Chapter 1: Fifteen
Dean Winchester was fifteen years old when he met Castiel Novak. He knew from the first time that he saw Castiel that he wanted him in that dark, grown-up way that his father and Bobby told rude jokes about when they were drunk. He wanted to be close to Castiel like his father had been close to their mother. He wanted to be intimate with him.
Castiel was unlike any man he’d ever met. He was nothing like his father, who was obsessive and neglectful, or Bobby, who was gruff and although caring, deeply bitter. Castiel was quiet and graceful, and he always wore a pensive expression, as if he had to think about everything in minute detail. Dean wanted to be one of the things that Castiel thought about in minute detail, but he knew that that was just a daydream.
They had met Castiel at Bobby’s house when John had needed help with research on a particularly elusive creature. They had been driving for hours, and when they finally arrived at Bobby’s house, Sam had fallen asleep from hunger and boredom. Dean was awake and careful not to speak to his father, who was in a particularly dark mood that day.
When they entered the house, Dean felt positively drained and frustrated. They had had to leave yet another school, and he did not look forward to the reality that he and Sam would have to be the new kids yet again in the future. His gloomy thoughts dissipated, however, when he saw the man who was sitting next to Bobby in the kitchen.
A pair of clear blue eyes that seemed to stare into your inner most workings captivated Dean. They were in a beautifully intelligent face that seemed to belong to an artist long ago. The man’s skin was like porcelain, which was accentuated by his dark brown hair. His hair was slightly messy, as if he had used his fingers to comb the thick strands into place. He wore a white round collared t-shirt under a plain black button up shirt, with a pair of black jeans and buckled biker boots. A delicate gold crucifix rested against his chest, and his sleeves were rolled up to reveal some kind of complex tattoo.
“Heya John,” Bobby nodded, rising from his chair.
“Good to see you, Bobby,” John smiled slightly, as he clapped Bobby affectionately on the back.
Bobby gestured towards the man sitting at the kitchen table, “This is Castiel Novak. He’s been huntin’ for about five years now.”
“It’s good to know you,” John greeted, shaking Castiel’s long fingered hand.
“Pleased to meet you,” he replied in a sexy, gravely voice.
“These are my boys, Sam and Dean,” John said rather absently, as he walked toward the fridge to get a beer.
His cerulean gaze rested on Sam and then Dean, and his mouth rose slightly in a smile.
“It’s good to meet you, Sam and Dean.”
Dean’s stomach did a funny little flip-flop at the sound of that rich voice drawling out his name. He had a sudden, vivid thought of Castiel saying his name during climax, and he could feel heat rising in his face.
“So what can I do you for, John?” Bobby asked, as he and John walked towards his overstuffed study.
Dean didn’t listen to the rest of their conversation as he tried to surreptitiously gaze at Castiel, while making he and Sam ham and cheese sandwiches.
“Get some Cokes out of the fridge, Sammy,” he said, as he walked towards the table and set their plates of food down.
“I hate it when you call me, Sammy,” his younger brother groaned, as he opened the fridge.
Dean did not rejoin with his usual insults, because he was trying to look unaffected by Castiel’s immediate proximity.
“So how old are you boys?” Castiel asked, leaning forward slightly and giving his gentle smile again.
“I’m twelve,” Sam replied easily, and then bit into his sandwich.
Castiel turned his brilliant gaze on Dean expectantly, who felt like his throat was suddenly lined with sawdust.
He managed to compose himself, however, and replied, “I’m fifteen. How old are you?”
Castiel seemed to be momentarily surprised by the question, and then his soft smile returned, “I am twenty five.”
“Wow, so you’ve been hunting solo since you were twenty?” Dean marvelled after swallowing a large mouthful of sandwich.
“That is correct.”
“How come?” Sam asked.
Castiel’s beautiful eyes became sad, and he softly replied, “My family was killed when I was a teenager, and so I became an orphan. It took me some time to figure out what had killed them, but I eventually came to understand, and the vengeance of their death made me a hunter.”
Dean wanted to reach out and touch that beautiful face, and take all the sadness away. He wanted to kiss Castiel’s gorgeous mouth, and make him forget all the suffering he had known. Dean understood what it felt like to loose someone and have the spectre of their loss engulf your life.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Sam replied in his kind way.
Castiel smiled again, “You both seem quite grown up for your age.”
“You have to be when you’re on the road,” Dean shrugged, and finished his sandwich with a slug of Coke.
Castiel frowned and looked as if he was about to say something, but then John and Bobby re-entered the kitchen.
“We’ll sleep here tonight boys,” John announced. “Bobby and I have a lot of research to do. Dean go and get your and Sammy’s bags out the car, and take them up to the spare bedroom.”
“Yes sir,” Dean replied, placing his plate in the zinc.
Castiel got up from the table, too, and turned to John and Bobby, “Well, I’ll be on my way then, Bobby. Thank you for all of your help. I’ll be in touch. It was nice to meet you, John.”
He fluidly put on his black leather jacket, and smiled at Sam and Dean once more.
He walked up to the two boys and extended his hand to them in turn, “It was nice to meet you, Sam and Dean.”
Castiel’s grip was cool and firm, and Dean’s hand tingled with the contact.
When Castiel got into his Boss 302 Mustang and roared away, Dean wondered if he would ever see the mysterious, and surprisingly gentle, hunter again. He felt a strange feeling blossoming in his chest, and it would take him a full year to realise that it was longing.
Chapter 2: Sixteen
Dean celebrates his sixteenth birthday and asks Castiel for a present that the older man isn't willing to give.
Disclaimer: I do not write this work for commercial gain or profit. I write these works for non-profit entertainment.
The beginnings chapters are short to establish the main pairing, but I will make the succeeding chapters longer.
Dean did not see Castiel again until his sixteenth birthday. He had spent the last year thinking about seeing Castiel, even though he knew that Castiel had probably not spent his time in the same occupation in reference to Dean.
Their father barely remembered that it was Dean’s birthday, and he seemed relieved to be able to leave his sons with Bobby while he went on yet another hunt. Bobby, despite being rather crotchety about most things, felt that birthdays should be celebrated in some way. For that reason he made the effort to bake Dean a chocolate cake from his grandmother’s old recipe, and to give his adopted nephew a Led Zeppelin t-shirt. Dean flushed with pleasure at the realisation that Bobby had put himself out for him, and that Sam had used some of the money from his piggy bank, and bought Dean a tape of Guns ‘N Roses.
They were sitting around the table eating cake when they heard the powerful roar of a car engine outside. Bobby frowned slightly and made his way to the gravel drive. The engine was abruptly cut off and Dean and Sam heard muffled voices in conversation. Dean almost dropped his fork when he saw Castiel come through the door with the languid grace that had been seared into Dean’s memory.
“Seems we have a surprise guest, boys,” Bobby announced, as he walked past Castiel and resumed his seat. “Have a piece of cake, Castiel.”
Castiel smiled, and nodded as he made his way to the table and sat down next to Dean after cutting himself a slice of cake.
“Happy birthday, Dean. Bobby tells me that you’re sixteen today. Congratulations.”
Dean wanted to act confident and cocky, like he usually did with older men, except Bobby, but he found that his stomach felt tight with nerves and his skin hot with embarrassment and arousal. All he managed was to gaze at Castiel shyly and return the hunter’s gentle smile.
After they had finished eating their cake, Dean went to go and sit on the porch as the sunset, casting long shadows in the yard. The sky glowed with soft oranges and pinks, and Dean could hear the songs of birds calling their mates and young to their nests.
“I like to watch the sunset, too,” came a deep, gravely voice.
A shiver of pleasure ran down Dean’s spine at the knowledge of whom the voice belonged to. He looked up and bit back a sigh at the stunning sight Castiel made in the fading light. His deep blue eyes were transfixing, and Dean felt as if the gentle light that filled them would consume him.
Castiel moved towards him, and Dean observed the sensual sway of his denim clad hips. Dean felt himself flush as he looked at the bulge in Castiel’s jeans, and quickly averted his eyes to the candyfloss and orange blossom sky.
“So, is your dad on a hunt?”
Dean nodded, “He’s hunting down a succubus.”
“That’s impressive. Those ladies can be quite difficult when threatened.”
They fell into a companionable silence, and Dean tried not to be too obvious as he inhaled Cas’ clean, slightly spicy scent. He could feel the heat radiate off of his body, and it made Dean want to press himself against him, to lift his shirt and run his hands over the smooth, taut flesh-
“I’m sorry I didn’t get you anything for your birthday, Dean. I wish I’d known it was today, otherwise I would have got you a gift,” Castiel said suddenly.
Before Dean could stop himself, he whispered, “I know what I want from you for my birthday, Cas.”
Castiel’s enigmatic blue gaze met his own clear green, “What’s that, Dean?”
Dean licked his lips, and Castiel’s gaze dropped down to them as Dean replied, “I want you to kiss me.”
Cas’ gaze instantly snapped up and he stared at Dean in shock, but something darker, almost unnoticeable flashed in those cerulean depths. Dean could sense the indecision in the older man’s body, as if he found Dean’s request to be inappropriate, but not repulsive.
“I-” Castiel cleared his throat and continued, his gaze steady. “I don’t think that that would be appropriate, Dean.”
Dean titled his head slightly and bit his lip, “Why?”
Castiel raised an eyebrow, “I think you know why. I won’t take advantage of a respected hunter’s beautiful teenage son.”
Dean lightly touched Castiel’s jean clad knee, “You think I’m beautiful?”
The hunter’s gaze shifted, and he stared at the red globe of the sun as the black horizon line gradually swallowed it, “Yes. Yes I think you’re beautiful. But I think you knew that already. I think that you know a lot of men and women both think you’re beautiful. You’ve got lips that are made to be kissed, but I won’t be the one to kiss them.”
Dean frowned, “This won’t be my first kiss, Castiel.”
He sighed and pushed Dean’s rising hand away, “I realised that, but I won’t be the perverted adult who exploits the stunning child. I’m sorry, Dean, but I can’t give you the birthday present you want.”
Dean wanted to reply that he wasn’t a child. His childhood had been snuffed out by the death of his mother, and his unending responsibility to look after Sam. Castiel gave him one last pained look, however, and then he rose in a sinuous movement and walked back inside the house, leaving Dean staring after him, his longing still burning within him.
Chapter 3: Seventeen
Dean and John encounter a bayou witch. Castiel comes to visit Dean, but he still isn't prepared to give Dean what he wants, so Dean goes to someone who will.
Disclaimer: I do not write these works for commercial or monetary gain. I write these works for non-profite entertainment.
As promised, this chapter is longer.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
When Dean was seventeen years old, he had his first sexual encounter with a man. John had heard that a particularly nasty witch was dwelling in a bayou in a small town called Willow’s Place in Mississippi. She had been praying on young men who either lived in or passed through the town. They had met rather grissly ends, to say the least.
John got a job at a garage fixing cars because they were running low on money. He would go into the swamp at night and try and track where she was. Witches always marked their territory to warn away others of their kind. John had witnessed a few turf wars in his day, and it always cost innocent lives. He took Dean with him as back up, after making sure that Sammy locked up the motel room and salted the doors and windows.
When they weren’t tracking the witch, Dean and Sam went to school. Dean was ecstatic that it was his last year, and that he could finally become a full-fledged hunter once his indentured servitude was over. In order to supplement their income, Dean went to work in a bar called Bella’s.
On his first day of work, he met the owner whose name was Benny. Dean liked him instantly, he was funny and easy to be around. He made Dean feel like he was the only one in the room when he spoke to him. He also appreciated the fact that although Dean came across as arrogant at times, he was actually quite vulnerable and very hardworking.
It was he and Benny’s turn to lock up one night. Dean could hear the low sounds of the bayou in the distance mingled with the soft hum of the fridge in the kitchen. The night was warm, and Dean, despite knowing that a witch still squatted like a great toad in the swamp, felt almost content and safe.
“It’s been a long day, brother,” came Benny’s deep Southern drawl. “I appreciate you stayin’ and lockin’ up with me.”
Dean smiled, “I don’t mind, Boss.”
“I told you to call me Benny.”
“I’m sorry. Old habits die hard. My dad pitches a fit when I don’t show the right respect towards my elders.”
Benny let out a low, rich laugh, “I ain’t that old. You make me sound like I’m nearing fifty when I just celebrated my twenty fifth birthday.”
Cas was twenty-five when I first met him, Dean thought suddenly, pain blooming in his his heart.
Dean turned away to hide his pained expression.
“What’s the matter?” Benny asked, suddenly concerned. “You okay, Dean?”
“Yes I-“his eyes were burning and he felt like he wanted to cry. “I was just thinking about someone I haven’t seen in a while. I was wondering where he is… what he’s doing.”
Benny came around the long mahogany bar and laid his large, warm hand on Dean’s shoulder.
“Look at me, Dean.”
For a moment Dean wanted to run out of the bar and down the road, away from this kind man.
“What is it that you want?” Benny asked softly, cupping Dean’s smooth cheek.
Dean hiccupped, a slight flush evident on his face, “I’ll never have what I really want.”
Benny gazed at him for a moment, before he gently stroked Dean’s lower lip with his thumb, “Whoever he is, he’s a fool, because a beautiful boy like you could have whatever, or whoever, he wants.”
Dean leaned forward slightly, his lids fluttering closed so that his long, brown lashes rested on his golden skin. Benny leaned forward, too, so that his mouth was centimetres away from Dean’s lovely pink mouth-
“Dean!” came John’s voice. “Dean are you in there?”
