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Trust In Your Unfailing Love

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Trust In Your Unfailing Love

But I trust in your unfailing love; my heart rejoices in your salvation.
Psalm 13:5

Winchester luck.

Of all the things Dean could think of right now, it was the Murphy’s law of Winchester luck which clearly stated that if the absolutely worst possible thing could happen, then it would do so in spades and never in their favor. The universe really seemed to love bending Sam and him over the latest catastrophe and letting them have it. Dean just wished every once in a while that the ‘powers that be’(whoever those bastards were) would deign to use a smattering of lube because this cluster fuck was one hell of a raw dog deal.

Death’s wall of sanity in Sam’s head was cracked wide open with all of hell bleeding through the cracks. Dean and Bobby were bruised, bleeding sore from Crowley’s earlier attack and covered in ick that was all that was left of Raphael after the archangel had been exploded.

And Castiel……

Castiel, or more accurately what was once the angel they all knew(and in one particular hunter‘s case, loved), stood before them with every molecule of his still form pulsing from the power of millions upon millions of souls stolen from Purgatory. It tainted the room and coated their skins with a near oily sensation, making the air feel almost too thick to breathe in, and left it tasting sharp with electricity, moist from misted angel blood, and smelling sour due to all the humans in the room cold sweating buckets of fear through their pores.

With horrifying ease, the former angel reached around behind his back to pull the imbedded blade from his spine where Sam had placed it, the expression on Castiel’s face eerily placid.

“I’m glad you made it Sam, but thee angel blade won’t work anymore because I am not an angel anymore.”, Castiel told his captive audience with a certainty that was leaden in its gravitas. “I am your new god. A better one.”

Winchester luck was a bitch most of the time but Dean decided this moment was an all time new level for it. If any of them survived this, they were going to have to mark it down on a calendar or something and remember it by wearing festive hats. As it went and as Dean excepted, had come to expect with the certainty of tides and moon phases, things only got worse from here on out.

“So you will bow down and profess your love unto me your Lord or I shall destroy you.”, Castiel told them evenly. Bobby and the Winchesters exchanged a series of looks, all of them coming up with nothing good.

Ok, chances of surviving this were starting to look slim to none. Dean fought to breath normally as everything inside of him chilled at once, clenching tightly down in one all over body cramp of ‘fuck me, we are all so screwed‘. He didn’t doubt a single word Castiel said. The new god meant every calm word he uttered with deathly certainty.

“Well alright then.“ Bobby, smart old bastard he was, conceded first, the old hunter already starting to descend to his knees. “This good or the whole forehead to the carpet thing?”. Dean stared down at him in disbelief, the surreal nature of this entire situation still not really sinking in for him. Bobby’s submission was only making it worse in a way. They were warriors, not sheep to any power that said ‘Jump’. They were supposed to keep fighting, keep standing, no matter how bruised and bleeding or even dead they got.

“Guys….”, registered in Dean’s ears, Bobby reaching up to tug at Dean‘s shirt sleeve. It startled the older Winchester into action, into survival, Dean swallowing painfully hard as he watched Sam mimic Bobby’s actions. This was really happening, this was their new reality. Submit or die. Internally every part of Dean raged against him, arguing that this was not the way. That this was not him or what he stood for, what he should remain standing for.

“Stop.” It was such a small word but it had a huge impact and more than a little power riding behind it. All movement in the room halted as the humans focused on their new god and his whims. Dean and the bulk of his pride could have sobbed in relief if he could ever let enough of himself go to do so.

“What’s the point if you don’t mean it? You fear me. Not love. Not respect. Just fear.”. If Dean had to guess what expression Castiel was going for, he would have thrown his money in with ‘disappointed’.

“Not always.”, Dean thought, arguing back in his own head which turned out to be a very bad idea. Castiel’s full undivided attention homed in on Dean, making the hunter physically flinch from it. It reminded Dean of being suddenly shoved out into a desert’s midday sun and staked out under that heavy heat, the kind that weighted down on every inch of your skin, singeing it(damn, that hunt had sucked, stupid coyote spirit).

“Not always.”, Castiel echoed aloud, the angel turned god sounding miffed as he drew closer to the hunter, Dean sinking further down on his knees, fervently wishing that the floor would open up and swallow him whole. Dean found himself studying the minuet details of Castiel’s dress shoes as they came to a halt in front of him, the leather of formal footwear all shiny and scuff free. Despite his high chances of being smited at any given moment, Dean found himself wondering if Castiel cleaned his shoes with his Grace or just constantly created new pairs of shoes to wear. It was amazing what the human brain came up with in times of stress. Dean would have liked to ponder those kind of thoughts further but reality horribly reminded him that a god was standing before him, studying him with a focus that was making Dean want to crawl out of his own skin to escape it. When light fingertips brushed against Dean’s bowed forehead, the hunter looked up and immediately regretted it as he met too blue eyes that opened his mind like a stolen present, brushing aside a lifetime of defenses like a rock thrown through tissue paper.

It hurt.

Castiel’s being sat fat and wide in Dean’s ‘too small for it’ mind, his presence much too large for the hunter’s inner space as the former angel examined the insides of Dean’s head, picking and choosing memories seemingly at random as a small child would pebbles off a shore. Dean was made to be a bystander in his own mind and forced to watch as past scenes were replayed for them both but this time with the director’s commentary, Dean‘s inner most secrets giving the scenes vivid new introspective. Every stray thought, emotion, and feeling he had ever had about Castiel was laid bare before the ethereal being in bright openness. All the good, all the bad, every need, every want, every desire was witnessed by the one Dean had hidden it away from the most.

“You love me…..”, Castiel stated in a flat tone and Dean wept, inwardly and outwardly, in loss and embarrassment, in relief and betrayal. He didn’t bother to deny it, or even try to voice an opinion on the matter. It seemed pointless now. He was exposed, laid out flayed and bare before his hidden heart’s own desire, Castiel voicing what Dean would have spent a lifetime hiding. “Have loved me. For so long.”, the new god continued, Dean’s pain apparently unworthy of his notice as he tore the hunter apart, killing Dean slowly with his dead words. “It was your own self loathing and fear that kept you from expressing it though.”.

Just as suddenly as Castiel entered his mind, he left it, leaving Dean’s head space abruptly empty. The rush of internal pressures righting themselves made Dean almost pass out as he fell over onto the cold concrete, the hunter clutching his head as he gasped with pained relief. He barely felt Bobby‘s hands trying to keep him upright or hear the concern in the old hunter’s voice when he asking Dean how he was doing. Everything just felt like one big blur of hurt at the moment. Unfortunately, his current state of mind did not include being deaf or unaware of Castiel’s scrutiny.

“It is tainted now though, your love for me. Your anger and fear make it murky and displeasing to my eye.”, Castiel said, his gravelly voice cutting through Dean’s haze. It was enough to make the hunter snap out of it, the new god’s words like a Molotov cocktail to Dean’s temper.

“Well maybe you should stay the hell out of people’s head if it displeases you so much.”, Dean snapped, forgetting who he was dealing with for a second. Sam and Bobby’s sudden intake of breath reminded Dean that perhaps he might not want to mouth off to someone who could make him a wet spot on the concrete with a mere thought. Dean was beyond giving a good goddamn though as he glared up at Castiel. Stubborn, head strong bastard that Dean was, he ignored the drying saltwater on his cheeks, the ache in his head from where Castiel had carelessly torn a gaping hole in it, and the other hunters in the room who were desperately trying to make him shut up by shooting silent desperate looks at him.

“What a brave little ant you are.”, Castiel smiled, the expression slight but fond.

“If you are going to kill me, just do it already. Send me to Hell gift wrapped for all I care.”. Dean was tired of this song and dance, his humiliation wanting to bring this thing between them full circle and his pride wanting to get it over with quickly. Castiel had pulled him out of Hell and remade him from scratch so in a way, it only seemed appropriate that his savior be his very own reaper as well and return him back to the dust and his place on the rack. Dean knew he’d rather be dead than someone’s puppet, even if it meant an eternity as Hell‘s favorite whipping boy.

“I could do that. Throw you back into the Pit. I could do it so easily and yet you still dare to bark orders at me.”, Castiel mused, “Here you lie, cringing in the dirt on your back and still you are defiant. Demanding even.”

Dean glared silently back in answer, wetting his lips with a quick tongue, unsure of what to say to the god staring down at him with something akin to amusement. “Even now, you never cease to amaze me.” Castiel said, his tone thoughtful and soft, two terms that Dean felt did not bode well for him.

“Get up.”

It was a command, one that could not be ignore by any of the humans, by the undeniable power underlying it. The hunters got to their feet, their movements wary even if they were not fully under their own control. “I could punish you all and I would be well within my rights to do so for your blatant deceit and distrust…..”, Castiel said, looking all the hunters in the eye one by one, each flinching back from it but for different reasons. Bobby in fear, Sam in guilt, Dean in resentment. “….but I am a loving god. A benevolent one, forgiving and patient even to the ones who have sinned most grievously against me.”.

Gritting his teeth to keep from speaking out, Dean bit back the words that fought with the tip of his tongue. They had only wanted what was best, wanted to keep Castiel safe, wanted to help the wayward angel, had once considered him family and to a Winchester, there was no greater title than that of family. When Castiel’s head swung around to pin Dean down once again with that heavy, heart stopping gaze, Dean swore a blue streak at himself to stop thinking so damn loudly. It was going to get him worse things than killed.

“Good intentions build excellent roads to Hell.”, Castiel said, reminding the hunter that he could read his mind any time he wanted.

“You would know.”, Dean shot back before he could stop himself. Castiel suddenly in his personal space was a swift reminder about his current precarious position in life.

“So beautifully honest……so beautifully obtuse…..”, Castiel murmured, touching Dean’s face, a lone fingertip lightly following the curve of the hunter’s jaw line until it reached his lips to trace the chapped silk of it. Dean had never wanted to scream more. He hated himself for wanting so much to lean into the touch of another, his other, his angel once upon a time. It was intimate. It was invasive. It was longed for on so many different levels by Dean it physical hurt him. It was horrific to experience all at once.

“I will have your love again, free of fear, untainted by sadness and guilt. Pure.”, Castiel said softly, his words sounding like promise and doom all at once.

“You can’t make me love you.”, Dean spat out. This was beginning to get too bizarre, even for him. It wasn’t every day a god decided to hit on him or demand his adoration.

“I could. I could make you beg at my feet and follow me around naked on all fours like a beast, and you would thank me for it with tears of gratitude in your eyes. I could make you give me your body, your will, your very soul, and you would do so without hesitation or regret if I truly wanted any of it.”, Castiel’s voice was a murmur that still managed to fill the corners of the room and make Dean quake on the inside with a fear so cold it cracked and burned his heart.

“I would rather be dead.”, Dean admitted, biting his ruined bottom lip to keep his voice from shaking near the end. A lone finger pressed to the tortured flesh kept it from further injury, healing it back to plush health again. Dean resisted the urge to savage his own flesh again just to spite the new god.

“Hush. I have decided that is no longer to be your decision or your fate.”, Castiel said, leaning in so that his lips brushed against Dean’s in rasp of flesh, a barely there kiss that was chaste in composition and execution. It still managed to make Dean‘s skin tingle and burn. “Calm yourself. I wish to demand none of those things from you. You will give me what is so rightfully mine by your own free will. It would be meaningless any other way.”. Castiel rested his forehead against Dean’s, making all the little hair on the back of the hunter’s neck stand up on end and crackle with static.

“I-I don’t understand. Why? Why do you care?”, Dean stammered as he tried and failed to wrap his head around what Castiel was thinking, what he was asking of him.

“Oh Dean, most beloved of all in creation, you are worthy of this. I will make you worthy of this.”, Castiel whispered into Dean’s mouth, ending his sentence with another dry kiss, this one far longer than the last. By the time Dean opened his eyes, Castiel was gone as if he had never been.

“That don’t sound good.”, Bobby grunted, reminding Dean that he was not alone and even worse, that he had had witnesses to the whole exchange.

Dean didn’t answer.

He was too busy checking on his fallen brother.

Chapter Text

The next time Dean saw Castiel it was just like old times. The hunter woke up with a start, knife in hand, blinking his eyes clear of sleep until he recognized the former angel staring him down from his bedside.

“Oh thank god. It’s God.”, Dean grumbled out, sounding tired and very put out even to himself as he rolled his eyes at Castiel. He threw the useless weapon in its hiding place under his pillow and laid back down before rolled over with all good intentions of returning to sleep.

“The only reason you are still alive is because I am trying to decide if your impudence in the face of such power is either out of sheer stupidity or a wish for your own demise.”, Castiel’s gravelly voice cut through the darkness and made the edges of night pressed down tighter all around Dean as his eyes snapped back open.

“You can read my mind so what’s the point of being quiet?”, Dean complained into his pillow because for fuck’s sake, if he was going to die, he might as well be comfortable. Dean still held his pillow tight to hide the tremor in his hands though. First rule of dealing with the supernatural was to never let them see how scared you were. Fear made you lose ground, make stupid mistakes, and got you killed quicker. “Anyway, I thought you valued honesty.”.

It was quiet for so long in answer, Dean almost let himself believe that Castiel had left again. It was wishful thinking on his part, of course, and he knew it. The cool night air was too hot and thick now with barely contained energy from Castiel not to be. Through iron self control alone, Dean managed to keep still when he felt the mattress sink, the new god settling down beside him on the bed without any word of warning. It was due to self preservation that made Dean not react when unyielding hands pulled him into a hard lap until he was sat upright, straddling Castiel’s thighs. It was all too sudden, too intimate, and too close, with Dean left with the only option of placing his hands on Castiel’s shoulders to remain sitting up comfortably.

For all the heat he gave off, the new god was surprisingly cool to the touch, the contact between them sending little currents of energy up and down Dean’s nerve endings as he clutched at tan trenchcoat. It didn’t hurt but it was unsettling, Dean shifting from it with unease borne of a lifetime of listening to his instincts. They were currently screaming at him to go run and hide.

“You lied to me.”, Castiel said easily, his own hands claiming a space of flesh on Dean’s hips, holding him in place when the hunter tried to express some token resistance and get up from his new seat.

“So did you.”, Dean pointed out. Maybe he did have a death wish, he mused. Anyone else in their right mind would be shutting up right about now. Of course, anyone else would probably would be a babbling mess of issues curled up in a corner wetting themselves.

“It was for your own good. I wish you would understand that.”, Castiel spoke as if he were dealing with a small child or slow adult, patronizing and far too kind for anyone else’s good. “I saved you. I saved us all. You should be thanking me. Praising me.”. Dean reevaluated their positioning. He would have prayed Castiel wasn’t implying what he was thinking, but he wasn’t about to start something like that now.

“And how would you liked to be thanked? Singing telegram? Fruit basket?”, Dean made himself smart off, feeling himself go cold and dead inside. Castiel’s fingers rubbing small circles into the ‘V’ of his hipbones did nothing to elevate this feeling.

“With all that you are.”, Castiel intoned, making Dean dry swallow hard enough that his throat clicked from it. Ignoring the inner sickness that threatened to make him retch, Dean leaned in, his skin clammy with sweat and chilled from the night air. He tried to focus on that sensation instead of the dizzy ache in his head that was making it hard for him to focus. To his surprise and ultimately his relief, Castiel turned his head away before Dean could finish the kiss.

“It means nothing if I don’t have your heart.”, Castiel explained with cold eyes that made Dean draw back with a shudder.

“I don’t know what you want from me.”, Dean lied. He shivered when Castiel started to stroke Dean’s stubbly cheek with the back of his knuckles, the touch gentle yet still a warning.

“The love I see inside of you, your love for me that I know resides within your soul. Now that I know it is there, I can not ignore it. It is mine and yet you continue to deny me its splendor.”, Castiel sighed, letting his hand fall away to trail down to Dean’s chest, belly, and then to his thighs, feeling the muscles there through the ratty grey sweats and t-shirt Dean had fallen asleep in.

“Why?’, Dean breathed out slowly, trying not to feel where Castiel decided to touch him. Inquisitive fingers were currently mapping out the anatomy of his inner thighs, following the veins of warmth there that led to more tender parts of his flesh. Dean bit the inside of his cheek, hard enough so that he tasted wet iron to keep ’little Dean’ from reacting. His body was making other decisions on the subject matter though while ignoring all his boner killing thoughts about granny porn, baseball, and kicking small baby animals in the face.

“I do not understand your inquiry. Elaborate with your words or else I will pull if from your mind.”, Castiel said, sounding distracted. His eyes were following the movement of his hands and the press of his fingertips against flesh that was starting to react to his attention. “I hope you appreciate the refrain I am showing by allowing you the privacy of your thoughts. Consider it a gift, one of many I can bestow upon you if you remain in my good favor.”.

Body betraying him, Dean tilted his head back and kept his eyes trained on the ceiling as he tried to valiantly ignore the erection he was so clearly sporting now. “Why would you give a flying fuck about that or me? You’re god now, like with the big ‘G’. Like you said, I’m an ant. Holy hell, I’m so far out of your league now, I don’t think there is even a way to measure it.”, Dean fumbled quickly for his thoughts on the matter. Having God in your head had been a unpleasant experience, on par with Godzilla looking for a sushi bar in Tokyo. It was not a sensation he wanted to revisit any time soon.

Never allowed to dwell long on his own thoughts, Dean became aware of chilled night air nipping at his skin, all of it, his clothes a memory now. “So why all the face time? I thought burning bushes would be more your style now.”. Dean gasped in cutting air when he felt a single fingertip run down the length of his erection from leaking crown to engorged base, the hunter flushing dark red from it. Dean kept his eyes glued to his view of the ceiling, unable to look down.

“I don’t know. It is troublesome.”, Castiel sounded thoughtful and for all his concern, slightly bored. “Bothersome even. I should end you, this attachment. It is unnecessary for one such as I. You are unnecessary.”.

“Story of my life. Make it quick. You owe me that much.”, Dean sighed, partially in relief. So he was surprised when he felt a dry kiss pressed to the apple of his neck.

“Despite what reservations I may have, you are still my creation and a maker is entitled to enjoy the fruits of his labor. This body……”, Castiel answered his own question, one hand seeking to wrap around Dean’s cock while the other gripped his balls to tug gently down on them, eliciting a throaty moan from Dean before he continued speaking. “….This flesh is mine, remade from what I was.”. Any hope Dean had had about avoiding an uncertain fate were crushed but he could hardly focus on that now, Castiel rippling his fingers as he stroked satiny flesh moist and slick with precome.

Letting Castiel win for now, Dean remained quiet the rest of the night, unable and unwilling to keep up this line of conversation while he was being jerked off. Dean lost his staring match with the ceiling, allowing his head to come to rest on Castiel’s shoulder so that the hunter could silently mouth his curses into the soft skin there. When he came, his orgasm was pulled from him from Castiel’s dry touch alone, his soft cry of release sounding broken even to him.

Though he mojoed the mess of sweat and semen away after Dean was done and left shuddering against him, Castiel left the human naked and utterly spent in his lap, the new god stroking Dean’s heaving sides as he came down from his high. The hunter could think of nothing to say or find the energy to do so as he recovered, growing hot and sullen with humiliation. Castiel reflected his silence back to him, the new god unspeaking, eerily so, as the air hummed with power all around him. Against his best efforts, Dean fell back asleep in Castiel‘s arms. It wasn’t like he had a choice.

Castiel was gone in the morning. Dean didn’t bother wishing that it had all been a dream. He knew he wasn’t that lucky.

Chapter Text

“Do you like my plan?”

The out of the blue question was startling enough to make Dean smack the top of his head against the Impala, the hunter currently underneath the vehicle.

“Damnit!”, Dean rolled out from under the car to find Castiel staring down at him, obviously still waiting for an answer. He managed not to flinch too noticeably when Castiel pressed his fingertips to his aching dome, making the pain fade out to nothing.

“My plan. Do you like it?”, Castiel asked again. Dean found that new and improved Castiel was about as informative as original flavor Castiel had been. Dean could only assume that the new god was talking about his activities, something of which had the news channels whipped up into a near mouth foaming frenzy about.

“You call that a plan? You’re going around taking out the 700 Club. It’s not exactly Sodom and Gomorra but I think it’s getting the point across, whatever the hell that is. Mind sharing it with us mud monkeys cause it’s getting lost in translation. Really, Cas? Motivational speakers? How does having a positive outlook on life piss you off?”, Dean groused as he leaned up against Impala, wiping excess oil off of his hands with a rag.

“Lying is still a sin. So is pride.”, Castiel stated with a distaste that was palpable.

“No kidding. I would have never guessed.”, Dean snorted, keeping his tone flat. He watched as the irony flew over Castiel’s head, Dean keeping his mind carefully void to keep it that way. He didn’t believe Castiel for a second that he would keep the hell out of his head.

“I could take your voice away as punishment.”, Castiel said, making it obvious that he had noticed.

“Then I would just be another pretty face. Anyway, I would just think at you really hard.”, Dean teased because he always seemed to lack the common sense to not poke the bear. Or maybe he was just feeling reckless from too much continuous stress, lack of sleep, and adrenalin. Whatever it was, it earned him a quelling look from the new god, one that made his survival instincts finally kick in, the hunter finding himself study his weathered boots with a quiet, renewed interest.

Gentle fingers placed under his chin forced Dean to lift his head again, meeting blue eyes that were as vast and clear as sky fall. “My brave little ant.”, Castiel murmured, pressing a closed mouth kiss to Dean’s lip to let the flesh linger there. The contact made Dean’s skin tingle all over from it and heat settle in his lower stomach. Dean wondered if he should worried about how broken he was if playing verbal chicken with god was a turn on for him now. “I am righting wrongs all over the world. I am healing the sick, making the lame walk, and giving sight to the blind for I am God.”.

