The fall of grace

Supernatural fanfiction -- You're Never Alone (10/?)

2009-11-11T05:19:01Z

These chapters seem to get longer and longer, and harder and harder to write. On a side note, The Men Who Stare at Goats is a really great film. No, really.

Title: You're Never Alone (10/?)
Characters (Pairings): Dean/Castiel, Chuck, Lucifer, Sam
Ratings/Warnings: NC-17 for -- sexual content including hints non-con and (sort of)Wincest, and language.
Word Count: 3, 864
Summary: Sam deals with the fact that Lucifer will continue to pay him a nightly visit until he agrees to become his vessel.

Disclaimer: They're all Eric Kripke's. Sigh.

Chapter Ten: Devil in my Bed Tonight

The next morning, Dean woke up before Castiel, staring down at his lover’s peaceful face. He looked completely serene, a small smile on his lips, his arms tucked beneath his head.

“Cas, it’s morning,” Dean whispered, snaking his arms around Castiel’s still form. He pressed his lips to the back of the man’s neck, feeling a small stir beneath his touch. “You awake?”

Castiel didn’t respond, still fast asleep.

Dean smirked mischievously, moving his hand from the ex-angel’s stomach, traveling down and inside of his boxers.

Castiel moaned, waking up to the feel of a hand gently stroking his cock.

“Dean, it is too early,” he protested, his voice thick with sleep. “I am still tired.”

“I’m so horny right now, Cas,” Dean grumbled, rubbing himself against Castiel’s backside. “All of the dreams I had last night were about you.”

Castiel sighed, his body beginning to wake up at the sound of these words. He turned around, cupping Dean’s face and kissing him insistently.

Dean roamed his hands across Castiel’s torso, arms, back, finally grabbing ahold of his hips as Castiel flattened himself onto of Dean, tearing his lips abruptly away.

Castiel ran his hands along Dean’s bare legs, situating himself neatly between them.

“Dreamt about you fucking me,” Dean murmured, groaning softly when Castiel wrapped a firm hand around his erection. “Do you wanna fuck me, Cas?”

Castiel stared down at Dean through sleep-laden eyes; the hand clutching Dean’s thigh gave a slight twitch.

“Yes,” he answered, darting his tongue out to wet his chapped lips.

Dean sighed softly, grabbing the hand from his leg and sucking Castiel’s fingers into his mouth.

The dark-haired man groaned as Dean practically performed fellatio on his digits, sucking deeply, hollowing his cheeks, and feeling a small loss when he pulled off with a ‘pop.’

Castiel guided his hand downwards, pressing one of his spit-soaked fingers into Dean without any resistance.

“Mmm,” the hunter moaned softly as Castiel’s index finger slid in and out of his body. “Feels good.”

Castiel slipped a second finger in as Dean began rocking down into his hand. He bent down, leaving a trail of kisses against the hunter’s jaw.

“Want you inside me,” Dean breathed, clutching Castiel’s shoulders.

The former angel nodded against the side of Dean’s face, shoving his own boxers down and out of the way. He spat into his palm and coated his cock.

“Oh, fuck, yes,” Dean gasped as Castiel slid inside.

Castiel trembled slightly, still overwhelmed by the pleasure he got when making love to Dean. He still wasn’t used to the tight heat that engulfed him as he slid home, threatening to destroy the very fabric of his being.

Castiel set out at a slow, languid pace, moving gently at first.

“Fuck, Cas, please,” Dean moaned. “Please. Faster. Harder.”

Castiel grunted his assent, bending Dean’s leg back for better leverage as he sped up his movements, plunging more deeply in each time until Dean was keening, speaking nonsense, his prostate being hit with each consecutive thrust.

“Fuckfuckfucksogooddon’tstoppleasepleaseohpleasefuck,” Dean gasped, stringing his words together into a garbled mess as the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the air, his body shifting upwards a few inches every time Castiel’s hips collided with his. “Not enough, so good, want more.”

Castiel was panting furiously, slowing his movements before pulling out completely.

“Turn around,” he rasped, barely able to speak.

Dean dazedly got up on his hands and knees, feeling reassuring lips at his neck as Castiel’s dick re-entered him from this new position.

Dean groaned, gripping the sheets tightly beneath his grasp, shifting his lower body backwards every time Castiel ploughed forwards.

“Dean,” the dark-haired man gasped, pistoning roughly into his lover, desperate for release.

Dean arched his back, hissing as Castiel reached around and jerked him off to the impossibly fast rhythm of their fucking.

“So close,” Dean whimpered, his legs shaking as he spread them even further, driving himself backwards onto Castiel’s cock. He raised his own fist to his mouth to suppress his scream as his orgasm was ripped from him, shooting over Castiel’s hand and onto the bed.

Castiel leaned into Dean’s shoulder, feeling muscles clamp down around him. He gave one last, jerky thrust – subsequently knocking Dean onto the floor – and came all over the bedspread.

“Jesus,” Dean swore as he collided with the ground.

“I am so sorry!” Castiel gasped when he came down from his climax. He pulled his lover up by the arm. “I guess I got a little carried away...”

Dean smirked.

“A little, I guess,” he said, “but I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t worth it. Fuck, I don’t think I’m gonna be able to sit down for weeks.”

Castiel blushed.