Dean’s eyes snapped open, “Yes, sir, I’ll be right out.”
“That your old man?” Benny whispered, pulling away slightly.
Dean nodded, “I’m sorry, Benny, I have to go.”
“It’s alright. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Dean smiled shyly before he turned and left the bar.
Benny walked into the back where his office was, and looked at himself in the mirror he had hung over the basin.
“God damn, Benny, but that boy is beautiful,” he said to himself, shaking his head.
“I finally tracked the bitch down,” John said, his face a mask of concentration.
It was times like this, just before a hunt when the atmosphere seemed to be full of static electricity, that Dean felt afraid of his father. It was as if he was looking at a possessed stranger.
Dean looked up at the night sky and saw that a storm was gathering. He could hear the distant clap of thunder and saw lightning dancing on bright white legs along the horizon.
The witch’s den was quite deep in the bayou. It was a small log cabin, and as they approached, Dean felt increasingly strange and frightened.
“Dad I-“ he began.
“Be quiet,” John hissed, motioning for Dean to get behind him.
Dean swallowed and did as he was told, tightly gripping the shotgun in his hand.
When they reached the cabin, the bayou became eerily silent, as if every creature had suddenly fled. The rain began to fall softly, and Dean imagined he could see shapes moving when the lightning lit up the still night.
John quickly pushed the cabin door open and stepped inside, his gun raised in preparation for an attack. The inside of the cabin was illuminated by a crackling fire and a tall lamp in the corner. Dean idly wondered how there could be electricity this far out in the swamp.
He heard the floorboard creak softly and his heart pounded in his ears, as his limps felt as if they’d lost blood circulation. He felt her cold hand close around the back of his neck, and he was unable to move. She turned him around in one fluid motion and he was staring into her lovely face. She had large, violet eyes framed by thick black lashes. She reminded him distantly of some nineteen forties film star with her red lips and thick onyx coloured hair.
“Such a beautiful boy,” she murmured. “Kiss me, Dean Winchester.”
He closed his eyes and waited for the feel of her warm, crimson lips on his.
“Dean!” he heard his father cry, but it was muted in his ears. “Get away from my son you evil bitch!”
The witch threw her head back and let out a terrible, high pitched laugh. It was like listening to glass shatter against rocks, after falling thousands of metres. Dean’s eyes began to roll back in his head, and his entire body sagged.
John fired a round and the witch’s terrible laughter bled into an even more grotesque shriek of blinding agony. She made to lunge for Dean, her body like a great black widow about to devour her prey. Dean weakly reached for his gun, but it seemed so far away, and his body seemed to be made out of stone.
He frowned slightly when he heard his father fire another shot, and the witch’s head exploded into a thousand gory pieces. He rolled over and vomited until all that remained was clear bile.
“Dean,” his father said, hauling his son’s limp form up into his arms.
Dean stared at him with glassy eyes before his head felt too heavy for his neck, and he fainted.
He woke to Sam’s worried face.
“Oh thank God! Dad! He’s awake!”
With what seemed like a superhuman effort, Dean turned his head to the side to look at his father.
“How do you feel?” John asked, his voice tense.
Dean opened his mouth to reply, but he began to cough instead. Sam leapt off the bed and hurried back a moment later with a glass of water. He drank the water gratefully before he felt drained again and lay back against the pillows.
“I feel like I got run over by a train, but other than that I’m just peachy.”
Sam and John both laughed, rather hysterically, in relief. Dean smiled in return, but it faltered when he saw who was sitting in a chair near the wall.
“Hello Dean,” came Castiel’s deep, gravelly voice. “I’m glad to see you’re awake.”
Dean felt like a mute, his green eyes become the colour of a forest in the summer as his emotions intensified in reaction to Castiel’s unexpected presence.
“I –ah-,” John said in the thick silence. “Phoned Bobby to tell him that I’d killed the witch. He told me that Castiel was in the area, and I thought you boys would like it if he came for a visit.”
Dean slowly nodded, “Thanks dad.”
“Well now that you’re awake, Sam and I are going to go and get some burgers at Bella’s. I’ll tell your boss that you’ve come down with a bad flu and that you’ll be back at work in a day or two.”
Dean nodded once more, as John and Sam rose from his bed and left the room.
“I won’t ask you how you’ve been,” Castiel said dryly, rising from the chair to sit on Dean’s bed.
“Yes, I think that’s pretty obvious.”
They fell into silence again. Castiel looked down at the blanket and traced the pattern with his long index finger.
“Where have you been, Cas?” Dean whispered, stilling the motion of Castiel’s hand with his own.
Castiel gazed at their joined hands for a moment before he withdrew his, and replied, “I’ve been hunting a nest of vampires a few towns over for several months.”
“So you couldn’t call me and tell me that you’re still alive,” Dean asked, his voice thick with emotion. “I thought you might be dead.”
Castiel covered his eyes with his hand for a while before he said, “You know why I stay away, Dean.”
Dean felt like he wanted to cry. His heart felt as if it had broken within his chest, and all the shards had Castiel’s name on them. He’d never wanted someone to love him so much in his life, besides his dad, and that was a very different kind of desire.
He reached forward and stroked the back of Castiel’s delicately masculine hand. Then he summoned all the energy that he had left, and replaced his hand with his lips. Castiel slowly withdrew his hand and gazed at Dean before he moved forward on the bed, and cupped the boy’s lovely face in his hands.
Dean didn’t dare close his eyes. Castiel’s lips were so close to his that he could feel his warm breath ghosting into his own mouth. The tension and want within him was so intense that he could not think of anything but Cas’ hands on his face, and the heat of his lean body.
He stopped breathing as Cas leaned forward, but his heart clenched in disappointment as the older man lightly kissed his eyelids.
Castiel pulled away and stood, “What are you doing to me, Dean?”
Dean wanted to tell him that he loved him, that it was Castiel that was doing things to him and not the other way around. Before he could speak, however, Cas turned and strode out the room.
Dean stared after him for a moment, and then he sank onto his side and sobbed into his pillow.
It took Dean five days to recover from the attack by the witch. It may have been shorter if his emotional state had been less downcast.
He kept replaying what had happened in the motel room. He imagined what it would have been like if Cas had kissed him. For the past two years he had had thought about what it would feel like to have Castiel kiss him. He hadn’t only imagined the other man kissing him. Late at night when he knew that his dad and Sammy were asleep, he fantasised about Cas kissing his entire body. He dreamed about Cas making love to him, whispering Dean’s name as their bodies moved together.
When it was his turn to lock up the bar with Benny again, he made sure that his father was asleep after too much drinking, and that Sammy was safe within the motel room. He wasn’t going to let anything interrupt them this time. If Castiel didn’t want him, then he would go to someone who did. He had wanted his first time to be with the blue eyed hunter, but he knew now that Cas was nowhere near engaging in an intimate relationship with him. It made his chest burn with longing and hurt to think that the man who he wanted with such a consuming need, didn’t want him. He thought about what he had told Benny, and he knew it was true, he would never have what he really wanted.
This time when he locked up, Benny was in his office in the back. Dean took a deep breath to steady himself, before he made his way there.
Benny looked up from his paperwork when Dean entered the office, “Thanks again brother. Do you want me to give you a ride home?”
Dean hesitated for a moment, a flare of doubt in his mind, but he pushed it aside, “No. I don’t want a ride home.”
Benny frowned, “Suit yourself. Are you sure you want to walk home in the dark?”
Dean shook his head, “No, Benny. What I’m saying is that I want to go to your house. I want to go home with you.”
Benny stared at him for a moment, in which Dean rounded the desk and sat directly in front of Benny. He cradled the older man’s face in his hands and kissed him gently, then he tentatively licked at his lips to gain entry to his mouth. Benny groaned as he pulled Dean towards him by his slim hips, and slid his tongue along Dean’s.
After a few moments of frantic kissing, Benny pulled away, “Let me get my jacket, and we can go.”
Benny’s house was simple. It was situated a few roads away from the bar in a small, quiet neighbourhood, which was populated by other old houses.
When they entered the house, Benny stood in the entrance way and just looked at Dean.
“Are you sure you want to do this, Dean?” he finally asked.
Dean slowly nodded and stepped towards Benny, “Yes. I’m sure.”
They started kissing again, and Benny broke the kiss in order to pull he and Dean’s shirts off. He laid his large hands on Dean’s smooth, golden chest and stroked the skin. Dean let his head drop back as pleasure rippled over his flesh. He gasped softly in surprise when Benny lifted him, and carried him up the stairs to his bedroom.
Benny’s bedroom was sparsely furnished, but Dean thought that it was quite cosy with the three quarter bed and the small cupboard against the wall. The light from the lamps was dim, and it made him feel slightly less nervous.
Benny laid him down on the bed and divested them of the rest of their clothes. He kissed Dean’s thighs and abdomen, before he reached over to the bedside table and got a condom and lubricant out the draw.
Dean felt his nervousness returning, but he tried to concentrate on why he was doing this in order to calm himself. I like Benny, he thought. He’s a good guy, and if Cas doesn’t want me, then at least Benny does.
He tensed in shock when Benny slowly slid a lubricated finger inside of him, and gently started to piston it.
“Just relax,” Benny whispered. “I’m going to make you feel good.”
Dean willed his body to accept the intrusion, but he couldn’t help but gasp in renewed surprise when Benny slid another finger inside of his entrance. When the ring of muscle had relaxed enough, Benny slid a third finger in, and crooked his fingers so that they grazed Dean’s prostate. Dean bucked up in reaction, and felt Benny’s warm hand settle on his hip in order to keep in place.
“Do you think you’re ready for me now?” Benny asked.
Dean swallowed audibly and nodded sharply. He squeezed his eyes shut when Benny gradually slipped inside of him. He waited while Dean adjusted and then he began to move in a steady rhythm. Dean felt a burning pain inside of his buttocks and stomach, but then as Benny began to move slightly faster and hit his prostate, the pain progressively became pleasure. He tightened his legs around Benny’s waist in order to draw him in deeper as he felt his body tightening in anticipation of his release. When he reached his climax, he cried out, which soon became part of Benny’s own shout of release.
He felt empty and fractured when Benny left him, and he couldn’t stop the tears that ran down his cheeks.
He sobbed into Benny’s shoulder, “He doesn’t want me. Oh God, why doesn’t Castiel want me?”
Benny drew him into a tight embrace, and whispered, “It’s alright baby. It’s alright.”
I apologise for making this chapter quite sad. I also apologise if anyone's upset that Benny and Dean sleep together in this chapter, but I wanted to show how much Dean wants, and loves, Castiel, and how he wants to assauge the pain which that causes him. I hope that you enjoyed it all the same. Thank you for reading.
Chapter 4: Eighteen
Dean and Sam suffer a terrible loss, which causes Dean to confront Castiel about his feelings.
Disclaimer: I do not write these works for monetary or commercial gain. I write them for non-profit entertainment.
Thank you for all the lovely kudos and wonderfully encouraging comments. I hope you enjoy the chapter.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
When Dean was eighteen and Sam was fifteen, their father died. Even though everyone who was a hunter, or part of a hunter family, knew that longevity was not part of the job description, it was still a huge shock when one of them died. Their deaths were never peaceful nor timely, but rather violent and sudden.
They had been hunting a particularly nasty crossroads demon who made deals with young women who wanted particular men, and came to collect after a single year. John was unsure of how many women had fallen victim to this, but the demon had been working the particular crossroads for over two hundred years.
The crossroads were situated in a small town called Salvation in Massachusetts. The town had been founded sometime in the sixteen hundreds, and had suffered that particularly potent period of superstition and killing, due to the wave of hysteria caused by the witch trials. Dean inwardly marvelled at how peaceful it seemed now, hardly the kind of the place that had its foundation firmly in death, and harboured a vicious crossroads demon.
John parked the Impala down the road, behind the shelter of trees. He and the boys set out on foot, clasping guns in a stance that could easily shift into one ready for attack.
It was a still autumn evening, the trees wearing their jackets of golden brown and red under the fading orange of the sky. A flock of birds flew overhead, obviously on their way to warmer climes. There was the distant sound of an owl awakening, and the rustle of a small animal on the ground.
Dean felt as if his breathing sounded too loud, and he tried to quiet it, but then his lung felts constricted from lack of oxygen. His eyes flicked over to his father and then Sammy, taking in their forms in the fading light.
They finally neared the crossroads and heard the murmur of voices.
“I want him to think about nothing but me,” said a soft female voice.
“Be careful what you wish for,” came the deep reply.
The pair came into view, and John shouted, aiming his gun at the demon, “Step back or I’ll blow your head clean off your neck.”
The demon looked up and Dean was momentarily startled by how yellow his eyes were.
“Well, how nice to see the Winchesters have joined the party,” the demon re-joined.
“Get out of here,” Dean said to the frightened girl, who nodded once and ran in the direction of her car.
The demon turned towards here, but John let off a warning shot, which made the girl look back before she climbed into her little car, and sped off down the lane.
“That wasn’t very nice you know,” the demon admonished. “It’s rude to interrupt peoples’ conversations.”
They slowly approached the demon with their guns cocked and ready to fire.
“Three against one isn’t very fair odds.”
“Shut up,” John snarled. “I’m going to send you back to Hell.”
“Oh, I don’t think so,” the demon smiled, as he suddenly reappeared behind Dean.
Dean choked as the yellow eyed demon held his neck in a vice like grip.
“It’s such a pity to kill something so lovely to look at, but what must be done must be done,” the demon shrugged, as he shifted his hands so that he could lift Dean in the air.
