening the trunk pulling out their bags to take inside their rooms. Sam shifts from foot to foot, casting sideways looks at his brother.

“What is it Sammy?” He asks, shutting the trunk a little too hard and turning around to face his brother. The wind blows around them lightly; skittering stray leaves are heard scratching across the parking lot.

“He’s asleep.” Dean throws his duffle bag over his shoulder, and gives Sam a cold stare.

“I got that, yeah. He’s asleep.” Sam rolls his eyes at Dean. “What do you want from me? I don’t know what the hell is going on with him. You have ideas?”

“Not really, but he hasn’t said anything to you?” Sam looks up at Dean with suspicious eyes. “After he ganked that last demon, he just..” Sam’s voice trails away, and he looks past Dean’s shoulder with a concerned look on his face.

Dean sighs, running a hand down over his face, shifting his duffle bag to the other shoulder. “No. We haven’t really gotten a chance to talk. Not like it’s something he can hide.” He glances to the front of the car where Castiel is sleeping. “But its late, I’m starving. Let’s just get Cas up, our crap inside, and get some food to talk this over with, hm?”

“Yeah, sure.” Sam nods, sighing, looking up at his brother, then back at the motel. . “You go wake him up, I’ll meet you guys in the room.”

Dean watches Sam walk towards their motel room, then Dean walks up to the passenger side door. He knocks on the window, waiting for Castiel to move. He doesn’t even twitch. Frustrated, he grabs the door handle, opening it, thinking he is going to give hell, and get some answers. Castiel gasps awake, half suspended outside the car, only to be held inside by his seatbelt.

“Wha-wha-what is going on?! Where are we?” He looks up at Dean with wide, innocent bright blue eyes. Deans breath catches, unable to stop staring, How is it Dean always forgets how damn blue those eyes are? “Dean?” Cas sits up, unbuckling his seatbelt, and proceeding to half step, half fall outside of the Impala. Dean, out of knee jerk reflex, throws a hand out to grab his arm, keeping him from falling over. Castiel regains his balance, standing up, Dean’s hand still firmly gripping his arm. He tilts his head, staring at Dean quizzically. “Are you feeling okay?” Castiel he steps closer to Dean, making Dean drop his hand from his arm, and his sudden closeness jolts Dean back from the angel.

“Hey! I’m fine!” He says a little bit too harshly. Immediately regretting his tone, seeing how Castiel’s eyes are filled with hurt. Dean lowers his voice. “Look, we found a motel and we’re going to put our stuff in our room, then go and get something to eat, alright?” He looks the angel up and down. It might be the darkness, but it looks almost like he’s sweating. Dean’s eyes soften, and he smiles a little. “C’mon. Let’s get you inside where it is warm.”

“It is rather..Cold, isn’t it?” Castiel whispers, nodding slightly.

Dean’s free arm goes under Castiels arms to help support him, and Castiel leans against Dean, his head slightly resting on Dean’s shoulder. Dean’s lips twitch up into a slow smile, pulling him closer. Castiel lets out a small sigh, wrapping his arm around Dean’s waist. Taking their time, they slowly approach the door. Dean ends up half holding him up, half carrying Castiel the short distance, stumbling with the angel. They reach their red flaking door, with a bronze 8 hanging lazily from it. Dean steals a look at Castiel, and can’t help but feel a tug at his heart. Castiel shivers, shifting closer to Dean, and his small fades. As incredible as these short moments of closeness can be, the harsh reality always has to come back around quicker than ever. Dean reluctantly pulls his arm from under Castiel’s arms, reaching for the doorknob, pushing the unlocked door open. Sam greets them, with a warming smile, busily fussing with something in his bag. Castiel slowly lifts his head off Dean’s shoulder, it lolling a bit, and his hand slightly lingers around his waist. He looks up at Dean, his blue eyes making Dean’s heart skip a beat. His eyes trace over the angel’s face, and he notices for the first time sweat glistening from his forehead. Dean’s face immediately drops into worry, as Castiel pulls away from his waist, and then begins to sway walking away from him to the bed. It leaves Dean feeling empty and cold. He shakes his head, shutting the door. When did he get to be such a damn chick?

“I think I’m just going to stay here and rest.” Castiel sits on the edge of the bed, looking at the floor.

Sam and Dean exchange looks, in which Sam raises his eyebrows just shrugs. Dean gives him an exasperated expression, then finally sighs, throwing his duffle back on the bed next to Castiel.

