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In the End (It's Him and I)

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In the End (It’s Him and I)


You ever have a moment where you feel like you’re being followed? When you accidentally cut someone off and then they seem to be following you for the five minutes they’re going the same direction as you, your adrenaline kicks in and you prepare for the worst. You’ve seen the stories on the news. Road rage drivers who tail someone, just to shoot them with a crossbow when you finally come to a stop.


And then they turn left when you go right and you chastise yourself for ever being so paranoid?


George was having one of those days. He had had an uneasy feeling all day. Like he was being watched. Which was ridiculous, he knew that. Who the hell would be watching a certified public accountant nobody from a random office supply facilitator? But since he’d left his house that morning, he couldn’t shake that uneasy feeling.


At one point, George was so paranoid that he took the long way to his office building from the parking lot. And throughout the course of the day, even in the safety of his office, once in a while, he’d get the feeling of being watched. It was crazy and he tried to convince himself as such.


So, he really shouldn’t have been surprised when that night, as he was getting into his car by the light of the flickering street lamp, two men accosted him, tying him up, gagging him, and roughly shoving him into the trunk of their classic car.


George had been on edge all day and it still hadn’t prepared him for living out an episode of True Crime on ID . As he stared up at the blackness of the trunk, wondering how long before his wife would realize he was missing and if that length of time would mean he could get out of this alive, he felt the vehicle start to slow down.


When the trunk was opened, he couldn’t see the faces of his kidnappers from the brightness of a flashlight being shone in his eyes.


“Should we knock him out first and get everything set up, or just leave him in the trunk?” One of the men asked.


George could hear the sounds of a gun being cocked echoing around him. But he heard very little other sound, other than the damn cicadas. Which meant they’d taken him somewhere remote. Maybe he’d get out of this with an illegal organ procurement and his life in tact. If he was lucky. But today was proof George was anything but lucky.


"We better keep an eye on him," the other man replied in a gruff and monotone voice.


“Alright, well, work your magic. Knock his ass out.”


The gruff guy got closer and the last thing George felt was the fist of the guy making contact with his head like a freight train. And then everything went black.


…. :::: :::: ….


When George came to, he wasn't gagged anymore, but he was tied to a shitty metal chair in an abandoned barn. There were candles and weird, satanic-looking drawings and things all around him on the floor and on the ceiling above. As his blurry vision came into focus, he saw the two men.


One was wearing a dark green Army-type of jacket, a flannel shirt and jeans, while the other was in a full suit and trench coat.


“If you let me go, I have some money. I can get it for you, but please don’t hurt me.”


The taller of the two men scoffed and looked at his friend with a quirked brow. “Bribery. That’s new.”


The guy in the trench coat, who looked rather handsome for a possible serial killer, frowned deeply at him before he growled, "We're not interested in your money."


“Are… I’m not anybody. I don’t have anything of value and I promise I won’t report you. Please, just let me go. I have a family!” George tried to plead with them.


“Gotta say, Cas. He’s going all out with his performance.”


"They are never very cooperative though, Dean." The man – Cas (what a weird name) – answered.


The other guy – Dean apparently – scoffed as he pulled out a bizarre and jagged knife. “Want the honors?” he asked with a wave in George’s direction.


Oh, no. He was going to die. They had a knife and they would hurt him. He still hoped this all was a joke.


The weirdest part was the way Cas was looking at Dean with an almost soft smile, like he had just given him a bunch of flowers instead of offering a knife. These guys must be psychopaths!


"Thank you, Dean." Another shy glance as he took the knife.


As he drew closer, George tried pleading with them again, “Please, I have a wife and kids. Please let me go.”


The guy in the trenchcoat tilted his head before he twirled the knife in his hand. "You don't have a family. You just stole this life from a man called George."


Oh, these two were full-blown nutjobs. George shook his head. “My name is George Bailey. I live in a three bedroom house off of Clinton. My wife’s name is Mary. I have two children, Janet and David. Please, you must have me confused with someone else!”


“Shit, Cas,” the other guy murmured, “he has no idea.”


“The demon is hiding in him. We could force it out by hurting the vessel.”