“Hey, is everything okay in there?” Chuck called, knocking on the door. “I heard this loud bang and thought—“

“Shit,” Dean hissed, hastily pulling on his pants and indicating to Castiel that he should do the same. “Just a second!”

Dean hopped around on one foot, pulling his pant leg up. Seeing that Castiel was decent, he opened the door.

“Hey,” he said breathlessly.

Chuck stared past Dean into the room beyond; Castiel was sitting on the bed, smiling innocently.

“So...”

“Yeah,” Dean said. “I fell out of bed. You know, it happens.”

Chuck narrowed his eyes.

“Riiiight,” he sneered. “Don’t you remember what I said? No funny business or you’re sleeping in separate rooms.” He looked at Castiel.
“What really happened?”

Castiel shrugged nonchalantly, but his eyes were wide.

“He fell out of bed,” he lied.

Chuck considered this for a moment, wondering if Castiel would allow himself to lie to anyone without feeling so guilty as to admit that what he was saying wasn’t truthful.

“Okay,” Chuck said reluctantly, “but if it happens again--” He prodded Dean in the chest to punctuate his next words, “you’re sleeping with your brother.”

--------

Sam couldn’t bring himself to talk to Dean, couldn’t even look at him. Even if it had been a dream – and he prayed to whatever God would listen that it was – Lucifer had used his brother’s body to violate him in the worst way possible.

Sam had thrown up several times during the night, feeling so physically ill that he was forced to hover over the toilet bowl with a bad case of
dry heaves.

Rough hands scraping over his skin...

Sam closed his eyes, clutching his head. He’d never once had an impure thought about his brother. Dean meant the world to him, he loved him, but a single thought of that – had never crossed his mind.

Now, however, he’d never be able to forget about his legs being forced apart and being dry-fucked by Dean. Even if someone else resided in his brother’s body, the illusion was all too real.

“Hey, Sammy,” Dean said jovially, oblivious to his baby brother’s internal torment, clapping a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Where have you been hiding all day?”

Sam felt bile rise to the back of his throat at his brother’s touch, his voice ringing out in such a carefree manner that it bothered him.

“Um,” he said slowly, keeping his gaze downward and trying to breathe evenly, “here and there.”

“You okay?” Dean asked, opening a can of beer.

“Yeah, yeah,” Sam said, rising out of his chair. “I didn’t sleep well last night. That’s all.”

Dean drained half the beer’s contents in one gulp, wiping his mouth.

“Try to get an early night, huh?” he suggested. “You look like you could use it. You sure there’s nothing else bothering you?”

Sam clenched his jaw as Dean hovered next to him, close enough to smell the alcohol on his breath.

“I’m fine,” he managed to get out. “I’ll be in my room.”

Sam stomped upstairs, closing the door to his bedroom and breathing deeply.

It’s not his fault, he thought. You can’t be mad at him for something he didn’t do. You can’t avoid him like this.

Still, Sam couldn’t remove the images from his mind.

--------

“There is something wrong with your brother,” Castiel observed as he, Dean and Chuck were lined up on the couch that evening, watching television.

“You think so, too?” Dean said wistfully. “Has he said anything to either of you? He barely spoke to me earlier.”

Chuck shook his head.

“Seen it,” he sighed, changing the channel. “The blind guy trained his seeing-eye dog to kill his landlady.”

“Do you remember last night, when I thought I heard someone outside the door?” Castiel asked.

“Yeah, sure,” Dean answered, darting a sharp glance in Chuck’s direction as he caught an elbow in the ribcage. “Dude, maybe you should sit someplace else. Three’s a crowd, you know?”

“No way. Three’s Company!” Chuck grinned – and indeed, that’s what he’d decided to leave the channel on.

“Dean, this could be very important,” Castiel said, grabbing his arm.

“Okay, Cas, I’m sorry,” Dean replied. “Let’s leave Mr. Chuckles here to ogle Suzanne Somers.”

They went upstairs to their bedroom. Chuck’s laughter could still be heard through the vent leading down into the family room.

“What’s up?” Dean asked, flopping gracelessly onto the bed. He patted a place next to him for Castiel to join him, but the shorter man refused, looking troubled.

“I know I heard footsteps last night,” he said, his forehead creased with thought. “And a shadow...I saw a shadow underneath the door, indicating a presence.”

“But, Cas, there wasn’t—“

“And whoever it was, they were moving towards Sam’s room after retreating from just outside,” Castiel pressed on. “Please, Dean, I am not imagining this!” he continued as Dean looked at him sceptically. “Around two-thirty, I got up and went down the hall to the bathroom for a glass of water.”

“I didn’t hear you get up,” Dean murmured.

“That is not the point,” Castiel said, his voice tinged with minor annoyance. “When I was passing Sam’s room, the lights were on, and someone was talking. It did not sound like your brother.”

Dean blinked.

“So? Maybe Chuck was in there,” he suggested.

“It was not Chuck,” Castiel said worriedly, shaking his head. “It sounded like...”

Dean sat up, urging him on.

“But, that is not right,” Castiel sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“What? Who was it?” Dean questioned.

Castiel hesitated before replying, “Dean, it was you.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Dean asked, confusion overtaking him. “I was asleep, I never left the room.”

“I know,” Castiel said, knowing how he must sound, “but I heard your voice in there last night. Do you believe me?”

Dean paused.