“Fine, but you’re not wearing that crap to sleep in.” Dean said, digging through his duffle back next to Castiel. “And you’re taking the bed. I’ll take the couch tonight.”

Castiel looks up at Dean, through his lashes. Dean glances at Castiel, pausing looking for a shirt. “Thank you, Dean.” Castiel smiles, slowly, eyes crinkling.

Dean could get lost in those damn eyes forever.

Sam coughs, walking over to the little motel table to set down his laptop. Dean shakes his head to snap him out of it, and goes back to digging through his duffle bag. Finding what he needs, he pulls out an old band shirt and some pajama pants, and throws them beside Castiel.

“We’re just going to some diner a little ways away. We can bring you something back if ya want? We won’t be gone long, Cas.” Dean plays with the motel room key, stalling by the door.

“Dean, I’m fine. I just need rest. You do not need to bring me any food back. I will be well asleep by then. Thank you for the clothing. I will see you in the morning, of course.” Castiel smiles at Dean, blue eyes shining brightly at him.

“Yeah, alright, I guess. See you in the morning.” He waves as he turns and shuts the door on the angel.

Dean walks up to the Impala, and gets behind the wheel, pushing the keys into the car. She purrs to life, and he pulls out into the road. He has felt Sam’s eyes on him this whole time, but has chosen to ignore them.

“There’s a diner a few miles down the road, got some good reviews.” Sam says.

“Sounds good.” Dean glances in the review mirror, no real reason. Just to avoid his annoying brother and his nagging silence.

Sam gives Dean directions, and they make it there fifteen minutes. They have to park a street over, due to only having on street parking. Dean was not happy. Luckily, they got seated right away. After they get seated, Sammy looks at Dean with questioning eyes.

“So, Cas..” Sam asks, putting down his menu.

“What about him Sammy? Hasn’t changed in the last 45 minutes. Unless you have come up with some magical cure not even the angels knows about. He’s still sicker than shit, and sleeping!” Dean stares at the menu, not really reading it. “He can’t even walk without hardly falling over!”

“Um..You guys..need a minute, or ..something?” Dean snaps his head up to look at a perky looking blond hair, blue eyed waitress staring wide-eyed at them.

“I’m going to take a piss. Order me whatever burger looks good, fries, no veggies! Beer.” Dean gets up, and walks away towards the bathroom.

Trusting Sam to order was probably a mistake, probably, but he can’t keep having the same dead end conversation over and over, with his brother in less and twenty-four hours. Obviously whatever is going on with Cas is something not even he himself knows. Without retracing steps, or research, he’s too tired to go guessing a bunch of “might be’s”, just to buy time. He wants answers. He wants his angel to not feel, or look like shit. He just wants something to go right for them, for once. Is that so much to ask?

Dean opens the bathroom door, and quickly locks it behind him. He leans against the door, resting his head on the back it letting his eyes fall closed for just a moment. In that moment, everything is stilled. Everything is okay. He pushes off the door, opening his eyes, walking to the sink. He leans over the sink, turning the cold water on. Filling up his hands, he splashes the water on his face. He looks up at his reflection. Someone older, with tired eyes, black circles underneath looks back. Dean huffs, drying his face off with his sleeve, then turns away. He unlocks the door, stepping out. He turns to walk back to the table, immediately bumping right into the blond waitress, whom is carrying a tray of drinks. Everything goes crashing to the ground. A few people that are in the diner clap.

“Oh! I’m sorry, sir! I should’ve watched where I was going!” The girl frantically jumps back a little, bending down to put some broken glass on her tray.

“Shit! Sorry, damnit. Let me help you!” Dean bends down, and starts gathering broken glass together.

Together, they get most of the bigger pieces on her tray, and most of the mess. He stands up, looking over at her sheepishly, rubbing his neck. She puts the tray on the nearest empty table, then attacks Dean in a hug. Her hands find themselves buried inside his jacket, her face buried in his chest.

“Whoa there! Hey. It’s no biggie. Listen. I’m sorry about the mess.” He pushes the girl back a little, looking down at her. She looks up at him, eyes almost as blue as Castiel’s. Almost. He swallows, mouth suddenly dry.

“Thank you so much, sir. Not many people are nice to me, like you.” She smiles, shyly, tilting her head.

“Listen, it’s not a big deal. I’m going to go find my brother.” Dean edges away from the girl. As he walks away, he swears he can feel her eyes on the back of him.

Dean sits back down, ignoring Sam’s raised eyebrows, closing his eyes and rubs his forehead. “Demons I get. People..People are crazy.”