“What?” George cried out. He didn’t know what something like that would entail, but he couldn’t imagine it was anything good. “My wife’s a psychiatrist, she can help you! Both of you!”


Dean ignored George and approached Cas with a small smile. “Come on, then. Impress me.”


Cas twirled the knife in his hand again before he stabbed him through the back of his hand. The shock and pain was so overwhelming he nearly vomited.


“Please!” George cried out before everything went black. After a beat, he cracked the neck of his meatsuit and regarded the Blunder Twins with a smirk. “Dean Winchester and his pet angel. To what do I owe this honor?”


The angel didn’t hesitate striking him square in the face with his elbow. "What are you up to?"


“Whatever do you mean?” he asked in a feigned innocent tone as he spat the blood from his injured lip on the angel’s shoes.


Dean drew closer and threw holy water in his face.


He hissed. Man, he forgot how much that shit hurt!


“Demons haven’t been top side since your new boss took over. What the fuck are you doing here?” The grouchy hunter demanded.


“I’m trying to have a life?” he offered with a smirk.


“Bullshit. What’s your game?” Dean scowled at him.


“Backgammon usually.”


Dean sighed and looked to his pet angel. “Hurt him.”


The angel, again, didn't hesitate and punched him in the face. The sound of cartilage cracking echoed around them. He chuckled. "He really has you on a tight leash, huh? Like a trained dog? Can you sit on command? We already know how well you play dead."


At that, Dean clocked him upside the head with his flask of holy water. “We can make this quick and relatively painless if you cooperate.”


"Yeah, go fuck yourself. Or your pet." He had definitely noticed the weird vibe between those two.  


Dean let out a sarcastic laugh and splashed some more holy water in his face. “I could do this all day and when I’m tired, my friend can take over and go, hell… What? Until the end of time. Right, Cas?”


"Probably even longer." He gave Dean a tiny smile. It was disgusting.


"Ugh, please kill me already," he complained dryly, "at least then I won't have to watch the heart eyes soap channel in flannel."


Dean decked him and drew closer to the angel. “What? Don’t like this?” He then proceeded to make kissy faces at Cas before he started cooing at him.


It would have probably been more impressive if the angel wasn't looking at the hunter like he had lost all of his marbles. "I think your pet only likes it doggy style." He smirked, enjoying provoking them on a fundamental level.


At that, the hunter whipped out an angel blade and cut right across his chest. He hated that he screamed, but those fucking things hurt. Dean chuckled and smirked. “Not so mouthy now, are you?”


"Why, don't you like mouths?" He waggled his eyebrows, trying to breathe normally. Fuck, everything hurt, but it was still manageable. "I bet you love your pet's thick lips? Did you ever use him? There’s a bet going on downstairs that you do."


“You know, you keep mouthing off, digging at us being gay for each other like that’s gonna hurt our feelings. News flash, ain’t anything we haven’t heard before, from smarter demons than you. So how about you start tellin’ us something we haven’t heard, like why the fuck you’re top side.”


“I like the view.”


Cas tapped Dean's shoulder with a raised eyebrow. "We have a bag of salt in the trunk."


Dean nodded and gave him a sickeningly sweet smile. He feigned a gag at the pair of them. Dean rounded on him with a glare. “Cut it out or I’ll make out with him in front of you.”


He noticed the look on the angel's face and snickered. "Empty threats. You're too chicken shit to try that. Probably scared to find out that you'd like it."


Dean turned to Cas and shook his head in amazement. “When the fuck did this turn into a game of truth or dare?”


The angel tilted his head. “What’s that?”


He cackled. "Yeah, Dean, explain it to your pet!"


“I’m gonna fuckin’ kill him,” Dean grumbled as he turned back to Cas. “Just grab the salt and we’ll get down to business.”


The angel nodded and left the building. He grinned at the hunter. "He is such an innocent angel. I bet it's fun to corrupt him."


“I’m sorry, did you and I suddenly become besties? Demon,” Dean said as he pointed at him, before pointing to himself as he continued, “hunter. I’m here to torture you. So let’s cut the chit chat, unless you plan on telling me what the fuck you’re doing here.”