“What was I saying?” he wondered.

“I could not make it out,” Castiel responded apologetically. He looked at Dean expectantly. “Do you believe me?”

“I don’t know, Cas,” Dean muttered. “It sounds all kinds of crazy. Wouldn’t Sam have mentioned any of this?”

“Well...no, I do not think so,” Castiel said, his expression becoming saddened. “Whatever you said in there...I came back into the room for awhile, thinking maybe I had imagined it; but then I heard some strange sounds. So, I got up and knocked on Sam’s door, and when I went in, your brother had been crying.”

“Why didn’t you say something?” Dean demanded.

“Say what?” Castiel retorted. “I just told you everything, and you continue to look at me as though I have just told you my eyes are brown, not blue.”

Dean rose, putting his arms around Castiel, who was wild-eyed and slightly hysterical.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, you’re right,” he murmured into Castiel’s dark hair. “We need to trust each other. But, I mean, you must know how fucking impossible this whole thing sounds, right?”

Castiel nodded minutely against Dean’s chest, his fingers gathering in the material of the hunter’s T-shirt.

“I promise you, everything I have told you is true,” Castiel whispered, gazing meaningfully into Dean’s eyes as he pulled away.

“I believe you,” Dean assured him. “I still don’t understand it, though. Do you think it was a demon? A shape-shifter?”

“A demon, yes, it had to have been,” Castiel answered. “For you to be fast asleep here, but also in Sam’s room, saying something that upset him horribly...it is not possible. You need to talk to Sam about it.”

“Yeah, but Sam won’t even look at me,” Dean grumbled. “How am I supposed to have a conversation with someone who wants to avoid me?”

“This house is small,” Castiel noted. “He can’t avoid you for very long.”

--------

“Why are you here?” Sam bit out through clenched teeth as Lucifer appeared in his room again that night.

“You know why I’m here, Sam,” Lucifer said, easily slipping into Dean’s form. “I’m going to keep coming back, every night, until you give me what I want.”

Sam trembled as he was flipped onto his stomach, pinned by an invisible source as Dean’s hands roughly scraped against the skin of his lower back.

“Please, don’t do this,” Sam breathed as his pants were wrenched down, his legs forced apart.

Lucifer leaned down, his breath hot against Sam’s ear. He unfastened the trademark leather belt and denim jeans that Dean always wore, lining himself up with Sam’s unprepared entrance.

The younger Winchester’s mouth dropped open in a silent scream as he was ripped apart, unable to move, unable to fight back.

Tears blurred Sam’s vision, and his head was wrenched violently backwards, forced to look into his brother’s cold, unfeeling eyes.

“Only you can make it stop.”

--------

Sam returned to his room after emptying his stomach contents for the third time. He buried himself under the covers, not budging at the sound of a knock at his door.

“Hey,” Dean said, letting himself in. “Can we talk?”

Sam sat up, careful to keep himself tightly hidden under the covers away from his brother’s gaze.

“What about?” he asked humourlessly.

“Well,” Dean sighed, leaning against the wall, “Cas seems to think I was in here last night, which is strange, since I strongly recall having many dreams about – that’s not the point. Was someone in here last night?”

Sam shook his head.

“Cas heard voices, said someone was talking to you,” Dean insisted. “He also said you were crying.”

Sam’s fingers were gripping the bed sheets tightly.

“Cas came in here last night, didn’t he?” Dean asked.

Sam nodded.

“What were you crying about, Sammy?” the older hunter inquired, his voice soft and patient.

“Dean, please...please, I can’t,” Sam choked out, wiping his cheek as a single tear rolled down it.

Dean sat down next to his brother, folding him into his arms.

“Get off me,” Sam whispered, feeling sick. “Dean, get off.”

Dean let go, watching as his brother struggled to keep his composure.

“What’s wrong with you?” the older man asked, reaching out to push back the hair that had plastered itself against Sam’s cheek.

“DON’T touch me,” Sam snapped, pulling away. “Promise me you won’t touch me.”

Dean, baffled, held his hands up in surrender.

“I promise,” he said. “Sammy, what the hell’s going on?”

“If I tell you...if I show you...will you leave?” Sam asked pleadingly, his hands shaking.

Dean hesitated, but ultimately agreed.

“He showed up again in my dreams...Lucifer,” Sam whispered, practically spitting out the name. “Last night and tonight. And tomorrow night, and the night after that, and as many nights as it takes before I cave in.”

“Sam, don’t say that,” Dean assured him. “It hasn’t happened yet. You don’t have to say yes.”

Sam laughed, a sob escaping him. He met his brother’s eyes for the first time all day.

“I’m not so sure I can hold out, Dean,” he said, more tears rolling down his face. He pulled back the covers, yanking up his shirt several inches and pushing his waistband down, revealing bruises on his ribs and hips.

“Jesus, what--?”

“There’s more, but I’m sure as hell not showing you,” Sam said scathingly, pulling his clothing firmly back into place, settling himself once more under the covers. “He raped me. Twice.”

“Oh, God, Sam,” Dean gasped, his insides churning with hate.

“That’s not the worst part,” Sam whispered, taking a deep, shuddering breath. “He made himself look like you when he did it.”

Dean buried his head in his hands.