Sam snorts, taking a sip of his water. “I’ll give you that much, man.” His nose crinkles a little bit. “Our waitress was fricken’ weird.” He takes another sip.

Dean cracks open one eye, looking at Sam. “Our waitress? The blond?” Sam nods. “How so?”

Sam shrugs. “I dunno. I made some sort of joke, and she laughed. But then she full out wrapped her arms around my waist, and hugged me. Something about how I’m super nice.” He shrugged again.

Dean went ahead and told Sam what had happened to him, and his interaction with the waitress. “Now, hear me out.” Sam starts. Dean glares at his empty beer bottle, wondering where the waitress is to get him another. “What if this is just how normal people act. And we are just too jaded to realize?” Dean just stares at him, wondering if it’d be totally illogical to just throw the empty bottle at his brothers’ head.

“You are just are ridiculous as that waitress! Normal people don’t go around throwing their arms around complete strangers, well, like that at least.” Dean angrily huffs, seeing another waitress he flags her over. “Hey, can I get another.” He holds up his beer.

“Sure thing, sugar.” She winks at him, taking his empty bottle.

Sam raises his eyebrows, tilting his head towards the waitress, Dean rolls his eyes. “Whatever. They’re paid to be nice, then!” Sam laughs, going back to sipping his water. Dean breathes a sigh of relief that the subject of Cas has just been dropped.


~ ~ ~ Sleep was coming in waves. The darkness would overtake him, and then all at once, it would spit him back out, leaving him, literally, gasping for air. Which is where he was, sitting up, clutching his chest, wondering what was happening to him. Castiel was soaked in sweat, and contemplating getting up and walking to the sink for a glass of water, when he heard the key in the door. He glanced at the clock, wondering if maybe Dean or Sam had forgotten something. It hadn’t been that long since they had left. Maybe they had forgotten something?

The door opens, and Dean walks through closing and locking it behind him. Castiel tilts his head, shivering slightly at the slight chill that sneaks in. Dean saunters in, tossing his jacket on the spare bed beside Castiel’s, all the while staring at him. He walks over the bed Castiel is laying in, and sits down at the end.

“Hello Dean.” Castiel says, pulling himself up sit against the back of the headboard. “Where is Sam?”

“Oh Sammy. He stayed behind..” Dean licks his lips, his gaze goes up and down Castiel’s body in an obvious sort of way, to where it makes Castiels cheeks blush. Something when he was his full angel self that would never happen.

“Well since I’m up, you can have the bed, I’ll take the couch. It’s no big-“ Dean, suddenly, starts to crawl up the bed towards Castiel, his bright green eyes fixated on his, then rests a finger across Castiel’s lips.

“I was thinking we could share the bed..” Castiel’s face reaches a whole new level of warm, not just from being ill. Dean slowly drags his finger down Castiel lips, making them come apart, and then trails his fingertips along his jaw line.

Castiel clears his throat, trying to compose himself. “Dean..” Dean smiles, dimples popping out, making him even more beautiful. Dean sits up, straddling Castiel now, slightly grinding his hips against Castiel’s. Castiel bites his lower lip, trying to figure out if this is really happening or not. Maybe his fever has just made him start hallucinating? Somewhere inside his mind, something is telling him something is wrong. He tries to shut it off. All he wants is Dean.

“Hey Cas?” Dean leans forward, pressing his forehead to his.

“Hmm?” Castiel closes his eyes, enjoying the closeness of Dean. His warmth. His scent. That stupid car smell, mixed with leather from his coat, and what is that other smell..?

“Still feeling under the weather? Weak?” Deans breath kisses across Castiels face. Something in the..tone was off.

“Still..the same, I suppose. Why do you ask?” Castiel opens his eyes, as Dean leans forward, putting either hand on the headboard behind Castiel.

“Excellent.” Dean whispers, his lips just a breath away from his, and he finds himself holding his breath, staring up at those bright green eyes, unable to react.

“Excellent?” Castiel’s eyes narrowed, and he moves his arms to push, whoever this is, away. But, Dean grabs them and starts chuckling.

“You see, angel.” Dean slams his arms above Castiels head against the headboard. Castiel flinches, slightly at the pain. “When I heard an angel was in town-a weakened angel no less-well, hell! That’s something worth looking into!” He tips his head back laughing, and then looks back down at Castiel glaring at Dean. “Oh, don’t get sour on me now, we were defiantly just getting to the good stuff! I’m still your little hunter crush.” He winks, leaning back down, nose to nose with Castiel, squeezing his wrists tightly. “Wouldn’t you just love to know I feel the exact same way? I’ve been dying to do this for years, angel!” He smirks, as Castiel tries to pull his remaining grace for strength.