He shrugged. “You wouldn’t get it anyway. So just kill me.”


The hunter chuckled darkly and twirled the angel blade in his hands. “That’s where you’re wrong.”


"You know what? George's death is on you. You could have just exorcised me, but no, you had to interrogate me. I mean, the angel obviously doesn't care about one human life, but I thought at least you would."


“And you do? We’re not gonna kill him, and he’s not even gonna know he was ever in pain, because my angel buddy’s gonna fix him right up. This ain’t our first rodeo.” Dean scoffed and turned to look back at the door. Probably praying to that winged dick to hurry up or something.


"What if I snap his neck? I don't need him to be alive to possess his meat suit," he taunted.


Dean chuckled and quirked his brow. “Then we really won’t have a reason to take it easy on you. And I’d like to see you try. Even if you untied your hands, there’s a bullet with a devil’s trap inside both of your palms. Good luck lifting those bad boys.”


“I don't need my hands to snap a neck." He grinned. "If you want to save the guy, you should just let me go. Or is this human worth nothing to you?"


The angel appeared back in the doorway with a bag of salt, carrying it over to the hunter. “Any news?”


Dean sighed. “No. And now he’s threatening to kill George to prove a point. What that point is, I don’t know.”


"My point is that you're very bad people," he sing-songed, "poor George is going to die, if you don't let me go."


Cas squinted his eyes at him. "Why did you possess him? There is nothing unusual about him."


“Maybe that’s the point,” he said with a sigh and looked up at the ceiling. “Hey, I'm bored. How about you two kiss and give me a show, and I’ll tell you everything. I like good porn and your angel is kind of handsome."


Dean looked at Cas and growled, “Got any angel tricks to really hurt him without killing the poor bastard he’s possessing?”


Cas shook his head. “Everything I would do is absolute.”


The demon snickered. “Yeah, angels aren’t the most subtle tools. That’s why they use humans like you to do their dirty work.”


Without missing a beat, Dean snatched the bag of salt and grabbed a funnel. “Well, I was taught by the best,” he quipped as he stepped closer and roughly grabbed his chin, forcing the funnel in his mouth before he started pouring salt in it.


It fucking burned like Hell, and yes that pun was intended. He tried to scream, but his lungs were filling with the salt as he watched the surreal picture of the angel giving the hunter a loving smile, all while the guy was torturing him. These two really were psychopaths!


Dean yanked the funnel from his mouth and smirked down at him. “Feel like talkin’ yet?”


He coughed against the salt and glared at Dean. "How about you talk! How did you even find me?"


“We’re the ones asking questions here. The sooner you talk, the sooner we send your ass back to Hell and this will be over.”


“I’d rather die than go back. So I don’t feel very motivated.” He stuck out his tongue at Dean and waggled his eyebrows at the angel. "How about you put your hot, strong hands on my body, baby?"


Cas scrunched up his nose. "I think I prefer to just watch Dean torture you."


Dean winked at Cas and approached again, this time holding a jug of water with a rosary in it. “Let’s see how long before this will liquify your esophagus, huh?”


“I thought you wanted me to talk?” he spat, trying to wriggle away from Dean.


“My friend is really good at understanding garbled nonsense,” Dean quipped as he gripped his chin again. He halted his movement and added, “Unless you’re willing to talk to us now?”


“And what if I do and you don’t like the answer?” He challenged. “I have no motivation to talk if you’re just going to send me back.”


Dean quirked his brow at him before he approached the angel and pulled him aside. “Should we just kill him?”


Cas nodded with a deep sigh. “Yes, I’m getting bored with this.”


“No, wait!” he shouted. “Will you let me go if I talk?”


The hunter scoffed and gave him an incredulous look. “You’re a riot.”


“Look, I haven’t done anything, alright? I don’t even know how you found me. I was laying low,” he explained, “I’m harmless and there is no need to kill me.”


Dean leaned back against the table, brow furrowed as he looked him over. He turned to the angel and asked, “How much of this are you buying?”


"I can't tell if a demon is lying. They don't have a soul." Cas stepped closer and squinted his eyes at him. "But... he's a demon. They don't have a conscience. If he hasn't killed anyone yet, that doesn't mean he isn't going to at some point."