“No!” Sam screamed.
The demon gave a laugh before he brought Dean’s body down against his knee, and neatly broke the teenager’s back before tossing him down onto the ground.
Sam ran to his brother and knelt down at his side, “No, no, no! Dean! Dean please say you’re okay! Dean!”
Dean’s reply was a gargled mess of blood and agony.
John stared at his son in shock for a moment, then he returned his astonished gaze to once again meet yellow eyes.
“I can save him you know.”
“In exchange for what?” John whispered.
“Your life and soul.”
“Dad,” Sam cried miserably. “Dean isn’t breathing!”
“You son of a bitch,” John hissed.
“Tick, tick, tick, Johnny boy. Time’s running out.”
John let out a sob as he looked at Dean’s broken body.
“Save him,” he finally replied.
The demon nodded and stepped forward. He smiled slightly before he leaned forward and kissed John on the mouth.
Sam watched in torment as his father’s eyes shut and his body stilled, before he seemed to crumple, and then collapsed.
“I’ll be seeing you soon, Sammy,” the demon grinned.
He looked at the satisfaction in the bright yellow eyes before the demon disappeared, leaving him alone with his dead father and motionless older brother. The sound of an owl as it killed its prey in the distance, filled the silent night.
Dean woke up feeling dry mouthed and sore. He slowly moved his head from side to side and took in the white ceiling above him.
He felt a weight on his hand, and then realised that someone was holding it tightly.
“Dean,” came his brother’s voice.
He let out a low sound in response as he slowly lifted his head and looked at his brother’s drawn expression.
Sam moved forward and hugged him fiercely, he could feel his thin body shaking as he sobbed softly.
“It’s okay, Sammy,” he managed, returning the embrace. “Where’s dad?”
Sam suddenly pulled away and stood up so that his back was facing Dean. He made a choking sound before he managed to regain some of his control.
“He’s dead, Dean,” he whispered, and cried softly again. “Dad’s dead.”
Dean didn’t know what to say in reply. He felt as if he’d been asleep for a thousand years and had woken up to a world that looked familiar, but was completely alien.
“H-how?” he asked.
Sam slowly turned to face him once more, “The crossroads demon killed him.”
Dean frowned and shook his head, “But why?”
“Because it was the only way to save you.”
He felt completely confused for a moment, and a headache threatened on the fringes of his mind. Then he remembered the pain and the darkness, the feeling of slipping away.
“Oh God,” he cried, tears flowing down his face. “No Sammy! Not for me! Never for me! He should have let me die!”
Sam knelt at the side of his bed and held his hand again, his voice low and serious as he said, “No, Dean. Dad did what he had to. I know that he made a lot of shitty decisions concerning us in the past, but he would never have let you die when he could have saved you.”
Dean stared at him for a moment, amazed at how mature he had sounded, but not surprised at how Sam always seemed to be able to say the right thing.
“You’re right, Sammy,” he nodded, unable to supress a sob. “I love you, you know that?”
“Yes Dean,” Sam responded, hugging his older brother again. “I love you, too.”
When Dean felt a bit less fragile, Bobby suggested that he bring up some food.
“Thanks, Bobby,” he said, and the older man simply nodded and left the room.
When the door opened a while later, Dean did not immediately sit up because he expected it to be either Bobby or Sam with his food.
A shiver of recognition ran over his skin when he heard a deep, gravelly voice say, “Hello Dean. I’ve got your soup.”
Dean sat bolt upright and stared at Castiel, who approached him with a tray that held a bowl of soup and a small plate of white bread. He took in the dark, thick hair that was perpetually messy and shiny, the perfect pale skin that was slightly lined around the eyes, and sapphire irises that seemed to possess a soft glow.
He continued to gaze mutely at Cas as he laid the tray down across Dean’s blanketed lap. He sat down on the side of Dean’s bed, making Dean think of the last time he had seen him, and realise how much had transpired since then.
“How are you feeling?” Castiel asked softly.
Dean stared at him before he replied, “My father’s dead because he saved my life. I don’t know how I’m feeling.”
Castiel nodded in understanding, “I remember what it felt like to lose my family. The pain is indescribable.”
Dean looked at the dark red tomato soup in the white bowl, “How long are you staying this time?”
Castiel sighed, “Not long. I just wanted to come and see how you were doing, and make sure that you won’t go out and try and kill that demon yourself.”
Dean’s head snapped up and his eyes narrowed in anger, “You’re always appearing for the crises in my life. As soon as you’re satisfied that I’ll go on, always pining for you, and weathering all the countless losses in my life, first my mother and now my father, you disappear again, and I have no idea if you’re alive or dead.”
Castiel stared at him in shock for a moment, and then cupped Dean’s cheek, “Don’t let yourself be bitter, Dean. You’ve always been like a bright beacon in my life. Always hopeful and pure, and so full of love. Don’t let the world mar that.”
Dean felt his anger intensify, and he moved his head away from Cas’ hand, as he snapped, “Love? You have no idea what love is! You wouldn’t know what love was if it stabbed you in the chest! I’m not some ridiculous image of purity that you’ve invented inside your head to rid yourself of your guilt. I’m flesh and blood, and I’ve loved you for three years! I’ve never loved anyone else! I’ve pined for you and wanted you for so long, and all you can give me is a pathetic speech about me being bitter when my father is dead!”
Castiel had been shocked into silence as he watched Dean’s chest rise and fall as he took deep, angry breaths.
“Dean please don’t do this-”
“Do what? Tell you the truth? I’m not a child anymore, Cas. I’m a man and I want you, but you’re never going to want me back, are you? You’re too busy being closed off from the world, and making sure that I’m not spoiled! Well I am spoilt! I’ve had sex with men and women, even though every time I was with them I imagined they were you.”
“Dean,” Cas breathed, raking his hand through his hair. “You’re so young, you shouldn’t have…”
“Just go away, Castiel,” Dean bit out. “I can’t bear to look at you anymore and listen to you compare me to some holy light! I’ve had enough!”
Castiel rose from the bed in a daze, unsure of whether or not he knew the young man in front of him. What had happened to that fifteen year old who had blushed when he spoke, and that sixteen year old who had sat shyly on the porch in the twilight?
“You forgot one thing, Castiel,” Dean said, and the other man’s hand stilled on the doorknob. “Lights fade with time, and leave you with nothing but darkness.”
Castiel was still for a moment before he left the room, and shut the door behind him with a soft click.
Dean gazed at the door, as he had seemed to do so many times before where Castiel was concerned, except this time, he had sent Castiel away.
I know that John dies when Dean is much older than eighteen, and in somehwat different circumstances, but I felt that this worked for the purposes of the story. I love The Thorn Birds by Colleen McCullough, so I paid homage to her work in Dean's confrontation of Castiel. I thought that it was time for Dean to be allowed to vent seen as Cas had caused him so much sadness. The course of true love never did run smooth, as Shakespeare so aptly put it.
Chapter 5: Nineteen
Dean meets someone who he may care about, but he can't quell his thoughts about Castiel. When Castiel comes to visit Dean on his birthday, Bobby has a very surprising birthday gift.
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. I do not write these works for monetary or commercial gain. I write these works for non-profit entertainment.
Thank you for all the lovely comments and kudos! It's very encouraging :)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
It had been a year since his father died, and Dean’s nineteenth birthday was in two days’ time. He had spent the year resurrecting the parts of the Impala that John had neglected, making sure that Sammy was happy at school and did his homework, and helping Bobby answer the phones when nosy small town sheriffs, and suspicious marshals wanted to make sure that the FBI or Texas Rangers were really interested in their “unusual” cases.
He’d also spent the year thinking about sending Castiel away, and his emotions fluctuated between bitterness, anger, sadness, and most of all, longing. He would not allow himself to recede into the pit of self-pity that sometimes yawned so dark and tempting at his feet. He would not allow himself to think about the fact that he had devoted most of his adolescence to harbouring that most terrible of emotional blights: unrequited love.
In his waking hours, he tried not to linger on the dreams he had about Castiel. The most torturous of them being the one in which Castiel does not leave the room after Dean’s acrimonious declaration in the wake of his father’s death, but rather locks the door and returns to Dean, and makes love to him. The kind of love that seems to be capable of joining souls. When he woke, he was confronted with the cold reality that Castiel does not love him. He is forced to accept the fact that to Castiel, he is a symbol of purity, something which the other man will never allow himself to “corrupt”.
On a Friday night, Dean frequented the local bar Chuck’s, and met men and women who he allowed to take him home. He tried not to dwell on the fact that most of them were either brunettes or had dark blue eyes. When he had sex with them, he found corporal pleasure, but his mind was filled with fantasies of another’s deep voice and gentle touch. A fact that Castiel is aware of after Dean’s grief induced confession, but to which he has made no response.
It was on a Friday night at Chuck’s, while Tim Capello sang out of the jukebox about how he still believed, that Dean met a young man named Michael.
Dean was sitting at the bar, talking to Mavis, the middle aged and perpetually sarcastic bartender, when Michael came up to him and said, “Can I buy you a drink?”
“He’s only eighteen,” Mavis grouched. “You’ll have to buy him a Coke, sugar daddy.”
Michael laughed softly, “A Coke it is then.”
Dean gazed at him, his eyebrow raised. He had to admit that the other man was attractive, with dark brown hair, olive skin, pale blue eyes and a curled upper lip. Dean took in the tall, slim build clad in a casual dark green jersey, black jeans and worker boots.
“My name’s Michael,” he grinned, displaying a perfect set of white teeth.
Dean couldn’t help but smile back, “My name’s Dean. Thanks for the Coke.”
“No problem,” Michael stared at the vacant barstool next to Dean for a moment, then sat down. “I’m sorry if I seem forward in saying this, but you’re absolutely gorgeous. You’ve got the greenest eyes I’ve ever seen.”
Dean blushed slightly, and then chuckled, “Thanks. That’s a refreshingly honest and original pick up line.”
It was after the initial awkwardness had been overcome when Dean told Michael he was a mechanic, because he would never tell an outsider what he really did, and that Michael told him that he was twenty five years old and an architect.
Dean found Michael’s unguarded friendliness to be contagious, and he had a genuinely good time. When Mavis gave them a death stare because they were the last customers in the bar, they left.
“Where did you park?” Michael asked, as they stood on the pavement.
“I walked,” Dean replied. “I’m still working on my car.”
Michael nodded, “I could give you a lift, if you like?”
Dean thought about it for a moment and decided that he would accept Michael’s offer. Besides, he already knew that Michael wasn’t a demon, because when the other man had gone to the toilet, Dean had but some holy water in his rum and Coke. He had managed to drink it without screaming in agony, which Dean decided was a good sign.
When they pulled up in front of Bobby’s place, Dean smiled and said, “Thanks for the Cokes. I had a good time.”
“You’re welcome, and I had a good time, too,” he smiled in return. “May I see you again? I’d really like to take you out for dinner sometime when you’re free.”
Dean hid his surprise, and casually re-joined, “I’d like that. I’m free on Wednesday night.”
“I’ll pick you up at seven?”
Dean nodded his agreement and climbed out of the car.
Michael took him out for dinner every week for a month before Dean finally asked, “Do you want to do more than just kiss?”
Michael’s pupils expanded slightly in lust and anticipation, “I didn’t want to rush you.”
“Can we go to your place?” Dean asked, and pressed a kissed to his pulse point.
“Yes,” Michael breathed.
Dean was impressed by Michael’s flat, which was at the edge of town. It was old fashioned, with a big kitchen and living room. The living room had doors that led out onto a balcony.
The bedroom was spacious, with a double bed, a large cupboard and a dressing table. It had a small en suite bathroom which had a shower, basin and a toilet. Dean didn’t get to explore the rooms very much, however, before he lay on the bed with Michael on top of him.
Michael was quite a shy lover, who seemed very aware of his partner’s needs. It made a change for Dean, who normally had quite intense sex with complete strangers. The last time he’d experienced any sexual tenderness, was when he had lost his virginity to Benny.
Michael lay soft kisses on his skin as he undressed him, and when he and Dean were finally naked, he turned Dean over and slowly prepared him. Dean felt pleasure roll through his body as Michael’s fingers brushed his prostate.
“I’m ready,” he whispered.
Michael settled a hand on his lower back and then gradually thrust into him until he was fully seated inside of Dean. His pace, like his other love making, started slow and steady, but gradually gained in momentum, and brought Dean to a good climax.
He held Dean afterwards, and Dean felt content, but a voice in the back of his head kept whispering He’s not who you really want. You’ll never have who you really want.
On Dean’s nineteenth birthday, Castiel found himself in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. He had just killed a particularly prolific werewolf several towns away, and he had felt compelled to see Dean again.
The simple white gold crucifix he had brought Dean, with a month’s worth of savings from working at a bar in Texas a few months before, seemed to burn in his pants pocket as he pulled into Bobby’s yard.
When he climbed out of his Mustang, he saw that the Impala was on bricks, its black body crouched under the shade of an awning, but there was no sign of Dean.
Bobby came out onto the porch, obviously alerted of his presence by his car’s loud engine, “How you doin’ stranger?”
Castiel smiled wryly, “Hey Bobby. I’m fine and you?”
The older man shrugged, “Same thing, different day. What can I do you for, Cas?”
He momentarily stilled at the use of the nickname, which no one had called him in a while. The nickname Dean had absently christened him with four years ago.
“I’m here to wish Dean happy birthday,” he replied. “I was in the area.”
Bobby frowned, “He’s out with Michael.”
Castiel’s heart slowed, “Michael?”