Dean leans in, pushing his lips onto his. Caught off guard, Castiel gasps, thrashing his body back and forth, trying to get his arms free, or at least loosened. Seeing the opening, Dean forces his tongue in, nearly gagging Castiel. Finding it within himself, Castiel summons the most of his grace he can, and rips his arms free. He pushes Dean off him, throwing him against a dresser across the room. Castiel throws the covers off himself standing up, thinking he needs to find the real Dean and Sam. Dizziness hits, and he grabs the edge of the spare bed in front of himself to steady himself, as his vision begins to spin and darken.

“No!” Castiel snarls, as his legs begin to become uneasy. “No! No! No!” He hears a soft chuckle behind him.

“Have I ever told you how utterly delicious you look in my clothes? Because, hot damn Cas. You look good enough to just eat up.” Castiel knows Dean is right behind him, by his voice. He knows there isn’t a damn thing he can do, anymore.

“These aren’t your clothes.” He hisses, letting go of the edge of the bed trying to walk towards the door and stumbling as the room spins.

Dean chuckles, grabbing his elbow and twisting it. Hard. “They are tonight. Just like you’re going to be mine.” Castiel tries to jerk his arm away, but to no avail. He is too drained from using what little grace he had left, along with already being weakened. He can feel it-humanity. Weak. Pathetic. Unable to do anything against, what he is coming to assume, a shifter. Castiel hears something slide against fabric, but closes his eyes trying to get the room to stop spinning, thinking of some way to get away. Dean yanks Castiel against his chest, and he opens his eyes, looking up at the green. Castiel’s mouth dry’s, as his stomach twists. Those green eyes belong to his righteous man he pulled from Hell. Those eyes belong to the one he fought beside for years, saving so many lives. He feels something cool begin to get wrapped around his wrists. He looks down and sees Deans belt being woven over his wrists. He pulls on the leather tight, and Castiel winces at the burn.

“You and I, angel. We’re going to have some fun.” He head butts Castiel, sending him stumbling backwards the backs of his knees hitting the bed, he falls over.

Castiel groans, and rolls over off the bed onto the ground. He tries to stand up, but with his bound hands and even his eyes closed, the darkness is spinning, making it impossible. His head is throbbing, his body feels drained of life. He hears a zipper, and opens his eyes, looking up over towards the noise. He sees Dean shirtless, slowly shimming out of his pants and boxers. His smile curves into a dangerous smirk.

“Enjoying the show?” Dean kicks away the jeans, and walks over to Castiel, pathetically splayed out on the ground. “Oh, I know you did.” Castiel pulls both his legs back, and aims for Dean’s knees. Dean laughs, and steps aside easily. “Into that kind of Foreplay? You’re such a kinky fucker.” He winks, reaching down grabbing Castiel’s wrists, yanking him up, and tossing him back onto the bed, easily.

“Fuck you! They’re going to come back and kill you!” Castiel spits out, trying to roll away, only to be stopped by a hand pushing down on his chest. His hands, though bound, swing and hit pointlessly at his hand. Like a gnat. A pathetic, human. Weak.

“Now, now, angel. You hurt my feelings. You think I haven’t set up some sort plan in all this.” Dean leans over Castiel, his other hand hovers over Castiel’s stomach. “I’ve thought of everything. I’ve taken the car, stealing the keys from Dean was actually relatively easy.” He licks his lips. “As well as the motel key.” His eyes glint with humor. “And now I have you.” His hand rests on the top of the pajama bottoms, fingers sliding under the top ever so slightly. His fingers begin to tug the pajama bottoms down, and Castiel bites his bottom lip, hard. He digs the heels of his feet into the mattress.

“Fuck off, you have nothing!” Castiel snarls, reaching with his bound hands for the lamp beside the table.

Dean catches his hands, knocking the lamp off the table onto the floor, casting the room in awkward shadows. Dean twists his hands in a painful angel making Castiel scream out. Dean just laughs. “You’re worse than a human. At this point they’d just give up. You just don’t know when you’re beat, do you?” Dean rips his pajama pants the rest of the way off, and climbs on top of him.

Castiel glares at the fake Dean that has climbed on top of him. The shadows that the fallen lamp has cast across his face remind him, vaguely, of those in the car not too long ago. The similarity is too much, right now. Castiel feels his vision beginning to spin again. He squeezes his eyes shut, tight. Seconds later, Dean has gripped him and thrown him around, laying him on his stomach.