"Hey," he complained, "I'm a good guy. And I really like George and his little family. He got a promotion because of me. So, actually, I'm making his life better."


That was met with a derisive snort of laughter. Dean shook his head in amazement. “Like we’re supposed to believe you’re a little do-gooder demon? Sure, I mean, clearly I was born yesterday.”


Cas gave Dean a confused look. "You were born January the twenty-fourth, in 1979."


He couldn’t stop giggling. Angels were so hilariously stupid.


Dean pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s an expression, Cas.”


"Oh, sorry.” Cas looked away and the demon couldn't help but chuckle again. Those two needed a show. It was pretty amusing to watch. He would prefer better seating though.


"I'm serious, you can check out my story if you want. No harm has come to this family since I've been with them." And the thing with the gardener, well... no one could prove anything.


“Explain to us why the hell a demon would come topside and just… not do anything but live the life of his meatsuit?”


And maybe it was the stress, or the torture, or what the hell ever, but he couldn’t help but yell at him, “Cause it’s hell in Hell! I’m just a fucking button pusher and I wanted to have a life. Just a simple fucking life.”


That shut both of them up. Not that the flyboy was a big talker. Dean furrowed his brow and shook his head. “What?”


He sighed theatrically. "I told you you wouldn't get it. You probably have fun on the road, killing supernatural creatures that cross your path. Well, I don't. I just want a normal life."


The hunter turned to the angel. “I don’t get the point of this lie.”


"Me neither." Cas sighed and gave Dean a long look. "We should exorcise him so George can get back to his family."


Dean nodded. “Yeah, got enough juice to heal him and wipe his memories after?”


“Of course.” Cas gave Dean another sickeningly saccharine smile. At least he didn’t need to witness their UST any longer.


“Ugh,” he complained, “you guys suck.”


That was met with a smirk from Dean. “Again with the gay jokes.”


“Takes one to know one,” he returned with a smirk. “Pretty sticky in the closet, right, Dean?”


Dean narrowed his eyes and instead of taking the bait, he started the exorcism.


He hated this part. There was nothing more horrible than getting ripped out of a vessel and thrown back to Hell. "No-o-o, stop, you asshole!" It just wasn't fair. Life wasn't fair. He did not deserve this. He turned his gaze to the angel. Maybe if he... "Hey, did you know Dean has sex dreams about you?"


That shut the hunter up almost instantly. Dean’s face was almost white.


"What?" Cas asked in confusion before he looked at Dean.


The demon grinned. "Yeah, he also masturbates in the shower thinking of you."


Dean whipped out his angel blade and charged forward. “Shut the fuck up!”


The angel wrapped his arms around him to hold him back. "Dean, stop! If you kill him, I can't save the human."


“Just let me hurt him then,” Dean growled as he struggled against the angel.


“Dean, don't let him get to you. It's just lies."


The demon laughed out loud at that. "You really think he would go all aggro like that if it weren't true?"


Dean’s cheeks turned a delightful red color and even if he ended up dead over it, it was worth it. Someone finally getting a leg up on one of the Winchesters.


He smirked again. "He's just too embarrassed to admit his big gay crush on you."


Cas still held Dean's arms in a tight grip, just staring at him before he turned to Dean. "You could exorcise him and when he is out of George, I’ll smite him with my grace."


Dean nodded dumbly and took a deep breath before he started the exorcism again.


The demon groaned before he added, "He also wants you to fuck him against a wall."


“Son of a bitch! Can I please kill him?” Dean almost begged.


"Dean!" Cas growled at him. "Continue with the exorcism! And I will."


It was too funny too watch. He still had a chance to escape the angel when they exorcised him from George's body. He felt slightly wistful saying goodbye to the ordinary man, but he had to think about his escape now. "He gets all hot and bothered when you're commanding like this. Maybe he wants to be the pet in your relationship? You could put him on a leash?"


“If you don’t gag him, I’m gonna kill him,” Dean warned the angel in a growl.


“Just continue with the exorcism and ignore him, Dean. I'll kill him as soon as he is out of there," Cas growled back before he added, "it’s not like he is telling the truth, so why are you so bothered?"