“Sticking to the classics I see.”, Dean made his mouth work, though it was probably going to be the death of him. Castiel was still there, chest to chest, fingers holding his face still, his lips so close to Dean’s own the new god could taste the sincerity, or lack there of, in the human’s words. What Dean said though made Castiel draw away, a slight frown upon his normally stoic face.

“You do not approve.”, It was more statement than question.

“Don’t get me wrong. I got nothing against the insta-healing, but don’t you think the body count is getting a little high?”, Dean pointed out what Sam had brought up this morning while the hunters had been watching the news. “Especially if you’re claiming to be a loving, benevolent god. Seems to me that you’re just following in Daddy’s footsteps, Old Testament style.”

As he watched the sky suddenly darken and lightning steak across it like webbing, Dean wondered if he had finally gone too far. He smiled a little, marveling at the light show. He had never seen blue lightning before so he might as well enjoy it while he could. Dean knew it was better to look at that than at Castiel at the moment. It turned out that ignoring god might not have been one of Dean’s better ideas. Power slammed Dean off of his feet and flat onto his belly so that he was being pressed into the reddish dirt. Apparently, the new god did not like being slighted in favor of watching sudden weather

“I am a better god than my Father.”, Castiel growled, shaking the world around him with his wrath.

“I can tell.”, Dean rasped, tasting blood and wet earth in his mouth. “Hey God, if you don’t want my opinion, don’t fucking ask for it.”. Dean said his piece and then, waited for it to end, readied himself to feel hellfire lick over his skin before melting it off again.

And just like that, the day was bright and normal. Testing himself, Dean found that he could sit up. A wetness on his lip told him that his nose was still bleeding though. Pressing an oil stained rag to his face, Dean found that Castiel was absent and breathed a sigh of relief, short lived as he knew it would be.

Chapter Text

It wasn’t so much a plan because really when had a plan made by a Winchester ever gone smoothly or as expected. It was more of a desperate gamble that had the very distinct possibility of getting Dean not only killed, but possibly wiped completely from existence. The later option was really going to depend if God was in a grumpy mood and not buying what Dean was selling, but considering that what was left of Team Free Will was seriously running low on viable options, Dean was willing to risk it.

Sam was no longer on his feet, having taken a turn for the worst. His wall had been cracked wide open by Castiel which was why the hunter was currently in Bobby’s panic room, sweating out fear and pain through his pores while trapped in the confines of his own tortured mind. The younger Winchester remained locked in pseudo sleep, with only the memories of the Cage complete its very own Lucifer to keep Sam company.

Never idle, Bobby and Dean had done hours upon hours of research, and tried every spell they thought might have worked and ever a few that didn’t just for the hell of it, had contacted reluctant demons, rogue angels, and even a few minor deities. No one would fix Sam. Most weren’t even willing to attempt to no matter what the payment or threat was, claiming that they couldn’t anyway, the deal way above their pay grade. The rest were too scared to even try, not wanting to upset the new boss. Left with no options, Dean came up with his own solution, one he implemented in his room in the dead of night after he was sure Bobby had drunk himself to sleep.

The hunter prayed.

It was nothing fancy, poetic, or flowery in wording. Dean didn’t have a lot of experience or practice in this area. Sam was the praying type, not Dean. Honestly, he had never seen the point of wasting time and words of someone who obviously didn’t give a damn, and anyway, the last time he had prayed for Sam, it hadn‘t exactly ended well for them. It was a whole different ballgame though when you’re on a first name basis with the powers that be.

“Um…Dear Castiel?….crap, I’m not writing a letter….Our Castiel who art in heaven I guess, could you come on down? I need to talk to you…..um….yeah. Over and out. Amen?”, was the mental vomit that made up what could be laughing called a prayer. Even Dean grimaced from the wording, hoping he didn’t get smited from afar for it. As desperately as he needed to speak with Castiel, Dean half hoped that he wouldn’t get an answer…..

“Hello Dean.”

…but fuck, when had he ever been that lucky? Dean wetted his lip with a nervous tongue, turning to see Castiel, god, whatever standing way too close to him. Even in awkward moments like this, Dean was grateful some things never changed.

“Hey Cas, thanks for coming.”, Dean said, making a point of being polite. He needed this to work.

“What do you want? I am very busy.”, Castiel asked, his tone and expression even, giving Dean nothing to work with or a clue on how generous god was feeling today.

“Yeah, I know. You’re making the news everyday.”, Dean tapped down a rising note of anger. He hadn’t asked Castiel here to discuss his new day job and Sam couldn’t afford for Dean let himself get distracted by other people‘s deaths. “I need…….a favor.”

Dean’s stomach dropped as Castiel’s eyes narrowed. This was not boding well. Overriding his sense of self preservation, Dean pushed forward. “Sam’s head needs fixing. It’s bleeding Hell into him since you took his wall down.”. he said, proud of himself for keeping most of the bitterness and anger out of his voice so that his words didn’t sound accusatory.

“I am well aware.”, Castiel nodded, the gesture slow yet graceful. “I have left it down as his punishment.”.

Dean blinked in surprise. “Why the hell would you do that, you son of a bitch?!”, he snapped, getting in Castiel‘s face as he finally let his temper get the better of him. Dean groaned inwardly as soon as the words left his mouth.

“I will remind you that he stabbed me in the back. You should be grateful he is still alive in any sense of the word at all.”, Castiel’s words could have been made of ice and razors for all the feeling that they held within them. Dean trembled despite his resolve, part of him wondering how the hell was he still alive.

“I know, Cas, and I’m sure if Sam could talk right now that he would be real sorry about doing that to you.”, Dean mumbled, backing down. He was unable to look Castiel in the eye so he settled for a view of the grimy floorboards. Bobby really needed to clean this place. Of course, if Castiel wiped them off the face of the earth in a fit of rage cause Dean pissed him off, the old hunter wouldn’t have to worry about it for much longer.

“I care very little about what your brother feels or how he is feeling.”, Castiel stated with an air of finality that signaled to Dean that this conversation was almost over and done with.

“Wait! Hold up!”, Dean lunged forward, snagging handfuls of tan trench coat before he realized what he was even doing. Castiel gave him a look that made Dean’s blood nearly freeze to a stand still in his veins but allowed himself to be paused.

“I wasn’t asking for a freebie. You do something for me and I’ll do something for you.”, Dean pushed the words past his lips with brave effort and crumbling resolve. The bright idea in his mind was beginning to wither on the vine.

“You wish to make a bargain? I am no mere petty demon waiting at some crossroad. I have no need for desperate deals.”, Castiel said coolly, his disinterest and distain a tangible presence between them. Dean ignored it, committing himself to the plan.

“Yeah, but you’re god now right? Don’t you wanna be worshipped?” It was a gamble, a shot in the dark, but it was enough to make Castiel stop and take interest.

“I’m listening.”, the god titled his head ever so slightly to the side. Dean had never been so grateful to see that old familiar gesture in his life.

“Heal Sam’s head, for keeps this time, and I’ll pray to you.”, Dean licked his lips in a vain attempt to appear calm and collected before a god that was beginning to look a touch bored bordering on impatient.

“Again you speak of deals….”, Castiel sighed, sounding disappointed but still hesitant if his blank expression was any indication. Dean prided himself on being able to read the void that was Castiel past and present, the seemingly mindless soldier, the confused but resolute fallen afterward, and even now as god, Dean was willing to bet the Impala that Castiel was interested.

“The way I see it, the whole religion thing in a nutshell is a transaction. A little prayer, a dash of faith, some Hail Marys for some flavor, all in exchange for a miracle every once in a while. That’s all I’m asking. Some proof that you deserve what I’m offering.”, Dean explained quickly, before he lost his audience. Instead he gained its ire.

“Deserve? I deserve your total obedience, devotion, and the entirety of your belief. This is not something that I will bargain for.”, Castiel’s eyes sparked blue in his growing anger, the azure flare a warning. Despite all, Dean doggedly continued.

“You will if you want it given freely. I don’t doubt that you could make me a Borg drone but I don’t think you want that cause you would have done it already. It’s a new you but like the old you, I think you still like free will even if it pisses you off.”, Dean toed the line, wondering at what point in his life he had gained a talent for tap-dancing the razor’s edge between insanity and ‘oh fuck me, this is a really bad idea‘.

“I’m listening. Complete your demand.”, Castiel growled out, his words rough and sharp as ore.

“Not a demand, a request. You fix Sam and I become devout. Simple as pie.”, Dean said smoothly, attempting to smooth down some of Castiel’s roughened edges. It seemed to work to an extent. Castiel’s visage lost its beginnings of anger, the new god looking more thoughtful than anything else at the moment.

“Faith is not a simple matter. It required tests to see if it can be broken.”, Castiel considered out loud.

Dean didn‘t like the sound of that but he didn‘t have many choices and he wasn‘t about to back down now that he had Castiel‘s attention and a possibly a way to heal his brother. “Bring it on.”, he said without hesitation.

“Strip.”

“W-What?”, was the eloquent answer Dean’s brain came up with to Castiel‘s order.

“You stated that your belief needed a miracle to survive. I am simply seeking payment toward that. Show me how devout you are willing to be. Your sincerity will speak more volumes on it than your words.”, Castiel said.

“But you want me to strip? Like get naked?”, Dean asked, hoping that he had misheard or misunderstood.

“I believe that is what the word means. If you need clearer instructions, I would like you to remove your clothing. All of them.”, Castiel clarified, leaving Dean without a doubt and a sinking feeling in his gut.

“Why?”, the hunter tried to buy some time to regain his mental footing.

“Your place is not to act why. Your god has told you to strip to prove your faith. If you refuse then our time here is done and my services are not needed. I will not squander my attention or my power on heathens.”, Castiel frowned, the expression a mild one but detrimental to all of Dean’s hopes.

The hunter reacted quickly, moving closer to the new god than he had ever previously dared. “Hold up! I wasn’t refusing anything. Just give me a second. It’s not everyday someone says strip without warning or some damn foreplay.”, Dean grumbled, his tongue suddenly feeling too thick for his mouth. He was already unbuttoning his fly with one hand while the other pulled up the hem of his shirt.

“I am not just someone.”, Dean heard over the cotton release of his clothing, the hunter divesting himself of all his layers as quickly and efficiently as possible.

“Don’t I know it.” Dean grumbled as he stepped out of his jeans and boxers, the hunter using his toes to slide off his socks. “This nude enough for you? Enjoying the view?”.

“I do appreciate seeing my own work even if you have been careless with it.”, Castiel’s gaze was all encompassing, making Dean shiver under the weight of it as his former keeper’s eyes lingered over fresh scars and still healing flesh. Dean made himself stand still as Castiel walked a full circle around him, taking in everything from head to toe until he stood back in front of him. As much as Dean would have liked to avoid eye contact, Castiel would have none of it. The new god reached out to catch the hunter’s jaw in a firm grip, looking Dean dead in the eye, spring green edged with gold clashing with winter sky blue.

“You will kneel.”, Castiel said softly.

Dean nearly choked on air, staring back at Castiel with wide eyes. The icy gaze that met of his own told him that new god would not be denied. Swallowing hard, Dean sank down to his knees, Castiel‘s hold following him with him, making the hunter keep in tandem with their stare. “This low enough or you want me kissing the floor?”, Dean said, just a little bit proud of himself for the small defiance he still managed to keep in his voice.

“I want you to worship me as you see fit. I want to witness your adoration, your own way of it.”, Castiel said before releasing Dean from his hold. The hunter gratefully looked down at the floor and made another study of Castiel’s shoes in his relief.

“I don’t know how. Holy hell, I don’t even pray.”, Dean sighed. A small part of him had known that it might come to this, would come to this. He had been holding out for something better though, crazy notion that it was.

“I can tell.”, Castiel’s tone sounded dry. It was enough to make Dean snort in amusement despite the situation.

“I gank weird shit for an unpaid living. If you want Shakespeare go bother the dude in his Heaven.”, the hunter shrugged, daring to look up again to meet Castiel’s eyes, the blue of them softening to warmer shades of cyan and cerulean. Dean hoped that was a good thing.

“You assume a lot. He is not there.”, Castiel said. He reached out to start stroking Dean’s hair, the hunter reminding himself in time not to flinch.

The former angel‘s answer was enough to illicit not only curiosity but a response from the hunter. “Really? His ticket got punched for Hell?”, Dean asked. He could almost pretend that they were having a normal conversation, well as normal as their conversations ever were.

“He got his ten years and immortal accolades.”, Castiel hummed, his hands lingering in Dean’s hair, making a study of touch on the lock’s silken qualities. The hunter leaned into the exploration, letting himself enjoy it if only for a moment. Castiel’s touch was seeking, not demanding as he thought it would always be. It soothed Dean in more ways than he would have cared to admit.

“No shit. Who else?”, Dean said absently, resting his hands on either side of Castiel’s thighs to steady himself.

“We can discuss such matters at a later date. You are trying to avoid the present situation. I thought that you wanted your brother healed in a timely manner.”, Castiel said, wrenching Dean out of his fantasy and back into brutal reality, where a god awaited his payment. The god’s hand trailed down the back of Dean’s skull to grip his neck like a collar, destroying the last of soft illusions. “Revere me, adore me, worship me and it shall be done. You have my word.”

“You won’t get all wrathful if I fuck this up?”, Dean tried not to think about the flesh binding though he breathed a small sigh of relief, or was it regret more treacherous parts of his mind hinted, as Castiel’s hands fanned out further to kneed at his shoulders.

“I am a loving god.”, Castiel reminded, his tone low and gravely enough to make Dean’s stomach do odd little flips and even lowers parts of his anatomy perk up to attention.

“You keep saying that……”, Dean sent a sharp order down to his baser desires to behave. The situation was already complicated enough without throwing his fucked up libido into it. “Why do I have to be naked?”.

“Humility goes hand in hand with piety.”, Castiel shrugged, the human gesture looking very out of place at the moment.

“So you gotta pay your dirt due down below before you can get a little bit of love from up on high, huh? Typical.”, Dean groused, his fingers plucking at the tan material of Castiel‘s trench coat.

“This is an act of futility. You will never give yourself to another willingly.”, Castiel frowned, his voice soft edged with disappointment as his hands left Dean‘s skin altogether but he couldn’t risk Castiel taking off. Panicking, Dean surprised them both by throwing himself forward to wrap his arms tightly around Castiel’s legs. If Castiel hadn’t been what he was, the hunter’s weight and strength would have toppled them both over. As it was, Dean felt like he had just thrown himself at a brick wall.

“No! Don’t….Damn it, just give me a chance!”, Dean told Castiel’s kneecaps. He had to think of something quick, Dean’s mind flying through his thoughts, ideals, and half remembered memories of other religions and their practices. Settling on a classic, Dean released his hold on Castiel long enough to sink down to the god’s feet. There, the hunter started to untie a shiny black dress shoes, freeing the socked foot from its confines with a little help from its owner who followed through Dean’s silent bidding to lift his foot and keep still in perfect balance on one foot. A black sock soon followed its housing, revealing a pale foot. It was fine boned, almost delicate looking in a way. Dean had never considered himself a foot guy but he knew a good example of one when he saw it. Thoughts going awry, Dean briefly wondered if Jimmy had ever had anyone tell him what lovely feet he had when he was alive and not the accommodation for a deity.

Collecting himself to keep from getting further distracted, Dean cupped the foot gently in both hands, pressing his lips to the top of it. Castiel’s skin was dry to the touch and Dean was somewhat surprised to find that there was no odor. He would have felt relieved but the lack of scent was almost disconcerting in its absence. All he could get off of Castiel’s skin was a faint ozone smell, almost metallic in its sterility. Seeking he knew not what, Dean trailed light kisses up the bridge of Castiel’s foot, pushing back pant leg to reveal more pale flesh and the rigid bone work of ankles. Feeling daring and noticing that Castiel wasn’t stopping him, Dean pressing his mouth against the sharp bone nob there, swirling his tongue around it. The former angel’s skin tasted like he smelled, dry, mild, and a touch electric, like Dean had just licked a battery to test out its charge.

Releasing the foot to set it down gently, Dean gave the exact same treatment to the other though this time he ended his open mouth kiss to the ankle with a nip, his teeth caressing bone ridge. He leaned back on hands and heels to look up into Castiel’s face, wondering if anything he had done was worth a damn or made any difference. He was met with eyes too blue and crazed to be real, the new god trying to devour him through staring alone.

“More.”, Castiel breathed out, demanded. Sagging a little from relief that he hadn’t fucked up his chances just yet, Dean wondered where and how far he should take this. Seeing what was within reach from his position, Dean went next for Castiel’s hands, starting with the right one. Palm up, Dean licked the meat of it, tasting dead life lines of a man burnt out of his husk a long time ago. The angel turned god had not need for the ended future carved into his stolen skin.

Before Dean had a chance to continue his exploration, a hand to the back of his head pressed the hunter up against Castiel’s front, his nose bumping crotch. The line of hardness there was impossible to ignore especially with it being pressed up against Dean’s cheek.

“Isn’t that against some sort of rule?”, Dean wondered as Castiel’s hand slid through his hair and over his scalp in almost a coaxing gesture. Dean had to close his eyes and breath out slowly, focusing on the action of draining all the air out of his lungs to keep calm. Steeling himself, Dean placed his hands over Castiel’s swollen cock, one hand moving upward while the other moved downward and back, the hunter mapping out his task.

“It is man who has demonized sexuality. There is nothing sinful about coitus.”, Castiel’s words coming out light and airy, his attention obviously elsewhere.

“Except that you call it that. Really, Cas? Coitus? You know every language on Earth and that’s what you’re going with?”, Dean rolled his eyes, but kept his head down to do so. He doubted Castiel would have noticed though, the former angel watching the hunter‘s hands work him over inch by inch.

Castiel ignored him in favor of continuing his thought on the matter, though his words came out stilted with every pass of Dean’s hand over his erection.
“It is a universal act starting at the most basic level of atoms merging with one another. The universe itself was made from an act of passion. I believe man refers to it as the Big Bang. Appropriate in some ways. I remember it being very noisy.”, Castiel sighed, stroking Dean‘s hair gently, touch lingering as it came into contact with skin.

“Are you trying to tell me that everything here is just the aftermath of space and time bumping uglies?”, Dean laughed despite himself and everything else as he mouthed Castiel’s front, making the dress pant’s dark material wet as salvia seeped through one side and precome the other.

“Crudely put but still fairly accurate.”, Castiel grunted as Dean applied his teeth into tormenting him.

“Well I be damned…again.”, Dean muttered, unbuckling Castiel‘s belt and he drew the dress pant‘s zipper down with the other. “Or maybe not. You’re seriously good with this?”.

“I believe humans vilified sex due the Nephilim. They were so beautiful, the children of angels and man, the Lost Ones. Their passing was mourned quite deeply by both our races, so much so that you as a people had to disparage the sacred act of love with anything remotely ethereal with promises of hellfire and damnation.”, Castiel stated coolly as he watched Dean free his erection from the confines of his boxers. Dean hadn’t known what to expect in the underwear department, assuming that Castiel still wore what Jimmy had been wearing at the time of his demise. He would have pegged Jimmy as a tighty whitey kinda of guy but apparently the ad salesman had preferred his boys to breath.

“Your foreplay sucks.”, Dean grumbled, taking Castiel into his mouth without further ado. He had never given head before but had received enough of it to get the gist, the hunter just imitating what he liked having done to him.

Dean reflected that he must have been doing it right because Castiel came with no warning other than a sigh, holding Dean’s head in place so he had to either swallow Castiel’s load or choke on it. Unlike his skin, Castiel’s cum wasn’t flavorless. It burned with power and heat, coating the inside of Dean’s mouth and down his throat with a smoldering wash of salt and energy that left his insides tingling long after he had swallowed.

The sensations left Dean gasping, covered in sweat as he leaned up against Castiel’s hip for support, the new god stroking his hair as the hunter clung to him. The simply command of ‘More’ made Dean look up into fathomless blue eyes, Castiel’s gaze looking past his own and down to the hunter’s own ignored erection. The meaning behind it became clear enough as Dean watched Castiel wet his chapped lips, the former angel seeming enthralled as he studied the trails of pearly precome that were making Dean’s penis glisten. With a shuddering sigh, Dean leaned back on his heels to present himself, an offering, a feast for the eyes, one hand bracing himself up while the other wrapped around his length to stripe his hardness, pulling at it.

Dean didn’t last long under that considerable gaze, one that he didn‘t dare meet, couldn’t even if he had wanted to. He had long since gone past the point of no return, his orgasm an imminent thing. Unlike Castiel, Dean was not quiet about his release, the hunter shouting out his pleasure. Drained and feeling weak from pleasure, Dean was unable to keep himself from sagging boneless onto the floor. As much as he would have liked to rest, Castiel was still demanding more, his silence speaking volumes.

Unsure of what he was supposed to do, Dean offered up his hands to the god, the rough scarred skin of them coated in semen. It was his last submission, the only one Dean had left to give, the hunter on his back with his belly exposed and his limp cock plastered to his legs with the remains of its own spent.

Castiel stared down long enough at Dean that the hunter started to feel nervous and more than a little embarrassed. Just as he started to lower his hands though, Dean found his wrists caught in an iron grip and his body pulled upward by an effortless strength. Castiel held Dean’s body against his own, keeping the hunter in place with a hold on his wrists and waist. He seemed pleased when Dean didn’t struggle, the hunter letting the god take his weight and direct him wherever he wanted. Dean even watched as Castiel started to lick the cooling fluid off of his fingers, one digit at a time, as if savoring the hunter’s milky essence.

When Dean’s skin was cleaned spotless, his hands were released but the hunter was not allowed to go far, Castiel’s arms fully encircling him, the new god leaning in close so that they were cheek to cheek, permanent 5oclock stubble rasping against Dean’s skin. Unsure of where to put his hands or what was even allowed anymore, Dean made an executive decision of ‘fuck it’ and placed his hands on either side of Castiel’s narrow waist. He was certain of two things.

