Chapter Text
The world turned, bones broke, the sky fell, and the world turned again. It turned on warriors and cowards, heroes and villains alike, but this time it turned on someone who was perhaps a mix of the two. For if a man does great evil in the name of great good, what does that make him?
It had been two years since Purgatory, two years since a boy turned a world that wanted to spit him out upside down to find his angel, and still couldn't put the pieces of his own heart together long enough to understand it. Two years, two years that were two hundred and forty years for the angel at his side, ever watchful, ever waiting. Together they had faced the darkest sides of the world and of each other, but something else was moving in the darkness, moving towards them with ever growing certainty.
Well, this is getting a bit pretentious isn't it? Oh sure, I'm certain some stories begin with great claps of thunder and lightning and booming voices from the sky, and I could begin this story so many cliched ways.
Oh, it's about a boy and his angel. (Technically it's about three boys and their angels.)
It's about saving the world and stopping the Apocalypse.
It's about true love conquering all.
So frankly, it's about a lot of things, but it doesn't start with lightning striking, or an angelic chorus, or two lovestruck idiots staring at each other until they finally realize there is absolutely nothing keeping them apart but their own stupidity. It starts with something far more simple, far more basic, instinctual.
It starts with a sex dream.
--
The light pooled through the trees, dappling the ground softly and turning the forest into an estranged wonderland. He could hear the babbling of a brook nearby, the soft crunch of leaves that could be a deer…or a Wendigo.
“There are no such things here.”
Dean spun around before letting his shoulders drop, his racing heart slowing at the sudden sight of Castiel just behind him. His relief was mixed with something else, a strange something that made him feel like he was not only glad that it was just Castiel, but glad that it was Castiel here, with him. Where he should always and ever be. Of course, that wasn't what he could say, particularly since he could barely understand it himself.
“Dammit, Cas, can’t I have a single dream to myself? What do you want now?”
Castiel looked around, his piercing gaze taking in their surroundings, and Dean wondered what Castiel might think about something as simple as the woods. Did he know the exact age of every tree? Could he hear the lightning-quick step of the squirrels hundreds of feet about their heads?
“ I’d like to think that our relationship has progressed so that if I needed to speak with you, I would not have to invade your dreams.”
The lines in Dean's face became more pronounced as his frown deepened, looking closer at the Castiel before him, and he shook his head to draw himself out of his own reverie. He took a step back without thinking, force of habit. The angel still had a thing to learn about personal space, but for some reason, when he moved back, something urged him to close the space between him and Castiel. Like even those few inches were miles. Dean had to take a deep breath, looking down for a moment to gather his thoughts.
“So, you’re not in my dream? I’m having a dream about you?”
“It appears that way.”
Castiel's voice was soft, but he thought he heard a tinge of bitterness. Dean leaned forward, and Castiel simply looked right back at him. Though not facing him, Dean could feel the angel's piercing gaze on him, and wondered if the angel's eyes were always so blue, or if it was simply the dream.“Why would I have a dream about you?”
Castiel's sigh was loud in the early morning mist, the angel shifting uncomfortably, finally looking away. “I assure you, I do not know.”
“That helps,” Dean tossed up his hands, turning on the spot. He was supposed to be sleeping, getting a reprieve from the angel's constant stare, not this. “Don’t I get enough of you during the day? Sleep is for sleeping and dreaming about half-naked women…”
Castiel glanced up at him, something flashing in his eyes, then focused on the ground between them, and Dean watched as the angel clenched his jaw, stepping back. “I see.”
“No, Cas…” Dean sighed, he hadn't meant to hurt the guy's feelings. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
Castiel looked up at him and something crossed his face for a moment, too fleeting for Dean to read it and he found himself stepping closer to the angel, trying to see what Cas didn’t want him to see. That urge was back, drawing him to close the ground between them, that any space was too much, and then he didn't have to worry about giving in because Cas was kissing him and nothing else mattered. The angel's hands rose, cupping the back of his head, his fingers playing with the dark curls at the base of Dean's neck that he tried to keep cut short lest someone joke about their lack of masculinity, and Dean groaned as he felt the heat coming off his friend, searing, familiar, safe. Home.
Dean felt Cas push him back against a tree, his nimble hands already working at Dean’s belt and jeans. Dean felt his body responding before he could even work in a word of protest, why would he protest? This was Castiel, his Castiel, and this was where they belonged, pressed together, skin to skin. Cas was pushing his jeans and boxers down and Dean couldn’t stop himself from moaning against the angel’s lips.