“Because he is!” Dean growled before he gasped and took a step back, bracing his hand over his mouth. Man, it was better than General Hospital or Days of Our Lives .


Cas stared at him with an open mouth before he looked away in embarrassment. "Oh... that's... um... nice."


Dean pursed his lips in annoyance. “So can you mute him so we can get this done?”


Cas shook his head. "Can't you just ignore him?"


"Pretty hard to ignore the truth?" He laughed. "Dean wants your dick up his ass and now he can't hide it anymore."


“Cas,” Dean started with a frustrated groan, “if you don’t shut this fucker up, you’ll never get to know first-hand about any of the shit he’s talkin’ about. Do you get me?”


Cas's eyes widened comically and he knew he was in trouble.


"Alright, alright. I’ll shut up! No need for unnecessary violence," he said as he rolled his eyes.


Dean quirked his brow and started the exorcism again.


The next taunting was on his lips as he grinned at Dean to throw him off his game. Which caused the hunter to stumble in the exorcism. At that the grin turned into a snicker. When he felt himself getting ripped from the body, he shouted, “Why don’t you tell him you’re crazy in love with him?”


He received a scowl in response before Dean tried to finish the exorcism.


It was only a matter of seconds now. He had to take the window. “And hey, angel, he totally wants an apple pie life with you!”


Cas turned around to Dean with a wide eyed look and he knew that this was his chance as he rushed out of the body.


“Son of a bitch!” Was the last thing he heard before he got the hell out of there. Pun totally intended.


…. :::: :::: ….


“Son of a bitch!” Dean cried out as he watched that asshole demon disappear through the rafters. He turned to Cas and sighed. “Well, that could have been handled better.”


"Yes," Cas looked down in embarrassment. "I apologize. In the end he distracted me as well."


At that Dean let out an almost hysterical laugh and nodded as he started packing everything up. “Yeah. Fucker.”


He could feel Cas's eyes on him. "I'm not sure we will find him again since we only stumbled over him on accident in the first place."


“Yeah,” Dean said with a sigh as he raked his hand through his hair. “I’m honestly not that worried. I’ll wait until I look up if there were any deaths or anything and if the fucker was telling the truth, I’ll let it pass. For now.”


Cas rubbed the back of his neck thoughtfully, his gaze wandering to the unconscious George. "I'll carry him outside," he mumbled awkwardly before he walked the few steps over and healed the sleeping man.


Dean took a deep breath and tried to not throw a rage tantrum. He had never wanted Cas to find out. There was a reason he repressed the hell out of all of those thoughts and feelings. Dean kept them far away so he wouldn’t have to think about them and could focus on the job. Having those sort of feelings and thoughts led to distraction and distractions got you dead.


And Dean was really, really over losing Cas. Hell, everyone.


He finished packing up everything and slung his duffel bag over his shoulder. Dean didn’t bother to clean up the devil’s traps. This place was a ghost town. No one would ever know what had transpired here.


As he made his way outside, he gulped as he drew closer to Cas, who was leaning up against the passenger’s side door of Baby. His thoughts went back to all of the secrets that asshole demon just blurted out. Dean exhaled slowly and made his way towards the angel.


Cas kept looking at him, his expression closed up and hard to read.


“Ready to head out?” Dean asked as he made his way to the trunk, popping it open as he dropped the duffel in it.


Cas walked up to him as soon as he had closed the trunk and pushed him gently against it. His ass more or less sitting on the trunk as Cas leaned closer. "Dean," Cas breathed out, looking up at him. "I'm not quite ready to leave. I think we forgot something in the barn."


Dean’s breath was caught in his throat from nervous anticipation. He licked his lips and breathed out a meek, “We did?”


Cas just nodded and waved for him to follow him back to the barn.


As though in a trance, he followed, his heart beating erratically against his rib cage. Like the cartoon case all of those years ago. Such a simpler time, when they had to deal with things like legitimate Looney Tunes shit. Dean was pretty sure his heart was about to burst out of his chest without the aid of a powerful psychic.


Dean stepped back into the barn. “What did we forget?”