The first being that there was absolutely no escape for Castiel now.

The second was that this close Dean could feel Castiel’s renewed interest, the god’s erection pressed up against his thigh.

“More.”

Chapter Text

After Sam was put back together again and Dean got over his disbelief that Castiel had kept his promise, the hunters couldn’t see any reason why they shouldn’t go back to business as usual. New god or not, there were things out there that still went bump in the night and liked to eat people while doing it. Calls still came into Bobby’s, hunters asking for guidance or backup or both. The demand was heavy enough that the boys borrowed one of Bobby’s junkers, since Dean still hadn’t deemed the Impala road worthy yet, and hit the highways. They went to check out what should have been an easy hunt nearby, just a few towns over. One wayward vampire turned into a nest of the fanged bastards, holed up in their very own impromptu fortress of an abandoned warehouse.

After scouting out the premise and not liking their odds against the greater numbers, Dean and Sam had decided to come back later when it was daylight and just burn the whole dilapidated building down to its foundation, doing the county a favor in more ways than one. Winchester luck, however, decided that the vamps would pick up their scent just as they were trying to leave and get the jump on the hunters.

Rabbiting, Sam had gone right and down the stairs while Dean had gone left and up, heading toward the roof. For whatever reason, the vampires, all of them, decided to follow the older Winchester, which is why Dean found himself standing on a roof’s ledge with a void of empty air on one side of him and a whole lot of ugly fanged death on the other. The continuation of his mortality was looking pretty grim, considering Sam was looking up at Dean from the ground level with an expression of desperate open horror on his face. There was no way that his brother would make it up here in time and it wouldn’t matter if he did anyway. Any rescue attempt at this point would be a suicide mission so Dean did what he could to push Sam toward the right decision. He fished the keys for the Impala out of his back pocket and let gravity do the rest for him. He just hoped that Sam would have enough damn sense let him go. This wasn’t going to end pretty and he needed someone he could trust to come back and clean up this shit show when he was gone.

While Dean considered his options, few that they were, he knew one thing for sure. He wasn’t going to be drained again and made into a monster. Once was enough. The other option of being torn limb from limb and eaten alive wasn’t how he wanted to go either. Dean knew having an open casket was not really an option in his line of work but at the very least, he wanted to leave enough behind to merit a pine box.

“Fuck this noise. I’m not giving your Twilight wannabes a taste of this fine ass.”, Dean grunted as he stuck the barrel of the gun under his chin and pulled the trigger, turning so that he would fall backwards off the roof. With any luck, Sam would have time to grab his corpse and go. He wondered in the microseconds between where he was heading this time. It was a sad thing when Heaven held no allure or respite over Hell. Dean toyed with the idea of reincarnation or if that was even going to be a viable option for him. Did you have to convert for that? “Probably…“, he mused, “Figures.”

What Dean and his audience expected to happen never did, all bodies on the roof stunned into the stillness of surprise by the lack of newly exposed brain matter and answering blood mist. The quiet was short lived though as the vampires erupted, bursting spontaneously into human sized torches of screaming death before crumbling away into fine ash in the span of seconds. Dean only got a glimpse of this phenomenon though, before he was plucked bodily off of the roof. One moment there, the following held in-between a space of swirling lights and white noise, and then gone to find himself being slammed into a wall.

As far as walls went, it was a very nice one. A little unknown fact about the hunter, Dean was a bit of an expert on walls. Demons and any other supernatural asshat with telekinesis seemed to live for slamming Winchesters into them, usually face first. This particular wall was highly decorative with a roughened cream colored stucco texture to its surface and an inlaid mosaic pattern of black marble running across its width. The effect was striking and Dean might of appreciated the craftsmanship a bit more if he wasn’t being bounced off of it. As far as he was concerned, stucco and mosaic translated into scratches dotted with small weird bruises that would be fairly annoying and hurt more than they should.

Before Dean could begin to question this new development, his view was filled with the images of an angry god who picked him off of the ground to easily pin the stunned hunter to the wall with one hand, the tasteful stonework digging into Dean’s back in small hurtful places. He hated it when he was right.

“How dare you. How dare you try to take your own life.”, Castiel seethed through clenched teeth, stray currents of powers crackling off of his skin to set it aglow. His breath was far too hot to be mistaken for human, the heat held in it threatening to burn the surface of Dean’s skin. Castiel’s eyes were perhaps the most frightening thing of all though, a pair of maelstroms made of ice and wicked blue fire barely being contained within their shell of flesh as they flared light from their corners. Dean felt as though he could have been kept in place alone from those eyes and the power they held.

“I didn’t have a choice!”, Dean gasped, making his mouth and lungs work for him, but just barely. The hunter ended up face planting into thick carpet when Castiel abruptly let him go, god’s will letting gravity take control again.

“Ow.”, Dean mumbled into the plush flooring, sitting up to find Castiel staring down at him with an unfathomable look. Dean stared back, trying to match the look. He was starting to get emotional whiplash here from the rapid fire of Castiel’s mood swings. Just one second ago, the guy looked like he was going to tear his head off. Now it looked like he had gone back to counting Dean’s freckles or whatever the hell Castiel did when he stared at the hunter like that.

“You truly believe that. I can hear the truth in your words.”, Castiel said softly. It was enough to make Dean break off staring first, the hunter resolutely ignoring the note of sadness that was laced through Castiel’s words.

“Yeah, so? There’s no point in lying to you. Seriously? What else was I supposed to do? Let Twatlight make me their bitch and pass my ass around until its drained? No thanks. Been there, done that, have the mental scarring to prove it.”, Dean shrugged, making himself too busy to look at Castiel by getting up and brushing dirt, imaginary and real, off of his clothing. He needn’t have bothered to waste the time or the effort, the hunter finding himself divested of all his many layers. Dean noticed this about the same time that he was being laid out on his back upon a large soft bed full of pillows and pearly white silk sheets.

“What? No diner? No small talk?”, Dean joked weakly as Castiel joined him on the bed, naked as well and still glowing a bit, “Just ‘wham, bam, thank you, amen’?”. He didn’t know where he was but the view and salty scent in the air coming from the window meant that it was some place coastal so it was probably a pretty safe bet to assume he wasn’t in South Dakota anymore. Dean bit back a yelp when the new god moved to sit on top of him, straddling Dean to lean over him, Castiel’s hands on either side of his head to cage him in.

“You will not put yourself in harm’s way.”, Castiel ordered, his tone imperial enough to raise every one of Dean’s hackles.

“I can’t promise that. It’s my job. I gank shit and most of the time it tries to return the favor.”, Dean growled, glaring back.

“This is not up for debate. Your god has spoken. You shall obey.”, Castiel glowered and the air in the room suddenly seemed denser, harder to breathe in. Part of Dean wanted to profusely apologize and debase himself at Castiel’s feet for a chance at forgiveness. The rest of him rose up determinately to meet the challenge head on though, teeth bared and jaw snapping.

“It is who I am. If you take that away from me, I’m nothing.”, Dean seethed through clenched jaw, ignoring how Castiel tried to loom over him, pulling the shadows of the room into play in aid of this. Dean continued to stare down the former angel, showing him how unimpressed he was by it. He had gotten worse from better. His entire life was a showcase of this, of powers trying to force him into a corner to do their bidding. Dean wasn’t about to start caving now.

Castiel arched a brow at the defiance but seemed to let it go as he sat back on the hunter’s midsection, letting the room go back to normal. He noted that Dean seemed more distracted by that than the power play. “You are more than just some mere hunter.”, Castiel stated firmly, trailing his hands down Dean’s chest, watching as the skin flushed bright colors under his touch.

“What am I then?”, Dean grunted, thinking about old people doing it, that time he was really hung over and couldn’t stop puking, and changing diapers to keep himself from reacting to Castiel’s turn in attention. He had to teach Castiel some sort of technique in foreplay. This bipolar flip from “I will smite thee heathen’ to ‘let me smother you with love’ was doing horrible things to his ’this makes me horny’ list. Dean knew he was fucked up but he was pretty damn sure that threats to his life or freedom shouldn’t ever be considered a turn on.

“You are mine.”, Castiel said solemnly as he drew symbols with the tips of his fingers on the skin over Dean’s heart, literally. Dean didn’t like the looks of the light show that being emitted from his own flesh, the etchings left behind glowing a funny blue color.

“Stop doing that. It doesn‘t look healthy.”, the hunter countered, trying to wiggle out from beneath the former angel which was as about effective as climbing out from under a mountain. Dean finally admitted defeat and gave up, lying back on the bed that he had to admit was pretty damn comfortable, even with a great lump of a god sitting in his lap. “Can’t I be both?”.

“This is not your body. This is not your life. You will not throw either away needlessly. I will not permit it.”, Castiel said, laying down on Dean so that they were cheek to cheek, chest to chest, groin to groin, their legs tangling together, Castiel‘s arms wrapping around Dean‘s shoulder to cradle them even closer. They laid like that for what felt like a long time to Dean, listening to the comforting sounds of surf, reliable and soothing in its repartition. After a while, Dean found himself willing enough to wrap his own arms around Castiel, completing the hold. He had felt weird just laying there with his arms at his sides gripping too soft sheets, not doing anything. Now his callused hands rested on the small of pale back, rubbing small circles into it. It felt strange in its normalcy, Castiel’s skin cool to the touch but not disconcertingly so though the surface of it gave off the crackle and tingle of electricity sometime.

For just a moment, Dean found that he could pretend, allow himself to believe that he was safe in the arms of a lover, someone he could have trusted, had done so at one point in time with not only his own life but his brother’s as well. To Dean, that was saying everything.

Much to Dean‘s surprise, it was Castiel who broke this bit of peace first. He’d thought that Castiel would have been content to just stay like this until he needed to go do god things like he normally did when they were together in bed and cuddling was forced on Dean. “This place is nice, nicer than the hovels you choose to reside in. I could keep you here.” was said softly by lips pressed up close to Dean’s ear. It managed to sound like personal despair and ruin all at once to Dean.

Making himself stay calm, Dean drew his head back enough so that he could look Castiel in the eye. “It’ll be like the green room all over again. Cas, don’t do this. Please. There’s gotta be another way.”, Dean said low, his tone rasping from the amount of self control he was trying to exert. Panic with its cellmate Fear were clawing his insides to fine ribbons. He took a moment to lick his lips and express his thoughts further on the matter. “You don’t want me to gank myself, fine. No promises though if you cage me. You’ll drive me to it.”.

“Your concessions and offers are pointless. I will simply bring you back.”, Castiel dismissed, leaning in to nuzzle his cheek against Dean’s, their stubble rasping from the contact.

“C-cas…….”, Dean stammered, fear freeing itself long enough to start choking the hunter by his own throat as his mind went blank. Old engrained habit kicked in and Dean found himself counting his breaths just like his old man had taught him to do, slowing them down to manageable levels. Many would claim that John Winchester had been too harsh and fanatical about his sons’ training but Dean felt that Sam and him were living proof that it worked as he bottled his terror and tapped into his ever present fount of rage to make himself react to the danger at hand.

Rationally access the situation. Take note of all exits and outs if you have to retreat. Anything can be used as a weapon if you’re creative enough.

Old lessons that had been pounded into his skull since the tender age of four grounded Dean, making him glare back in the face of god with open righteous fury. “Cas….”, when careful words failed him like they always seemed to do, Dean went with his gut and used the weapons he had at hand. You can’t move a mountain by fighting it but you sure could blow it the fuck up. “…..you pathetic child.”

For a brief moment. Dean watched as Castiel’s eyes widened in surprise before the hunter launched into his full attack. “You think just because you get a holy power up that you can just do whatever the hell you want?! You know what? Screw you. You’re not god, at least not the God or whoever you‘re trying to be. You’re just some poor bastard who got the fucked up raw end of an already shitty deal. You dealt with it the best you could and did what you had to but you’re a grunt who got promoted too quickly to general without learning the ropes first. You wanna lead then lead by example, not by killing off all the competition or anyone else who disagrees with you. Humans aren’t your fucking toys and the world isn’t your sandbox! The moment you start thinking like that makes you just as bad as the feathered asshats you replaced. No wait, it makes you worse cause you know fucking better.”, Dean snarled, “You wanna be God so bad then quit being such a damn infantile asshole about it!”.

Dean was left panting from his tirade, glaring up at a stunned looking Castiel, who seemed as immovable as a statue at the moment. Well versed in strange ethereal tendencies of immolating the inanimate, Dean was used to it by now. He just wished Castiel wouldn’t do it on top of him. “And this is how I die.”, Dean mused to himself, “Cas gets lost in thought, forgets about everything, and I end up starving to death. Naked. No, wait. I’ll die of thirst first. Still naked. Awesome.”

Castiel touching their foreheads together reminded Dean that he had just told off god and the hunter found himself wondering what the hell the former angel was going to do about it. “I want you.”, Castiel whispered in a pained voice, making Dean’s jaw drop open in surprise. He had been expecting some sort of punishment for acting out. Keeping up with current events despite the oddity of the moment, Dean was quick to gather his thoughts in response.

“Then earn me. Don’t take or demand more than I am willing to offer.”, Dean chose his words carefully, wondering when this was going to end badly for him like it always did.

“I need you.”, Castiel murmured, pressing his plush lips to full ones, the kiss chaste and his words bittersweet to the taste.

“I wish I knew why.”, Dean admitted, bringing his hand up to dare and touch Castiel’s cheek, brushing the rounded flesh of it. Castiel turned his head to brush his lips against Dean’s knuckles in a near reverent gesture that made the hunter shudder.

“I love you.”, Castiel said, making it sound almost like a prayer to Dean, breaking his heart in places he didn‘t know he still had.

“I know. I wish it could be different, that I could have been less fucked up and just told you that. Been there for you when you needed me.”, Dean whispered, because some truths hurt to say aloud. “Maybe….Maybe we could have avoided all this. The lies, the war, fucking Crowley, everything…. if I just had the balls to say that to you when it mattered.”.

“You will be mine.”, Castiel said, those four little words managing to sound like threat and promise bound neatly together into one as his arms around Dean tightened. The hunter leaned up as far as he could in the hold and under the weight to press light kisses to anywhere that he could reach. Butterfly light touches for fluttering lips fell on Castiel’s chin, jaw line, neck, making their way further upward as the god relaxed under the amorous assault.

“You poor son of bitch, you haven’t figured it out yet. I’ve been yours since the day you hauled my ass out of hell.”, Dean said softly. A look passed over Castiel, some strange realization washing over his features. Dean didn’t have any time to wonder about and there was nothing the hunter could have done to stop the god even if he had wanted to, when Castiel released his hold on Dean to tightly gripped his shoulder with an open hand. In a way, Dean somehow knew it was coming, that it would have all eventually led up to this in some way or form, the hunter turning his body into the hold as he presented his bare shoulder. Castiel’s hand gripped him tight, the touch of god burning into his skin, searing the flesh with a near blinding energy.

Despite the danger to his vision, Dean bit back a cry, refusing to look away He couldn’t recall the first time but holy hell, he was going to remember his second branding. It hurt in the way any life change did, soul deep and bone carved as Dean felt strange energy flood into his body through the mark, making him feel warm and gooey soft on the inside like he had just drank too much expensive scotch.

It was made all the better when Castiel’s other hand slid down between their bodies to take hold of their ignored erections that had sprung up from this binding moment, silken skin sliding against each other in a mix of slickness made from precome and sweat. While pleasurable, it was not distracting enough for Dean to lose focus on the breathtaking, heart stopping power that was being flooded into his body.

Two bodies were in motion as Dean and Castiel pushed and pulled at each other, lean hips thrusting to meet each other as Dean’s hands danced along Castiel’s back looking for purchase. Mouths sealing themselves together imperfectly, prayers and curses seeping out from around their edges from Dean to be accepted and swallowed down by Castiel, the god drinking deep from the well that was Dean’s devotion. Pain and pleasure mingled together to form thick syrup, replacing Dean’s blood with the slash and burn sensation of something precious being ruined while something else entirely took its place, something sharper, more fierce, like shattering opals underfoot to replace them with diamonds. Dean didn’t fight it, letting it take him where it wanted as he felt his being filled up it its limits and pushing beyond even that. The hunter’s vision went nova with white fire marked by a pair of blue suns before he lost sense of all time and reality, the hunter imploding from within to held together and reformed by the god that held him in hand.

When he was done, Castiel drew away to sit at Dean’s side, the god quietly studying his handiwork, leaving Dean to sag in more than just relief against the mattress. Something akin to pleasure but not rolled through Dean’s body in lapping waves just under his skin as he came down from a high that was mountainous in proportion, making his toes and fingers tingle and his back arch in little jumps as sensations drained from him like his body was a sieve. Dean couldn’t bring himself to feel any surprise to find semen cooling on his belly, tiredly dragging his fingers through the mess of milky fluid to examine the evidence through half lidded eyes. It shimmered gold in places where it had mixed with Castiel’s own release. The branding had been intense enough for him to not even bother noticing his own orgasm or Castiel’s for that matter.

Eyelids threatening to grow too heavy to keep open for much longer, Dean made himself stay awake long enough to look over at his shoulder. The mark, Castiel’s handprint, was in the same place as before but different from the puffy, reddened skin that never healed until Castiel himself removed it entirely after Sam swan dived Lucifer into the Cage. The hand printed looked like metal had been worked seamlessly into the flesh of his shoulder, the outline bright gold and glowing, symbols and inscriptions that Dean didn’t recognize but reminded him of Echonian worked within its borders.

“What have you done?”, Dean asked, clutching at his shoulder, feeling the pulse of power answer the fear that began to reawaken within him. Castiel’s answering smile was chilling in its beauty and content, pleased expression.

“I have made you mine.”

Chapter Text

The Impala was mostly done. What was left to do on her was minor nick picky shit that Dean was puttering around with to kill time. He had done enough for today though so he deemed it was time for a real break, the hunter going inside for a beer after finding out that his cooler was empty. When he returned with an open beer in hand and the remainder of a six pack under arm to restock, Dean found a goddess waiting for him.

Kali seemed outrageously out of place in Bobby’s scrap yard, the statuesque dark haired, dark eyed beautiful deity dressed to the nines in the very latest of corporate bitch. Dean raised an eyebrow at her in question as he popped open a cold brew to be sneered at back in answer.

“Where is your respect?”, Kali snapped in way of greeting as Dean made a show of chugging his beer. “You should be kneeling in my presence.”

“Sorry toots. I’ve been kicking it one on one with God the last couple of weeks so it takes a lot to impress me now.”, Dean shrugged, tossing the beers into the cooler. “I doubt you’re here for a social call so let’s just skip all the pleasantries and death threats. What the hell do you want?”.

Cutting to the chase made Kali look distinctly uncomfortable which was not a good look for a goddess or any deity for that matter. “I need your help.”, she finally admitted after a long moment of Dean basically ignoring the brooding divine being to start working on his car again. He found it quite easy enough to do considering how much practice in the past he had with Sam and his emo-ish tendencies. No one could sigh as long or as loud as Sam when he was in a self-righteous funk. Not even gods had anything on his great moose of a younger brother when Sam found out that life had given him a glass half empty.

Dean paused in his tinkering to stare at her, the hunter made speechless by Kali‘s admittance. He let the moment linger before shattering it with laughter, the sound of it abrupt and practically brutal. “Seriously?”, Dean gasped, fighting for air between bouts of open amusement.

“You dare!?”, Kali seethed, looking enraged if the flames coming off of her hands were any real indication. Dean barely batted an eyelid at the theatrics though it did dry up some of his laughter, but not in the way Kali intended.

“Damn right, I dare. Last time we met, you were going to sell me and Sam to the highest bidder to save your own ass and now you show up asking me for help? That’s rich.”, Dean grinned in the face of the pissed off diety. “You know what? Fuck off, I’m not interested in anything you have to say. Gabriel tried to help you and you got him killed for giving a shit about you.”.

“You had an equal hand in his demise as well.”, Kali snapped though she did look somewhat mollified at the mention of her former lover, the Trickster turned dead archangel.

“Yeah well, you don’t see me come crawling to you for help with my problems when shit gets bad.”, Dean grumbled, turning back to the car, the only thing he deemed worth his attention at the moment.

“It is not by choice. You are the consort to the new god. I demand to speak with you.”, Kali said, her words bringing Dean back into the conversation with sudden renewed interest.

“Whoa, timeout! I’m a what?!”, Dean yelled. He scowled at Kali’s smirk, the goddess enjoying his obvious discomfort.

“Consort. Human companion. Painted whore to this new god. I wish to speak to Castiel and you are the safest conduit to do so with.”, Kali explained, making of show of examined her flawless, razor sharp nails.

“Why would you want to do that? And how the hell did I become a consort?!”, Dean snapped, giving up on finishing the Impala so that he could stare down the smug looking goddess.

“His divine mark is upon you, you fool. How could you not know?”, Kali rolled her dark eyes magnificently, enough so that even Dean could appreciate the gesture and how belittled he should feel by it. He ignored the pulse that ran through the handprint on his shoulder as if the mark was reminding the hunter of its renewed existence. “We must speak in such a manner because Castiel is killing gods and eating them.”.

That was enough to throw even Dean off. After all he had lived through, seen, and survived, he had to admit that was a new one on him. “Why is Cas doing that?”.

“Apparently, our existence offends him.”, Kali answered, her tone low and dangerous. Dean remained unimpressed.

“Wow. How offensive do you have to be to get eaten?”, Dean wondered aloud. “Whatever. No dice, sister. This is way above my pay grade anyway.”, he waved the goddess off as he leaned up against the car to finish his beer. Dean would have liked something stronger at this point but Kali didn’t look like she was anywhere near being done.