"God, Cas..." he gasped when Castiel pulled away from his lips.
I’m sorry,” he heard Castiel whisper and then Castiel was kneeling before him, was he going to…?
“Dean, wake up!”
Dean bolted awake, nearly falling off the shabby bed in the process. Sam gave him a look of relief, his entire body relaxing as he offered Dean a shaky smile from across the room, the laptop’s glow the only light in the room. Beyond the curtains it was still dark, and Dean glanced curiously at his brother, trying to determine if he'd been to sleep at all. Sam had a bad habit of staying up all night when they were working. Sighing, Dean stretched, and reached across to turn on the bedside lamp. “What?” he asked groggily, wiping the thin line of drool from his chin.
“You were making weird noises. I thought you were having a nightmare.”
Probably not wrong. Dean sighed, turning over onto his back and staring up at the ceiling. Okay, he admitted it. It had been a while since he got some, but he was almost forty years old. Forty-year old guys did not have sex dreams about their best friends. Their male best friends. Their celestiel-wavelength-of-intent-in-a-male-vessel best friends. Just...no. Why now anyway? He and Cas had fought side by side for so long now, he couldn't imagine not having the angel there. They'd been alone, or mostly alone, together for a year in Purgatory, and not a single twitch.
“No…" Dean shook his head as he sat up. "Just a really weird dream.”
“Clowns or midgets?” Sam asked, his lips twitching in a quirky smile.
“Just...weirder.” Dean fought the urge to glare at his brother and instead walked over to the motel mini-fridge, grabbing a beer. “Find anything?”
“Yeah, actually.” Sam offered, turning back to the laptop. “Turns out there used to be schoolhouse on that hill outside of town. 30 kids plus the teacher burned down when some guys got drunk, locked them in, and set it on fire.”
Dean rubbed his face, unable to focus on what Sam was talking about with the images of his dream still fresh in his mind, unfazed. He tried, he really tried, but somehow the necessary information kept getting bogged down in blue eyes and a tan trenchcoat that fanned out behind him when he walked...like wings...Why…Castiel?
The mostly silent hotel room was suddenly full of the sound of flaring wings, and Sam looked away from his musing brother to see their own resident angel. Sam was personally glad to see him, after all the hell they'd been through for the past few years. Yeah, Castiel had broken his head some four years ago now, but Dean had pointed a gun at him too. Dean had kicked his ass while under the spell of a ghost coin, and he still loved his brother. Looking up fondly at Castiel, Sam smiled inwardly. He loved both of them.
“Hey Cas, what's up?” Sam smiled, wondering if Castiel would take the bait.
Dean inwardly groaned, struggling to keep his face schooled as he raised his head, spotting the angel his brother had just addressed standing across the room.
"The roof of this motel," Castiel said simply, lifting his head. "Which seems to be one good rainstorm from collapsing. Perhaps you should seek residence elsewhere."
Dean clenched his jaw, wishing that Castiel could just get it for once, completely missing the look of laughter that passed between his brother and the angel.
“Do you need something?” Castiel asked, his gaze drifting from Sam to Dean as if drawn there. Dean couldn't help but meet the angel's eyes when they were on him with such force, and he found himself comparing them to dream-Castiel's eyes. They were every bit as blue as they had been in his dream, perhaps bluer. Or maybe it was just the light.
Dean jumped when Sam spoke again and he looked over as Sam shook his head. “No, it’s turning into a typical ‘salt-and-burn.’ Why?”
“I thought I heard my name.”
Dean inwardly flinched as Sam looked at him, his eyes seeming to burn past the surface before slowly shaking his head. Dean took a deep breath and drained the rest of his beer.
“Yeah, that was me."
Castiel hadn't looked away from him, his brow furrowed, and Dean wondered if he could see just how awkward this was. That was, if the angel had any sense of what was awkward anymore. "I had this…really weird dream and you were there and…that wasn’t you, was it?”
“I would like to think our relationship has progressed to the point that if I needed to speak with you, I would not need to invade your dreams.”
Dean blinked, eyes widening briefly and his lips twitched in the beginnings of a smile. “Dream you said something really similar to that.”
“I assure you, it was not me.”
Dean nodded, laughing sheepishly. “I believe you. Just…if you get the urge, don’t.”