Cas crowded  him against the door of the barn. "We forgot to... what's the term… 'make out'."


“Put up or shut up,” he breathed out, with a smirk.


And then Cas darted forward and kissed him. To his surprise there was nothing shy about that kiss. It was without any compromises, all or nothing and a sheer force of nature. Cas licked into his mouth, tasting like all of Dean’s favorite things, making his whole body tingle as he practically melted into the door against his back. Dean knew that he had never experienced a kiss that had left him as breathless as Cas just did.


When Cas leaned back, he looked at him, breathing hard. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”


Dean let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head in amazement. “I never knew.”


"I guess we're both were pretty good at hiding it," Cas murmured before he kissed him behind his ear, his breath hot against his skin.


Dean groaned in appreciation. “Cas, as much as I want to try everything that asshole teased me about, we should probably get the guy back to his family.”


Cas leaned back with a lustful look. "He is sleeping. He won't wake up for the next hour." He looked away for a moment and amended, "I'm sorry. You're right."


“Fuck it,” Dean murmured as he yanked Cas in for a rather needy kiss. He’d spent years repressing these thoughts and feelings, he was done waiting.


Cas responded instantly, kissing him back with a matching kind of need as his hands instantly went to Dean's shirt, unbuttoning it quickly. He didn’t push it off though, just used his palm to slide over his skin before he slide it down to Dean’s pants, cupping his dick over his jeans.


Dean moaned against his lips and went for Cas’s tie, ripping it through the loops before tossing it to the ground and going for his button up shirt. “You wear too many layers,” he growled when his hand came into contact with a plain white t-shirt underneath the button up.


Cas leaned back and quickly stripped it off, mumbling an apology before drawing Dean into a kiss again, his fingers starting to open Dean's jeans.


When he got the zipper down, Dean yanked his pants and underwear down in one fell swoop before his hands found their way to Cas’s belt. They were leaning in for kiss after hungry kiss as they proceeded to get completely naked. In an abandoned barn. Covered in demon trapping sigils.


Yeah. That seemed about right for them.


And then Cas grabbed him and lifted him up and against his body, pressing his hard cock against his own as Dean wrapped his legs around him. "Dean," he murmured. "I want you..."


“Me too, but I, uh… I don’t have anything,” he confessed in a half moan at feeling their naked bodies pressed against each other for the first time.


Cas softly bit Dean's shoulder as he rocked his cock against Dean's, breathing out, "Just like this then and we’ll do more when we get home?"


Dean nodded and slipped his hand between them, taking Cas’s hard cock in hand. He let out his own groan of appreciation at finally touching his angel in such a way. He couldn’t help the soft chuckle. “Damn, Cas. You’re packing.”


Cas leaned back, breathing heavily as he snaked one hand between them to grab Dean's cock, starting to stroke it. He only held him up with one hand now and it seemed effortless. It was pretty hot. "Packing?" He looked confused, but still managed to look sexy as fuck, with his parted lips and lust dazed eyes.


The sound that escaped was a combination of a laugh and a moan. “Yeah, you got a big dick,” he groaned out as he started pumping Cas a little faster.


Cas gasped into his ear. “Dean, uh, feels so good. Can’t wait to be inside you.”


Dean moaned at the thought. He used his free hand to grip Cas’s hair, desperately drawing him in for another kiss. And he had no idea where the idea came from, considering his blood flow was as far away from his brain as possible, but Dean prayed his response.


Can’t wait to feel you inside me. Fucking me into the mattress.


He could tell that the message was received by the way Cas's eyes widened and he groaned in lust. "I hope you know," he growled into his ear, "that I have full control over my bodily functions. I can fuck you as long as you want."


“Fuck,” Dean groaned. Why the hell was that so hot? “I’m close,” he breathed out, too far gone in pleasure to be embarrassed about his staying power, or lack thereof.


"Good. I want to feel you come all over my hand," Cas growled and bit Dean's shoulder again.


Dean cried out from the onslaught of pleasure and pain as he started pumping Cas faster, feeling his own resolve start to crumble. “Cas… Cas…” he kept murmuring his name like a prayer.