“Yeah. His boyfriend, but they should be back in an hour or so. How about a beer?”
He shook his head, “No thanks. Do you mind if I sit on the porch? I need some fresh air after driving.”
“Sure thing. I’ve got to make a few calls. I’ll see you in a bit.”
Cas nodded as he sat on the porch bench. His mind kept skipping over the fact that Dean had a boyfriend.
What did you expect? murmured a sly little inner voice. For him to wait around for you? Come, come now, Castiel. He’s a beautiful boy. Much too beautiful to wait for you.
Who said I wanted him to wait? he replied sharply.
The voice chuckled maliciously. How pathetic. You can’t even admit it to yourself. You coward.
He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes and exhaled loudly. It was ridiculous to have conversations with the voice inside your head. The startling thing was that the voice was right. Dean was beautiful, and he had been a fool to think, somewhere deep in his subconscious, that Dean would wait for him.
An hour later, when Bobby had finished making his calls, he came out onto the porch, and found that Castiel had not moved a centimetre. His large, cerulean eyes were staring at the carcasses of cars that gleamed in the sun, seemingly looking beyond the rusting bodies of Singers Salvage yard, at an image that only he could see.
“Castiel?” he said, sitting next to the other man.
Castiel blinked rapidly and looked at Bobby.
“What’s up?” Bobby prompted.
Castiel was silent for a long time before he asked, “What kind of man is this Michael?”
Bobby detected jealousy in the gravelly voice, “He’s an architect in town. He seems like a nice man, a bit boring, but he seems to really care about Dean.”
Castiel sniffed irritably, but made no reply.
Bobby raised his eyebrows, “Listen here, Cas. You have no right to act that way where Dean’s love life is concerned.”
Castiel’s head immediately turned in Bobby’s direction, and his blue eyes widened in surprise.
“That boy’s been hankerin’ after you since he was fifteen years old, and you haven’t done a thing about it. Now I’m not saying that I don’t think you’re right for not preying on an innocent child, but Dean ain’t no child now, and he’s tryin’ a find some happiness. So I’d save the silent recriminations and patent jealousy if I were you.”
Castiel was dumbstruck, and before he could think of a reply he heard someone say, “Hey Uncle Bobby! Hey Cas! Long-time no see.”
He faced the owner of the voice and saw a tall lanky boy, with a touch too much hair, making his way towards them.
“Hello Sam,” he smiled. “I won’t tell you that you’ve shot up, because I’m sure you’re tired of hearing that from everyone.”
Sam let out a good natured laugh, “It’s okay. I know I’ve grown a lot. I’m just going to put my backpack in the house, then I’ll be right out. Where’s Dean?”
“He should be back any time now,” Bobby replied.
Sam nodded and trotted inside.
“Listen, Bobby, I know you’re right. I apologise for my behaviour,” Castiel said once Sam was out of earshot. “It’s just that I care about Dean, and I don’t want to see him get hurt.”
Bobby snorted, “I think you’ve hurt him enough over the past four years, so I wouldn’t dwell on that score.”
Castiel wanted to deny that statement, but he knew that the words would sound false to his own ears, so he remained silent and looked at the gleaming car necropolis again.
“I think we should break-up, Dean,” Michael said softly.
Dean sighed into his Coke, “Why is that, Michael?”
“Because you’re clearly in love with someone else.”
Dean’s head snapped up, “What?”
It was Michael’s turn to sigh, “I’ve heard you saying a name in your sleep for a while now.”
“What name?” Dean choked out, already knowing whose it was.
“Castiel,” Michael gazed sadly at his rapidly cooling cheeseburger. “You haven’t just said his name. You’ve… you’ve shouted for him not to leave you, for him to come back and… and make love to you.”
Dean covered his eyes with his hands and exhaled shakely, “God dammit, Michael. I’m so sorry.”
Michael’s eyes glistened traitorously, and he pressed his knuckles to his temple, “I can’t play second fiddle to some dream lover, Dean. You know how I feel about you, but I can’t deal with that kind of mental… betrayal. I’m done.”
Dean met Michael’s eyes, but did not make any reply. What could he say? He had hurt Michael terribly, because he had lied to himself and thought that he could run away from his dreams. He had thought he could stifle them with Michael’s kisses and caring, his unexciting, but faithful, love. They had reared up larger and more destructive than ever in reaction to such attempts.
“God,” Michael bit out. “I thought you’d at least deny it or try and stop this, but I see now that I’m a fool. Then again I’ve always been a fool for you. I think it’s time I stopped. Happy birthday baby, and many happy returns.”
With that angrily uneven speech, Michael got up and left, leaving Dean alone at the table.
Bobby went back inside the house to check on the chocolate cake he was baking, a tradition that he had started when Dean was sixteen.
Castiel sat on the porch, and watched the sun dip in the sky as it neared four o’ clock. The wind danced lightly through the trees and rustled his hair with cool fingers. He was about to join Bobby and Sam in the house when he heard the approach of footsteps. His heart sped up slightly at the knowledge of who they belonged to, but he did not let his feelings show on his face as he looked at Dean.
His heart broke as he took in Dean’s downcast expression and slightly hunched posture. He wanted to walk up to him and hug him until the tension eased from his young body, and his full mouth lifted in a smile. He had to make his feet stay in the same spot to stop himself.
Dean looked up as he neared the house, and when he saw Cas his expression became wide eyed with disbelief. Castiel could see that he didn’t know what to do for a moment, as if he was trying to decide whether or not to run to Cas or turn around and run away.
Eventually he started walking again, and when he reached Castiel he simply stood and looked at him with innocent green eyes.
“Hello Dean,” Castiel rasped out. “Happy birthday.”
Dean stared at him for a moment, then replied, “Hello Cas. Thank you. I didn’t expect to see you.”
Cas reached into his pocket and drew the beautiful crucifix out before he held it out to Dean, “I finally got you a birthday present. I hope you like it.”
Dean took the crucifix from him, trying not to show the shiver that the touch of Castiel’s fingers against his own caused.
“It’s beautiful,” he breathed, admiring the white gold and simple, delicate craftsmanship. “Will you help me put it on?”
Castiel nodded, and Dean turned around after handing the crucifix back. He secured the clasp at the back of Dean’s neck. His eyes took in the smooth, golden skin beneath the sun kissed hair, and his hands lingered at Dean’s nape for longer than necessary. His mouth watered with the desire to kiss that stunning flesh and feel its silky warmth against his lips and tongue, but with a superhuman strength, he dropped his hands and stepped back.
“Grub’s up!” Bobby called from the kitchen.
They ate in relative silence, the sound of cutlery moving against the plates filling the late afternoon air. When they were finished, Sam cleared the plates and offered to cut the cake.
“Thanks Sammy,” Dean smiled.
“That’s a beautiful crucifix, Dean. Where’d you get it from?” Sammy asked, gently fingering the cross resting on his brother’s chest.
“Cas gave it to me for my birthday.”
Sam whistled softly, “My gift seems kind of stupid now.”
“Don’t be dumb,” Dean frowned. “That Motley Crue t-shirt is really cool.”
Sammy smiled slightly in pleasure and set about cutting the cake.
“It’s time for my present, I think,” Bobby said, taking a sip of his beer.
The three of them looked at him expectantly, but he waited for Sam to cut the four portions of cake, and sit down, before he continued.
“I’ve decided that you and Cas should hunt together.”
Silence met his statement. He gave Castiel a pointed look, as if to say Just try and say no, you little punk.
Dean looked from Bobby to Sam and then to Castiel, “I don’t know Uncle Bobby. I mean, what about Sam? He’s still in school and-”
Bobby waved his hand dismissively, “Don’t be an idjit. Sam’ll stay with me and carry on going to school. It’s time for you and him to have some time a part, Dean. And it’s time for you to use what your daddy trained you in for so many years. What do you think Sam?”
Sam shrugged, “Sounds fair to me. I think that you need to get out there and hunt, Dean. It’s what your good at, besides working on cars.”
Dean looked unsure, as if he was going to protest again, until Cas said, “Bobby and Sam are right, Dean. It’s time for you to be a full-fledged hunter.”
Dean hesitated, as if he was waiting for Cas to say more, but then he replied, “I’ll hunt with you, Cas. You’re right, Uncle Bobby, it’s time for me to get out there and do what dad trained me for. Just promise me you’ll look after baby for me.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t let your precious car get a scratch. So it’s settled,” Bobby nodded. “You’d better pack your things tonight.”
“Okay,” Dean agreed.
Maybe now you’ll get what you really want, Dean’s inner voice whispered.
I combined the Michael as John Winchester and Adam Milligan in my description of him in this story. I hope you enjoyed the chapter and like where the story is going.
Chapter 6: Nineteen Part II
Castiel confronts someone from his past, and his desire for Dean intensifies.
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. I do not write this work for commercial or monetary gain. I write this for non-profit entertainment.
Thank you for the encouraging comments and kudos! It is much appreciated. I hope you enjoy the chapter.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
The moon was a silver disc outlined in glowing clouds against an ink black sky. The cemetery looked as if it were floating in the sulphurous mist, as if it were one of those scenes in a horror film. Except Dean knew that no suitably atmospheric rock ballad would start playing as he and Cas approached the rotting clapboard house at the outskirts. Perhaps he was being fanciful, but he could feel the evil exuding from the place. If he had not been raised to deal with demons and spectres and things that ripped you apart in the night, he would have turned around and run back to the Mustang.
The house loomed before them like some horribly haggard face eternally frozen in a silent scream. The stairs that led to the front door groaned under their combined weight. Castiel made a motion for him to cover him as he opened the door. They were greeted by a room that was only illuminated by the silver moonlight and candles.
Dean was about to ask Cas if he was sure that the bokor was still there when a figure emerged from the shadows. Her eyes were glazed and she walked with a dragging gait that made Dean adjust his weapon in readiness for an attack. Out the corner of his eye, he saw another figure outlined in the dim light. It was a man, and his expression and bearing were much like the woman’s.
“Hello Dean and Castiel,” came a voice from behind them.
He and Castiel both swung round to face its owner. The man before them was tall and thin, with a bald head, onyx eyes that shone strangely and a large mouth that was parted to reveal very white, strong teeth.
“It is so nice to have company,” he continued, slowly approaching them. “Unfortunately my… companions, who I see you have already met, are not very well versed in the art of conversation.”
Dean felt transfixed as he watched a large, thick bodied black snake slither after the bokor, and raise itself up so that it was level with the man’s hip.
“It isn’t very polite to go and dig up graves in order to create zombies, Francois,” Castiel replied coolly.
Francois tipped his head back and let out a long, loud laugh before he said, “Zombies is such an American word. I have little use for flesh eating grotesques. I simply seek to build an army that will be able to weather any kind of battle. Imagine having a force that cannot die, who rise again and again when shot at, stabbed and set alight. I think that that would make me rather unstoppable, don’t you think, Castiel?”
“How do you know our names?” Dean asked, and then looked at Castiel. “And how do you know Papa Midnite here?”
“Oh Cas and I have met before,” Francoise interjected. “In New Orleans, when he had just avenged the death of his family. You look far more handsome now, if I may say so.”
His black eyes flicked over Dean’s body as if he were a juicy morsel to be devoured. His large mouth widened and his thick pink tongue slithered out from between his teeth to lick his lips.
“I wonder what I should do with you, too?” he grinned. “You’d make lovely slaves to… sate my baser urges.”
“I don’t think so pal,” Dean ground out, cocking his gun. “It’s pretty hard to have sex when you’re dead.”
Castiel lunged toward the bokor, but he shifted into a bright green snake that coiled itself around the slimy body of the other serpent, so that it appeared as if the two snake’s heads originated from one body.
“Dean,” Castiel cried. “Throw holy water on them!”
Dean nodded and doused the pair in a healthy amount of holy water. The snakes let out a strange high pitched hissing sound and seemed to vibrate in place.
Castiel nodded at Dean as he flicked his lighter open and the small, yellow flame came to life. He extended his arm in order to throw it on the writhing reptiles, but the female zombie lunged at him and knocked the lighter to the floor. Dean watched, seemingly frozen, as the flame met the warped wooden boards and caught alight.
“We have to get out of here!” he shouted.
Castiel spun round and rammed his blade under the corpse’s chin before he reached out and gripped Dean’s hand tightly. The female zombie fell backwards onto one of the candles and was soon engulfed in flames. The resurrected male cadaver’s hands slashed at the air as he tried to reach them, but Dean swiftly turned and cleanly sliced its head off its neck.
The snakes made to strike, their green and black bodies glistening in the heat of the growing flames. Dean threw more holy water on them before grapping the closest candle that was still erect and throwing it on them. The possessed creatures wailed in agony as they were consumed by flames. Dean blinked rapidly when he saw them seemingly dissolve into the floorboards, and Cas swiftly decapitated them. Dean he could not dwell on this, though, because Cas was pushing him towards the door.
The cool night air was like a bucket of cold water after the suffocating heat of the house. They ran to the Mustang, and quickly climbed in. Cas started the engine and sped away before Dean turned in his seat and watched the bewitched house collapse in dancing orange flames.
They sat in silence until they reached the next town, where they booked a room in a cheap motel.
When they were inside Dean said, “How come you didn’t tell me you knew that bokor?”
Castiel sighed, “I met him a long time ago, when I first started hunting. I’d heard he was kidnapping young girls and bewitching them in order to sell them as sex workers. He used his magical status as a way to bewitch the local people. There was a Creole girl, Delphine, who was about fifteen, and was completely besotted with Francois. She would lure the girls to his house and watch him turn them into mindless things. I thought I could help her, save her, but I was too late. Francois cut her throat and used her pure blood in a spell in order to escape. I was scared that if I told you that I knew him, you would tell me I was too close, and try and stop me from going after him.”