Castiel looked confused and for a moment, Dean thought he looked hurt, as if the idea that he would betray Dean’s trust like that was inconceivable. The same way he'd looked in his dream only moments before.
“No, Cas, I didn’t mean it like that.”
No, Cas…I didn’t mean it like that.
Castiel looked up at him and something crossed his face for a moment, too fleeting for Dean to read it and he found himself stepping closer to the angel, trying to see what Cas didn’t want him to see. Then Cas was kissing him and nothing else mattered...
Dean swallowed, willing the images away. Castiel and Sam were both looking at him strangely and Dean found himself caught in Castiel's stare. His stomach twinged just as it had in the dream, the same way it had so many times before, but now Dean recognized it for what it was. Some bizarre mix of arousal, want, and need to be closer to Castiel. It took a huge effort to pull his gaze from Castiel's, taking a deep breath to steady his nerves until the pull faded. “I’m, um, gonna check on the car.”
He slipped past Cas and headed out, the door slamming shut behind him. Cas had turned to watch him leave, his eyes sad. After a long moment, he blinked and looked to Sam.
“So I am not needed?”
“Not unless you want to help dig up a grave.”
"I can dig far more efficiently than either of you." Castiel murmured, touching Sam's shoulder.
"That's okay, Cas." Sam smiled, his tone teasing. "Dean could use the workout."
Sam turned partially, laying his hand over Castiel's. "Are you okay, Cas? You can stick around if you want, you don't have to keep bouncing around."
Castiel gently squeezed Sam's shoulder. "I feel like I must be available if any of my brothers and sisters need me. More and more are coming to Earth to escape the chaos in Heaven, and they come to me for guidance. Unfortunately, they are intimidated by the Righteous Man and the Boy King."
"'Boy King.'" Sam laughed, shaking his head. "I guess that's better than the Boy with the Demon Blood."
Castiel smiled at Sam, once again squeezing his shoulder fondly before stretching his wings, disappearing with a quiet goodbye, and Sam turned back to emailing Bobby.
Dean stood outside, leaning against the Impala. The cool metal was familiar, and he looked up at the sky. The brilliant blue was also familiar, the thrill of the road, the chase, the leather beneath his hands...all familiar. The taste of Castiel on his lips, the burn of his skin...that wasn't. He rubbed at his eyes. The dream hadn’t faded yet, it was still stark and clear in his mind. He could recall every detail, the feel of the trenchcoat under his hands as he tightened his grip, pulling Castiel into him. He shook his head, putting it out of his mind. It was just a weird dream, nothing else.
He was unaware that Castiel stood a few feet away, invisible to his human eyes. Castiel watched him torment himself over the dream, wishing he could catch more than the bare glimpses Dean’s psyche provided. He knew that Dean did not like it when he spied on his thoughts but Dean didn’t understand that trying to ignore a human’s thoughts, particularly one as emotional as he, was like trying to ignore a jet engine when standing directly next to one.
He wanted to say something, anything, but he couldn’t bear what Dean might say. Already Dean was putting it out of his mind, forgetting the idea, the possibility…
Castiel ran.
Across the world in an instant, Castiel found himself in the high peaks of the Himalayas, but he barely felt the cold. His tears froze on his cheeks as he shook, squeezing his eyes shut against the torrent of emotions pushing through him. How could any being bear this pain? To watch someone they love, to give everything for them, and to be dismissed so easily? He didn’t even know what Dean had dreamed about but that it had been about him and Dean did not want the dream to return.
Mate of mine...why do you isolate me?
--
Every night for the next couple weeks, Dean dreamed of Castiel. And not just of Castiel, he dreamed of having sex with him. It varied in time and place and…position…but it was always Castiel. The angel always looked at him so possessively that he felt if another one of his dream lovers might try to encroach, the angel would send them to perdition in a handbag. What bothered Dean wasn’t that he was now randomly having sex dreams about a certain angel, but that he was now starting to look forward to them. They made sense to him in ways that they shouldn't, and he longed...ached...for Castiel's touch. The angel's absence was more pronounced, the ache deeper than it ever had been before. It was as if his soul had gotten a taste of what it was missing and wanted more.