“I’m not here to give you an option in the matter, fool.”, Kali hissed, stepping menacingly forward.

“Holy hell, you’re here for a hostage.”, Dean snorted, partially in amusement but mostly in disbelief at Kali‘s sheer stupidity. He didn’t even bother to try and escape. Instead, Dean leaned against the Impala and calmly watched the goddess stalk him.

“More like a bargaining chip.”, Kali corrected, coming to stop right in front of Dean to run her sharp nails over the skin of his crossed arms, drawing thin lines of blood from it.

“Cause that worked out so well for you last time.”, Dean sighed, giving the old goddess an almost pitying look. “You poor dumb bitch, you are going to die screaming. You know that, right?”.

“Not before you, maggot.”, Kali snarled, her hand finding Dean’s throat quick as a snake‘s strike. Or at least it tried to. Her touch never reached even the barest warmth of his skin, the goddess held in place by a power that made the molecules in the air sing shrill hymns, announcing a greater authority‘s arrival.

“I’m sorry. I hate to tell you I told you so.”, Dean murmured, the hunter watching as the goddess’s dark eyes went wide and white ringed with fear, something else that didn’t look good on her. Dean looked on with almost a detached interest as Kali was dragged back by her hair, Castiel’s grip upon her inky locks like Death’s own.

Long after Kali was gone, Dean could still hear her screams ringing in his ears.

Chapter Text

Castiel was a hands on type of god, Dean decided, or at least he was with him. The new god liked to show up at Dean’s bedside, more often than not, slipping in beside the hunter whether he was awake or merely faking sleep. Through much trail and error that he somehow survived, Dean found out Castiel responded better to him if Dean touched him out of his own volition.

A happy god was a kind god. Basic thinking, but Dean was tired of complicated things. His entire existence seemed to be a conundrum sequestered within a riddle wrapped in a burrito, so why make things harder? If Dean was honest with himself, like he so rarely was, he could admit that he was tired. Struggle, a lifetime of it, was wearing him down to his foundations. He still had his pride and while Dean would never allow himself to be broken, he could afford to bend.

Which was why Dean’s head was currently in Castile’s lap with his face pressed up against the god’s warmth, divine fingers carding through his short cropped hair. The other stroked his bare flank, playing with the V line of his hips. Dean hardly ever bothered putting on nightwear anymore. In the long run, it just saved time and Castiel always seemed pleased to find Dean already naked for him when he pulled back the sheets.

“What do gods taste like?”, Dean asked, wondering if Castiel would bother to answer him. Sometimes they talked during these nocturnal visits, sometimes not one word was passed between them. Some nights, Castiel would simply hold Dean, caging the hunter in his arms and making him sleep there. Other nights, whether he wanted to or not, Dean’s body would be explored in a curious manner, Castiel happy to fondle various parts of Dean’s body until he was left whimpering and covered in his own sticky body fluids.

“I can not describe it to you in a manner that you would understand.”, Apparently god was in a chatty mood tonight.

“I’m not stupid.”, Dean grumbled, half in and out of sleep. The fingers running through his hair were soothing despite who was doing it and he was becoming comfortably drowsy. Even as the big ‘G’, it would seem that Castiel still had a kink for watching him sleep. Dean didn’t know whether to feel worried about that or not, but it wasn’t like he could do anything about it.

“I never meant to imply that you were. Your sensory perception is limited though. There are simply no words accurate enough to describe the ‘taste’ of a deity.”, Castiel explained softly as he traced the shell of Dean‘s ear with his forefinger before descended further to the hunter‘s jaw line. As far as Dean could assess, the light touches weren’t meant to be sexual, just exploratory. He knew this because Castiel considered the concept of subtly was for other lesser being. God was pretty forthright with what he wanted and when. No, Dean mused, Castiel just liked to touch him. It was plain and simple as that and at the moment, Dean was loving simple. Simple was safe and good, and didn’t involved anyone he loved dying or going bat shit crazy.

“You’re god. Give it a shot.”, Dean snorted. He had almost fallen back asleep by the time Castiel gave him an answer, soothing into it by lingering strokes over his night chilled flesh .

“Gods taste like old blood spilled carelessly, selfish faith, and the soiled prayers left too long unanswered to fester and rot. They taste petty, cruel, and tired, made so by time and lax devotion. Can you tell me how that would taste to you?”, Castiel mused, a slight smile turning up the corners of his lips.

“Probably better with ketchup. Everything is usually better with ketchup. Or ranch. You can even dip a twinkie in ranch and it’s awesome.”, Dean said, nuzzling Castiel’s stomach with his nose, part of him wondering if the clothing Castiel still wore was even real anymore. Castiel smelled real enough, though Dean couldn’t place the scent. It was sweet and spicy with lingering tones of salt, earth, and something otherworldly that the hunter had deemed a long time ago simply as angel. Whatever it was, all he knew was it reminded him of some intangible concept that he refused to label or nail down in his mind. If he put a name to it and dare define it, Dean knew that life would try and take it away from him like it did everything else that mattered to him, made him feel this oddly content.

‘Pie’ was the closest word he ever came to describing it with. It was the same feeling he got when he was eating a perfect piece of Dutch apple pie fresh from the oven but left out to cool just long enough so the filling didn‘t burn off the roof of his mouth when he bit into it. He knew Sam would have a field day with that kind of explanation if he ever found out.

Dean felt that he could always blame stress for having such weird affectionate thoughts. He felt that life owed him that much. All that he was certain of was that he felt safe and warm for once in his life, and that alone let Dean sleep like the dead.

Chapter Text

“So…….”, Bobby’s whiskey coarsened voice drew Sam’s attention away from the book he hadn’t been reading for a while now to find the older hunter nearly standing on top of him. Sam grimaced upon noticing that his mind was too unsettled to take in any real information and apparently take note of his immediate surroundings if he was letting other people sneak up on him. Admittedly, it was Bobby, a seasoned pro of a hunter but still. “….are we ever going to talk about it or just ignore it and pretend that everything is just coming up roses for us like usual?”.

“What?”, Sam deflected like a pro, glancing up at Bobby quickly before dropping his furtive gaze again to glue his eyes to the page that had been open to him for the better part of an hour.

“Don’t play dumb with me, boy. You know damn well what I’m talking about.”, Bobby growled. Sam winced at the older man’s patented ‘don’t piss on my leg and tell me it’s water’ look. He seemed determined to drag this out to the bitter end so Sam caved, knowing a losing battle when he saw. Sam closed the heavy tome with page dust and a long sigh.

“Yeah, I know. Something’s up with Dean and total shocker, he‘s not talking about it.”, Sam stated the obvious because he felt like someone needed to at least say it aloud once, make it real.

“Well, no shit there, Sherlock.”, Bobby grunted, “We already know that your stubborn ass of a brother is not the ‘sharing is caring’ type. I meant more what are we planning to do about it? About Castiel?”.

“Seriously, Bobby? Do you know how to take out God cause I sure as hell don’t. I don’t even know where to begin researching something like that.”, Sam gestured tiredly to the stacks upon stacks of untidy books all around them.

“Well damn it, we got to do something, start spit balling ideas somewhere cause Dean needs our help even if he‘s too much of a stubborn jackass to ask for it.”, Bobby snapped.

“And who says he does? Bobby, maybe Dean’s got this under control….”, Sam ended up trailing off under the weight of Bobby’s disbelieving look.

“Your fool brother has stepped in it deep and the worse part is that he probably didn’t even try swerving to avoid this particular pile of shit. You know it and I know it.”, Bobby said, “Don’t get me wrong, boy. I’m thrilled that you’re up walking and talking like the rest of us, but you just don’t from vertical to horizontal like that not after what you been through, fresh as a daisy fine after being whammied with a severe case of Hell and laid out for a week. In our experience, that just don’t happen. Stuff like that don’t go away all neat and tidy, and I’m willing to bet the scrap yard that your fine fool of a brother made a deal expect it wasn’t with any ole demon this time.”.

“I’m not so sure. Castiel has never been a pushover.”, Sam protested weakly, looking down at the book again, like it was suddenly going to start giving him some answers. What the hell was he even reading anymore? It was all beginning to blur together.

“Expect when it comes to your brother. C’mon, the guy made an angel fall for fuck‘s sake. I don’t care who you are. That’s pretty damn impressive for a guy with only a GED and a give-em-hell attitude. If anyone could have any sort of sway with the new god 2.0, Dean would.”, Bobby rolled his eyes.

“So what? He wished me well and it happened? I’m not seeing a downside to this.”, Sam grumbled, burying his head into his hands in a pointless attempt at escape.

“Or maybe you just don’t want to.”, Bobby said pointedly, making Sam look up to sharply glare at old hunter.

“Bobby, it’s not like Castiel is going to take Dean’s soul. He’s god. He doesn’t need it.”, Sam argued, trying to stay rational in this conversation that was quickly turning into a heated debate. He mused that he was playing devil advocate in an argument about god. It might have been funny if it had been someone else.

“So he says until something bigger and badder comes along or god with the big ’G’ gets off his lazy ass to prove our former angel wrong and press the restart button.”, Bobby snorted in near open contempt, “Makes me wonder what Dean traded to fix your grapefruit.”

“Even if he made a trade, and I’m not saying he did, what the hell are we going to do about it?”, Sam sighed, flopping back against the chair, making the decrepit furniture squeak threats and warnings. “You didn’t bring this up with me without something in mind. So, what is it?”.

Bobby gave the younger Winchester a ruthful shit eating grin that looked more like a grimace in response. Sam winced openly in return. Bobby only looked like that when one of his ideas was particular bad, even by their nut ball ‘we’re saving the world with a bullet, a prayer, and a bottle of rotgut’ standards. “Oh, it’s beauty of a train wreck, I’ll give you that much and I can promise you that you’re not going to like it one bit. Holy hell, I don‘t even like it but I’ve been thinking that we go big. And when I say big, I mean BIG.”.

“Oh joy. I can’t wait to hear it.”, Sam said dryly. “Well, don’t keep me in suspense. Tell me all about the new and horribly interesting way we are going to die.”

“I’ve been thinking…….”, Bobby paused to take a breath, “….been thinking about Death.”.

“Ok, that’s normal. It happens. We did just survive the Apocalypse.”, Sam shrugged to be met with an irate look.

“No, idjit. I mean calling the guy up and getting him to help us.”, Bobby snapped, “I may have found a spell that chains Death to do the caster‘s bidding or at least something like that. My ancient Sumerian‘s a little rusty.”

Sam started back blankly for a long moment as that load of information sunk into his brain. “That’s the best you could come up with? Put Death on a leash and hope that he doesn‘t bite us in the ass. Death? As in one of the Four Horsemen, Death, because that will end so well for us. Seriously, Bobby?”, Sam said in stunned disbelief, staring the old hunter down with wide eyes.

“Desperate times.”, Bobby shrugged a little too nonchalantly for Sam’s liking.

“Sounds like business as usual.”, Dean said as he came into the room covering in engine oil and drinking a beer, startling the other two hunters who had been too deeply involved in their conversation to keep their voices pitched low. “What are we talking about?”.

It only took Dean a moment to access the situation, well versed with Sam’s sour bitch face of guiltiness and though the older hunter’s face gave nothing away, Bobby‘s antsy body language of shifting from foot to foot did. “Awesome. So I’m the topic of conversation. You wanna tell me to my face what you‘re saying about me behind my back?”, Dean glared in open challenge, setting his beer aside for now.

“Well excuse us for giving a damn about you. It’s not like you’re willing to help yourself or bother asking us for it, jackass.”, Bobby snapped, engaging first.

“Maybe because I don’t want your help. I’m fine.”, Dean shot back without hesitation, his words making Sam wanting to pull his own hair out by the roots. He was beginning to really hate the word ‘fine’.

“The Winchester definition of fine leaves a whole lot to be desired.”, Bobby snapped, echoing Sam‘s sentiments, “Fine for you is down right shitty to other people.”.

“Other people don’t have god breathing down their neck either. so yeah, all things considered, I think I doing pretty damn well. By the way, thanks for asking me flat out.”, Dean said, spreading his glare out between the two, though the expression was coming off more tired and pained by their actions than truly angry with them. Sam didn’t know what broke his heart more, that Dean could look like that to begin with or that Dean simply couldn’t find the energy anymore to get mad.

“Well since we’re all being so honest like with each other, why don’t you just tell us already about the deal you made with Cas.”, Bobby pressed, sensing weakness.

“Who’s says I made a deal?”, Dean asked the ceiling, rocking back on his heels to deflect, just as much a pro as Sam.

“Because I’m not an idjit. Sam’s head didn’t heal itself. What did you do?”. Bobby moved in closer, crowding Dean both physically and mentally.

“Nothing.”, Dean spat out a little too quickly for anyone to believe.

“Which means something. What did Castiel ask for in return, Dean? I have a right to know.”, Sam rose from his seat to back Bobby and lend his own towering presence to the argument. He could sense Dean was close to crumbling as well. His brother could face down demons, angel, and gods and be a stone, but family was another matter entirely.

“Just let it go. It’s not important.”, Dean edged away from them, his scowl deepening as he watched Sam circle around him so that the hunters were on either side of him and there would be no sudden escape trips to the fridge for another beer or a sudden sprint to the bathroom.

“Damn it, Dean! You can’t keep doing this self sacrificing bullshit every time something happens to me!”, Sam growled out in exasperation, fighting the impulse to grab Dean by his shoulders and shake some sense into him.

Instead of his words having the freeing effect he wanted, Sam watched in bemused horror as Dean found strength in them. “I hate to break it to you but it is my job…..”, Dean stated firmly, the soul deep words coming off of his lips like gospel from the book of John Winchester.

Dean‘s rant was cut short by a gentle hand placed on his shoulder, the hunter looking over in surprise at his adopted father figure, Bobby closer than he had thought. The aged, worn look of loss on Bobby‘s face enough to make Dean‘s next words curl up and die on his tongue. “No, it’s not, son. John screwed you up something fierce and I’m sorry I didn’t notice it in time to fix it when I could, but Sam’s a grown man and a damn good hunter who can take care of himself just fine. You can’t keep trading away pieces of yourself that you can’t get back for him or anyone else. You’ll have nothing left of yourself at the rate you’re going.”, Bobby told him in grave, sober tones of experience, but there was a whole lot of love there too, a fierce quiet love of a damaged man who raised two equally if not more damaged little boys the best he could.

Dean’s head whipped around to the other side when he felt another hand placed upon his shoulder to meet Sam’s own gaze head on. Sam’s expressions were beautiful complex things, this particular one filled to the brim of his face open love mixed with pity, underlying anger, worry, and an unspoken understanding only brothers could have for one another.

It was too much for Dean to handle, old walls of self hatred clicking into place as he drew away both physically and mentally from his kin, letting their touch fall away from him. “Yeah well, screw you both. It’s my choice and I got god on my side. Who do you got in your corner?”, Dean sniped, his tone sounding petty even to him.

It was Sam who decided to answer first this time. “Death.”

“Come again? I missed something.”, Dean looked back and forth between the two in confusion.

“Bobby may have found the existence of an incantation that will allow us to chain Death. He thinks we can use the Grim Reaper to stop Cas.”, Sam explained.

“Stop as in kill?”, Dean hazarded a guess he didn’t want to make.

“As advertised with any luck.”, Bobby nodded.

“I think- no fuck that, I know- that’s a bad idea! You should cut back on the rotgut because it’s making your head all funny, Bobby.”, Dean said without hesitation, panic beginning to made his heart race. If Castiel found out about this, he knew things would not end well for any of them. “And Sam, I thought you were smarter than that. I didn’t get you all healed up just so that you could throw it all away on something so obviously suicidal.”

“Or maybe you just don’t want to stop Cas.”, Sam shot back. He knew it hit, Dean giving it all away whether he knew it or not.

“Of course I do. Dude is off the rails. I just think we need to come up with another plan. You know, one that doesn‘t involve Death. Just saying.”, Dean scrambled in his defense, not wanting to face certain aspects of his life just yet. He wasn’t sure who was wrong or right here anymore. All Dean was sure off was that he wanted his family safe and not trying to end themselves in new and interesting ways by pissing off god on a personal level.

“Like what dean?”, Sam challenged, crossing his arms over his chest as he glared down at his brother.

“I don’t know. You’re the bookworm. Figure it out.”, Dean snapped, unimpressed. He thought Sam should have known better by now than try and intimate him. It’s hard to take anyone seriously in certain crucial moments after you’ve potty trained and basically raised them since birth.

“What if this is the only way?”, Bobby threw in his two cents, reminding the brothers that they were not having this argument without him.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”, Dean shrugged, making the other hunters groan in frustration.

“More like burn it down to its foundation. This ain’t something we’re undertaking lightly here. It either works or we’ll be worse than dead.”, Bobby growled.

“Which is why we’re not. Death plays for keeps so I don’t think we should go and try to piss the guy off. Remember the Devil? Lucifer tried to put him on a leash too. Death turned right around and screwed him over by just giving us the last ring. You don’t want to be on that kind of someone’s bad side.”, Dean snapped, remembering his uncomfortable one on one with Death in that little Chicago pizzeria. “And speaking of bad sides, what the hell do you plan on doing if this plan of yours goes all belly up? I hate to break it to you but Cas isn’t exactly taking notes about forgiveness from the New Testament. If he finds out about this……”

“If I find out about what?” said familiar voice made of gravel and smoke behind them, making everyone human in the room freeze and eyes widen to painful expansion.

“Balls.”, Bobby sighed, breaking the fragile silence with his normal delicate manner.

“Nothing, Cas.”, Dean went for casual and charming, the hunter faking a smile at the god who was openly considering them all.

“Lies.” Castiel sighed as if he expected nothing less. With a glance, he had Sam and Bobby gasping as them fell to their knees under the weight of god peering into their heads.

“Stop! You promised!”, Dean yelled, getting into Castiel’s face though he kept his clenched fists glued to his sides. The hunter knew from prior experience that striking the god’s resilient, stone like flesh would not only be futile but also extreme painful, probably resulting in a broken hand. Dean felt he had to do something though, having known what it was like to have something too big climb its way into your melon for a lookie. It wasn’t pleasant to say none the least.

“Be thankful for my mercy. I promised nothing of the sort. I have simply refrained from reading your mind out of courtesy. I made no such allusions toward the others.”, Castiel stated blandly, making Sam and Bobby groan in pain under his mental probing. Though it was probably causing them more suffering by doing so, Dean couldn’t help but feel proud of his family for resisting, even if it were a token gesture. He knew the moment they were let go, the hunters collapsing onto the dirty floors like puppets with cut strings.

“Amazing. Impressive really. Reckless but impressive. I should have expected nothing less but it was always doomed to fail.”, Castiel mused, his expression almost appearing amused around its flat edges. It made all the humans in the room shudder as one. An amused and thoughtful god was not a safe god to be around for any extended period of time if one cared for the current location of their inwards or the enduring state of their sanity.

“No one, not even Death, can help you now. He might have been able to do so at one point early on, but not now. I have not only taken in all of Purgatory but all of Raphael’s garrison and followers, entire pantheons of gods, and even a few stray elementals. I am more than I have ever been.”, Castiel told them with an utter calm that was terrifying on the most base level of their beings, like shadows creeping out of the dark in time to the dying of the light. Instinct flat out begged the hunters to bury themselves deep and hide. They were crouching down without even releasing that they were doing so, the impulse to live was so strong. Upon noticing, Dean made himself straighten his spine, every nerve shrieking at him about this decision.

“Glad we cleared the air on that one then.”, Dean managed to say calmly in stiff tones as he motioned toward where Sam and Bobby were stooped. “You wanna pull back a bit and let us mortals breath? You’ve made your point. We get it.”

“Apparently I have not, considering that you are still conspiring against me…..”, Castiel’s surreally blue eyes narrowed, causing Dean to break out in a cold sweat. The hunter flinched when he heard Bobby and Sam gasp again, god taking another look inside of them as if to confirm something. “…..No, not you though. Samuel and Robert…..You….You were trying to dissuade them from taking any action against me, protect them from themselves, from my wrath. That was very wise.”

Something inside Dean twisted and snarled at the way Castiel smiled at him, like a pet owner whose dog had just done something unexpected but endearing. Dean fought against himself to keep from reacting, looking for appropriate words that would save them all instead. “Yeah, I was and they weren’t going to do it if you had just stayed out of it and let me.”, Dean said carefully, slowly in a measured voice, “You need to at least give me a chance. You need to let them make their choice, not interfere during the process and then complain about the outcome.”.

“Your heart was racing and your entire being was upset. Your soul called me here.”, Castiel pointed out.

Crap, crap, crappity crap, Dean swore in his head, wanting to scream in frustration. That damn handprint, his very own personal connection to god. Of course it would monitor everything about him, like a trace permanently imbedded into his own skin, betraying him. Of course, this was all his fault. If he had just let it go and kept on walking after getting his beer. “I didn’t mean to.”, Dean licked his too dry lips, swallowing back his lump of growing guilt hard. His brother and the only father he had now were suffering because of him, the two hunters being pressed to the filthy floorboards from the weight of god sitting in their heads. “Be all benevolent and let them go.”

“Why should I?”, Castiel looked bored, sounded bored. That didn’t bode will for anyone. Throwing caution to the wind, Dean got close, closer than he should have ever wanted to dare, until he was toe to toe with Castiel looking the god dead in the eye and somehow managing not to flinch in the wake of such raw universal power.

A Winchester did what they had to do for family though, no matter who or what they were up against. “Because, if you do anything to them, I will never forgive you and if you don’t believe my words, look as deep as you want because it’s the truth. Maybe the only one I have left.”, Dean vowed. Sweating bullets but refusing to break eye contact with blue suns that swirled with energies that made sparks, Dean leaned in to place his lips to Castiel’s own too cool ones, the flesh of them still unexplainable chapped.