“Fuck, no wonder you don’t want me near you,” he grunted, his face contorting with disgust. “That’s fucking sick. Sammy, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Sam replied. “I know it wasn’t you...but I can’t bring myself to be around you just yet. I want you to leave.”

“Sam—“

“Please.”

Dean nodded, only pausing when his hand was on the doorknob.

“Can I just ask one thing?” he questioned.

“...Yes,” Sam answered after a brief pause.

“If you were dreaming, how did you get the bruises?” Dean asked. “How was Castiel able to hear...me...in here?”

“Dean, it’s Lucifer,” Sam said. “He’s powerful enough that anything he does to me in a dream, he’ll make certain it makes an impression on me when I’m awake. As for Castiel...he used to be an angel. It really doesn’t surprise me that he still has extra-sensory perception.”

Dean nodded.

“I guess that makes sense,” he said, “smartass. Mr. ‘I flunked out of college but I’ve still got a theory for everything.’ What, no smile? Come on. I know times are tough, but you’ve gotta lighten the mood somehow.”

Sam turned over on his side.

“Shut the door on your way out.”

--------

Castiel was lying down on the bed, looking at one of Chuck’s magazines (upside-down) when Dean came back into the room.

“Is that what I think it is?” Dean asked, gawking at the cover of the skin rag in his boyfriend’s hands.

“Yes, and it is horribly distasteful,” Castiel remarked, flipping the pages the right way up. “Chuck seems to have a lot of them lying about. I was curious, so I decided to have a look.”

“And?” Dean pressed, chewing his lip as Castiel shoved his nose right up into the pages, an odd expression on his face.

“And nothing,” Castiel responded simply. “If you are asking whether it has elicited a physical reaction within me, the answer is quite plainly no.”

Dean took the magazine from Castiel, placing it on the bedside table.

“Well, now we know you’re not bi-curious,” he smirked.

“Bi-curious?” Castiel asked, his face etched with bewilderment. “This is the first time I am hearing this word.”

“Ah, well...it doesn’t matter,” Dean said. “I talked to Sam.”

“Yes, and what did he say?” Castiel wanted to know.

Dean squirmed.

“Truthfully, I’m not so sure he’d want me telling you,” he murmured uncomfortably. “All I can tell you is that Lucifer has found a way to get to him through his dreams.”

“That would explain why I could sense a presence,” Castiel said, thinking aloud. “I developed heightened senses when I was an angel; so sensitive, were they, that I do not think they have completely left me.”

“Will he be able to find Sam?” Dean asked.

Castiel cocked his head, considering this.

“He is not at his full power, and in fact, he never will be unless he takes over Sam’s body,” he answered. “However, tracking someone down should not prove too difficult for Lucifer. Yes, he will find a way to make it here.”

“Shit,” Dean breathed. “I mean, I kind of figured so, but still...shit. Is there anything we can do? Sam, he’s...he’s not going to be able to say no forever. If you knew what Lucifer was doing, you’d understand.”

“Then tell me, please,” Castiel said softly, laying a hand on Dean’s arm.

“You heard me in there last night,” Dean said. “Lucifer, he took on my appearance, my voice...and he...”

Castiel gave Dean’s arm a reassuring squeeze.

“Fuck, he raped Sam,” the hunter rasped, his jaw clenched. “He raped my little brother! And I didn’t stop it. Shit, I was even involved, wasn’t I?”

“Dean, no, no, you were not,” Castiel soothed. “You had no part in it. Even if he did look like you, this was all Lucifer’s doing – not yours.”

“I wish I could believe that,” Dean mumbled, “I do. But Sam can’t stand to look at me, he won’t even let me touch him. I don’t know that he’ll ever be able to think of me the same way ever again, because right now, Sam doesn’t see me as a brother – he sees me as a monster.”

Dean hung his head in his hands.

“Dean, look at me,” Castiel said, kneeling beside his lover, trying to catch his line of sight.

Dean wearily looked up, his eyes red and watery.

“This is all part of Lucifer’s plan,” Castiel said. “By...by molesting Sam, he is driving him away from you. This is exactly what he wants. He will keep tormenting your brother until he can take it no longer, and Sam retreats, once again alone. He is an even easier target that way. You cannot let that happen.”

“But how do I keep Lucifer from invading Sam’s dreams?” Dean asked. “I don’t think a simple dream catcher will do the trick.”

Castiel bit his lip.

“There was a spell...a barrier spell,” he recalled. “It was created a long time ago by the angels. As you probably already know, we – they – are always watching. Some time ago, the angels began to notice an unusually high number of people being visited by a Dream Thief.”

“A Dream Thief?” Dean inquired. “I’ve read about them, but since there was never substantial enough evidence to support the theory, I always just assumed they were a legend.”

“No, they are quite real,” Castiel insisted. “Humans cannot see them, which is why they remain a legend. From Heaven, they look like tiny black spores which burrow themselves into any facial orifice. Once they crawl inside the head, they become almost worm-like. They shut down the sensors of the brain which control the ability to dream.

“As this pattern continued, we came up with a barrier spell to protect that area of the brain during slumber,” Castiel continued. “Think of it, if you will, as an on/off switch – we disconnected the circuit which could turn it into the ‘off’ position. As soon as you start to dream, you will stay in that dream, unbothered and unharmed, until you awaken.”