So every night, he’d crawl into bed or try to catch a few hours in the back of the Impala while Sam drove, and sure enough before the night was over, Castiel would ride him. Or he’d ride Castiel. Now those were really interesting dreams as he wondered how the hell his subconscious came up with the sensations he was feeling. Or was he just imagining what angel dick felt like? He'd wake with the taste of Castiel on his lips, the searing heat of him still burning into his skin, and one morning he woke with his boxers sticking to his skin, wet with his release.
The worst part was he had a growing feeling that Castiel knew what was going on. The angel usually stopped by to check in on them at least a couple times a week and now he hadn’t been back in almost two. Not since that first dream, and Dean wondered if Castiel was avoiding him. No, he knew Castiel was avoiding him, and now that he knew what that ache was, he knew the constant twisting of his stomach wasn't diner food.
“I’m worried about Castiel,” Sam said softly one afternoon, seeing he was awake. Dean had been napping after a fourteen-hour drive. Though it had been light when he closed his eyes, the road was dark, lit only by their headlights and Dean sat up, rubbing his eyes and shifted the jacket he'd been sleeping under to drift inconspicuously into his lap.
“Hm?”
“Cas. He hasn’t been by lately. That’s not like him.”
“He’s an angel, Sam. Maybe he has angel stuff to do.”
“Maybe we should call him. Just to make sure he’s okay.”
“And how is that going to look, calling him for no reason? What if he is busy?”
Sam sighed, wishing for once Dean could just let it go. “We went through this last time. Wouldn’t you rather know if something’s bothering him so that maybe we can help? Especially after all he’s done for us.”
Dean sighed, silently giving in to his brother’s logic. He was just nervous about facing the angel after the incessant dreams he’d been having.
“Sure. Whatever this job is, we’ll call him.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
--
Dear Castiel…we have a "bug" issue and we need…
Dean’s voice reached him in the wind and he sought them out through the folds and faces of the world, finding them at Bobby’s. He appeared in the center of the room before Dean had even finished his sentence. For a moment, Castiel tried to determine how much time had passed since he’d last seen the boys. At least a week, possibly more; he lost track of time so easily here on earth when an instant could last hours. He looked at Sam who was explaining something to him then Bobby spoke and none of it seemed important, because Dean interrupted them both.
“Dude…you’re covered in ice.”
Castiel looked down, the snow from his jacket melting into a puddle on the floor. “Yes, it was…cold…where I was.”
Dean looked confused and Sam sighed, shaking his head at his brother, before stepping forward, drawing Castiel's attention to him. “We could use your help, Cas.”
“Yes, of course,” Castiel agreed, not even sure to what he was agreeing. “What do you need me to do?”
Dean clapped him on the shoulder. “Kick door in. Kill monster.”
“Yes, of course.” Castiel nodded, smiling as Sam glared at his brother.
They’d spent the past few months picking off the last remaining demons that had come through the gate. He wondered how the boys would take the decrease in mortal peril, sliding back into the mundane jobs they’d started out doing. Like tonight, hunting down a mogget and her nest. A swarm of her young could easily kill the boys, but Castiel was immune to her poison. He didn't mind behind their shield. He preferred it, actually.
He rode in the backseat of the Impala quietly. Sam was discussing their plan. Attack from three fronts, burn it all down. Castiel would follow Outside, Sam was all business but on the inside, he was wondering the same thing Castiel was. What would they do when tracking down demons wasn’t so easy? When a demonic possession was the rarity, not the commonplace? He turned to Dean, wondering what he was thinking about the situation. He got a lot more than he expected.
Their naked bodies entwined, flesh against flesh, skin slick with sweat. He reached up, tangling his hands in black hair, pulling his lover down to his lips. He groaned softly, exploring his lover’s mouth with his tongue. His lover arched against him and he ran his hands over the firm, distinctly male chest…feeling the scars from the battle so long ago, so familiar…
“Castiel…”
Castiel was suddenly aware he was staring wide-eyed and open-mouthed at the back of Dean’s head. Dean shook his head, unaware of the attention, and continued driving.
Great, now Cas is back and I still don’t know why I keep dreaming about having sex with him. And great, now I’ve got a boner. Hope Sam doesn’t notice.
Castiel barely suppressed a whimper. Luckily, Sam was paying more attention to the road than his brother’s…new erection. But Dean…Dean was dreaming about him. Had been. Repeatedly. How long had he been gone? How often did Dean dream of him?
After all this time, all these years thinking it wouldn't, couldn't be...Dean wanted him.