“Did you love her?” Dean asked softly.
Castiel looked away, his hand tracing the duvet in small circles, a habit which Dean had observed when the other hunter was emotionally disturbed.
“Yes,” Castiel almost choked.
Dean stared at Castiel for what seemed an age before he walked over to him and hugged him tightly.
“I’m so, so sorry. And I’d never stop you from avenging the death of someone you love,” he whispered into Cas’ neck.
Castiel tried not to think about Dean’s warm body pressing into him, or his slightly parted lips against the exposed flesh of his neck. He could feel his arousal increasing, a slow burn in his stomach as Dean shifted slightly. He felt so guilty for having these physical reactions when he had just been speaking about Delphine’s death. Poor, beautiful Delphine. He had been so young when he had loved her.
He gently disengaged himself from the embrace, and managed to calmly say, “I’ll go and buy us some dinner.”
Dean smiled slightly and nodded as he walked towards the bathroom and started running the bath.
When he heard the room’s door close behind Cas, he started undressing and then stepped into the warm water. He was grateful that the water pressure was decent, and that he could have a bath for a change, instead of a five minute shower.
As he soaked in the water, steam rising and swirling overhead in white coils under the yellow overhead light, he thought about what Castiel had just shared with him. He had to admit that he had been rather concerned, and maybe a little bit angry, when he realised that Castiel and the bokor knew each other, but now he understood why Castiel had not informed him of their acquaintance before the hunt. It was obviously a very painful subject for him, and Dean felt closer to him now that he knew something about Cas’ enigmatic hunter’s journey.
His thoughts drifted to Delphine, and his heart ached for Castiel and his loss. He had been so young, and what made matters worse was the fact that Delphine had been an innocent, and he had been unable to save her. Dean knew that Cas had an innate guilt complex, and that despite his obvious efforts to deliver her, he evidently believed that her death had been his fault. He had allowed her to enter into the darkness and extinguish her light, he had taken her innocence as surely as Francois did.
Dean thought about the fact that he had been the same age as Delphine when he and Castiel had first met. He felt sadness at the thought that Castiel had immediately been committed to not being responsible for the corruption of Dean’s innocence, where he thought he had failed to maintain Delphine’s.
“Why must you think everything is your fault, Castiel?” Dean whispered to himself.
He lay in the bath for a while longer before he felt sufficiently relaxed, and decided that he wanted to change into something more comfortable before dinner. He felt rather exhausted after the way the night had unfolded. A headache throbbed on the edge of his consciousness, and he decided to take a painkiller before he went to bed.
Castiel hadn’t bothered to take his car to the diner seen as it was only a few hundred metres away from the motel. He had ordered two chicken schnitzels with mash and a slice of banana cream pie for Dean. He smiled slightly at the thought of how much Dean loved pie.
The sidewalk shone wetly as he walked back to the motel, and he was glad for the warmth that washed over him when he entered the room.
He lay the food on the small table near the door and opened his mouth to tell Dean he was back, but immediately closed it. The bathroom door was open halfway and had a slightly grubby full length mirror on it. His mouth and throat went dry as he saw Dean stand up in the bath. Castiel could see the smooth line of his back as it flowed into his firm buttocks and slim, but strong legs, through the door. He shifted his gaze to the mirror and was confronted by the front of Dean’s body. He couldn’t see Dean’s face because he was slightly taller than the mirror, but the rest of him was reflected quite clearly. Castiel drank in the broad shoulders and silky honey coloured skin that covered a beautifully defined chest and abdomen. His eyes followed the line of soft light brown hair that grew below Dean’s navel and disappeared into his pubic hair, which had a tinge of golden red. He swallowed audibly at the sight of the soft cock nestled in the curling hair between Dean’s lithe thighs.
God, he thought, his body is like an angel’s. Supple and firm.
He imagined walking into the bathroom and smoothing his hands all over that warm, sun kissed skin. He knew that it would feel like hot satin beneath his fingers and palms, taste sweet and delicious against his tongue. He envisioned himself guiding Dean out of the bath and kneeling in front of the young man as he took his half hard cock in the hot cavern of his mouth-
“Cas?” Dean called.
Castiel watched him secure a towel around his lean waist and then turned away in order to calm his suddenly rapid breathing. His arousal was so great that he felt constricted in his jeans, and his undershirt clung to him as sweat pooled on his back.
Dean emerged from the bathroom, his skin glowing slightly from his bath and his hair stuck up wetly.
“What did you get?” he asked.
“Um,” Castiel cleared his throat at the sound of Dean’s towel being dropped to the floor. “Chicken schnitzel with mash, and a slice of banana cream pie for you.”
“You know me too well, Cas,” Dean chuckled.
Castiel tried to hide the shiver of pleasure that that low laugh caused, and he suppressed the urge to turn around and watch Dean dress. He knew that Dean never wore any underwear to bed, and there had been nights where he had wanted to yank the blanket from Dean’s sleeping form, and divest him of his pants-
“I suppose I do,” he replied gruffly, sitting down at the table.
Dean joined him and the torture only continued as Castiel watched him eat. He had never seen anyone eat so sensuously. Dean would close his eyes and moan softly as he slid the food off his fork with his teeth and a quick flash of his pink, wet tongue.
Cas could barely eat with so much visual and auditory stimulation across from him the entire time. He knew that he needed to calm down, otherwise he was going to push the table and aside and take Dean against the wall.
He quickly rose from the table, and said, “I need a shower.”
Dean only nodded, and Castiel couldn’t help but watch as his throat moved as he swallowed his mouthful. He sharply turned away and tried not to dwell on Dean swallowing things beside food.
Castiel was momentarily confused as he woke to screaming. He rolled over and looked at his cellphone to see what time it was. The bright screen displayed one forty five a.m. He rubbed his eyes with his fingers, and then pushed the covers away from his body.
His sleep addled brain realised that it was Dean who was screaming, as he thrashed around on his bed, almost knocking the bedside lamp over in his fitful sleep.
Castiel sat down on the bed and swiftly gripped Dean’s wrists before he was punched by his flailing limbs.
“Dean,” he said clearly, pulling him up by his wrists with one hand while the other cupped the back of his neck. “Dean wake up for me.”
Dean moved fitfully for a few seconds more before he stilled, and his eyes slowly opened. Castiel noticed that tears were running down his cheeks and drops glinted wetly on his long eyelashes. He released Dean’s wrists from his tight grip and drew the younger man against his t-shirt clad chest.
“It’s alright now,” he soothed, rubbing circles on the hot skin of Dean’s back.
Dean’s hands slipped beneath Castiel’s t-shirt and settled hotly against his relatively cool skin. He moved his face so that the material over Cas’ chest became damp and clung to his body.
“Cas,” Dean breathed, his head tilting back as he gazed at Castiel through half lidded, emerald eyes. “I was so scared… I dreamt that the bokor killed dad and Delphine…but I couldn’t really see her… she was dancing with yellow eyes… and there was blood… so much blood…”
“I’m here now, Dean. Everything’s okay now. I’ll hold you until you fall asleep again.”
Dean moved his head groggily in agreement.
Before Castiel could really think about what he was doing, he dipped his head and softly kissed the corner of Dean’s slightly open mouth. Dean frowned sleepily and then smiled slightly as he moved his head forward and kissed Castiel full on the mouth. Cas froze as Dean’s warm, soft lips moved against his, and then something inside of him snapped, and he slipped his tongue into the heat of Dean’s mouth. He moaned as their tongues slid over each other, and he explored every part of Dean’s wonderfully hot mouth.
When he gently pulled away, his breathing was slightly elevated, and his heart pounded in his ears. He closed his eyes and willed himself to calm down.
“Cas?” Dean murmured drowsily.
“Go back to sleep now, Dean,” he replied pacifyingly, letting Dean nuzzle into his neck. “I promise I’ll stay with you until you fall asleep.”
When Dean was finally asleep again, he tried to pull away and return to his own bed, but Dean’s arms tightened around him, effectively trapping Castiel in his embrace. For a moment he thought about prying Dean off of him, but then he thought better of it, and lay down beside him instead, stroking Dean’s back restfully, until Cas fell asleep, too.
So I thought I'd let Dean in on a bit of Castiel's mysterious past. I hope that I'm not boring anyone yet ;p
Chapter 7: Twenty
Castiel's guilt over wanting Dean intensifies to breaking point, and Dean decides that it's time they both did something about their desire for each other.
I do not own Supernatural. I do not write these works for commercial or monetary gain. I write these works for non-profit entertainment.
Thank you for all your wonderful comments and kudos. You're interest is much appreciated and very encouraging. I hope you enjoy the chapter.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Dean’s twentieth birthday passed without much fanfare. Sam phoned him because Dean and Castiel had visited he and Bobby for Christmas, so they didn’t spend Dean’s birthday with them.
In the year that he and Castiel had become hunting partners, Dean had become even better than when he had hunted with his father. Castiel had helped him perfect his knife and gun abilities, as well as teaching him to be more strategic and graceful in his fighting skills. Sparring sessions drove Dean silently mad, because Castiel’s body was always so close, but he knew that if he touched the man in an inappropriate way, their relationship would become strained. Dean couldn’t help but obsess over that night, several months before, when he had awoken from an awful nightmare to Castiel’s patient placation. For four years he imagined what it would be like to kiss Castiel, and then when it had finally happened, it had awoken his soul. He had felt as if his entire body were filled with pulsing energy and light. His heart had burned with the need for Castiel to make love to him, but Castiel had simply soothed him back to sleep. Castiel had done what he had always done, which was to act like Dean’s protector and caregiver, not his lover.
Dean felt himself slowly going insane from the need which he harboured for Castiel. He had thought that perhaps as the years passed, he would feel less yearning, but it seemed as if that fire which Castiel ignited inside of him, was only growing stronger, threatening to burn Dean from the inside out. He would have Castiel, because he would wait, and he knew that Cas’ resolve would eventually break.
Castiel was consumed with guilt over his desire for Dean. He knew that it was wrong, that Dean was a beautiful person, much too bright for Castiel’s emptiness. If he allowed himself to bring Dean into his hollowness, he would ruin Dean forever. He couldn’t bear to have Dean be spoilt because of his selfish actions.
Ever since he had kissed Dean, he had thought about what it felt like over and over again. It was like a brand to his mind, the feel of Dean’s unrestrained responsiveness, the look of his angelic face, with his half lidded jade eyes gazing at Castiel with such trust.
Castiel prayed when Dean was sleeping, to rid himself of all his impure thoughts about the younger man. He could not allow himself to taint Dean, and he needed to bury the terrible jealousy he harboured when he thought of the men and women who Dean had allowed to make love to him. He envied those faceless strangers so much that he had dreams about taking Dean from them, making love to Dean so that Dean would never be able to leave him. He would wake in the night, his arousal so intense it hurt. He would quietly pleasure himself to images of Dean flushed and aroused beneath him. When he reached his release he would turn his face into his pillow in shame, and ask whoever would listen to forgive him.
One late afternoon, when Dean was napping after a training session, Castiel went to the local Catholic Church. He had been raised a Catholic after all, which had made the way in which his family had died even more ironic.
In this time of such personal strife, he found that he needed the comfort of the familiar, the absolution of a higher power.
The inside of the church was large, probably built when the town had been richer during the big boom days of America’s early twentieth century economy. The walls were a pale grey, with a beautiful rib vaulted ceiling. He smelt the rich fragrance of incense, and thought of the services he had attended as a child with his family. The low chant of the procession as the incense drifted into the air in delicate wisps of majestic mystery. The smell of holy oil mixed in with the incense, and intertwined with wood polish and carpet cleaner.
The light filtered through the stain glass windows, soft and golden, bearing dancing dust motes. Castiel dipped his fingers into the holy water and crossed himself, whispering softly, and then knelt at the beginning of the aisle. He did not look away from the crucified figure of Christ that adorned the far wall, and the sad eyes held his gaze.
Jesus watches over all of us, Castiel. He will never let any harm come to those who truly love him, his mother’s voice whispered in his head.
He took his seat inside of the confessional box, and stared at his hands for a while before he spoke to the veiled priest.
“Bless me Father, for I have sinned. It has been ten years since my last confession,” Castiel said.
“That is a long time, my child,” the priest replied thoughtfully. “What are your sins?”
Castiel covered his eyes with his hands and sighed softly, “I am having impure thoughts about a young man in my charge.”
The priest was silent for a long time before he re-joined, “How often do you have these impure thoughts?”
Castiel closed his eyes for a moment, the guilt rising inside of him like bile, “Everyday, Father. I want him more than I can describe. It feels like madness, as if I need to possess him body and soul.”
“That is a dangerous thing, my child. Such desires are all consuming and unhealthy. You must ask God to rid you of such destructive urges. This can only be done with daily devotion to prayer, and self-reflection.”
“Yes, thank you, Father,” Castiel murmured.
“It is love that you feel for this young man, is it not?” the priest prompted quietly.
Castiel frowned slightly, and exhaled in defeat, “I believe so, Father. It would be my undoing if any harm were to come to him.”
“I know that it is the way for many holy practitioners to condemn love which is not seen as… usual,” the priest mused. “Love, however, is the bearer of all things beautiful. Let yourself love, but do not let that love consume you. Reflect upon the reason for your desire and enter into communication with God on this matter, He will answer your questions and assuage your doubts, my child. I absolve you from your sins in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”
“Thank you, Father,” Castiel replied, before he left the confessional box.