“So you dream the same thing all night long?” Dean asked. “Well, number one – that’s extremely boring. But number two – what if Lucifer is already in Sam’s head by the time his first dream rolls around? He’ll be stuck, getting fucked by the devil until he wakes up.”

“If you are trying to find someone to invade their slumber,” Castiel said, “said person must already be asleep. You begin to dream within one minute of falling asleep, whether you think it starts that early or not. By the time Lucifer gets to Sam, the barrier will already be activated.”
Dean nodded, trying to conceal his puzzlement.

“How does the spell work?” he asked.

Castiel grimaced.

“That is the hard part,” he sighed. “You need an angel.”

End of Chapter Ten.

Supernatural fanfiction -- You're Never Alone (9/?)

2009-11-05T06:17:29Z

It's been awhile, I know. I didn't forget about you! I'm sorry to say that I'm unsure of when the next one will be up (I haven't even started writing it yet, but rest assured, the wheels are turning), as I'm just so damn busy these days. Let's hope this tides you over, in the meantime.

Title: You're Never Alone (9/?)
Characters (Pairings): Dean/Castiel, Chuck, Lucifer, Sam
Ratings/Warnings: NC-17 for -- sexual content including hints at non-con and Wincest; language and OMG TEH FLUFF AND DARKNESS IN THE SAME CHAPTER!!!1 Mild spoilers for any and all of season five, just in case.
Word Count: 3, 614
Summary: Dean tells Sam about his relationship with Castiel.

Disclaimer: They're all Eric Kripke's. Sigh.

Chapter Nine: When Things go Bump (in the night)

Dean had Chuck drive him back to the hotel he and Castiel has most recently been staying at, so he could pick up the Impala.

“So, you’re meeting Sam in awhile?” Chuck asked conversationally when they pulled into the parking lot.

“Yep,” Dean said. “We’re gonna have a nice, long, brotherly chat. And while I’m gone, I want you to take this—“ He pulled a credit card out of his wallet and passed it through the window, “and go with Cas to buy him some clothes. He’s been mooching off of me ever since he became human, and to be honest—“

“They don’t really fit well,” Chuck interceded, pocketing the card. He leaned his head out the window to continue talking. “I’m on it! Don’t worry about a thing, because I have a sister, and she used to take me shopping when we were younger, so I’ve kinda got this knack—“

“Okay, I get it,” Dean said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Just don’t let him buy anything ridiculous.”

“I’m on it!” Chuck repeated with an enthusiastic salute. “TTFN!”

Dean shook his head, a smirk on his face as Chuck’s car retreated onto the highway. He fumbled with his keys before following suit, driving anxiously towards the spot he and Sam had chosen as a meeting spot.

--------

It was one of those coffee shops that would let you sit there and do whatever you wanted, even if you didn’t order anything. Many people went there with their laptops, pretending to be writing The Great American Novel, when in actuality, it was for show and they severely lacked any originality or inspiration.

When Dean walked in, Sam was already there, sitting in a corner, quietly stirring his coffee with a spoon. He didn’t look up until a shadow cast directly over him.

“Hey,” Sam said, rising to give his brother an awkward hug. “I’m glad you called. Sit.” He indicated the seat on the opposite side of the table.

“I’m sorry about what happened the last time we spoke,” Dean apologized, recalling the phone conversation they’d had the night after Sam had skipped town. “I do need you in my life. I didn’t mean it when I said we were weaker as a team.”

“I know, Dean. It’s okay,” Sam said reassuringly. “We’re brothers – we fight! And I’ll be damned if we don’t get sick of each other, after all, we spend so much time together. Sometimes it gets to be too much.”

Dean laughed drily.

“Got that straight,” he agreed, “but listen, I really want you to come back. It’ll be good...for both of us.”

Sam paused, staring at Dean thoughtfully.

“Of course,” he stated with a nod. “Tell me, though, what is it that you wanted to talk to me about? It sounded pretty important.”

“Wow, where to begin...” Dean fidgeted, drumming his fingers against the table top. “Well, for starters, Zachariah sent me to the year 2014. That was a riot and a half.”

“He did?” Sam said, his forehead creasing. “What happened?”

Dean let out a low whistle.

“The Croatoan virus,” he answered. “Nearly everyone was either wiped out, or they were infected. I was at a sort of quarantined camp along with Cas and Chuck. We were fighting them off.”

Dean slowly looked up at his brother, waiting for the question to be asked.

“What about me?” Sam inquired, much to his brother’s expectation.

“Oh, you were there, too,” Dean said. “You weren’t really yourself, though.”

Sam looked perplexed.

“Apparently you just couldn’t say no,” Dean continued cryptically. “Are you catching on now?”

Sam’s expression hardened, becoming serious.

“Dean, you mean—“

“That’s right,” Dean confirmed gravely. “You were just another meat sack, carrying Lucifer around inside of you as his convenience. Oh, and did I mention that in the future, you kill me? Well, sure, it’s not you—but close enough.”

Sam bit his lip, his hands clenched so tightly the knuckles were turning white.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to even say right now, except for that. Dean...what am I going to do?”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” Dean said, “but right now, I’m relying heavily on what Chuck sees. Scary, isn’t it?”

“Hm, yeah, but so far the only thing we’ve got to go by is his vision of Castiel trying to persuade an Archangel to help,” Sam mused. “That doesn’t give us a lot to work with.”

Dean sighed, rubbing his eyes wearily.