The proof was in Dean himself and Castiel felt strangely giddy with relief. After all this time, all those years of hiding his affection for Dean, always fighting, always there…even if it was only sexual, for however short a time it lasted, there was a chance he could know what it was like to love Dean Winchester and be loved in return. There was hope, that if Dean gave in and loved him, their bond could be awoken.
These thoughts plagued Castiel as he walked through the nest, setting fire to the mogget's eggs with bored precision. After his first face to face encounter with Dean, he hadn't dared let himself dream. He hadn't dared, and yet...here he was.
After they’d burned down the mogget’s nest, Dean and Sam decided not to waste what they called a ‘beautiful summer night’ and sleep outside. They built a small fire a little ways away from the road, the Impala parked beneath a tree, and they sat around for a little while, roasting hot dogs over the open flame. Sam and Dean joked, telling stories to Cas about each other, more for each other than for him since he was paying little attention. He was more amazed at how in depth the human mind could be. Dean would be retelling something he and Sam did as children, but thinking about how he almost lost Sam to Lucifer. For Sam, it was the same. They relived their worst memories as they told their happiest, reveling in the fact that they were still together.
After a while, the stories died and they listened to the sound of the woods around them: soft crickets, the snap of a twig beneath a deer’s hoof, and the nearly silent flutter of wings in the night.
Well, he is kinda attractive in that rugged…soft…kind of way…his skin looks soft, kinda glow-y against the fire…
It took all Castiel had not to stiffen in sudden awareness that he was being “checked out” by Dean. He actually took a moment to verify that Sam was asleep and it was definitely not Sam’s thoughts he was hearing.
There are definitely worse angels I could have a crush on. Doesn’t make this any less weird.
Feeling strangely devious, Castiel sighed as if he were worn from the day and unaware that Dean was still awake. He pointedly didn’t look towards Dean but pulled off the tan overcoat, letting it slouch to the ground behind him. He slowly untied the blue tie and unbuttoned the top few buttons of his shirt. He gave a soft groan, rubbing the back of his neck as if sore and stretched his head to one side, letting his hand slip slowly, casually, down his chest.
….damn…
Castiel ‘casually’ noticed Dean watching him. “You can sleep, Dean. I will keep watch. No harm will come to you tonight.”
….right…
“Yeah, night, Cas.”
Cas resumed his silent watch of nothing as Dean rolled over, pulling his jacket over himself. Shortly, he fell asleep. Then the real fun began.
At first Dean’s dreams were as normal as they could be, fleeting instants of vague memories or conjured oddities and Castiel shadowed them all, hoping, daring for a glimpse of what Dean saw of him. Then he found himself looked at a copy of the very evening they had just finished. Himself, Sam, and Dean all curled up around the fire. He watched as Dean remembered the way he’d attempted a seductive pass, letting the coat slip from his shoulders, unbuttoning his shirt. He heard himself say again…
“You can sleep, Dean. I will keep watch. No harm will come to you tonight.”
But this time, Dean, or rather his dream self, got to his feet. “You should watch yourself, not me.”
Then Dean was pushing him to the ground, buttons popping as he tore the angel’s shirt open, kissing him roughly. Castiel saw himself respond in kind, pulling Dean’s shirt over his head, running his hands down Dean’s chest and Castiel was suddenly firmly aware that he was jealous…of himself. Dean was working on his belt and slid a hand down the front of dream Castiel’s pants and the real Castiel gave a petulant whimper.
Dean froze, looking off into the woods, down at Sam, then back out into the woods. Castiel jerked himself out of the dream as quickly as he could, in his haste he overcompensated for the physical return and ended up flat on his back, toppled over the log he’d been sitting on.
“Cas?” he heard Dean’s sleepy voice. “Cas, are you okay?”
Cas started to sit up then became aware that Dean was kneeling over him and he was suddenly rendered speechless. Dean seemed to have noticed the similarity between his dream and the now reality and they lay there, staring at one another.
I could kiss him. I could kiss him right now and no one would know. Well, except me. And him. And he’d probably smite me or something. But I could. Right now.
Castiel stared, trying not to look hopeful…or eager…or desperate. Do it, Dean. Do it. Kiss me. Kiss me please. Do it.
“Cas…”
“I am fine, Dean. You should rest.”
“Right…”
Dean looked at him, confused, before he went back to his side of the fire. Castiel was suddenly aware of how hard his heart was pounding.
--