When he walked back to the motel, the sky was a deep blue which bloomed out of the burning oranges of the setting sun. The moon was faint from the sun’s dying light, and he could hear the call of birds fill the early evening stillness.
He arrived at the motel to find that Dean was awake and reading from John’s journal.
Dean immediately put it aside when Castiel entered the room, “Where were you? I woke up and you were gone. I was really worried, Cas.”
Castiel raked a hand through his thick hair, “I went somewhere to clear my mind.”
“Where did you go?”
Castiel sighed, “I went to the Catholic Church a few streets away.”
Dean frowned, “Why?”
Castiel looked at him with a tortured expression, “I think you know why.”
Dean was completely bemused, “No, Cas, I don’t know why.”
Castiel rubbed the back of his neck, causing his shirt to ride up and expose his flat stomach, which made Dean lick his lips and swallow.
“I-I’ve…” Cas began to reply, then he said, “I’m going to go and have a shower.”
In frustration, Dean watched him go to the bathroom and close the door. He moved closer and listened to the intimate sounds of Castiel undressing, before he turned on the shower and stepped inside the cubicle.
Dean waited a few seconds before he quietly opened the door. The shower had no door on it because of what the receptionist had called “enthusiastic, unmentionable activities”. Dean’s mind had immediately been filled with thoughts of Castiel making love to him so fervently, that they shattered a shower door.
A sliver of bright yellow light fell over him as he took in the sight of Castiel showering. He had his hands pressed against the shower wall, his legs in a wide stance and his back slightly curved. Water ran down his alabaster skin in rivulets, making his flesh slick and shiny. He titled his head back as the water made his dark hair fall back from his face, opened his mouth and squeezed his eyes shut.
Dean imagined that that was what Castiel would like in climax, except his body would be more arched. He pulled his shirt off and threw it on the floor, before he slowly ran his hand down his stomach and slipped it inside his loose tracksuit pants and underwear. He began to stroke himself as he watched Castiel reach for the soap, and wash his chest and abdomen in slow, controlled circles.
Dean whimpered softly as he watched Castiel’s beautiful hand move lower and wash his cock. His own arousal increased as he watched Castiel lift himself and wash underneath, before he returned the soap to its slightly cracked dish, and rinsed the suds from his body. His hand moved downwards again, and Dean’s breath caught as Castiel took hold of himself and began moving his hand up and down his length in deliberate movements.
Dean’s arousal flared white hot in his stomach at the sound of Castiel’s increased breathing, and the feel of his own hand on his hot flesh.
Then Dean heard his own name, low and desperate, issued from Castiel’s mouth, and he snapped. He roughly pushed the door open, not caring when it slammed into the wall, and caused Castiel to look up in alarm.
“Dean,” Castiel said in shock, as he watched the other man yank off his tracksuit pants and underwear, and step into the shower.
Dean turned Cas around and pressed him into the shower wall, “I want you to make love to me.”
Castiel opened his mouth to protest, but Dean shook his head, “You can’t make any more excuses, I’m a man now, and you know it.”
Castiel rested his head against the wall and closed his eyes as Dean kissed and licked his way down Castiel’s taut body. He panted as Dean’s tongue dipped into his belly button, and his hands moved to cup Castiel’s buttocks. A ragged gasp escape him when he felt Dean’s tongue swirl wetly over the head of his sensitive cock, and his hips jerked when slick warmth enveloped him. Dean exhaled hotly over his engorged flesh as he began to move up and down.
“Dean,” Cas whimpered, as his nails curled into his palms.
He desperately wanted to push Dean away, to tell him that he didn’t want him that this was wrong, but Castiel knew that those were lies. He thought about what the priest had said earlier about reflecting on why he loved Dean, and his body lit up with the sensations that Dean’s mouth on him caused. He loved Dean because he was beautiful and generous. After his family and then Delphine died, his heart had been cold. When he had seen Dean, however, that brilliantly innocent boy, his heart had been filled with light and need. Dean had resurrected him after years of numbness.
He cried out Dean’s name like a prayer when he reached his blinding climax in Dean’s mouth, and felt the movement of his throat as he swallowed Castiel’s release.
Dean stood up and pressed his back against the shower wall across from Cas. Sapphire and jade eyes met for a long while, before Castiel stepped forward and kissed Dean deeply. His tongue slowly licked at the seam of Dean’s mouth, and his thumbs stroked lazy circles into the smooth flesh above Dean’s buttocks.
“I want your tongue inside of me,” Dean whispered hotly into Castiel’s ear.
Castiel felt his need burn tightly inside of him, as he reached for the taps and turned the water off. He and Dean quickly dried each other off, their hair still wet as Castiel led Dean to the bed, and slowly kissed him when Dean lay beneath him.
Dean turned so that he was on his hands and knees, and shivered as Castiel ran his hands down his sides and then over his buttocks. Castiel kissed Dean’s smooth skin at the base of his spine, and then gently parted his buttocks as his tongue ran over the exposed flesh between them. Dean jerked as the rough heat of Castiel’s tongue slid over his entrance and circled the sensitive surface. Castiel slowly licked over the exposed opening for a while until Dean’s knuckles were white from gripping the sheets, and then he gradually slid his tongue inside of the dark heat. Dean threw his head back and let out a high-pitched keening sound as Castiel’s tongue unhurriedly pistoned in and out of him.
He whimpered in desperation when the wet intrusion left him and Castiel got up from the bed. He walked to Dean’s duffel bag and removed the lubricant from it, and Dean couldn’t help but blush.
Castiel stroked Dean’s back, his thumb moving over the rise and fall of his spine. Dean watched, transfixed, as Castiel spread lubricant on three of his fingers and then dipped his head again. He languidly slipped his tongue and finger inside of Dean’s entrance, which convulsed at the addition incursion.
“Ah…yes…” Dean whined, as Castiel’s hot tongue and cold finger moved in unison.
Then he glided a second finger in alongside his tongue and Dean thrust backwards, crying out loudly as the hot and cold wetness found his prostate. He sobbed in pure pleasure as a third finger joined its cousins and Castiel’s wicked tongue, and began to move in earnest as he felt himself approach his orgasm. When he did, he screamed Castiel’s name and then collapsed onto the sheet, not caring about the hot liquid pooling against his skin.
Castiel’s tongue and fingers slipped out of him, and he felt the mattress move as Castiel got up. He helped Dean to his feet and then stripped the bed of its stained sheet before he motioned for Dean to get back onto the bed, as he went to the bathroom and soaked a facecloth in warm water. When he returned, he gently cleaned Dean’s stomach.
Dean gazed at Castiel’s face through half lidded eyes for a while, then his eyes dropped to his well-defined chest, where he saw something he’d never seen before. Marring the porcelain skin was a hand print that stretched from Castiel’s pectoral to his collarbone. Dean reached forward and rested his hand in the imprint. Castiel rested his hand over Dean’s and a look of great sadness came over his face.
He sighed after a long and said, “I will tell you about it in good time. I promise.”
Dean sat up and slowly kissed Castiel on the mouth, as if he was trying to memorise the texture and shape. Castiel cupped his face and slowly guided Dean back onto the bed. He reached for the lubricant and gave it to Dean. Dean paused for a moment before he opened it and put a generous amount on his palm, which he gradually applied to Castiel’s cock. Castiel gently slipped the two pillows out from under Dean’s head and put them under his buttocks.
He lowered his head and kissed Dean again as he steadily slid himself inside of Dean’s beautifully tight warmth. His heart clenched at the expression of trust and pleasure on Dean’s lovely face. His green eyes were slits above the bloom of his high cheekbones, and his flushed, parted lips. Castiel’s thumb tenderly stroked the arched column of Dean’s exposed throat, as he began to move inside of Dean. He couldn’t contain his moan as Dean met his rhythmic thrusts.
Dean dug his heels into Castiel’s lower back, and arched as he felt Castiel connect with that part of him that made pleasure bloom inside of him. He slid his hands up Castiel’s satin smooth back and revelled in the fact that he was finally able to do that. His body felt alive with what seemed like an infinite amount of sensations, his skin tingling as Cas’ body connected with his, and his warm breath fanned Dean’s shoulder. He shut his eyes as the bliss built within him and seemed to stem from the light of his core. This was not sex, or simply the joining of bodies, but the joining of souls. It was as if he and Castiel had been looking for each other for millennia and now they had come together, like two pieces of a throbbing, glowing whole.
Castiel teetered at the precipice of his release, but he stopped himself because he wanted to feel Dean attain his climax first. He did not have to wait much longer before he felt Dean’s muscles tighten and convulse around him as he cried out in ecstasy. Cas let himself be consumed by the intense heat and threw his head back and screamed Dean’s name.
“I love you, Castiel,” Dean cried, as they moved together through their orgasms.
“I love you, too,” Castiel panted, his voice even deeper than usual.
Afterwards, they lay together for a while before Castiel carefully left Dean to pick up the discarded facecloth from earlier, and used it to clean the evidence of their lovemaking from their skin. He let the facecloth drop to the floor once more and he lay back down beside Dean and lightly kissed his collarbone.
“I’ve wanted this for so long,” Dean murmured, languidly running his hand through Cas’ damp hair. “Ever since I first saw you on my fifteenth birthday, and you smiled at me, and took the time to really talk to Sammy and I, like you cared what we had to say.”
“I did care,” Castiel replied. “I had never seen someone so beautiful in my life. Your eyes were light green fires seeing into my soul, and I knew that from that moment on, I’d never be able to stop thinking about you.”
They were silent as they simply gazed at each other. Castiel gently ran his thumb over Dean’s eyebrow, while Dean caressed his side.
“I wanted to kiss you so badly when you were sixteen,” Castiel admitted, his eyes not leaving Dean’s face. “And I hated all of those people who made love to you, especially Michael, even though it was my own fault that I didn’t give you what I knew you wanted all along. I’m so sorry that I made you wait all this time, Dean.”
Dean smiled, and Castiel’s heart tightened in response, “It doesn’t matter now, Cas. All that matters now is that we love each other, and that we’ll never leave each other again.”
Dean cupped the back of his neck and brought him down for another kiss, which they both smiled into.
I thought that it was finally time that they made love. This is not the end of the road, however, because Castiel still has to face his past. Thank you for reading :)
Chapter 8: Twenty Part II
Cas decides to share something very intimate with Dean, but their happiness is marred by the darkness of Castiel's past.
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. I do not write these works for profit or commercial gain. I write these works for non-profit entertainment.
Sorry for the wait between chapters. I hope you enjoy the chapter.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
They had been lovers for six months. Months in which Dean thought that it was indeed possible to die of happiness and sexual pleasure. He had never thought that once he had Castiel, it would be even more intoxicating than wanting the mysterious hunter. Dean had never known such a generous and passionate lover, nor one who was so protective, and perhaps sporadically possessive when caused to be so.
Castiel wondered daily why he had tortured he and Dean for so long, when he could have had such physical and emotional ecstasy before this. He knew that he had been right to wait, however. It would not have been right to be with Dean when he was still barely an adolescent, but he also realised that when Dean had professed his love for Castiel after John died, he should have made love to Dean. He should have made love to him the night of Dean’s terrible nightmare, after they had slain one of the many spectres of his past. In penance for his foolishness, he decided to share something with his lover that he had never shared with anyone else.
“I want to show you my house,” he stated softly, as he and Dean sat in a small diner.
Dean was silent for a while before he replied, “Where is it?”
“In Maine. My aunt left it to me when she died.”
Dean smiled slightly, “I’d love to see it.”
Castiel reached out his hand and laid it on top of Dean’s, “I’ve never shown it to anyone else.”
Dean gently shifted his hand so he could hold Castiel’s, “Is it boarded up?”
He shook his head, “No. I have a housekeeper and a caretaker who are married and look after the house for me.”
“Are you a Secret Millionaire, or something?” Dean laughed.
Castiel shrugged, “Well, my aunt and uncle were wealthy people.”
Dean quirked an eyebrow, “I see. You know I’d love you even if you were penniless.”
“Of course. You loved me before you knew any of this.”
Dean blushed slightly, and Castiel thought how gorgeous he was, “Let’s get going. It’s a long drive.”
Several hours later, Dean awoke to the soft light of twilight as it filtered in through the car windows. He felt the warmth of Castiel’s fine fingered hand resting on his upper thigh, and smelt the salty tang of the ocean breeze.
He blinked a few times in order to clear his head of the haze of sleep, and read a sign that they passed as they drove into town. It read “Welcome to Rubrum, Maine! Population: 30 000” There was a picture of a leaf next to the words, and he could hear Sammy’s voice in his head saying That’s an Acer Rubrum leaf, also known as a Red Maple.
“Good evening,” said Cas in his customarily gravely tone, interrupting Dean’s memory. “Did you have a nice rest?”
“Yes,” Dean replied, stroking the back of Castiel’s hand. “Why didn’t you wake me up so I could help you with the driving?”
Castiel shrugged, “I wasn’t tired. I think I’m too excited to show you my house.”
Dean smiled, his fingers gently dragging the sleeves of Castiel’s shirt and leather jacket back, “I think I know why you’re so excited.”
Castiel frowned, “You do?”
“Yes,” Dean nodded, his smile becoming mischievous. “You want me to help you christen all of the rooms.”
Castiel looked vaguely embarrassed, a slightly flush tainting his porcelain skin, “I-I had not actually thought of that…”
Dean languidly caressed Castiel’s wrist with his thumb, “Good thing I thought of it then.”