“I don’t know what else to do,” he admitted. “I’ve got no other plan right now.”

Sam nodded sadly.

“You know I would never agree to become Lucifer’s vessel if there were any other way,” he said. “He must force me into it somehow. It’s not something I want to do. I don’t even know why I’ll do it.”

“I dunno, Sam,” Dean murmured, shifting around as his phone vibrated.

1 text message received – 10:47AM:

“Dean, don’t forget to tell him about us. – Castiel”

Dean turned his phone off, thinking of the best way to discuss the matter at hand.

“Is something wrong?” Sam asked, as his brother tucked the phone away again.

“No, nothing’s wrong,” Dean answered. “There’s something else I need to tell you...it’s not really easy.”

“Honestly, Dean,” Sam sighed, “I’ve already found out that I’m going to be host to the devil and then kill my older brother. Anything you tell me now will be music to my ears.”

Dean was biting the inside of his cheek, his eyes dark and serious.

“There’s something...I’ve discovered a lot about myself lately,” he said slowly. “I don’t know if you noticed, but I’ve sort of...been taking care of Castiel, as he’s new to this whole human thing and he needs to be around someone he can trust, who can guide him. Being around him has, well, taught me a lot.”

“Okay, I’m not quite sure what you’re getting at, but continue,” Sam urged.

Dean scratched the back of his head.

“Something’s happened recently, something I never expected,” he said. Just say it. “I took Castiel back to the hotel room one night, and he’d been drinking...he came onto me. That night, he made me realize how much I’d been missing from my life. Sam, I’m....I’m gay.”

Sam’s expression was hard to read.

“Cas and I...we’re together,” Dean said softly. He waited nervously for a response. “Please, say something, Sam.”

“What?”

“What do you mean, what?” Dean said incredulously. “I’m gay. With Cas.”

“No, I heard you the first time,” Sam said sharply. He didn’t say anything for awhile.

“Sammy...please, say something.”

“Okay,” Sam uttered.

“Okay?”

“Yeah, okay.” Sam shrugged. He laughed softly, leaning forward across the table. “You know, I caught you getting a handjob from Mike Fisher on my fourteenth birthday. I went into the hall closet, looking for more birthday candles for the cake, and I saw you two.”

Dean blushed furiously.

“Seriously, dude, you saw that?” he asked embarrassedly.

“Oh, sure,” Sam replied with a satisfied smirk, “not to mention the time you borrowed my computer for ‘research.’ Well, see, you forgot to delete the internet history when you gave it back to me. I looked and it was full of gay porn sites. That was some research you were doing!”

Dean groaned, hiding his face.

“Maybe we shouldn’t talk about this in here,” he suggested.

“Sure,” Sam said. “Wanna go outside?”

--------

Chuck waited impatiently in a chair outside of the dressing room as Castiel tried on some clothing.

“What’s taking so long?” he barked, checking his watch for the umpteenth time.

“I am almost done,” Castiel called back.

He stood in front of the full-length mirror, gazing at his reflection.

Would Dean like me in this? he wondered.

Castiel was trying on a tight-fitting pair of jeans with a bright red graphic tee, which was snug enough to highlight the definition of his softly-sculpted muscles.

Castiel walked out of the room to get Chuck’s opinion.

“How do I look?” he asked, holding his arms out slightly.

Chuck tilted his head, examining the ensemble critically.

“Honestly?” he asked.

Castiel nodded.

“Well, I think that if anyone out there was still questioning whether you were straight or not, they’d know the answer by looking at you now,” Chuck giggled.

“Oh,” Castiel said. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“It depends on who you ask,” Chuck answered, “but I think it works for you. You already have a kind of effeminate look.”

Castiel frowned.

“I do?”

“Well, sure,” Chuck said. “Rarely ever will a guy have eyes as big or as bright as yours; you’ve got really long eyelashes; you’ve got full lips; you know...you’re just kind of, I don’t know...pretty?”

Castiel looked taken aback.

“Thank you?” It came out as a sort of question, as he was unsure of what to make of Chuck’s words.

“Anytime,” Chuck grinned. “Now, get back in there. You need to try on some underwear, too; maybe get something a little sexier for when Dean plans on getting you undressed, huh?”

Chuck winked.

--------

“So you pretty much knew I was gay before I did,” Dean said, leaning against the hood of the Impala.

“Pretty much,” Sam confirmed, kicking a stone with the toe of his shoe. “So, you and Castiel, huh?”

“Yep,” Dean sighed wistfully.

“How long’s that been going on for?” Sam asked.

“I dunno,” Dean thought, “about a month, I guess. Give or take a week.”

“Have you guys, you know...?” Sam winked obscenely.

Dean cleared his throat.

“That’s not really any of your business,” he stated.

“Ha! Since when are you defensive about your sex life?” Sam snorted. “You always loved to brag about it and now suddenly you’re choosing to keep quiet?”

“It’s different with him,” Dean remarked softly, shuffling his feet. “We’re...in love.”

Sam nearly choked, clutching his chest and holding onto Dean as if he’d just broken the most startling news of all.

“Love?” Sam gasped. “My brother is in love? I didn’t even know you had a heart.”

Dean smiled, not even caring that his little brother was mocking him.

--------

Sam was going to be sleeping in Chuck’s room and Chuck agreed to sleep on the downstairs sofa, since that’s where he spent the
majority of his time sleeping anyway.