“Now, you’re going to be a good little angel, and just take it, until I’m good, got it?” Deans whispers next to Castiel’s ear, leaning down against his back.

An unexpected punch greeted the side of his face, sending black stars into Castiel’s vision. He groans, trying to pull himself across the bed with his bound hands. Castiel hisses as a sharp pain-abruptly-pricks the side of his neck. He tries to yank his body away, but hands hold his shoulders in place, and he feels a tongue, now, licking up from his neck to his jaw line closer to his ear. All the while, Dean is grinding into him from behind, fully hard. Castiel tries to push up, knocking the fake Dean off him. It is all pointless. He knows it. He is weak, useless. He can’t even save himself.

Dean laughs softly in his ear, slowly sliding one hand down Castiel’s body, wrapping it around his own dick. “I’m going to fuck you until you bleed, because you do that now. If you so much as try and fight me, I’ll make it hurt so much more than it needs to. Oh, and when he sees you, he won’t ever want to touch you, again. Useless. Couldn’t even save yourself. Pathetic. ” Castiel feels his blood pound in his ears. This can’t be happening. Why is this happening? This doesn’t make any sense?

“Why are-” Castiel starts to say, but Dean cuts off him off with another fist to the back of the head.

“When I heard you, famous angel who travels with the Winchester’s, wasn’t doing so hot, I thought this was it! I had my chance at revenge! Just to get back at them for all the shit we have to put up with.” Dean sits up, spitting in his hand, then rubbing it on his dick. “Oh but this.. In love with a fucking angel?” Castiel groans, trying to keep the blackness away, not focus on the words spilling out of the lips of man he yearns would actually walk through the door, right now. The darkness keeps spreading at his vision. He tries to sit up, again, Dean raises his fist, then brings it down on the side of his head. “Don’t fucking try and get up!” He spreads Castiel’s cheeks, with one head, and holds his dick with the other lining it up with Castiel’s hole. Dean spits down on it, and then pushes the head of his dick in. Castiel grits his teeth, hands fisting the sheets underneath him, trying not to focus on the burning. Dean continues thrusting, dryly, more adamantly, going more and more deeper. Castiel can’t hold back a whimpered cry that escapes, and he hates himself for it.

Dean pauses his thrusts, and Castiel hears Dean spit again, and feels the liquid hit his ass, slowly sliding down towards where Dean is inside him. Dean leans over his back, again, thrusting bringing his hand under Castiel, grabbing his flaccid dick. Castiel gasps, blinking back tears, and dizziness. Black stars dance around his edges, and he pants trying not to scream out in pain. But it hurts. It feels like his body is being ripped in two, from the inside out. It feels like its burning, Dean is the cause of the fire. But no..that isn’t right..

“N-n-n-no!” He tries to jerk his body to the side, trying to knock Dean away. Dean just laughs softly in reply stroking him, in reply.

Castiel groans, every feeling is wrong. Every sensation is too much. Dean is still thrusting inside him, and it hurts. It fucking hurts. He can hear the slapping of his skin as Dean hits his ass, and something wet mixed in there, that he’s trying to convince himself it’s not blood. Dean’s breath is tickling his ear, making his hair stand up on end. He knows it’s not really Dean, but it feels like Dean. And he smells like Dean. Dean’s hand around his dick, oh fuck, he knows it’s wrong, but it feels so fucking good.

“”Castiel tries to covey his thoughts, but nothing really forms properly. He doesn’t want this. This is all wrong. He can’t stop this, and it’s tearing him apart.

“I-I knew you w-were a kinky fuck. I k-knew you liked it rough.” Dean sputters, quickening his thrusts. His jerks become more erratic, and quick. “You going to come for me, angel?”

Castiel sobs out a moan, unable to contain it, as he tips over the edge, coming, hating himself for it. His body is responding, purely on human instinct. His grip on the sheets tightens, and he hears Dean moan, then something warm pours into his ass. Dean collapses on top of him, breathing heavily. Castiel’s body is shaking with sobs, unable to stop. Dean rips out of him, and Castiel flinches at the sudden fresh pain. He hears the sound of what sounds like clothing being put on, but he can’t bring himself to look. The darkness is coming for him, and he’s welcoming it. Anything, just to escape this pain that’s screaming all over his body.

“Oh, and Cas?” Castiel forces his body turn on the side, flinching at how everything just hurt so much. His eyes barely open just in time to see the butt of a gun, right before it connects with the side of his head, and everything fades to black.