Castiel shifted uncomfortably in his seat, images of him taking Dean on his bed filled his mind. Then another, unexpected, vision filled his mind: Dean taking him. During their time together Castiel had always been the more dominant lover, but he found that he wanted to give himself to Dean in that way. He shivered with pleasure at the thought of Dean inside of him, the feeling of Dean’s hot, thick length moving-
He needed to think of something else in the meantime, otherwise he was going to reach his climax right there. He was extremely glad that his house was only a short distance away.
Dean idly watched the flash of red and green next to the lane, as they drove to Castiel’s house in the rapidly fading light. He turned his head to look out of the windscreen as Castiel made a gentle turn right, and drove up a pale gravel drive. It was long and lined with the same dense growth of red and green leaved trees as the lane.
When they finally came to a large black iron gate, Castiel left the car idling and went to open it. Once they’d driven through, he got out again to close it. Dean was silent as they continued with their approach. The trees began to thin until a large clearing became evident, and Dean gasped at the sight that confronted him.
Castiel had failed to mention that his “house” was in fact a mansion. It was constructed with a dark stone, with a grey slate roof which a long, wide chimney jutted out of, framed darkly against the increasingly dim sky. Windows with almost black wooden frames adorned the front of the house, above a solid door with an upper triangular design. The dark façade of the house was thrown into stark, yet beautiful contrast against the red and green of the trees behind it.
Dean could hear the low call of creatures in the woods, as he and Castiel climbed out of the car, and made their way towards the house. Castiel obviously detected Dean’s incredulousness, because he gently gripped his hand as they ascended the steps leading up to the front door.
Castiel dug around in his pocket for a moment before he extracted a key, and unlocked the door. A soft, warm light fell over them as they entered the house, and Dean heard himself gasp softly. The house’s interior was absolutely beautiful. Below their feet, hardwood floors shone with loving polish, and supported walls decorated with beautiful linen wallpaper in a soft peach colour. An elm staircase, which also shone with polish, curved gracefully and became a long balustrade on the upper landing.
Dean saw a door to the right of the staircase, which led into an unknown room. The large entrance hall was connected to an equally impressive dining room, and a beautiful living room that had a fire place and overstuffed couches. Dean saw that it had a huge bay window, which he imagined would show the wood when the curtains were open.
Castiel gently tugged on his hand and directed him towards the door next to the staircase. When it swung open, a spacious kitchen was revealed. There was another door against the far wall, which Dean assumed led out into the garden. Spotless counters ran along the walls. The one against the right wall had three zincs sunk into it. Big cabinets of a wood similar to the house’s window frames, adorned the left and far walls. Windows revealed Dean’s earlier imagined view of the woods, which seemed to shift strangely in the artificial illumination of the lights at the edge of the garden.
Dean could smell the comforting aroma of supper emanating from the notable stove. The door that led outside opened and a woman in her late fifties was framed in the almost darkness of the early evening.
“Castiel!” she beamed, trotting into the kitchen with her arms held wide.
“Hello Mrs Mead,” Cas smiled, as he stooped to hug her plump form.
She pulled away from him and gave Dean a friendly look, “Hello. You must be Dean?”
“Yes,” Dean nodded somewhat shyly. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“And you,” she beamed at him. “I’m so glad to finally meet one of Castiel’s friends.”
Dean blushed at the use of the ambiguous title, thankful that Mrs Mead was obviously aware of he and Cas’ relationship, but not obtrusively so.
“What’s for supper?” Castiel inquired, placing his hand at the small of Dean’s back.
“Lobster pie and for dessert, chocolate cream pie,” she replied, as Dean suppressed a shiver of pleasure as Castiel’s hand crept under his jacket and shirt.
“You are going to be Dean’s new best friend, Mrs Mead,” Castiel chucked. “Dean adores pie, and you’re giving him two in one night.”
“Wonderful! Now you two go upstairs and have a wash. Supper should be ready in about twenty minutes or so.”
He and Dean both nodded and retreated from the kitchen to make their way to the upstairs bedrooms.
Once they were on the upper landing, Castiel opened the door to a huge room.
“This is the master bedroom,” he informed Dean, shrugged off his jacket and hanging it on a hook on the door. “This is where you and I will be sleeping.”
Dean was too busy taking everything in to reply. He looked at the white moulded ceiling, the pale green wallpaper and same polished hardwood floors as the entrance hall. A window with a window seat took up a good portion of the far wall.
His attention was soon focused on the king sized four poster bed, which was against the left wall. It had emerald green sheets, and was made of a cherry coloured wood. Dean imagined sleeping, and not sleeping, inside that huge bed with Castiel. He grew warm all over at the thought of how much space they’d have.
“Do you like our bed?” Castiel murmured, his hot breath fanning Dean’s ear.
“Yes,” he replied, as Castiel undid his belt and the button of his jeans.
“Can you imagine me taking you in it?” he asked, as he gently pushed Dean towards it.
“Yes,” Dean whispered, as Castiel turned him around so that he could lie on the bed.
Cas pulled Dean’s shoes off before his pants and underwear swiftly followed. He watched with barely constrained anticipation as Castiel moved towards him. He felt his stomach leap with arousal when Cas divested himself of his own shoes and pants, so that he was gloriously naked from the waist down.
“Do you want me to take you inside my mouth, Dean?” Castiel asked softly, running his hands up Dean’s smooth thighs.
Dean gulped and nodded frantically. Castiel smiled slightly and kneeled in front of Dean before he laid a soft kiss on the head of Dean’s erection. Dean sighed in pleasure as Castiel’s hot tongue licked up his heated flesh, teasing him so that he gripped the sheets in expectation.
He let out a sob as wet heat enclosed about his cock, and Castiel slowly took him into his mouth, until Dean could feel the gentle flexing of Castiel’s throat. He began to slowly slide his mouth and tongue up and down, his teeth lightly grazed Dean’s overly sensitive flesh and sent sparks of pleasure into his stomach.
Dean sat up so that he could watch himself disappear into Castiel’s sinful mouth, his fingers massaged Cas’ scalp as Dean glided them into the thick raven hair. Long, cool fingers softly kneaded his thighs as Castiel increased his pace, and Dean felt his climax begin to gradually build.
“Cas, your m-mouth is like Heaven,” he breathed. “God, just like that, baby.”
Cas hummed in contentment, and Dean’s breath caught as the vibrations made his climax approach more rapidly. His thumbs gently stroked Castiel’s throat as his hands moved downwards, and he could feel the thick line of his cock against the delicate flesh. Castiel’s deft fingers slowly rolled his testicles, and Dean tensed as his eyes fell shut and his release burst hotly inside of Castiel’s mouth and throat. His orgasm was intensified by the constriction of Castiel’s throat as he swallowed.
He slowly pulled away from Dean’s flaccid cock, and his hand fell to his own dark pink flesh. Dean was transfixed as Castiel began to pleasure himself, his breathing low and intimate. He arched beautifully as he climaxed, revealing the curve of his throat.
His opened his eyes and smiled at Dean, “I think we should clean up before supper, as Mrs Mead suggested.”
Dinner was delicious, and Dean sat back contentedly, his stomach pleasantly full as he listened to Castiel and Mrs Mead chat with one another.
At about half past ten Mrs Mead said, “I’m off to bed. I have to get up early to go to the market tomorrow morning.”
“Of course,” Castiel nodded. “I want to show Dean the beach tomorrow.”
Mrs Mead pursed her lips, “You’re not going to try and swim, are you? It’s so rocky. I remember when you were sixteen and you came back to the house all cut up and bruised from falling on the rocks.”
Castiel laughed awkwardly at the memory, “Don’t worry. I’m not that wild child anymore. Dean will be quite safe with me.”
Mrs Mead nodded in approval, “Well goodnight then.”
“Goodnight,” they replied in unison.
When they had both changed into sleeping clothes, Dean and Castiel climbed into bed and pressed against each other, Castiel’s arm slung loosely over Dean’s mid-section.
Castiel felt himself drift off as his body relaxed against Dean’s, and he fell asleep quite quickly.
“Castiel!” his mother screamed in horror. “Run my baby! Run!”
Castiel sobbed as he watched his mother be consumed by the flames. He wanted to go back inside and save her, but a beam fell in front of him and he choked from the smoke.
He could no longer hear the agonised cries of his siblings, and the absolutely horrific realisation that they were dead, flooded his consciousness.
He stumbled onto the damp lawn and wept into the grass as he felt the suffocating heat of the fire at his back. His family was dead. He was all alone.
He had taken them from him, and a hatred so terrible and complete filled Castiel’s young heart that he fainted on the cool ground.
Castiel awoke with a jolt, his heart pounding against his rib cage like that of a trapped animal’s. He dragged his hand across his face and bit back a low sob. When he regained some of his composure, he looked at Dean’s peaceful form.
The muted light fell on his face and body in silver shadows, making him even more beautiful. His mouth was soft and slightly parted, and the sheet had ridden down to reveal the smooth golden skin of his upper body.
Castiel gentled stroked Dean’s lower lip with his thumb and he watched the look of slumberous pleasure that flitted across his face. He loved Dean so much, and his heart constricted painfully at the thought of losing him as he had lost his family.
The agonised screams slowly faded as he lay back down and watched Dean as he slept, his face seemingly unmarred by memories of a cursed night.
He and Castiel lay in bed for most of the morning, the light of the rising sun pouring golden and bright through the large window.
“I’ve never really lain in bed the whole morning,” Dean admitted, snuggling against Cas’ lean side.
“I have, but not in a good way,” Cas replied, smoothing his hand over Dean’s soft hair.
Dean frowned, but didn’t say anything because he didn’t want to ruin the moment by upsetting Castiel with intrusive questions.
“As I said to Mrs Mead last night, I want to show you the beach.”
“Yes, it’s just beyond the woods.”
“You have your own beach?” Dean asked incredulously.
Castiel flushed, “It’s a very small one.”
“What did you say you’re aunt and uncle did for a living?”
Cas looked out the window for a moment, “Let’s get up. It’s almost noon.”
When they had showered and dressed, they left the house and began their trek to the beach. Dean had been to Maine once in his life, when his father had tracked a Black Widow, who had been devouring male victims along the East Coast. He took in the beautiful interplay of red, green and gold in the deeper part of the woods. He listened to the low cry of birds and soft scurrying of small animals as they slipped into their underground homes.
The smell of the sea grew stronger as they walked further on, until Dean could see the dark blue of the sea against the lightness of the sky. The water shimmered invitingly, but Dean saw the white foam of the waves as they crashed against the treacherous rocks that ran along the coastline.
He and Castiel carefully made their way down worn stone steps that led onto the pebbled beach.
Castiel pointed towards a huddle of rocks farther down the beach, “That’s where I fell and hurt myself so badly. I thought I saw a star fish and so I got brave.”
Castiel looked wistful for a moment before he smiled at Dean and took his hand, as he led him towards a small cabin. It looked quite old and the windows were slightly grubby, but when Castiel opened the door, Dean could see that it was cleaned at least once a week.
It had a front room and a cramped looking kitchen that had some basic appliances and a very old fashioned fridge. The front room had a couch, coffee table and a three quarter bed.
“I used to sleep in here sometimes when I was a teenager,” Cas said. “It was peaceful.”
Dean walked over to the bed and sat down, “It’s nice. I like it. I wished I’d had somewhere like this when I was a kid. I could have used some space from my dad sometimes.”
Castiel looked at him understandingly and Dean hurriedly added, “But not Sammy. I mean we fought sometimes, but I’d always protect Sammy.”
Cas stood in front of him and stroked his face, “I know, Dean. I know how you love your brother.”
Dean leant into the caress and closed his eyes.
“I want you to make love to me.”
Dean opened his eyes and frowned, “I always make love to you, Cas.”
Castiel shook his head and bit his lip, as he kneeled in front of Dean, “I mean, I want you…inside of me.”
Dean stared at him for a while before he replied, “Are you sure, Cas?”
He nodded, “Yes, I’m sure. I want to give this to you.”
“You’ve already given me so much. I don’t want you to feel like you owe me anything.”
“No, no. I’m not saying this because I think I owe you anything, I’m saying it because I want this.”
Dean reached out and traced Castiel’s full lips with his fingertips, “Okay, baby. If you’re sure. How long has it been since anyone’s been inside of you?”
“I’m sure. A…long time,” he replied, leaning forward and kissing Dean deeply.
Dean gently guided Castiel onto the bed and pulled his shoes and pants off, and kissed up the inside of his legs. He softly licked the juncture between Castiel’s hip and thigh before he pulled Castiel’s t-shirt off. Dean licked up his stomach and bit the pale, hard flesh lightly as his thumbs massaged Castiel’s rapidly hardening nipples.
Castiel arched into him, his legs falling open to accommodate Dean. He replaced his thumbs with his mouth and torturously licked and lapped at the erect nipples until Castiel was writhing with arousal.
He lifted his head and regarded the glistening pink nubs for a while before he whispered, “Turn over, Cas.”
Cas obeyed immediately, presenting the alabaster expanse of muscled back to Dean’s appreciative gaze. He licked and kissed all of Castiel’s scars until he reached his round, smooth buttocks that were completely hairless. He bit the perfect flesh until purple teeth indentations appeared, and Castiel cried out in a mixture of pleasure and pain, his body involuntarily thrusting against the bed cover.
Dean stood up, and began to undress himself as Cas whimpered in impatience, watching Dean with unbridled lust in his azure eyes.