“So, you told Sam about us?” Castiel asked that night, modeling his new clothes for Dean.

“Yeah, it’s all done and taken care of,” Dean assured him. He was propped up on his side, silently thanking the designer of Castiel’s new clothing – hardly any of them left a whole lot to the imagination, they were so tight.

“Jeans are very incommodious,” Castiel grumbled, wiggling uncomfortably.

“But they look so good on you,” Dean said with a slight purr. “C’mere, I wanna have a look at what’s underneath.”

Castiel smiled, crawling on top of Dean.

“I need to make sure you bought, ahem...suitable underwear, to go along with everything else,” Dean said suggestively, tugging at Castiel’s zipper.

The dark-haired man wriggled out of the confining denim, revealing himself to be wearing equally tight – and rather small – boxer briefs, in a black satin material.

“Do they meet with your approval?” Castiel asked innocently, pressing his palms flat against Dean’s chest.

Dean slid his hands up Castiel’s bare legs, until they were resting comfortably on his hips.

“Well, I was sort of hoping for something a bit more see-through,” the hunter sighed, “but I suppose they’ll do.”

Castiel flashed a brilliant smile, ducking his head, bringing their lips together.

Dean softly caressed his lover’s slim hips, feeling a hardness digging into the crook of his thigh. He immediately parted his lips when he felt the press of Castiel’s tongue at the seam of his mouth.

Their tongues urgently slid along one another and Dean moaned when Castiel’s hand lifted his shirt, dragging his dull nails across his bare stomach.

Dean broke their connection just long enough to slip his shirt over his head, pulling Castiel back down for another kiss.

“Dean, wait,” Castiel murmured when Dean’s lips were centimetres from his own. “I want...”

“What?” the hunter asked softly, sensing his lover’s hesitance. “Cas, tell me what you want. It’s okay.”

Castiel’s eyes were closed, his face flushed.

“I want,” he repeated, his breathing heavy, “to watch you.”

Dean thought he had a pretty good idea of what Castiel meant, but figured he’d better ask anyway.

“You wanna watch me touch myself, Cas?” Dean clarified.

Castiel nodded minutely.

“Is that weird?” he asked. “I do not want you to do it if it is weird.”

Dean ran his hands reassuringly over Castiel’s arms and back.

“It’s not weird,” he said. “You’re feeling ashamed again, aren’t you?”

Castiel bit his lip, not meeting Dean’s eyes.

“I should not want you to do this for me,” he whispered. “I am not supposed to...I crave many things of you, Dean, and it scares me that I should want these things so badly. I never told you this before, but...”

Dean shifted to a sitting position with Castiel on his lap.

“You can tell me,” he soothed. “You can tell me anything.”

“Please, do not be mad, but...” Castiel glanced around nervously, finally picking a spot in the corner of the room where the wallpaper was peeling away. “I have watched you before, at night when you were alone...and you did...private things, under the sheets. I watched, and for that I apologize.”

“Oh,” Dean said. “You watched me jerk off? That’s not a very...angelic thing to do.”

“Part of the reason I was punished, I am sure,” Castiel said scornfully. “Are you mad?”

“No,” Dean replied with a shrug. “I mean, you should have let me know you were there. I’d have given you a better view.”

Castiel blushed, skimming his fingertips across Dean’s torso.

“I saw plenty,” he said, a small twinkle in his eye.

Dean guided Castiel’s hands away from his body. He motioned for his lover to sit aside so he could take off his pants and boxers, flinging them off the bed.

Dean sat naked against the cushions, his fingers twitching with eagerness.

Castiel was kneeling by his feet, licking his lips as his eyes followed the slow movement of Dean’s right hand, which trailed lightly over his chest.

Dean shuddered, partly at his own touch when his fingers lightly grazed his nipple, partly because Castiel’s expression as he looked up into his eyes was one of pure lust.

Dean held Castiel’s intensely blue gaze as his hand began to travel lower, teasing the small golden hairs that dusted ever-so-lightly beneath his navel, marking a path to his already-hard cock.

“Watch,” Dean breathed as he grasped himself firmly, stroking the length of his shaft in fluid motions.

Castiel’s eyes immediately obeyed, following the movement of Dean’s hand – up, down, up down, up down. He felt a pang of desire shoot through him.

“Mmm,” Dean moaned, his eyes falling shut. He spread his legs further, guiding his other hand down to fondle his balls.

Castiel’s breathing was speeding up, his own erection straining against the material of his boxer briefs as he willed his eyes to keep up with each nuance of Dean’s arousal; the way his lower back arched; the flick of his wrist on every upward movement; his toes curling and uncurling; his chest rising and falling more and more rapidly.

Dean raised his left hand to his mouth, sucking two fingers deeply inside before pressing them against his entrance.

“Oh, shit,” Dean gasped as he thrust his fingers inside. “Picturing it’s you, Cas...so good.”

Castiel moaned, watching Dean’s hips thrust upward into the hand stroking his cock, and downward into the fingers straining to go deeper inside.

“Fuck, too soon...gonna come,” Dean grunted, his movements becoming erratic.

Castiel’s hands clenched in the hem of his t-shirt, biting down on his lower lip.

Dean came with a muffled cry, turning his head into the pillows in time to silence himself. His leg muscles shook from the strained position he’d kept them in.