“For me. Let them go. Forgive them. I’ll take their punishment, whatever it is.”, Dean prayed softly into Castiel’s flesh, his tongue darting out to moisten the god’s cracked flesh. “Please.”

Castiel could have been made of stone for all the signs of life he was giving. Dean wasn’t even sure if he was bothering to fake breathing. He found himself imitating the god though, the hunter holding himself completely still, right down to his heartbeat.

“I like it when you pray, Dean.”, Castiel sighed, coming back to life. “I like it very much. You do it so well with every part of your being. It makes your soul sing.”. Stowing his embarrassment, Dean focused more on not passing out from sheer relief as he heard Bobby and Sam be released, the other hunters groaning in respite as they climbed back to their feet. From the way Castiel was looking at him though, all barely contained fire, light and desire, Dean knew that their moment of respite was coming to an end fast.

“Um, guys? I think you need to leave. Like as in, right now.”, Dean told them, not bothering to confirm if they did so or not, his eyes only for Castiel, the god’s skin set all aglow with his intentions toward the human before him. “Go find a shady spot for a while.”

Dean was grateful that for once his family didn’t question or argue with him, his clothing at that moment deciding to cease existing. “Show me how devout you are. Pray unto me some more. With all your heart. With all your soul. With all that is you.”, Castiel all but purred as his hands found their way onto Dean’s tanned skin, caressing it as Dean was pulled flush to the god. He found that he could really smile at Castiel, the expression genuine in every sense of the word now that his family was safe, that he had saved them. This wasn’t so hard. He had done far worse in the past. He could do this.

“Bless us, Oh Lord, and these thy gifts which we are about to receive……”

Chapter Text

Sex was exhausting.

Correction.

Sex with Castiel was exhausting. There was no other way to put it, at least in Dean’s mind. It just wasn’t the pure physical aspect of it, though Dean considered Castiel’s limitless sex drive a severely unfair advantage against his mortal stamina. A guy could only come so much in a given time period or so Dean had thought. Castiel not only came with endless stamina but shameless use of healing powers as well Dean found out soon enough.

Missionary.

Dean would have never thought he could have hated a word or more accurately, a position more. He was never allowed any other, Castiel only ever wanting to see the hunter on his back with his god above him, in him. Dean could deal with a lot but the new level of staring that came with the sex was near soul crushing. Even as he thrust into him, Castiel’s gaze never wavered, his eyes taking in everything Dean was offering and even all that he wasn’t.

Dean wasn’t sure if it was the intensity of the look or the continuity of it or the stifling combination of both. Plundering his fill, Castiel stared down at him as if Dean was the most precious thing in the universe to him, like all the secrets of the beyond were written into the hunter’s skin just waiting to be deciphered if only he looked long enough. Saying it was disconcerting would be a severe understatement. Dean was to the point that he would happily given up his car music rights or hell even, pie to be on his hands and knees with his ass up in the air just once.

“Stop it.”, Dean rasped, turning his head. It didn’t help. He could still feel Castiel’s crazy too blue eyes staring holes into the side of his head. Dean risked a look to find twin blue suns trapped in flesh narrowed and accompanied with a slight frown. It prompted the hunter to remember his manners and who he was talking to. “Please.”, Dean added belatedly, because for whatever reason, Castiel seemed to really value politeness, at least from other people.

“Why? You are mine to do with what I will.”, Castiel said solemnly. That was another thing that Dean hated. He would become completely unraveled under Castiel’s administrations to be left a mess of cooling body fluids and oversensitivity but no matter what, Castiel would not return the favor, the god cool as a damn cucumber no matter what they were doing or for how long. Their current position was one of Dean being fucking slowly but surely into one of the softest mattresses he had ever lain in. And there in lied another problem.

Castiel took his time in all things Dean. Where and when the hunter would like it fast and rough, Castiel lingered and savored, claiming Dean’s body sometimes inch by inch until the human wanted to scream in frustration and impatience. Sometimes he did. Castiel’s strokes were a prime example of this, each one firm but slow right up against his prostate, the pace enough to set Dean on edge but never over it, the hunter only cumming when Castiel deemed it time.

It was more often than Dean would have thought possible. His stomach would have been painted solid white by now if Castiel didn’t keep licking the release off his skin before it even had time to cool or making Dean taste it off of his fingertips. He wasn’t too sure how healthy it was for a man to orgasm that often in such a short time period, but Castiel seemed to live for the moment when Dean arched his back off of the bed in pleasure, wrecked and ruined time and time again as ecstasies were dragged out of him, sometimes literally kicking and screaming. Sometimes, Castiel would hold him still, blanketing him his body, to make Dean shudder and twist through his orgasm within the limited space provided in the cage of flesh. In those moments, Dean could feel Castiel’s erection deep within him as his heated passage spasmed and constricted around the hardened flesh, attempting to milk release from the god but failing. Drained, Dean would lay back and pant out his frustration, all lax bone and plush muscle, fully aware of the hardness that remained lodged in him as greedy hands tenderly stroked his still heaving sides and a tongue made of wet heat and electricity licked the release off of the ripples in his abs. If it wasn’t for all the damn staring, Dean might have minded it less.

“I know. Believe me, I know, but c’mon, give me break here. It’s fucking creepy.”, Dean panted, tilting his head back as he closed his eyes. It was his only real means of escape at the moment. Dean’s eyes snapped back open when his arms were pulled upward above his head and pinned. The hunter grimaced as Castiel leaned in to lay out bodily on top of him, chest to chest, ruined lips brushing up against each other in dry rasps. It was made all the worse when Castiel touched their foreheads together so that the eye contact was avoidable as it was inescapable.

“What are you doing?”, Dean whispered, fear creeping up his spine to flow into his veins almost like a sickness, a fever that set his skin alight with crimson glow.

“Taking what is rightfully mine. You are loved and beloved most above all else and you shall be treated as so.”, Castiel told him, his tone brooking no further argument on the matter but when had a Winchester ever listened to a command without comment?

“It’s too much. I need you to look away. Please. Just this once. Just for a little while.”, Dean hated himself for it but he was begging now, could hear the note of pleading in his own voice, hated how weak it sounded.

“No. Never again.”, Castiel promised like nails in coffin. “You deserve my love Dean. You are worthy of it. You are cherished. You are mine.”. The new god kept his word and continued to watch even as the hunter broke from within, wet and raw, tears streaming from the corners of his bright green eyes. Castiel tasted those as well, catching the salt water on the tips of his fingers to moisten his chapped lips with Dean’s distress.

Castiel would watch Dean break over and over again, the hunter sometimes even going so far as to try and fight against the god, bruising his hands and heels on marble that imitated flesh . No matter what was said or done, Castiel kept thrusting into Dean at his maddeningly slow pace until Dean was emptied out of all his energy, leaving the man exhausted and feeling like a hollowed shell of his former self. Then and only then, Castiel would come, filling Dean with his essence, making him come alive again in the process.

Dean loved and hated it, the feel of Castiel coming deep within him. It was like a live current being pressed up to his prostate and every other nerve endings in his body, fusing them together to strangle one last orgasm from his already overused, oversensitive, worked over flesh. It always amazed Dean that he wasn’t coming blood at this point, honestly thinking that he didn‘t have any ammo left in his weapon. Dean continued to cry out weakly as he was flooded with this burn, marking him from the inside out, searing him soul deep.

He would continue to feel it long after Castiel left him, the god‘s release leaking out to drip down Dean‘s thighs, coating them with a golden sheen that scalded way beyond skin deep.

Chapter Text

One of the few things Dean never wanted to see first thing in the morning was Crowley’s leering face. Hell, he didn’t even want to see it on a good day so his brain was trying to rationally explain to him why it was the first thing he saw upon waking.

Ingrained survival instinct that was so deeply entrenched it didn’t need consciousness to guide it made Dean’s hand dive underneath his pillow as the hunter rolled out of the bed to seek immediate cover. Surrounding and current events caught up with him belated as the search for his weapon came up empty.

This place was so obviously not the crappy motel Sam and him had checked into last night unless Dean had somehow failed to notice that the rundown pay-by-the-hour that they chose to stay at for lack of anything better in the middle of bumfuck nowhere, Illinois was actually now looking more like a charming Mediterranean villa in the heart of Tuscany, complete with a stunning view of vineyards and other picturesque scenery.

The bed Dean had fallen asleep in and was now using for cover was not the stained, broken mattress he had passed out on but instead, a monstrosity of cushion looking soft as a cloud and piled high with the kind of fluffy blankets Dean preferred but would never admit aloud to upon pain of death, smelling of sunshine and clean linen.

The other denoting factor of the situation was not of Crowley standing here, smirking widely at Dean but the fact, he was most definitely naked in every sense of the word, completely bare of any clothing and even worse, without a weapon.

“Oh calm down all ready. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before, sweetheart, and be perfectly honest, I have to admit I’m a touch disappointed.”, Crowley leered good-naturedly . “Especially after hearing all the hype.”

“Why are you here, damn it?”, Dean glared at him, refraining the urge to cover himself with his hands. Confidence was key in any situation, even when your dangly bits were unexpectedly on full display.

“Because when the boss says ‘Jump’, if I want to keep existing, I’ll say ‘How high?’ with a smile on my face and a song in my heart.”, Crowley shrugged, taking a moment swirl his glass of scotch, watching the golden brown liquid coat the inside of the crystal. “Believe me, I’m not exactly thrilled to be here ogling the tender undercarriage of god’s favorite lap dog.”

“Screw you.”, Dean snapped, giving in to yank a sheet off of the bed to make a makeshift toga. It wasn’t ideal but it was better than nothing. Plus wherever he was, it was kinda chilly and not doing anything kind for his boys, Crowley’s derogatory comments about his size aside. He had never gotten any complaints in that department and he wasn’t about to take shit from a guy who when he was human sold his soul to hit double digits.

“Not for all the pretty little souls in heaven. I would prefer to die not at all but if given the option, I’d rather go painlessly.”, Crowley dismissed airly, paying more attention to the stunning glass vases in the room then at Dean as he struggled to arrange his impromptu clothing so that it didn’t trip him.

“Do you wish for me to take his eyes? Will that make you more comfortable?”, was Castiel’s greeting as he appeared in the room beside Dean, who if he wasn’t so used to it by now would have jumped. As it was, he just turned to scowl at the former angel.

“Still very much in the room and more than willing to look elsewhere.”, Crowley said, quick to turn his back on the pair.

“Cas, I need clothes. Real ones.”, Dean snapped, though it was hard to appear menaced when one was wearing a sheet. That and the other being menaced was god who tended not to be easily intimidated, especially by a grumpy human in said sheet.

“I prefer you without them in my presence.”, Castiel said coolly, staring at the sheet like its very existence upon Dean’s body personally offended him. Dean felt like he had to act quickly lest he be responsible for the smiting of all sheets everywhere. He wasn’t sure if he could handle that kind of guilt. Out of ideas, Dean pressed his hand to the mark on his shoulder, his own personal hotline to god, shoving all his emotions through it- fear of being naked in the presence of an enemy, hunter’s instinct hard wired to kill any threat, the near physical need for a weapon to stay calm, the anger of being caught unaware and left vulnerable.

“Ah. I understand now. Very well.”, Castiel nodded. Dean looked down to find himself clothed, dressed in his normal amount of comfortable layers and armed with his favorite gun and all his other weapons, even the ones no one was supposed to know about. Dean sighed in relief.

“Now that bit of unpleasantness is over and done with, can we all move on with our day? Some of us are very busy. What can I do for god and his precious poppet today?”, reminding Dean that Crowley was still very much in the room. Dean’s fingers itched for the comforting grip of his gun and was warming up to the idea of putting several well aimed bullets into the demon’s head and heart.

“I have summoned you here for Dean’s pleasure.”, Castiel answered, his way with word, or truly his lack of skill with them, making the other two stare in confused horror at him.

“What?”, Crowley and Dean asked as one, the demon and hunter glaring at each other when they realized them had just done so in tandem.

As per usual, Castiel failed to notice he had said anything amiss, the god pressing on. “You have pleased me Dean with your obedience. I wish to give you a gift, one of so many that you deserve for being my beloved.”, Castiel stated clearly in his cut and dry manner. Dean ignored Crowley as he felt his entire body commit to a blush.

“Gee, thanks, Cas.”, Dean said dryly, his exasperation making him close his eyes for a second as he regrouped mentally. He wished that Castiel would refrain from making those kind of statements in front of other people and beings. Dean just knew he was never going to hear the end of this from the damn demon, Crowley’s amusement already a near tangible thing.

“I would quit smirking if you wish to keep your face.”, Castiel told the King of Hell whose smug expression snapped off like light under the god’s half lidded look.

“Just happy for the pair of you and your domestic bliss is all. Please let me know what I can do for you so that my face and I can be on our way.”, Crowley backpedaled magnificently, his demeanor all professional calm. Dean was torn between applauding or shooting him.

“What a matter? To good for god?”, Dean goaded because he could and the bastard had seen him naked so Dean felt he was entitled to a little payback.

“Not at all.”, Crowley answered, all smoothness and snake oil. “I’m just a very busy monarch, not that you would know anything about that.”, he said, giving Dean a pointed look. The hunter scowled back, remembering the dog comment from earlier.

“I didn’t bring you here to upset Dean.”, Castiel reminding all that he was still in the room and not exactly pleased with one member of his company if the cracks running up the walls and through the floors were any indication. Dean shot Crowley a glare, mouthing ‘you owe me’ before turning to Castiel with all charm and smiles.

“We’re fine, Cas. Just bantering.”, Dean soothed, sidling up along side Castiel as he wrapped his arms around the god’s narrow waist, working his hands under so many layers. It was worth the effort when he touched skin that crackled with power, making his fingertips tingle from the slight burn of it. Castiel seemed to be calming down though as reality healed itself, the room returning to normal. The god liked it when Dean willingly initiated contact between them. Ignoring Crowley’s presence entirely, mostly because he had to, to commit himself to this course of action, Dean pressed his face into the crook of Castiel’s neck, resting his head there as he breathed in the mild scent of god, faint and sterile as metal or stone.

In the quiet of their shared moment though, Dean’s brain went elsewhere analyzing the situation at hand, presenting something that left Dean chilled down to his bones. The hunter fought to breath normally as his body tried to commit itself to an all out panic attack. It was possible that Crowley was here for Dean just like Castiel said, but the demon was here to personally escort the hunter back to hell. He was going to freeze and burn, drawn and quartered at leisure on the rack again, after all that he had been through and suffered.

Dean wasn’t even aware that he had let go of Castiel, or perhaps the god had moved him back upon noticing him shutting down, until cool hands cupped Dean’s heated face, making his lost gaze focus on the face in front of him. Blue eyes the color of summer skies held his own earth bound green, making it impossible for Dean to look away. “Oh Dean, there is no need for fear. One day you will quit punishing yourself for things far beyond your control and come to expect gifts such as this as your right.”, Castiel sighed, his rough voice hushed to an almost softness.

“What are you giving me?”, Dean licked his lips tentatively, his mouth sour with fear as he listened to his own pulse rate drum in his ears.

“Yeah boss. What are you giving him?”, Crowley looked less than pleased and maybe even a touch worried.

“Dean spent forty years in hell being tortured by demons.”, Castiel explained without really doing so.

“I’m aware he took the grand tour though I would like to point out that I was not one of the guides.”, Crowley arched an elegant brow in unspoken question.

“So what? Why are you bringing this up?”, Dean made himself ask, tremors still working their way through his body at intervals. He felt dizzy, wondering where the hell this was going. Dean found himself gathered up into unrelenting arms, Castiel pressing close to seal the line of their bodies. Dean practically sagged in relief as Castiel took his weight, the hunter all out leaning against the god as Castiel touched their foreheads together in an intimate gesture.

“You will name every demon who dared to touch you during that time. You will then decide their punishment and the method of their destruction. This is my gift to you, my beloved, my Righteous Man.”, Castiel murmured as he pressed light kisses to Dean’s mouth which went slack with surprise.

It just all seemed too good to be real. Of course, Dean had dreamed of such things, dark little fantasies of revenge he kept to himself because they were too bloody and too dark to be exposed to the light of reality. He kept them there in the back corners of his mind, back where the side of him that liked to torture permanently resided. It was the only way to keep it sated, feeding it bleeding bits of vengeful wishes.

There are had so many in that span of forty years but Dean knew each and every one of them. The demons who had kept him company had taken their time and turns carving their names into his skin, weaving it in his muscles, and burning it into his exposed nerves and organs. He would never forget them.

He couldn’t accept this though. It would be like letting Superman blow up a planet, going dark side from temptation. It was all too sweet and alluring to be good for anyone, but when Dean opened his mouth to voice that sentiment, sudden realization stole his words and breath all at once.

These were demons Castiel was offered revenge upon, not humans. If the hell spawned bastards were topside, Dean would be hunting them down personally, ending each and every last one of them. Castiel was offering something he would have taken for himself if life were fair. The more he thought about it, Dean realized that he didn’t even have to torture them if he didn’t want to. They had Crowley for that. Castiel wasn’t interested in entertaining Dean’s dark side either or sullying his own hands for that matter. They had the demon King of Hell to do their bidding.

So the two respective rulers of Heaven and Hell were quite startled when Dean started to laugh, great big bouts of it with such a force it shook his body and made tears stream down his cheeks. Long and loud Dean Winchester laughed as God 2.0 and the Devil’s understudy looked on in wonder, watching the hunter sink weak and empty to his knees, his body shaking as the hunter attempted to hold himself together.

And still he laughed.

“Dean.”

Dean looked up, panting because god sounded a touch worried for him. Castiel looked down at the hunter, his human, his dark head delicately tilted to the side and just for a moment, Dean could allow himself to admit that he loved him with all his heart and soul,

“God, you’re beautiful.”, Dean grinned up at his impossible lover because it was funny and he felt so alive and life could be good to him sometimes if he just let it. He made the feeling pass though, waving off Castiel’s look of concern as he got back on his feet, feeling exhausted but strangely relieved as well. It was like someone had taken a crushing burden off his back, one he hadn’t even realized he had been carrying until now.

Not bothering to wipe away the sticky trails of tears from his face, Dean started to list name and name, one right after the other without fear, without hesitation, with a clear conscience and a smile on his lips.

Chapter Text

“Don’t you have anything better to do than stare at me?”, Dean said in way of greeting as he woke up to find Castiel wrapped bodily around him in a tight hold. The former seraph appeared to be amusing himself by counting each and every one of Dean’s freckles……..again. “Don’t you have god things to do? Some random smiting? A meet and greet with the pope?”.

“No. If I have learned anything of value from humanity, it is how to delegate responsibility.”, Castiel said in a vague tone that clearly stated that he wasn’t really listening to Dean and was far more enamored with relearning every nuance of the hunter’s face.

“So the well being of the universe is being left up to middle management and bureaucracy? Awesome. I feel so much better now.”, Dean grumbled, making himself more comfortable in Castiel’s arm. It wasn’t like he was going anywhere anytime soon so he might as well not get a crick in his neck from Castiel‘s form of cuddling which he apparently learned from sloths or leeches because being spooned by god redefined the meaning of close. Dean was somewhat surprised to find that he could do so, Castiel’s hold upon him loose and light enough to move around in for once.

“One of the reasons things went so awry in Heaven was due to angels being left to their own devices for far too long.”, Castiel told him once the hunter had settled himself. He ruined all of Dean’s efforts by turning onto his back and rolling them both, the human spilling over the top of the god’s vessel. Dean grunted in irritation but readjusted so that his body covered Castiel’s own, the hunter slotting himself into cut hipbones and pillowing his head, propping it up with his own crossed arms over Castiel’s chest. If Castiel had been human, Dean might have been worried about his weight baring down on his chest cavity. At 6’2 and built solid by a lifetime at the job and eating diner food, Dean wasn’t exactly a delicate flower. As it was though, despite Castiel being all human shaped, it felt like Dean was cuddling with a heated rock dressed in a suit and trench coat. For whatever reason, god or not, Castiel still insisted on looking like a nerdy tax accountant. Whether he knew it at the time which was doubtful, Jimmy had made a defining moment in the history of everything by deciding to wear that damn trench coat.

“Are you trying to tell me that the whole Apocalypse got jump started because a few feathered ass hats got bored?”, Dean asked, idly playing with Castiel’s perpetually loosened blue tie. He was starting to feel ridiculous, pretty much for the both of them. Either he was severely underdressed for bed in loose ratty sweatpants and a threadbare t-shirt or Castiel was overdressed but since he was god now, he really got to make the call of what was expectably deemed as sleepwear.

“There is some truth to the idle hands and the will of the Devil.”, Castiel shrugged, the gesture too human in Dean’s opinion for his liking. He felt on edge and the feeling wasn’t going away. Castiel was being far too chatty and casual with him right now and Dean was feeling unusually comfortable, a feeling that was almost foreign to him. It made Dean wonder what was in store for him later on. All good things came to an end and if you were a Winchester, in their case that usually meant it would be violent, bloody, and most times, someone ended up dead or dying. As it was, this moment between them could almost be classified under the boundaries of normal, if not for their topic of conversation, one of them being completely inhuman, and oh yeah, one of them was wearing a suit to bed, but hey, nothing was perfect.

One of the best and worst things about being in a close relationship with god was that sometimes the bastard will read your mind, whether he meant to or not, Dean reflected as the offending suit went away, along with his nightwear as well. “Well, that’s just…..great. Just great.”, Dean muttered, glaring at Castiel who him gave a slight smile back. “So what? You gave everyone a to-do list and now everything is just peachy?”. He pointedly ignored the pair of hands that traveled down to his ass and were now kneading the night chilled globes of them. Castiel’s too warm hands felt ridiculous good doing that but damned if Dean was going to admit that.