When Dean was completely nude, he asked, “Do you have lubricant, Cas?”
Cas nodded, “In the front pocket of my jeans.”
Dean smirked, “You planned this then?”
Cas bit his lip, and huskily replied, “Yes.”
Dean took a deep breath as he hardened even more at the dark throatiness of Castiel’s voice. He removed the lubricant from Cas’ jeans and walked back to the bed.
“Get on your hands and knees, baby,” he murmured, stroking Castiel’s silky back.
When Castiel had complied, Dean lightly caressed the line between Cas’ buttocks. His finger brushed against the tight muscle of his entrance, and felt Cas tense up and then sigh in nervous pleasure.
“Relax for me,” Dean breathed, pouring a generous amount of lubricant in between Castiel’s firm buttocks. “Tell me when it feels good.”
Cas nodded and gasped softly as Dean slowly massaged the furled muscle before incrementally sliding his finger into Castiel, until its entire length was inside of him. He gradually began to piston it in and out of the hot tightness, feeling Cas begin to thrust back against the intrusion. When Castiel was almost completely relaxed, he slid another in, but maintained his slow thrusting motion.
When Dean added a third finger, Cas felt a slight burn, but it soon morphed into pleasure as Dean caressed his perineum with the fingers of his other hand. Then he felt the addition of Dean’s pinkie and he was consumed by pleasure as he thrust back against his hand.
“Does it feel good, Cas?” Dean moaned, feeling the tight heat around his fingers.
“Yes,” Castiel replied breathily. “Please come inside me now, Dean.”
Dean slowly extracted his fingers from Castiel’s stretched entrance, and applied a dollop of lubricant to his palm and spread it from the tip to the base of his cock. He positioned himself behind Cas’ waiting entrance, and then he slowly slid himself inside of his lover’s dark heat.
“Dean,” Cas panted, tightly gripping the duvet.
“Ssshhhh, baby,” Dean replied, watching as Castiel’s dusky rim worked to take him inside. “I want to watch…”
Castiel let out a jagged breath as Dean gradually sank into his tight, wet channel. Dean stared at the way Cas was stretched around him, pink and soft about his engorged flesh. He tenderly stroked Cas’ sides as he took in the maddening heat of him around his aching cock.
Castiel’s mouth hung open as he felt the delicious fullness of Dean inside of himself, his body constricted around the long, thick incursion and his own cock burnt with the intense stimulation.
“God Cas,” Dean sighed. “You’re so beautiful. You feel so hot and wet…”
Cas whimpered at Dean’s words and the sensation as Dean progressively slid out of him, the head of his cock caught on the stretched rim of muscle. Dean breathed harshly as he watched his glistening length gradually emerge from inside Castiel. He shivered with the effort of going slowly and watched as Cas’ flushed opening widened to accommodate his thick, pulsing length once more.
“Dean!” he cried, as Dean pulled him back onto his solid cock and began to thrust up into him.
Dean adjusted them so that he was on his haunches on the bed and Cas’ legs fell open next to Dean’s thighs, as Dean gripped his waist and guided him up and down on his swollen cock. Cas’ hands covered Dean’s as he met each of Dean’s increasingly hard thrusts, and sobbed Dean’s name like a desperate prayer. Castiel’s cock slapped against his flat stomach and smeared fluid over his skin.
“Ah ah ah ahaaaa,” Dean gasped as he moved inside of Cas’ silken fissure.
Castiel closed his eyes as his climax exploded inside of his body, jolting his spine with penetrating pleasure. He let out a long scream as he clenched around Dean, which made Dean tighten his grip on Castiel’s hips and obtain a blindingly vivid orgasm that made him thrust up harder and faster inside of Castiel’s convulsing heat.
Castiel breathed hard as he slumped back against Dean, who dropped his forehead onto Castiel’s shoulder and exhaled brokenly. His flaccid cock gently slid out Castiel and he watched as his thick release slid out his lover.
“Lie on your stomach, baby,” he instructed, as he laid a soothing but firm hand of Cas’ back.
Castiel laid down on his stomach and then let out a startled gasp as Dean parted his buttocks, and slid his rough, slick tongue along his swollen entrance. He moaned his ecstasy as Dean methodically licked away all of his release, and then secured his mouth over the loosened muscle and suckled.
Dean moaned at the rich taste of Castiel and his own saltiness, his ears filled with Cas’ moans of uninhibited pleasure. His tongue entered the slick opening as he continued to suck, and brushed against Cas’ sensitive prostate.
Castiel cried out as he felt his cock slowly start to fill once more. Dean continued to lick and suckle at his sensitive insides until he was moving against the duvet once more. Dean was unforgivingly meticulous as he stimulated Castiel’s delicate prostate, until Cas tensed up once more before achieving orgasm for the second time. Dean pushed him so that he rolled over, and proceeded to lick Castiel’s belly clean of his release before he affectionately kissed the flesh below his navel.
“Let’s sleep now,” Dean murmured as he snuggled against Cas’ side and closed his eyes.
His mother screamed for him to run, the flames dancing about her in terrible bursts of red and orange. Before he turned away, however, he saw her face morph into that of another woman’s, even younger than what his mother had been.
He turned and ran from the scene of his mother’s agonising death, her screams of terror and anguish filling his ears. When his face was assaulted by the cool night air, he collapsed onto the grass and silently sobbed.
His heart leapt in dread as he felt a hand settle on his shoulder and looked up to be met with a face he thought he would never see again. A face that fifteen years of rage and misery had been directed at.
The face broke into a terrible smirk, and said, “Hello… Castiel.”
Castiel woke with a silent scream marring his features, and his hand clenched over his heart as it thrummed in his chest like a hummingbird’s. He felt a deep burning pain in his chest and looked down at the source with undisguised horror. The hand print he had been unwillingly bestowed with pulsed with bright heat, and he knew that it had begun again, and he knew that he would have to stop it. He also knew that he could no longer keep his past from Dean.
I hope that you enjoyed reading the chapter. We're finally getting closer to what made Castiel who is. I felt that it was time for Dean to be more dominant in their love making, I hope I was successful in that regard.
Chapter 9: Twenty One
Castiel distances himself from Dean and after having another terrible dream, makes a decision that he believes will protect Dean.
This chapter is dark and contains parent/child incest and rape. I apologise if these elements upset you but they are necessary for the story.
Thank you for all the support with this story, it is much appreciated.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
When Dean turned twenty one he and Castiel went to visit Bobby and Sam for the first time in almost two years. Dean was thrilled to see his younger brother again, and he marvelled at how tall he had grown, almost towering over Dean, who was not that short himself. He tried not to dwell on the fact that Castiel was quite clearly shutting him out again. He had thought that Castiel showing him his house in Maine had meant a maturing of their relationship, but clearly he had been wrong.
He tried to talk to Castiel about his increasing distance from Dean, but Castiel merely told him to leave it alone. Dean, forever stubborn, pursued the subject until Castiel erupted one night and screamed at him to let it alone. Since then, about two months before, they had not made love and Dean felt something inside of himself slowly dying.
He did not let Sam and Bobby see this, though, because it was not their burden to bear. He was Castiel’s lover, and it was his responsibility to unlock Castiel’s heart. Castiel had been an enigma to him for the past six years, and when he thought about it, he only really knew that Castiel’s family had died tragically. He did not know how or why they had died, and he knew little to nothing about Castiel’s career as a hunter, aside from his hunting in New Orleans, and that was limited to the deceased bokor Francois and Castiel’s guilt over Delphine.
Castiel screamed in his sleep almost every night, and when Dean tried to comfort him he pushed him away, large blue eyes haunted and dark. Dean would sometimes watch Castiel, but he could not figure out what tormented Castiel in his dreams.
If anyone could see the distance that had opened up between he and Castiel, then they made no comment about it. Bobby invited quite a few of the hunters to his house, including the Harvelles, and Jo, Dean and Sam talked, while Castiel sat outside on the porch with some of the other hunters. Dean smiled and laughed as everyone sang Happy Birthday to him and he blew out the twenty one candles of the chocolate cake that Bobby had of course baked.
When most of the hunters had left, telling Bobby that they would keep in touch and what they were hunting at the moment, Sam pulled a letter out of his pocket and handed it to Dean.
“I got in, Dean,” he breathed, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was saying. “I got accepted to Stanford’s pre-law programme.”
Dean stared at the letter in disbelieve for a moment, before he pulled Sam tightly against him and smiled into his little brother’s neck.
“I’m so proud of you, you clever bastard,” he laughed.
Sam laughed in return, his long arms encircling his brother in a snug embrace, “I’m so happy, Dean.”
Dean pulled back and cupped his brother’s face affectionately, “I want you to promise me something.”
Sam nodded, resting his hands over Dean’s.
“You have to stay out of the life, do you understand me?” Dean said searchingly, almost desperately. “If you can get out, you stay out. Promise me.”
“I promise, Dean,” Sam whispered. “I promise.”
“Good,” Dean said, drawing Sam against him again and closing his eyes, willing his little brother to keep his promise.
Castiel lay on his back on the ground, the sounds of the forest filling his ears as he gazed at the starless sky above the canopy. He could hear the sounds of the tree barks and leaves crackling as they burnt around him, but he did not look away from the sky.
The touch came as it always did, cold and slow over his thighs and stomach. He tried to curl in on himself, but strong hands held him down against the earth. He felt tears running down the sides of his face and into the shells of his ears.
Then his vision was filled with that face whose unforgiving blue eyes bored into his own and rendered him immobile, as they always did. He wanted to be strong, he wanted to fight back, but he had never been able to.
“Castiel,” came the quiet voice. “My beautiful child.”
Castiel managed to turn his face away and bury it in the dirt, but then it was wrenched back to its previous position and his eyes smarted with tears of pain.
“Don’t turn away,” the voice held a note of warning anger. “You look at me when I take you.”
He felt the cold fingers at his entrance and he cried out in pain as they forced their way inside of him. He gripped the earth so hard that blood mingled with rich earth under his nails, and his fingers throbbed.
“So tight, Castiel. Always so tight for me. Were you this tight for that boy? That precious boy you’re trying to keep me from.”
“Don’t-don’t talk about Dean! You don’t get to talk about Dean! Ever!”
The laugh that his words caused made his skin feel as if it wanted to crawl away.
“How sweet, Castiel. You think you can stand up to me, especially when it comes to Dean. Well you can’t, and you won’t be able to stop me when I decide to fuck him and then kill him. Nice. And. Slow.”
Castiel could no longer hold in the sobs which became screams as rigid flesh slammed into his sensitive passage, and buried itself deep inside of him.
“Please don’t!” he screamed. “Please stop Lucifer! Please stop father! Please!”
“Always so tight for Daddy,” Lucifer whispered into his ear. “My beautiful son Castiel. I’ll never stop, Castiel. I’ll never leave you again. Never.”
He laid his hand on Castiel’s scar, and it fit perfectly, “You knew I’d never really leave you.”
“Please don’t!” Castiel screamed as he sat up.
“Cas!” Dean cried, as he sat up too and turned to the older man.
Castiel’s face were wet with tears and he wanted to turn away when Dean gently wiped them away with his thumbs, but Dean wouldn’t let him. He stared into Dean’s large green eyes for a long time before he leaned forward and captured his soft pink mouth. Dean moaned into the kiss, like a dying man who had just had his first sip of water in the desert.
Castiel lifted Dean’s shirt over his head and revealed his gorgeous body, which glowed softly in the moonlight that spilled onto the bed through the window of Bobby’s guest bedroom. He pulled Dean against him and drew a nipple into his mouth, making Dean’s head loll back in pleasure.
“Castiel,” he whispered. “I need you inside me. Please baby. It’s been so long.”
Castiel let the now hardened nipple go as he reached into his bag at the side of the bed and extracted the bottle of lubricant. He slicked his fingers up and slowly slid two of them into Dean’s clenching heat. Dean moaned beautifully as he thrust back onto his lover’s fingers, and Castiel committed the sounds to memory.
“I’m ready, Cas,” he husked.
Castiel slicked himself up before Dean moved forward and slowly sank down on him, gripping his shoulders as he began to lift himself off Castiel’s cock and then slide down again. He bit his lower lip as he moved, and Castiel watched his face attentively, letting the pleasure wash over him for now, and wipe away the images of his repulsive dream.
His hands slid down and he gently squeezed the supple flesh of Dean’s buttocks as he thrust up into him. He buried his face in Dean’s smooth chest and let himself just feel, because this would be the last time he would make love to this angel. This angel who had dared to hope would be his.
Dean arched beautifully as he came and dragged Castiel’s orgasm from him. For a moment they stayed like that, panting softly in the night, and Castiel wanted to stay here, inside of Dean, forever, but then it was broken as Dean moved off of him and lay back down. He looked into trusting green eyes and kissed flushed lips before he lay down as well, and watched Dean fall asleep again.
When he was sure that Dean would not stir, he got up and went to the bathroom where he wiped himself off, and then he went back into the bedroom and got dressed. He stood at the foot of the bed and stared at Dean, whose skin was illuminated in the moonlight, his face soft and young. Castiel wanted to break down and scream and cry, but he did not let those emotions mar the last time he would look at Dean. He would let this moment carry him through as he went to Lucifer, and let his father claim him in order to protect Dean.
He turned away and swallowed the sob that threatened to break free. He quietly made his way down the stairs and out of the house to his Mustang, which he pushed to the edge of the drive before he climbed in and drove away. He wondered if the sound of the engine had woken Dean, and then he let himself cry.
This chapter was difficult to write, but it was necessary. Thank you for reading.