It's witches, of course. It's always freaking witches, and if Dean ever sees another of the spiteful, arrogant little shits again it’ll be too soon. He’d rather take something violent and angry and fight ‘til he’s bloody than deal with fuckers who get their kicks from messing with your head too.
With Sam back at the motel stitching himself up (he’d gotten himself a big gash on the arm and an even bigger pissy attitude, and Dean can not deal with that right now), Dean’s really starting to feel like he’s fallen in the deep end here. Just him, his baby parked nearby, stood in the middle of goddamn nowhere with two witches and very little idea as to what to do next; these chicks are frigging crazy, murderous, and Dean has no idea how to kill something so powerful. If he’d known this was what he was up against there’s no way he’d have carried on alone, but hey, he’s apparently a total dumbass with a death wish.
Luckily Cas is pretty quick to answer his admittedly not very polite prayers, appearing beside Dean with a rustle of feathers and wearing a glower that could kill. It takes him a couple seconds but then he’s in full on smiting mode, and whoa is it ever hot (and totally badass) the way he takes a stride towards the witches, slams his hands against their shoulders simultaneously and smites the ever-living fuck out of them as they scream with rage.
Unfortunately, it's not before one of them manages to fling something at them in retaliation, spitting a few carefully chosen words under her breath; he’ll later come to realise that if you corner a witch and let it get to the point where she knows she's going to die, but give her enough time to carry out one more spiteful action in revenge, you're pretty much friggin' screwed one way or another.
Dean wipes the streaks of sweet-smelling crimson powder from his cheekbones and studies the traces of it where it's dusting his fingertips.
"Cas, what the fuck did she do, man?" Dean groans because with witches, shit is about to go down.
He turns to face Cas, who is stood wide-eyed and panting way harder than he should be all things considered. He's about to ask if he’s okay when suddenly a wave of lust hits him like a fucking freight train, and he's gone from annoyed to confused to having a raging hard-on in approximately two seconds. Wanting Cas isn't exactly new (hell, he wanted him two days ago and banged him on the dresser in the motel room in the fifteen minutes it took Sam to go get dinner); going from nought to gotta-get-my-dick-in-there-five-minutes-ago in the blink of an eye, however, is pretty freaking alarming to say the least.