“I have observed in the past that the Cupids are always the happiest out of all my brethren. I believe it is because they are never idle. Angels are most content when following orders and given tasks that they can accomplish. I have assigned every angelic being a job and now there is peace where there was only discord and discontent.”, Castiel said, amusing himself by massaging Dean backside and working his way up as he popped vertebra back into alignment and worked out kinks in Dean’s back to the resulting song of his sighs and moans of relief.

“What kind of job can you give an angel?”, Dean asked because honestly, he was more than a touch curious and all his brain could produce was a cartoon version of Heaven as a job fair filled with desperate angels filling out applications for placement and lying about their credentials. That was when his brain wasn‘t whiting out on itself in pleasure from Castiel‘s talented healing hands.

“I had to reassign the title of days considering I can no longer be the angel of Thursday, and Raphael, Uriel, Anael, and Gabriel are all dead as well leaving their days attended.”, Castiel said, sounding a touch smug as he turned the once rigid hunter into a pool of human goo, Dean humming from his relaxed state of pleasure.

“Huh?”, was Dean’s all encompassing reply, feeling like he had just missed something important but his brain resembling mush was hindering his information processing rate. Castiel’s original mantle of being Thursday’s angel had always bothered Dean on so many different levels. It didn’t make sense for one and it had never been clarified to the hunter what one did with a day. “How did those dicks Uriel and Raphael get days? And what the hell does that mean anyway? To be an angel of a day?”

“A lot can be done in the course of a day. You of all people should be aware of that.”, Castiel said, pausing long enough in his administrations while answering to make Dean growl at him, who felt like if he was going to be treated like god’s favorite teddy bear, he sure as shit was going to get something out of it.

“More that one angel is assigned to a day. A day is too great a domain for merely one angel. Since the beginning of heaven and earth, myself and Selaphiel have been the guardians of Thursday, though I have been often mistaken for Cassiel the angel of Saturday due to the similarity in our names and most human’s inattention to finer details. He finds it quite amusing for some reason.”, Castiel’s fingers worked their way back down Dean’s spine and went lower still, smoothing over the curve of his ass. Dean inhaled sharply as his flesh was parted by a firm grip on either buttock, cool night air nipping at tender bits of his anatomy that were normally hidden. A lubed finger pressed against his tingling hole, pushing in past it easily with slow, almost lazy thrusts.

“Real joker?”, Dean grunted. Part of him couldn’t believe he was having this type of conversation in such a perverted manner but god didn’t seem to mind, so who the hell was he to judge? Although in his opinion, the instant lubrication, while appreciated, had to be considered an abuse of power.

“Hardly. He is the angel of solitude, tears, and departed kings.”, Castiel mumbled, his attention more involved elsewhere.

“Sounds delightful. What else they got going for them?”, Dean managed to ask as one finger became two, the digits stretching and scissoring as they went deeper in him. He didn’t know why he was even bothering continuing this conversation still but it seemed weak somehow just to give up on it right now.

“Angel of the days are responsible for all humans born on that particular day. They are also entrusted with any prayers made within that time period.”, Castiel seemed amused by Dean’s willingness to keep this farce of an exchange up. It didn’t mean he going to make it easy, the god sitting up suddenly with his busy fingers still in the hunter, his arousal nestling between Dean’s butt cheeks now and spreading precome on his lower back like a tramp stamp.

“Is that all?”, Dean gasped out as fingers curling in to find hidden spots inside him that nearly made him go blind with pleasure and scramble his hands over Castiel‘s chest to vainly seek purchase.

“Since the beginning, days have had more meaning than you think. My former domain of Thursday meant I was responsible for the care of Earth’s moon, surrounding stars and the sun of this solar system.”, Castiel mouthed into Dean’s throat, marking the skin of it with dark love bites and a string of bruises that went all the way done to Dean’s collarbones.

“Holy hell, Thursday gets all that? What does Wednesday get?”, Dean retaliated by whispering into Castiel’s ear, his lips grazing the shell of it teasingly as he arms wrapped tightly around Castiel’s shoulders for support. Dean arched his back, crying out as a third finger was added and pressed up hard directly into his prostate. It was all too much, too soon, and even untouched, Dean shot his release on Castiel’s chest in a spray of white. “Sneaky son of a bitch, you did that on purpose.”, Dean rasped as he watched the milky droplets trail down from Castiel’s firm pecs to coat his lean stomach.

“The Earth and all plant life growing upon it.”, Castiel smirked, answering without pause as he continued to work his fingers in and out of Dean while ignoring the hunter’s tired ire and the spunk that coated his flesh. “For all your association with the ethereal, you are quite ignorant of the Word. You should at least know that Father made all of creation in what you laughingly call a week of days, which is highly inaccurate. Time was still only a concept that He was toying with. It was actually much longer than that.”

And all that was starting to sound way above Dean‘s pay grade, so he went back to basics and something that he could actually handle as he reached behind his back to stroke the hardened length being pressed up against his bottom. Casteil was almost done preparing him with four finger twisting and turning within the confines of his flesh, but the god had thrown down the gauntlet, and Dean being Dean wasn‘t about to give on any sort of challenge without a fight, even if it was token. “So the other angels of the days…what day was Uriel?”, he managed to ask in an almost normal voice, like he hadn’t just been made to cum from fingering along and said fingers weren’t still working over his oversensitive nerves

“Sunday but the position was considered not well suited for him so he was eventually moved to Wednesday. He remained quite bitter about it.”, Castiel mused.

“Who got Monday?”, Dean had to ask because no one liked Mondays and some poor bastard of an angel had to take it.

“It belongs to Amabiel and a few others. It is a heavy mantel even distributed among others. Only one other angel has ever been able to shoulder the entire light of creation.”, Castiel said solemnly, too much so for this type of situation. Dean didn’t know how much more he could take, Castiel’s thumb coming into play with the rest of his hand. Dean had never been fisted before and he wasn’t sure if he were up to it now. He could do kinky with the best of them but he was about ready to throw in the towel here because everyone had their limits. If you looked up stubborn in the dictionary though, Dean’s name could be found in the description as the prime example for it.

“Who was that BAMF?”, Dean grunted, feeling the appendage slip in deeper, his own flesh a tight seal around it. He didn’t realize how much he was sweating until it fell into his eyes, making his vision burn. It didn’t help that Castiel was watching him as per usual taking in every detail.

“Lucifer.”, Castiel answered simply.

“Oh….”

“He was called the Morningstar for a reason.”, Castiel said in his disturbingly casual way in direct contrast to their current positioning.

“But…”, Dean started to ask to be cut off by Castiel’s lips being pressed to his own in a hungry wet kiss of teeth and tongue.

“Shut up Dean.”, Castiel rasped as he drew away, slipping his hand out of Dean. “You are being ridiculous. I will never understand why you continue to fight when there is nothing to be won.”

“Bragging rights.”, Dean whipped, relief feeling nearly like a drug to him, making him giddy with it. Castiel shook his head, lifting the hunter up to allow his cock head to slip into Dean‘s softened flesh. He released his hold on Dean gradually, letting gravity do the rest of the work for him, Dean taking in his length inch by inch easily under the push of his own weight. Dean bottomed out with a gasp as he wrapped his legs around Castiel‘s waist, hooking his ankles together, his head flung back as he tightly grasped Castiel’s shoulders for support.

Feeling swollen and too full, Dean made himself relax as he adjusted to being deep seated, the over preparation and near fisting making it much easier for him this time. Whether out of courtesy or simply because he liked the feel of Dean’s stilled heat cushioned all around his cock(Dean suspected it was the later), Castiel always let him have that time, his hands stroking the hunter’s sides and back with light trailing touches as Dean focused on his breathing. He began to panic when he noticed Castiel starting to lean forward, ready to change positions and place Dean on his back so that he can be fucking into the mattress.

“Hold up.”, Dean shoved his weight forward like it would make any difference. Castiel allowed himself to be stopped though so Dean took his chance and ran with it. “Let me ride you. Promise you’ll like it.”

Castiel looked doubtful but laid back down. Breathing a sigh of relief, Dean propped himself up on his knees so that he straddled Castiel high enough that his erection threatening to fall out. Dean figured out that Castiel was less than happy about that when the god’s hand settling on Dean’s hips with a grip firm enough to bruise as he pushed Dean back down on top of him, the hunter crying out as his ass hit a seat of hard flesh and harder bone.

“Isn’t patience still a virtue?”, Dean gritted out from between clenched teeth, bracing him hands against Castiel’s chest, the planes of it treacherously slick with his own cum.

“Yes, but you have already sorely tested mine at length. I do not like it when you make me hurt you.”, Castiel rumbled out, releasing Dean’s hips to start running his fingertips up and down the hunter’s thighs, thick with muscle and sinew.

“Like I can make you do anything.”, Dean snorted, testing some lower movements by shifting his hips in experimental circles. He liked how it felt to have Castiel tense up underneath him from it. Though the god’s expression gave nothing away, his vessel was definitely enjoying it, reacting with tense muscles and little answering thrusts that seemed uncontrolled .

“I would not have to if you just asked me. You do not wish me to read your mind but yet you will not voice what you really want either. It is as you would call it ‘a no win win’.”, Castiel sighed, Dean practically seeing the air quotes the former angel loved to use inappropriately.

“Great. Next I’ll be telling people I fall down the stairs and run into a door.” Dean rolled his eyes as he lifted himself off enough to slam back down causing Castiel to jolt upward in reaction from it.

“I do not get the reference. Is that supposed to be funny?”, Castiel muttered looking a strange mix of put out and turned on as Dean found a rhythm, his hips pistoning smoothly as Castiel thrust upward in time to his downward movement.

“No. I guess not.”, Dean shrugged, losing himself to the sensations. He angled just right so that each thrust was hitting all the right spots dead on, his penis taking a renewed interesting in the proceedings. Using one hand to keep himself propped upright, Dean worked the other over his length, tugging at his flesh in time to his own movement.

“I like it when you do that. Pleasure yourself with me in you.”, Castiel muttered, using his hands on Dean’s hips to frame the show he was being given.

“Yeah?”, Dean licked his lips, the heated puffs of his breath drying them out as they came out more rapidly than ever. “You gonna cum from watching me?”.

“Would you like me to?”, Castiel asked. Dean hated how calm and collected he sounded asking something like that. Here he was, sweating his ass off, his body trembling from the effort to cum again so soon, and the only marring feature that Castiel wore was Dean own spunk crusting over on his chest.

“Yes. I would like that.”, Dean huffed, gripping the base of his erection to keep from coming just yet. For once, if he could manage, as gay as it sounded, he would like them to come together and afterward, just wallow in the afterglow until Dean fell back asleep.

“Then ask for it.”, Castiel, the smug bastard of a god, smiled. Dean glared down at him.

“Cute. I see what you did there. ”, Dean grumbled. Castiel continued to look up at him expectantly. Dean knew that the god was prepared to keep this up all night if he had to and he had the flagrant abuse of power to do so with. Dean was not without his own choice of weapons though, few and futile as they may be.

“Castiel…..”, Dean began, watching as the former seraph’s eyes widened at the sound of his full name coming from Dean’s lips, “I would love you to some for me, sweetheart.”.

That did it. For whatever reason, Castiel, god of pretty much everything now, was a sucker for terms of endearment. His back left the bed in a perfect arch, driving himself up into Dean who held on for dear life. He needn’t of bothered, Castiel’s hands clamping down at his sides like vices so that the god could drive himself as deep as he could into the hunter. Pleasure and pain were the same thing at this point as that part of Dean’s brain fried from the sensory overload. Dean could feel, could always feel, Castiel shooting his load in him, the god’s semen burning hot and staying that way as long as it was inside of him. It not so much as pushed as launched Dean over the edge, the hunter added more of himself to Castiel’s chest and belly.

Dean remembered in time to catch himself with his hands before he faceplanted in exhaustion into his own cum, because some things he could live without experiencing.

“Could you….”, Dean trailed off, gesturing to the mess of them. Castiel smiled lazily back at him, his too blue eyes half lidded and glowing with contentment, like alien desert suns.

“All you have to do is ask.”

Chapter Text

Dean awoke to find himself laying face down in fluffy white. His brain told him it was soft and filled with what felt like feathers. His helpful brain of help suggested to Dean that he was in bed. Not some crappy motel bed, or what laughingly passed for one at Bobby’s but an actual bed that had a pretty good chance of not having bedbugs or other people’s bodily fluids embedded in it.

As a parting gift, it also told Dean that someone was sitting on his back and being very uncomfortable about it as a knee dug into the base of his spine. Surprisingly enough, it did not hurt but that was probably because that someone was digging their fingers in through his skull to stir around the contents within.

It felt wet.

Dean took over after his brain shuddered from the muted sensations, like a wet willy taken to the extreme and left to wiggle there. He was proud of his thinking organ. It had been so helpful and informative under such dire duress but now it was time for him to take back the wheel.

“What are you doing?”, Dean rasped out. He was kind of surprised to find that he could still talk.

“Working.”, he heard Castiel answer from some place far, far away it seemed.

“Stop. It doesn’t feel good.”, Dean put some words together somehow. “Please.”. He tacked on some politeness on the end for good measure. It never hurt and Hell, it might even work. It was supposed to be a magic word after all.

“You shouldn’t be feeling any pain. I turned off that part of your nervous system.”, Castiel answered absently, like it was something he did everyday for shits and giggles.

Letting that new bit of information roll around in his abused head to sink in, Dean didn’t know whether to feel grateful or not. This so violated the concept of personal space on so many different levels. Dean wasn’t sure where ‘fingers swishing my brain’ landed but it had to be pretty high up there. “I need that. A nervous system.”, was what Dean came up with for an answer.

“I am remaking you. It is not a painless process and your screaming can be quite distracting at times.”, Castiel offered in way of explanation.

“I’m sorry? We tend to make unhappy noises when someone is dismembering us. It’s a human thing.”, Dean tried to roll his eyes to help express this sentiment but found that he couldn’t open his eyes again to do so. Well…….fuck.

“Why are you doing that? I know I kind of suck but I happen to like me, well most of the time. I don’t need to be new and improved. Original flavor is fine.”, Dean started to babble. A hand withdrew from the back of his skull to stroke his cheek. It would have been a comforting gesture if it hadn’t left a trail of blood and what felt like bits of his brain matter behind in its wake against Dean’s skin. He would have vomited but Dean found out his nausea and gag reflex weren’t currently hooked up.

“Shhhh. It is delicate work. I like you as you are as well despite all your glaring flaws, so I must do this adjustment very carefully to keep what is essentially you intact.”, Castiel advised, “Or at least most of it.”.

“I-I don’t want this……”, Dean stammered. Though he couldn’t feel much of anything, he could still hear Castiel’s fingers moving around in his skull. It sounds moist and all sorts of wrong. It reminded Dean of Hell, of being on the rack. He could almost smell brimstone and Alastair’s fetid breath over his raw defiled skin and exposed nerve endings.

Dean screamed in mind, body, and soul, the trinity one.

“Dean.”

With one word, Castiel single handedly stopped Dean’s descent into familiar madness and near comforting despair. “You think of that filth at a time like this?”, Castiel did not sound particularly pleased to Dean whose only view was back of his eyelids and the feel of the mattress he was being pressed into. Just his luck that he would piss off the guy who was making his brain a science project. Dean couldn’t think of anything to say to appease Castiel or plead his case, so the hunter stayed quiet in self defense and belated self preservation, silently messaging his fear, his misery, and his acceptance of both as his lot in life to Castiel, his fate as it were. It must of worked because Dean could feel Castiel soften, his tangible ire dissipating like fragile mist.

“Oh Dean, you misunderstand me. I do not seek your pain or your suffering or obtain any joy from this. Do not think that I do.”, Castiel said gently, his tone so sweet and soft Dean wanted to cry in relief from it. He wanted to believe Castiel, wished that he could. “I am remaking you so that you can become my true companion. I will have you in your rightful place at my side as my Righteous Man. You will be my sinning saint of and for humanity to serve them as the Gray Hunter, the one who walks in shadows to fight for the Light. Your design is flawed though at the moment and unprepared for the gravity of your station. I am endeavoring to fix that.”

“Please…..don’t. Don’t do this. Please…..”, All Dean had left at his disposal was begging. He hated how weak he sounded, how desperate.

“But I’ve only just begun.”. Dean could feel the wet works begin again in his head. He realized that Castiel must have reached a stopping point when the hunter found himself gently flipped over onto his back, still unable to move. He could see Castiel now, the new god’s hands covered in blood up to his wrists, coated with bits and pieces of what looked like brain matter and other soft pieces the hunter was sure he needed. Dean begged him again, this time with his eyes alone until he realized that Castiel’s reason for changing his position was to reach for his source of vision.

“If you love me at all like you claim you do, put me under.”, Dean voiced this plea, this prayer, just in the nick of time, Castiel’s fingers barely brushing past his eyelashes to come to a halt. Dean focused on the touch that filled his vision so he could avoid noticing the last of his sanity shredding itself to bits.

“Of course. One’s own birth should not be observed or remembered. Sleep, my beloved.”, was the last thing that Dean heard before blessed oblivion snuffed out what was left of his consciousness.

Chapter Text

While up in Montana, the boys began investigating what they were led to believe was a coven of witches wanting to summon their pagan chaos god of choice. Winchester luck would have it otherwise though.

Enjoying a brilliant night sky for a moment before they got down to business, Dean and Sam were staked out in a field waiting for the witches to show up and start their ritual when a small convoy of mixed vehicles pulled up swiftly to surround the Impala. Old junkers, a mini RV, and more than a few pick ups formed a tight circle around them, the amount of headlights and high beams enough to blind if one were not careful. The boys shielded their eyes as they went for their guns.

“What the hell?”, Dean swore under his breath, turning to Sam who mirroring his own perplexed expression with a touch more furrowed brow and a dash of bitch. “What do you make of this?”

“Do you think they’re friendly?”, Sam answered quietly, shielding his eyes as he took count and made note of positioning.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Yeah, Sam. I think this is a regular ice cream social.”, he snapped. “When is anyone ever ’friendly’ with us?”.

“Fair enough.”, Sam sighed, “Let me rephrase that. Do you think they want to kill us or ask questions first?”. The night returned to itself as all the headlights were killed at once and the convoy’s occupants began to get out.

“Don’t know. Don’t care. Let’s go find out.”, Dean grunted as he opened the door of the Impala to haul himself out of the car, gun openly in hand. Sam sighed, following suit with the demon blade in one hand and a gun in the other. They were ridiculously outnumbered but at the moment, no one seemed to be pointing a weapon at them. That wasn’t enough to make Sam relax though. A quick glance over at his brother confirmed that Dean wasn’t buying it either. The boys moved in tandem along either side of the car until they could stand back to back in front of it, waiting with weapons raised.

For the most part, the men and women surrounding them looked human enough, but both brothers knew from a lifetime of experience that appearances could be deceiving. “Are you going to call Cas?”, Sam mumbled, pitching his voice low enough so that only Dean could hear, that was if the all the beings here were actually human.

“Oh hell no. I happen to like Montana. We don‘t need Cas getting his panties in a twist and wiping out the state in overkill.”, Dean grumbled back in time before the leader of the ragtag group stepped forward. He was a grizzled older man wearing what most of them all wore, the hunter’s unofficial uniform of old, frayed jeans, a near rainbow mixture of plaids, comfortable Henley shirts, steel toed hiking boots, and enough weapons carried on their person to start a revolution in some small third world countries. The guy would have reminded Dean a bit of Bobby if the bastard wasn’t smiling. Bobby didn’t smile for shit and Dean didn’t trust people who did, especially people who had essentially just boxed him and his brother in what was blatantly appearing more and more to be a trap for them with every passing second. Dean would have gladly taken witches over this crap.

“You boys Sam and Dean Winchester?”, the man asked with a grin that said that he already knew the answer but formality demanded that he waste time to ask anyway.

“Depends.”, Dean answered cause he could waste time too and why the hell should he make it easy for anyone else.

“On what?”, the man’s smile dropped a couple of notches at Dean‘s tone and arched brow.

“On who’s doing the asking.” Dean smirked, giving himself some brownie points for personal victory. From the back of his head, he could feel Sam giving him one of his patented looks. Dean dully ignored it as he kept his gun and his eyes trained on the large man in front of him.

“Calm yourself, son. We’re all family here. We’re all hunters, just like you.”, the man went for a paternal tone, making Dean instantly put the asshole on his shit list. He hated that patronizing crap, especially from strangers.

“Well good for you. Problem is, the last couple of hunters who came looking for us killed me and my brother in cold blood.”, Dean said in a calm tone bordering on bored to let the man and his band of misfits hunters know that they were not impressed by them.

“Don’t you mean tried to?”, the man’s smile dropped off completely to be replaced with a look of disbelief and confusion.

“Did I stutter?”, Dean glared, leveling his gun with the man’s chest, “We ain’t got nothing against no one, but that being said, we’re not all gung-ho about teaming up with anyone.”

“How’d you figure that we’d want to do that?”, the man asked, schooling his expression more carefully now as he studied Dean and Sam. It was obvious even to him that the boys weren’t buying what he was selling.

“People….Hunters only come looking for us when they want something. Or want to kill us. We’re still talking so I’m guessing you don’t want us dead just yet.”, Dean countered. To his surprise, the man laughed though the noise of empty of any real emotion or mirth.

“Fair enough. Why don’t you put your peashooters away and we’ll talk some shop. I’m Jacob by the way. I’ll introduce you to the others later after we’re done.”, Jacob said, looking pointedly at Dean’s and Sam’s weapons as he raise his empty hand up in the universal sign of disarmament.

“I take it there’s no witches then?”, Dean hazarded a guess, lowering his weapons but not holstering them. He figured that Jacob and his band of yahoos would just have to deal.