"Dean," Cas groaned and Dean noticed a light coming from somewhere. A high whistle was audible in the barn and suddenly he could see the huge shadows of Cas's broken wings visible on the other side of the wall. "Dean, come for me."


And as though his body was just waiting for that command, Dean came with a whimper and Cas’s name on his lips, unable to take his eyes off of the face of the angel he loved.


Cas held his gaze, stroking him through it before he gasped himself and came over Dean's hand with a broken moan. "Dean."


Dean let out a shaky exhale, followed by a chuckle. “Holy shit.”


Cas leaned back and sat him down, still holding him with one arm close, which was nice because his knees felt like jello. He smiled at him, lifting his hand to his mouth to carefully lick Dean's come. "That was very..." He shook his head. "Indescribable."


Dean groaned at the imagery and nodded. “That’s one way of putting it.”


Cas touched him and, to Dean's surprise, he felt completely fresh and clean. The come from his fingers now gone and even the blood and dirt from the day's work had vanished. "We should bring George back to his family as soon as possible. I can't wait to get home."


Dean chuckled and leaned in for another kiss. “Let’s get outta here.”


…. :::: :::: ….


When he got his bearings in the new meatsuit, he shook his head and took in his surroundings. He was in a very nice looking room, a large fish tank, a small kitchenette, fancy keurig cups, a lot of fruit baskets, and ah! A mirror. As he stepped in front of it, he came face to face with a Patrick Dempsey-looking motherfucker. White guy, medium length dark brown hair, ruggedly handsome. He could definitely work with this.


As he took in his attire, he chuckled. He was wearing a white lab coat over black scrubs, a stethoscope around his neck, and of all things, cowboy boots. And that’s when it clicked, he must be an actor! Maybe some weird sort of medical drama? Maybe he was a cowboy doctor? Before he could investigate any further, a petite Hispanic woman appeared out of nowhere and tapped his shoulder.


“Steve, Dr. Sexy is needed on set, they set up the lighting and Chris is already on his mark.”


The woman practically started dragging him out of, what he realized, was his trailer. And that’s when it hit him. Dr. Sexy! George’s wife, Mary, loved this stupid show. He’d caught snippets here and there and she had no qualms trying to explain the story to him. He usually let George take over when that happened.


But enough of the information had come through. He recalled Mary was quite fond of a character named Dr. Dan and had been rather vocal about the fact that him and Dr. Sexy were secretly in love. And suddenly there was a pang of regret. He had come to love his life as George the boring accountant. Stupid Winchesters ruining everything for him.


When they reached the set, he was suddenly bombarded by multiple people. Some offering beverages, one holding a script, a young woman who started patting touch up makeup on his face. It was a little overwhelming. Still, through all of the hubbub he was able to watch in interest as cameramen and crew were finishing setting things up.


It was a hospital room, a young man (he realized when he saw his face it was Dr. Dan) was sprawled out on the bed. There was a big tube coming out of his mouth, apparently intubated, but weirdly he was propped upright. It reminded him of his life as George again. Mary was a nurse and bitched about the medical inaccuracies regularly, but she never stopped watching the show.


That was when he realized he was supposed to know lines, he was supposed to be acting, of all things. And while his years as a demon had helped him hone those particular skills, it wasn’t anywhere near as daunting as something like this. Just when he was about to let the meatsuit’s brain take over, a thought occurred to him.


An evil, truly fantastic thought that he knew Mary would appreciate. It was just too bad he couldn’t tell her.


The director cried out, “Action!”


And, now Steve, entered the room, appearing frantic as he looked at Dr. Dan’s “unconscious” face. He immediately was at the man’s side, taking his hand in his own.


“You stupid son of a bitch. You better not die on me, I need you. I… Come on, Danny. Please.” He pressed a kiss to Dr. Dan’s hand and whispered, “If you pull through, things will be different. I promise. I promise.”


The director cried out, “Cut!” and all of the cast and crew looked at him like he’d grown a second head.


Well, Steve figured if the damn producers, investors, writers, and directors were going to keep queerbaiting the audience, the least he could do was fight them every step of the way. After all, he was a demon.


The End