“There was but we took care of them a couple of weeks back. Thought it was a good excuse as any to catch you boy’s attention though and get you here. It‘s not like we leave behind a calling card in this line of work to keep in contact with each other and Bobby won’t give out your numbers to no one”, Jacob shrugged, that annoying grin back, hinting that he knew something that they didn’t. Dean was really hoping that this idiot turned out to be a demon or some other sort of supernatural so that he could shoot him.

“Yeah, Bobby’s good for that.“, Sam threw over his shoulder, keeping their back to back positioning, his own gun still covering the other hunters. Dean approved. He didn‘t trust these bastards either. “How about we cut the crap and you just tell us what you want already?”.

“Well sir, me and my associates…”, Jacob began. Dean bit the inside of his cheek to keep from rolling his eyes at the man’s theatrical tone. He could already tell that Jacob loved the sound of his own voice and that this was going to be long winded.

“Oh this will be good.”, Dean muttered under his breath. Sam sighed, the action sending rumbles against Dean’s back, letting him know that his brother had heard him and wholeheartedly agreed.

“……have been talking about taking out this new god.”, Jacob continued, not noticing or simply just ignoring the Winchester’s discontent. “I’m sure you boys have noticed that things haven’t been right lately. All these religious leaders and motivational speakers being picked off, politicians’ headquarters being razed to the ground with their supporters in it, all those missing lawyers turning up at the bottom of the ocean……that shit ain’t right”.

“I don’t know, Jake. Sounds like a good start to me.”, for tact, thy name was not Dean Winchester, who got a frown from Jacob and a sharp elbow in the back from Sam.

“Dude!”, Sam whispered harshly. “Not appropriate.”

“What? Too soon?”, Dean shrugged, not really caring. He thought the whole lawyer thing was kinda funny in a morbid sort of way and further proof that Castiel still really didn’t get a joke when he heard one.

“Anyway, given your history, at least the parts we think are true, we all came to a decision.”, Jacob moved the conversation forward in a blatant attempt to recapture his own self perceived grandeur. Dean felt bad for the supernaturals this guy hunted. He probably bored them half to death with a long unnecessary speech before blessed dispatch.

“And what would that be?”, Sam asked, realizing first that Jacob was pausing longer than usual than polite conversation dictated, obviously wanting the hunters to ask him that question, like he was about to grace the Winchesters with a gift or something. It made Sam grit his back teeth, the entire situation reminding him of that sleaze ball angel Zachariah when he informed them that they were going to be vessels and they had better be happy about it.

“We think that this new god needs to be down a peg as in permanently and that your brother is just the man to do it.”, Jacob revealed with a too wide grin. It dropped as Sam turned to stand beside his older brother, both of the Winchester’s answering stares hard and steely as the guns being leveled at Jacob‘s head.

“So let me get this straight? You want Dean to kill god for you?”, Sam bitch faced hardcore as he glared at the man, Jacob’s grin of pride and accomplishment beginning to wilt under the sheer force of it.

“Now hold your horses, boy….”, and wasn’t that really beginning to get under Dean’s skin. With the obvious exception of Bobby, he didn’t appreciate anyone referring to him or his 6’4 brother as ‘boy’, especially after both of them had stopped the damn Apocalypse and spent decades in Hell. “We got a plan.”.

“Oh a plan. He’s got a plan, Sam. I’m so relieved. I can’t wait to hear it.”, Dean mocked to Sam who nodded back in feigned seriousness. He was pleased to see Jacob’s face harden, finally losing its smug overtones.

“We got a weapon. The only weapon you’ll ever need.”, Jacob said finally when he was sure that he had the Winchesters’ full attention.

“Sure you do.”, Dean snorted in amused disdain. He couldn’t wait to hear what these asshats had come up with.

“We got the Colt.”, Jacob said as he produced the legendary gun itself to them, the handle toward the older Winchester. He offered the gun to Dean who made no move to take it perhaps because Jacob was acting like a man who had just laid out a well timed full straight in a game of poker. To his disappointment, Jacob was not met with the intended astonishment from his audience as the Winchesters coolly glared back at him.

“Good for you. Are we done here?”, Dean asked, his cold tone bordering on bored. Sam’s own disinterest was a near tangible thing that left Jacob faltering and the surrounding hunters shifted uneasily. This obviously wasn’t going how they planned or wanted.

“N-now wait a good god damn minute.”, Jacob stammered, “Don’t you boys care? This sort of thing should be right up your alley.”.

“Oh we care…..”, Sam began.

“…..we just don’t think it’s going to work.”, Dean finished.

“But it’s the Colt.”, Jacob repeated the obvious in his disbelief of what was happening. He tried offering the gun again to Dean, like that action alone would fix everything. “Take it. It’s yours.”.

Let it not be said that Dean Winchester didn’t appreciate a fine weapon of quality and power, the hunter taking the old gun of legend in hand once again. It fit the palm of his hand as neatly as it always did, as if it were meant to be there, made for his flesh. Dean didn’t know how the hell or where these hunters had gotten the gun all things considered. The last time it had been in his possession was in Carthage, Missouri before Lucifer had taken it from him. The Colt didn’t look any worse for wear considering the Devil must have had it for a while, the Latin phrasing of ’I will fear no evil’ and decorative metal work still shining from its sides, Dean thumbing the worn pentagram at the base of the handle almost affectionately. If it not were his own beloved ivory handled, engraved Colt 1911 A1 .45 caliber semi automatic, he would have to admit that this gun was his favorite.

“Tell the Devil that. I personally put a bullet in-between that bastard’s eyes at point blank.”, Dean mused, smiling slightly in memory though none of his thoughts were good about the whole ordeal. “Like us, you didn’t read the fine print.”

“What the hell are you talking about? The Colt will kill anything.”, Jacob snapped, giving up his fake calm for impatience.

Dean’s smile grew wider into an all out grin, tight around the edges with no real joy left in it. “Expect for five things or so Lucy said, after I shot him. Maybe it’s six now though. Dunno. Disclaimers are a bitch that way.”, he shrugged before mock saluting Jacob and his group of silent hunters with the Colt. “So good luck with your little power plan cause it’s not going to work. All it’s gonna do is piss god off.”

“Dean’s right. Castiel is more of your instant punishment kind of god. He doesn’t seem to have the patience for the long game of forgiveness and seeing the light.”, Sam shook his head. “If you’re smart and not want to die bloody, you’ll drop this.”.

“But thanks for the gun.”, Dean smirked, tucking the Colt into his belt as he watched Jacob’s face darken to a very interesting shade of puce.

“You’re seven shades of stupid if you think we’re going to let you keep it.”, Jacob snapped, bringing their talk to an abrupt end as he went for his own guns, all the surrounding hunters following his lead.

Before the air went hazy and sharp with smell and smoke of gunpowder and deafening from the amount of gunfire, Dean was able to shove Sam behind him, the seasoned hunter ducking and rolling as he fell, taking cover underneath the Impala. Sam stopped short though when he realized that Dean was not following behind him. The tall man twisted and wiggled under the bulk of the heavy car in time to witness Dean get blasted with every type of ammo at a hunter’s disposal. Rock salt, silver, and blessed iron slammed into Dean’s body, making it shift and dance from the impact. Sam’s scream was lost in among all the noise as he watched Dean take bullet after bullet.

It should have tainted the air red with blood mist and white from flying bones chips. It should have turned the older Winchester’s body into hamburger. It should have done a lot of things. All it did do was ruin one of Dean’s favorite plaid shirts and put some holes in the Impala. Dean grimaced up at the night sky when he heard the windshield get shot out.

“Son of a bitch. I just fixed that.”, Dean sighed as the smoke cleared and everyone took a moment to stare at him with wide, white rimmed eyes. Sam deemed it safe enough to slip out from under the car as he watched what was left of Dean’s shirt flutter off of him to reveal unmarked skin save for the golden handprint on his shoulder, the Enochian writing within the mark pulsing with light that shone from Dean’s skin like liquid gold. If that wasn’t disconcerting enough, a halo made of scarlet and iridescent flame blue shimmering into existence over Dean’s head like a crown made of holy fire. Dean glared up at in open disgust before shaking his head which did nothing to dislodge the halo.

“What are you?”, Jacob gaped, he and his hunters taking a step back. Most of them were struggling to reload their weapons in record time. The survivors among them were already getting into their vehicles and backing up with squealing tires. Dean watched them go knowing that he would be able to catch up with them later. They were only delaying the inevitable.

“What the hell are you?”, Jacob repeated gaping, his own weapon seemingly forgotten in hand as the gun fell from out of his numb fingers.

“Your guess is as good as mine.”, Dean told him, noting how his voice filled the field now, the boom of it like distant thunder. As nice as it was to have the Colt back because really no one should have that kind of power at their fingertips, Dean knew he didn’t need it. Not now anyway, not anymore, not after Castiel had recreated him into something new and improved. He didn’t know what he was or what he had been made into but he felt power, Grace, whatever the hell fueled him now coarsing through his veins like blood transcended into star matter, darting through his body from head to toe, enough so that it was starting to crack the earth beneath his feet and make the air shimmer around him. Dean rolled his neck, cracking his knuckles as he stretched, feeling incredibly good for having just been shot at.

“But you just tried to kill my brother. Say hi to Crowley for me. I have a feeling that you’ll be heading his way.”

Chapter Text

“So…..”, Dean asked the creature he was currently sitting on, his seat a humongous paw he had no fear of falling off of anytime soon even if he leapt and rolled several times, the appendage ending in talons longer than his own body and looking sharp enough to carve the skin off of atoms. “….Are you really a dragon bird thing?”.

Castiel opened an eye, pupil-less and glowing with all the intensity of a blue sun, to focus on Dean. He found that he could stare into the heart and heat of that captive star for an eye unflinching. “No, but it is as close as your senses can process my true form without exploding from overload.”.

“Awesome.”, Dean sighed, looking around. He was currently nestled in the golden softness that covered Castiel’s skyscraper sized body, the god’s perceived form reminding Dean of Smog from the old Hobbit cartoon but with more feathers and fur in vibrant shades of iridescent gold and silver rather than scarlet scales. Wings, too many for Dean to count or keep track off, trailed down Castiel’s spine, the wide spanning appendages folding and unfolding constantly. They were so large and engulfing Dean couldn’t even find their edges, the lengths of them melding into the velvety void all around them. As far as Dean could figure out, the star studded space Castiel was lounging in was essentially the god’s throne room, all sorts of beings seeking audience, orders, and favor with him though it was just the two of them at the moment.

“Where are we?”, Dean asked anyway.

“Nowhere and everywhere.”, Dean could hear Castiel’s brand of humor in his voice, which was nothing like Dean had ever heard before. He had nothing to really compare it to, hearing it more in his head than with his ears. It reminded him of the way that thunder does sometimes, but on a more massive level. On the plus side though, his eardrums weren’t exploding and his head wasn’t threatening to crack open like an egg under the pressure.

“Oh, you’re a riot.”, Dean grumbled, digging his fingers through the golden stuff that was thick as a blanket and high enough to cover his lower half, thankfully so considering his current predicament. “Any reason I’m naked?”.

“No. If your nudity bothers you, simply think of clothing. It is well within your means to do so now.”, Castiel yawned, the sounds of his jaw clanking back together like an avalanche of teeth before the god nestling his head back down between his forepaws.

“Good to know.”, Dean grunted as he got up, fully clothed now though he felt a little ridiculous wearing jeans and t-shirt in this place. In his opinion, a toga might be more fitting but Dean wasn’t about to go down that the road of that fashion choice, mostly though because he didn‘t know the protocol for it. Did you wear underwear underneath a toga or did you free ball it like you would wearing a kilt?

Giving up on that mental inquiry, Dean walked across Castiel’s paw until he got to the edge and immediately wish he had not looked over the side of it. There was nothing underneath them except the light of stars and the spaces in-between them. His unhappy stomach flipping and threatening to empty its contents violently, Dean ended up crawling back to his original place of seating, trying not to hyperventilate or think about even if he could. Was he even breathing air? It felt like it at least though the air held no odor.

“You need not worry about falling. It is impossible for you to do so now.”, Castiel said, reminding Dean that he was sitting on god who was watching him through half lidded burning eyes. Before he could answer or question, Dean fell forward onto his hands and knees as something burst from his back on command, just not his own.

With some effort due to sudden imbalance, Dean righted himself, almost fearful to look behind him and what he might find there though he had a pretty good idea. He did notice that the halo was back, floating over his head like foxfire made of scarlet and blue violet light. Clenching his jaw to keep from saying something that could get him wiped from the face of existence, Dean looked over his shoulder to find his guesswork confirmed.

A pair of wings stretched out wide from between his shoulder blades, the individual feathers of them shimmering and twisting like flame frozen in feathered form. It gave his new appendages a rippling effect in shades of gold, burning oranges, heated reds, and blues only found in the hearts of the hottest stars while sparks of white were shed from them with every minuet movement.

“I think it’s safe to say I’m not human anymore. Are you happy with yourself?”, Dean ground out through clenched teeth, his hand curling into tight fists.

“Yes, I am quite pleased with your modifications.”, Castiel said as he turned his great head to stare at Dean straight on.

“Fuck you.”, Dean whispered, too consumed with rage to come up with anything more eloquent.

“You are not happy.”, it was more statement than question.

“You think?!”, Dean yelled, his wings going wide in agitation. Castiel did not reply, merely choosing to study Dean as he erupted, his form burning with golden flames dancing over his tanned skin. The hunter had no idea what the god was thinking, his expression unreadily while in his dragon like form. “Oh perfect. I can flame on.”, he snapped at his new body in irritation though part of him thought it was pretty fucking cool.

Seeing that god wasn’t going to answer him anytime soon, Dean fought with himself to calm down, at least enough to stop having flames shoot off of his skin. He was going to have to be careful when he got back to Earth. Bobby wouldn’t be happy camper if Dean set his house accidentally on fire over something stupid, like them arguing over a football game or movie night. “Can you change me back?”, Dean finally asked when he found that he could in a somewhat calm manner.

“Why would I do that?”, Castiel actually sounded perplexed, if his tone was anything to go by.

“Because I asked.”, Dean went for broke, hoping to paint god into a corner.

“No.”, Castiel stated, firmly enough to make the stars or whatever the hell they were around them explode.

“What if I said please.”, Dean shot back cheekily, because what the hell did he have to lose. His humanity was already gone.

“No, Dean.”, Castiel said more softly this time, laying his head back down.

“Why not?”, Dean resisted the urge to burst into the human torch again.

“Because I want you by my side for the rest of eternity.”, Castiel said, closing his eyes as if to bring an end to the conversation. Dean had never been too good at taking hints like that though.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Dean glared at the dozing god. “I could rebel.”

That was enough to make Castiel open his eyes again. “Please do not.”, the god said, sounding more sad than angry with Dean’s threat.

“If you love something, you’ve got to let it go.”, Dean tried to express his point of view with a classic.

“That is stupid.”, Castiel countered in return with an enormous amount of disgust.

“But true.”, Dean pressed. He stood his ground as Castiel’s head moved closer to him, blue sun for an eye taking up all of Dean’s view, the orb many times larger than hunter.

“Would you leave me so easily?”, for having no facial expression to reference, Dean was gleaning what he could from the voice that was actually not a voice. The concepts were playing merry hell with Dean’s thinking. If Dean had to nail down an emotion, he would have to say that the god sounded distressed. The note of unexpected sadness made something twist painfully deep in Dean’s gut.

“N-no.”, Dean stammered out, looking away for the first time. “I guess not. Not right now anyway. So am I an angel now or what?”.

“I would never make you into something as mundane as a mere angel, Dean. You are my Righteous Man, my Hunter of Twilight. When you are ready to come into your own, you will serve humanity as you have always done.”, Dean could hear the pleased smile in Castiel’s tone, the god sounding so very proud of himself. It made Dean feel ill at heart though still curious at his new title.

“What the hell does that even mean?”, Dean complained, falling back down in a mess of flailing wings and limbs. He could tell that the new additions were going to take some getting used to.

“You will hunt, Dean. You will move through shadow and night which will be your domain from now on and punish those beings who would do harm to the weak, the unaware, and the innocent. You will answer the prayers of the desperate to offer them protection and if not protection, righteous vengeance. You will do as you have always done for you are a hunter, a warrior, a good man, and a pure soul.”, Castiel intoned.

“And what if I don’t want to?”, the question sounded petulant even to Dean, who could practically hear Castiel rolling his eyes at him.

“Do you wish to do anything else?”, Castiel countered.

“No…..’, Dean admitted with a shrug, the two of them falling into a long moment of silence. Castiel closed his eyes again as Dean mulled over several things.

“You’re a selfish bastard, you know that? But you’re my selfish bastard and I got to keep you from making the Earth explode and shit.”, Dean said softly as he kicked at the golden fluff irritably. He flopped back on his wings which were surprising comfortable and watched as strange comets passed overhead.

“I love you too, Dean.”

Chapter Text

Dean found that he rather liked watching angels come and go. He preferred the celestial beings when they were far off though, streaking through the piece of star studded midnight that served as Castiel’s throne room, the angels like strange comets. As they pinged from location to another, entering and exiting, they left bright, icy streaks of light in their wake in a myriad of colors. The errands of angels reminded Dean fondly of a children’s movie that he had watched with Sam once or twice on those rare occasions when they were allowed to act their ages.

Up close though, angels were near horrific to witness. If Dean wasn’t used to a lifetime of the strange and the weird, he might have been perturbed by it, as in ‘heavily medicated while curled up in the corner wearing diapers and drooling on yourself’ kind of bothered. As it was or maybe due to the changes in his brain by Castiel, it was just something interesting to note.

Every angel was different, everyone of them a new fresh face of what nightmares and fresh hells were made of. Some looked like concepts of life, jagged shards of light and sound solidified and pieced together with gossamer threads of strained reality. They hurt Dean’s eyes if he looked at them for too long, their ever-changing colorings a kaleidoscope of an infinite dance in singing chaos.

Other angels looked more like a mixture of animals mish mashed together seemingly at random. Some had tentacles and beaks and feathers in a near unholy blend of earth and sky and sea. Others had the striped hides of jungle cats paired with the cloven hooves of goats and the leathery wings of bats, looking more demonic than angelic in Dean’s opinion.

The seraphs were something to see though or not as the case may be. Dean was morbidly curiously about them, mostly because they always stayed hidden even before Castiel. They had six wings of immense size that were all covered in eyes. Their top most pair always covered their head and faces while the bottoms most pair shrouded feet that never touched down upon any surface. Dean didn’t even want to begin to imagine what they looked like beneath their coverings but the tenaciously curious part of his being couldn’t help but wonder what unimaginably horror or beauty lay beneath.

Cherubs were a near revelation in their grotesque, the lowest class of angels made mostly of blood and love, which sounds better when cited in one’s own head. Personified, it was a hot mess in shades of wet and a spectrum of red Dean hadn’t even know existed or wanted to.

They all came, from the lowest well guardian to the hosts of the Shining Choir, all to adore Castiel, sing to him in voices that made the marrow of Dean’s bones tingle. The smart ones were polite to Dean, acknowledging his presence with song, though he preferred they would not. Angels didn’t exactly communicate with things as simple as words.

True Enochian when spoken by angels in heaven was a mesh of signals and wavelengths braided together to send entire bursts of information at once. Getting an answer from an angel was like having an entire Wiki page downloaded directly into your brain all at once and that was about as comfortable as it sounded.

It was the reason that Enochian sounded so blocky and cumbersome when mangled through a human throat on Earth, almost vulgar sounding in its forced simplicity. True Enochian was a bitch to listen to though, having to dig through all the mass quantities of information to decipher the angel‘s meaning. It often left Dean with headache and sticking to ‘yes and no’ questions didn’t seem to work either. Besides the ridiculous amount of TMI, it was also the pitch it was given in. Subtlety was not so much a foreign concept to angels as totally nonexistent, the ethereal beings seemed stuck on one universal setting of ‘are your brain cells exploding yet?’ loud. So while Dean would exchange greetings with certain angel like Inias and Samandriel, he usually tried to skip the small talk with them.

The other who failed to get on board with the program and even went so far as to complain about Dean and his presence in Heaven were short-lived, quite literally. They were promptly eaten by Castiel without warning or hesitation, and Dean was fine with that. Most angels were still feathered ass hats in his opinion. After Castiel unapologetically polished off a couple of naysayers, the rest of the Host seemed to wise up. Those who could not stand Dean simply ignored him now and he was fine with that too.

“Hey Cas….”, Dean was scrawled out lazily in his usual spot on top of Castiel’s paw, the god’s head resting nearby on the other. Dean watched angel ping past them overhead through the flame shimmering feathers of his wings. “…..How did angel get the rep for being all fluffy and cute. No offense, but they’re kinda fugly.”.

“By human standards perhaps, which I might point out is extremely limited.”, Castiel grumbled though Dean knew he wasn’t asleep, just thinking deep thoughts of whatever god thought about in their down time.

 

“Well human standards or not, them some ugly mother fuckers. Did your dad drop a couple of them on their head or just beat them with ugly sticks?”, Dean mused aloud, reaching up to shift his fingers through his feathers, the flames coming off of them, twisting around and over his skin as he caressed them.

“Dean, are you really questioning my Father’s design?”, Castiel cracked open an eye to regard the Righteous Man lounging on his paw, amusing himself with his wings.

“Um yeah. Human, remember?”, Dean snorted, quitting his sport when he realized what he was doing and sat up to look at Castiel. “It’s kinda what we do. Someone’s got to tell the king he has no clothing on.”.

“Your references are still unintelligent and odd.”, Castiel grumbled. He watched in amusement as Dean took a running leap, which was totally unnecessary but the former human still had a firm belief in gravity and physics that no longer applied to him, to take off from Castiel’s paw. Dean landed with a flutter of wings on top of Castiel’s head in between his horned crest, sliding down it so that he came to a halt at the end of Castiel’s draconian like snout so that the god had to look at Dean cross-eyed. It was something that amused Dean to no end.

“That whole omniscient thing still not kicking in for you?”, Dean smirked in the face of duel blue suns bearing down on him.

“I could eat you.”, Castiel growled, glaring down his snout at his passenger.

“Then who would be around to tell you that you’re naked?”, Dean laughed, taking a dive off of the end of Castiel’s nose to flutter around the god on light wings. “Anyway, you wouldn’t do that. I’m the best lay this side of heaven.”. He playfully dodged and rolled as Castiel snapped at him in slow, lazy bites before giving up with an indignant puff of air that sent Dean floated away from him.

“That’s debatable.”, Castiel huffed, sounding particularly petulant.

“Ouch. Ditched by god.”, Dean covered his heart, feigning injury as he nose dived swift and sure before pulling up again in front of the cranky god. “I don’t think I’ll be able to get over that one.”

“You will manage, I am sure. You were very resistant even before I remade you.”, Castiel said dryly as he watched Dean dip and weave through the air effortlessly on fiery wing.

“So?”

“So what?”

“Who’s better than me? You can’t say something like that and not tell me.”, Dean pointed out, entertaining himself by floating in place simply because he could.

Castiel refrained from rolling his eyes, though he felt the human gesture was quite fitting in this moment. “Just on reputation alone, Casanova, Cleopatra, Lancelot….”

“Hold up, he was real?”

“Very. Triston, Napoleon, Eloise, Salim, Vātsyāyana…”

“What that last one even human?”

“He wrote the Karma Sutra.”, Castiel supplied helpfully.

“Fair enough. Who else?”, Dean nodded.

“Rasputin….”, Castiel tried to begin again but was cut off.

“Rasputin? Like as in the Russian mad monk? Seriously, that nut job is in heaven?”, Dean asked, “I would think for sure that he would be punching his ticket South of the border.”

“He’s devout. Trumps everything.”

Chapter Text

When Dean woke up, he knew immediately that something was off. It was nothing more than a bad taste in his mouth and a lingering headache really. While most could convince themselves that was merely a byproduct of poor sleep and drinking before bed, Dean could just tell it was something different. A hunter lived and died by such feeling, so in his experience it was best not to ignore them if one didn‘t want to die bloody. He may not be exactly human anymore but that didn’t mean he was going to put up with surprises either. It wasn’t anything Dean could really nail down in his mind though and after a quick look around the room turned up nothing unusual, Dean decided to brave the day and go downstairs for some breakfast.

The alluring scent of coffee, bacon, and eggs should never be equated to the promise of the unexpected but it was today. Hating it when he was right, Dean’s suspicions were confirmed when he stumbled into the kitchen to be greeted by Ellen, the former bar owner and huntress leaning up against Bobby’s kitchen counter, enjoying a cup of coffee.

“You’re dead.”, Dean stated calmly in way of greeting, cause he wasn’t crazy and believed in tackling problems head on, even the ones that involved his friends coming back to life unexpectedly. He wasn’t too worried about the physical threat of a shifter or reverent or anything else that can come back and take on another’s form. He was more than capable of tearing apart most supernaturals with his bare hands thanks to Castiel’s meddling. A quick death or something far more drawn out was going to be based solely on whether or not Sam and Bobby were in one piece and still breathing.

“Well damn, good morning to you to, sunshine.”, Ellen said dryly, glaring at Dean from over the edge of her cup. “You finally stick yourself someplace tender with that ridiculous knife you keep under your pillow?”.

“There wasn’t even enough of you and Jo to salt, burn, and bury.”, Dean continued almost dully, like he was reciting someone else’s horrific life of loss.

“Honey, are you feeling alright?”, Ellen asked concerned and it broke Dean’s heart just a little bit more. “I’m obviously alive and Jo’s with your moose of a brother, still enjoying their honeymoon phase. Let’s not go ruining it for them by telling her that she’s supposed to be dead.”.

“Who’s dead now?”, Bobby asked, wandering in from the study with ancient text in hand and a cup of coffee that smelled strongly of being Irish in the other, looking very much alive.

“Me apparently.”, Ellen said as she kept a eye on Dean, the hunter pale and too still for anyone’s continued breathing. On his part, Dean was focused on keeping his halo and wings from appearing in this plane of existence. He had no idea what it would do to other people’s eyes and had forgotten to ask Castiel about it the last time they were together in heaven.

“Looking pretty spry for a corpse.”, Bobby snorted, leaning in for a kiss even as he shot Dean a look of warning.

“You ole sweet talker.”, Ellen rolled her eyes, smacking the old hunter as she returned the affectionate gesture. “Save it for later though. I think something’s wrong with Dean.”

“Now there’s a shocker.”, Bobby grumbled, turning to Dean to openly study the tense hunter who was convincing his skin not to burst into flames. “What’s eating ya, boy?”.

“Oh nothing much, Bobby. Slept well, been feeling good, oh and our dead friends have just come back to life after being blown up. Everything’s just peachy. How you doing?”, Dean shot back as he started to pace in an attempt to burn off some energy. Nothing was making sense to him. Ellen just felt and smelled human to him, the hunter finally remembering he had other senses now that he could hone in on.

“Blown up? Have you been drinking from the green bottles again? I keep telling you that’s not liquor!”, Bobby snapped, throwing his tome onto the table just in case he had to stop Dean from doing something Winchester stupid and having no real idea how futile that would be now.

“When we went after the Devil in Missouri with the Colt, Ellen and Jo died.”, Dean came to a standstill long enough to explain, making himself remember that terrible night, that suicide run that had claimed a mother and her daughter in its failure.

“No they didn’t you idgit. Now I admit it was a close thing but Castiel pulled all your asses out of the fire and healed Jo up good as new after that hellhound made her its own personal chew toy.”, Bobby corrected with a definite certainty that brought Dean up short.

“Cas?”, Dean managed out as it all started to come together in his head, the day finally making some sort of sense.

“Sweetie, you were there. Don’t you remember? You’re the one who held Jo’s gut in long enough for Castiel to come and heal her.”, Ellen said gently as she could, the Winchester looked strangely fragile.

“Let’s pretend I don’t. What else happened to Jo? And where is Sam? Where is my brother?”, Dean asked faintly, part of him hoping that this wasn’t all too good to be true and that god wasn’t that cruel.

“Jo’s where she’s been since Missouri. With Sam. Your fool of a brother got her pregnant but had the good sense to marry her before I found out.”, Ellen pursed her lips, sounding more displeased than she actually felt. She could actually forgive quite a bit considering she was about to have some fine looking granbabies out of the whole deal.

“Son of a bitch! What the hell did he do?”, Dean mumbled to himself, making Ellen and Bobby exchanged worried looks between each other.

“Who? Your brother? I think it‘s a little late for the birds and bees talk, son.”, Bobby prompted to a stream of unintelligible cursing.

“Cas! He did something! None of this is right!”, Dean growled, gesturing at Ellen who glared at him back with an indignant look.

“And me being dead is? Or Jo for that matter?”, Ellen countered, making Dean cringe as she put her hands on her hips to loom over him which was impressive considering their height difference.

“No! It’s just…..wait, did you two just kiss? What the hell?!”, Dean mentally fumbled in self preservation, landing on a detail that had been bothering him in the background for a while now.

“That’s what married people do on this planet.”, Bobby rolled his eyes. Feeling uncomfortable, Dean changed his line of questioning to something he deemed safer for his continued sanity and urge to eat later on.

“What about the Roadhouse?”, Dean left out the part of its demise as well just in case.

“Well, if Ash hasn’t managed to burn it down or drink himself stupid, I imagine it’s still there.”, Bobby snorted in amusement at mention of the hacker.

“Oh hush up, Bobby. Pamela keeps a good eye on him. She’s been a real good influence. Ash hardly ever even sleeps on the pool tables anymore.”, Ellen mused with a smile.

“I wouldn’t either if I had that waiting for me in bed.”, Bobby said without thinking of the ramifications to be smacked in the back of the head.

Dean couldn’t handle anymore of this, whatever this was. Things were getting weirder and weirder by the moment and he needed some answers. “I need a minute.”, Dean threw over his shoulder as he practically ran to Bobby’s panic room, slamming the iron door behind him.

“Where for art thou, ah fuck it, Cas get your ass down here now.”, Dean yelling up at the inscribed ceiling, slapping his hand over the mark on his shoulder to let Castiel know how serious he was through their connection.

“Hello Dean.”

“Don’t ‘Hello dean’ me. What the fuck did you do?”, Dean snapped, turning to find the god standing right beside him, watching him evenly.

“Nothing too difficult. I merely changed some minor occurrences in your timeline.”, Castiel explained like they were discussing the weather and not the reorganization of Dean’s reality.

“And brought people back from the dead.”, Dean pointed out, trying to stress some important factors here.

“It was not that difficult. Their deaths were not cornerstones in history and thus could be undone with little effort or consequence.”, Castiel said, irritating calm.

“And the whole Sam and Jo thing?”, Dean asked, because he just had to know. He ignored Castiel as the god gathering the hunter up into a close embrace, the line of their bodies flush.

“Your brother has always yearned for normalcy despite who and what he is. Joana can give him a balance between what he perceives as normal but while still doing so as a hunter.”, Castiel said softly, wrapping one arm around Dean‘s waist to hold him in place while the other caressed Dean‘s throat in lazy motions. Despite his irritation, Dean could feel himself already leaning into the affection, part of him welcoming it.

“And Bobby and Ellen?”, Dean didn’t really want to go there. While he viewed both of the older hunters respectively as Sam and his adoptive parents, it just seemed odd to him for them to be really together.

“Two lonely people, broken in similar ways having experienced the loss of a spouse. It seemed fitting.”, Castiel touched their foreheads together, bringing his fingers up to start stroking Dean’s cheek, his fingertips rasping lightly over the hunter’s stubble.

“Ok, I’ll give you that one but Pamela and Ash?”, Dean pointed out, cause damn. He was a betting man and he couldn’t have called that one. He liked the idea of them together though.

“I had no hand in that relationship. It occurred on its own.”, Castiel said, looking a touch miffed about it, like a gardener who had overlooked a plant to finding it magnificently blooming right under his nose.

Annoyance, worry, and the dull pang of anger evaporated almost into nothingness as Dean leaned in to press soft kisses against the apple of Castiel’s pale cheeks, the god’s skin tasting dry and tingly of ozone and electricity.

“No shit. Go Ash. Who woulda thought that little nerd had it in him.”, Dean chuckled, feeling proud for the computer geek with the mullet.

“Are you displeased?”, Castiel murmured the question. He hummed in approval as Dean brought out his fiery wings to wrap them both in their embrace of living flame.

“No…..just surprised is all though I guess by now I shouldn’t be.”, Dean sighed, giving it some quick thought. “Thanks”.

“My pleasure.”, Castiel smiled into the kiss that was pressed to his lips by hunter.

“Why did you do it?”, cause Dean could never leave things well enough alone but Castiel did not seemed displeased by the question. If anything, he looked fondly at Dean and his need to know everything.

“You have been looking after others for your entire existence. Now they can look after each other.”, Castiel told him gently. “No real harm will come to them ever again even now. They have my mark upon them all.”

“So what now?”, Dean asked at a loss, feeling like something heavy and crucial had been taken away from him.

“I do not know. Isn’t that strange to hear from god?”, Castiel grinned, “I think the correct question here though it this- What do you want to do Dean?”.

“I-I don’t know.”, Dean stammered. He couldn’t remember that last time anyone had asked him that and meant it. “Can I think about it?”.

“Of course, my beloved. For as long as you like.” which turned out to be not very long at all, Dean being Dean.

“I want to drive.”, Dean admitted aloud slowly but with conviction, like he expected Castiel to argue with him.

“We can do that.”, Castiel conceded graciously though.

“I want to look for cases, save people, drink too much, and eat shitty diner food.”, Dean expanded, searching Castiel’s face for any sort of resistance.

“We can do that too”, the god remained placid, his head tilted slightly to the side.

“Won’t it be boring for you?”, Dean pressed, part of him still expecting this whole thing to fall apart that the seams.

“No. I’ll be with you.”, Castiel leaned in to pressed a full soft kiss to Dean’s lips in what felt like more than just a promise.

“Alright, enough of that. We’re turning this into a damn chick flick moment.”, Dean blushed, glaring at Castiel though the look held no real venom in it as the hunter tried to keep the growing excitement out of his voice. “If we do this, we do it for as long as I want. No dipping out to the other side of the universe, no miracles, no cheating with godlike powers. We hunt, we save people, and we do it my way. Deal?”

Castiel cupped Dean’s face to pull the hunter into a full kiss, the parallels of the past playing merry hell with Dean’s emotions until he looked into the god’s eye. Powerful and endless like the captured nebulas the orbs were, they were filled to their edges with a love that was binding beyond any mere words. Divine infinite promise lay there in that surreal blue and it was all for Dean, here, now, and forever.

“Deal.”
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“Hey! No touching! Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole.”, Dean smacked the straying hand away from the cassette player’s volume with long practiced ease.

“But I’m God.”, Castiel glowered petulantly, abusing his power enough to at least change the song from Aerosmith to something he knew they would both enjoy.

“Look at all the fuck I give. Those the rules, god or no god. Love ‘em, live by ‘em, or start walking.”, Dean glared but gave up his faked ire to start singing along with the song. He had to give it up to god. It was a good pick.

‘Carry on my wayward son’

“I’ve always like this song.”, Castiel said, leaning back in the Impala’s plush, well cared for leather.

‘There’ll be peace when you are done,
Lay your weary head to rest’

Dean looked over at the being beside him, his forever angel despite all new titles and powers. He was his savior, his best friend, his lover, and his own personal god and if Dean wanted to, he could keep them like this for the rest of eternity. “I knew there was a reason I liked you, angel face.”

‘Don’t you cry no more’

-the end-

Chapter Text

Chapter: Earth

Jane stared up at the three story apartment building, checking her phone’s map app to make sure she was at the right place. Unfortunately so, the app informed her.

“Okay, you can do this.” Jane whispered, reminding herself that change was good. She’d already calculated the odds of her potential new roommate being murderer or not, and the numbers were in her favor. The tall, rail thin woman from the heart of the Midwest was a new arrival to the sunny yet surprisingly soggy state of Florida. Jane found herself wondering if the humidity was a yearlong thing, or just seasonal. She was really hoping for the latter, having felt disconcertingly moist since crossing the Mason Dixon line.

The apartments she was looking at were not terrible, but they weren’t great either. They were older than she would have preferred to consider. That, and the complex had been built almost on top of a lake full of gators that was cozied up next to a swamp. For whatever reason, the apartment buildings had a letter system painting on the side of them, but with no apartment numbers to verify exact locations, meaning ordering pizza in a timely manner was going to be a bitch.

Rechecking the online ad’s information, Jane knew she was at the right building. She just had to find the right apartment now. The bottom unit appeared to be quite empty while the unit on the top floor seemed overly full. It had a lot of wild greenery growing out of it, ivy pouring out of every window while somehow still creating an earthen border for the door. Jane didn’t know if that was normal for Florida, but it did not look safe, much less inviting. The only option left to consider was the middle apartment. As far as first impressions went, there was a lot to take in.

The porch was spacious yet full with various flora in pots of all different shapes and sizes, the plants ruining the screens with their exuberant healthy growth. Herbs galore grew next to huge aloe plants while spider plants hung from the ceiling, getting tangled up in the mess below. There was even a weird little fountain featuring cute ceramic frogs over in the corner, bees and butterflies taking full advantage of it.

The front door was the most worrisome part, its surface covered in symbols that looked painted on in blood and oddly enough, black permanent marker. Instead of a welcoming mat, there was a thick line of salt that ran across the threshold of the door. Upon further inspection, Jane found more salt along the sills of the windows too.
Jane couldn’t believe that she was going to do this, but the price was right. Her potential roommate was only asking five hundred dollars for the room, and it included all the utilities, even wifi. While it wasn’t exactly in Orlando, the college had campuses near the apartment, and it was only about a thirty minute drive to Orlando, or to the beach. It was almost too perfect to be true.

“Come on in already. The door’s open.” Called out someone from inside, the door unlocking itself before swinging open all on its own. There was a woman with long curly dark red hair standing in the kitchen, stirring a simmering pot on the stove. She motioned Jane in, but didn’t bother to look up, or over at her.

“H-hello, are you Christine?” Jane stammered, steeling herself for anything as she crossed the threshold. Despite everything, Jane jumped when the door slammed itself shut. She tried not to wince when it locked itself behind her.

“This would be really awkward if I wasn’t.” said the woman who Jane really hoped and prayed was actually Christine, and not some crazy person. She had a lot of tattoos, the woman wearing ink from her tits to her toes, most of it celestial or foreign in nature as far as she could tell. Jane knew this because Christine was barely wearing any clothing, cooking whatever was on the stove in her bra and panties. “Make yourself comfortable. There is plenty of stuff to drink in the fridge. Just check the label before you try anything. Some of it is poisonous.”

“Um, no. I’m fine.” Jane lied badly.

“You don’t look fine. Your aura is all jagged with yellow and orange.” Christine said, finally looking over to study Jane. She did so in such a way that it felt like the strange woman had just looked right through her.

“I’m sorry?” Jane tried as she glanced around the apartment. It was lived in yet relatively clean, most of the heavy furniture in it built to last longer than fashion. The space smelled like sage, cigarettes, and oddly enough, freshly baked vanilla cookies.

“This your first time meeting a witch, dearie?” Christine asked, looking quite amused about something. Jane had a terrible feeling that the something was her.

“No. Well, yes. I mean, yes, I know about witches. I’ve read all about them in school.” Jane rambled, really wishing she could say something better. “You didn’t mention that in your ad...if you are one. Not that I am saying that you are or anything. I’m sorry, I don’t mean to assume.”

“Assume away. I am. Is it a problem?”

“No, well, I don’t know.” Jane said, “I’m sorry.”

“Why do you keep apologizing? You haven’t done anything wrong, and I’m not going to turn you into a frog if you say something offensive.” Christine told her, arched a brow in concern at the obviously nervous young woman.

“That’s a relief...” Jane began, telling herself to calm done before she did something really embarrassing.

“I usually turn people into toads. Frogs are so cliché.”

Jane was unsure of what to say next so she kept very still to stay on the safe side of life.

“Sweet maker, I’m just fucking with you. Relax already.” Christine said with a snort of amusement. “I’m making gumbo if you’re hungry.”

“Oh, is that what it is?” Jane asked hopefully.

“It’s not exactly a cauldron. What did you think it was? Boiled down eye of newt?” Christine teased, thoroughly amused by her new company.

“Um, I don’t...well, do you mind if I look at the room first?” Jane word vomited, “Yes, I think I would very much like to see the room that was advertised, the room I want to rent. That room.”

“Sure, go for it.” Christine shrugged, pointed her spoon in the direction of the room. Going down a small hallway, Jane opened a normal looking door.

For lack of a better word, the room was perfect. Jane stared at the space with a mix of awe and horror. It had lovely windows which were large enough to let in the right amount of afternoon light while not be too glaring. It also had a spacious walk-in closet, cool tile for flooring that would be easy to clean, and it had its own full bathroom.

“The complex has a pool with a Jacuzzi, tennis courts, and a full gym too.” Christine added, “There is a ton of restaurants nearby, two gas stations, and all within walking distance. A train station that runs into Orlando is just five minutes down the road too. It’s a park-and-ride so you have options.”

It could all be hers for just five hundred dollars.

“Is there anything else I should know about?” Jane asked, already getting the sinking feeling of reluctant acceptance.

“There is a mall about fifteen minutes away, but it’s kind of shitty.” Christine shrugged. “There is also a third bathroom when it chooses to exist.”

“No, I meant about you.” Jane clarified, bracing herself for the worst.

“I am a highly functioning alcoholic who also likes to smoke. I have three cats, and I may acquire more if someone threatens me with a kitten. I don’t get angry often, but when I do, run for cover, and that’s not just a metaphor. I work late nights so I’m up at odd hours. When I want to sleep, don’t wake me up unless the apartment is on fire, which it probably will be at some point. I’m still trying to work out the kinks in my contract with my elemental. Other than that, I’m pretty easy going. I like Jim Henson movies, I love to cook, and clothing is optional with me.” Christine said, lighting up a cigarette at the end of her speech. She did this with the tip of her finger, looking particularly smug about it. “Take it, or leave it, Midwest.”

And it could all be hers for just five hundred dollars so Jane dug deep, straightening her spine.

“First off, please don’t call me Midwest. My name is Jane. I don’t care if you’re a witch, but I’m probably going to end up saying a lot of ignorant things too because I don’t know anything about magic. I like to think that I am open minded so just correct me when I mess up, and we’ll get along fine in that area. I grew up on a farm, and I love animals so the cats aren’t an issue, but I am not a fan of smoking so I’ll have to ask that you do it on the porch, and not inside the apartment. I plan on going to school while working so more than likely, I’ll be keeping a lot of odd hours too, so ditto about letting me sleep when I need to.” Jane said as she collected her thoughts on it all. “I like Jim Henson movies as well, I can’t cook, and as long as you keep your nudity to yourself, I don’t care.”

“Your name is Jane?” the witch asked, giving her strange look.

“All my life.” Jane said, wondering to herself why that seemed to give Christine reason to pause. To her knowledge, there was nothing special about it. Her given name was practically synonymous for being basic and mundane. “Is that going to be a problem?”

“Look at you with the sudden attitude. I knew I liked something about you when you decided to walk in.” Christine grinned around her cigarette before taking it into the palm of her hand to incinerate it. “You’ll be taking the room then, I presume?”

“Yes, I really think I will. Change is good.” Jane nodded.

“Keep telling yourself that.” The witch winked, “You haven’t met our upstairs neighbor yet.”

Continued in 'Beware the Night'