“Fuck.” Dean gasped for breath, trying to ignore the stickiness he felt covering his abdomen.

Castiel tentatively bent down and started lapping at Dean’s cum, causing the other man to jump slightly.

“Jesus, Cas,” he groaned, becoming suddenly aware that Castiel was still painfully hard. “Let me take care of you.”

Castiel finished what he was doing and shrugged.

“It will go away,” he said embarrassedly. “Do not feel obligated to do anything.”

“Please, Cas,” Dean silenced, dragging his lover up alongside him. “You need to get off. What do you want?”

“You have already given me what I want,” Castiel argued.

Dean pressed his hand firmly against the bulge in Castiel’s boxers.

“What do you want?” he repeated.

Castiel moaned softly.

“Just like this,” he murmured, pressing himself against Dean’s body in a wanton gesture.

The hunter held Castiel close, knowing he wouldn't last long, and dipped his hand inside of his boxers for skin-on-skin contact.

Castiel undulated into Dean’s hand, moaning into his shoulder.

Dean tilted his lover’s head upwards, leaning forward to nip at his jaw as his palm slid effortlessly against Castiel’s dick, which was dripping with pre-come.

“Dean!” Castiel hissed, clenching his eyes hut and pumping his hips forward jerkily as he came hard.

Dean tucked Castiel back inside of his boxers, resting their foreheads together as the former angel’s breathing started to return to normal.

“Thank you,” Castiel murmured, cupping Dean’s cheek.

"Did I mention I really like your new clothes?” Dean grinned.

“Really?” Castiel asked, mildly amused. “You seem to like me better when I am wearing very little.”

“That, too,” Dean conceded, tangling his legs around his lover’s as he pressed a kiss to the former angel’s full lips.

“Dean, wait,” Castiel hissed, pulling away as he heard the sound of someone creeping right outside the door. “I think there is someone there.”

“I don’t hear anything, Cas,” Dean said. “This house probably creaks, that’s all.”

Castiel looked over his shoulder and saw a shadow pass beneath the door.

“Someone was there.”

“Cas,” Dean said, seeing and hearing nothing, “there’s no one there. It’s okay.”

Castiel waited for more signs that someone was listening, but there were none. He relaxed down against Dean’s body.

--------

Chuck was seeing himself. He’d never had a vision of himself – only of Sam and Dean (and that one about Castiel, but that was only because the angels wanted him to see it).

Chuck looked through the normal haziness that clouded his visions, watching himself as he laid on the floor, surrounded by angels.

“That which we gave you,” one of the angels spoke, “we can take away.”

His other self was clearly frightened, staring up at the powerful beings.

“I don’t understand what I did wrong!” he cried. “Tell me, say it, and maybe...maybe I’ll see this and have a chance to fix it.”

“How naively hopeful of you,” another angel laughed mirthfully. “It cannot be stopped! You will kill him, and we will have no use for your silly visions any longer.”

“But I’m not a killer!” Chuck yelled as he woke up, drenched in sweat. “I’m not a killer.”

--------

“You were hard to find.”

Lucifer, in Nick’s body, hovered over Sam, who immediately opened his eyes upon hearing the sound of a voice right next to his ear.

“Did you miss me? Oh, silly question,” Lucifer chuckled, leaning his weight on top of Sam’s.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Sam gasped as he was pressed into the mattress by cold hands.

“I realized that last time, all we did was talk,” Lucifer said, his breath ghosting over Sam’s face. “As a sort of...relationship builder, I thought we’d have a bit of fun this time round.”

Sam’s entire body was tense, twisting his face away as Lucifer lowered Nick’s mouth.

“What’s the matter, Sam?” he asked, offended. “This form not doing it for you? Alright, how about this?”

On that last word, golden curls grazed Sam’s cheek and the scent of Jess’ perfume tickled his nose.

“You’re even more demented than I thought,” Sam snarled, the weight of Jessica’s body seeming impossibly heavy.

“Still no good?” Lucifer pouted. “I’m trying to cement a bond between us, Sam. Let’s try this again.”

Sam froze in his struggle to get away, as a male voice uttered that last word. He reluctantly turned his head and found himself staring into an overly-familiar pair of green eyes.

“Hmm,” Lucifer hummed. “Is this better? Wanna try and keep it in the family, Sammy?”

Sam threw his brother’s weight off of him.

“Fuck you,” he breathed, volatile. “Fuck you. You know that’s not true. He’s my brother. I would never--”

“Could be just another reason why you’re the perfect candidate to be my vessel,” Dean’s voice said. “The more sinful your thoughts, the better. Come on, Sammy, tell your big brother all about your hidden desires!”

Sam was shaking as his brother’s hands pinned him to the wall, his face pressed against the cracked and peeling wallpaper.

“It’s not fucking true!” he gasped. “You know it’s not true, you sick fuck!”

Sam flailed uselessly.

“Just making sure,” Lucifer said, “because you know, Sam, that’s incest. Angels don’t approve of such sinful acts.”

“He’s only my brother!” Sam insisted, feeling rough hands at the skin of his lower back. “And you’re no angel.”

“Just the same,” Dean’s voice hummed warmly against his ear, “I’m going to make sure the thought never crosses your mind.”

The last thing Sam remembered was his brother’s body pressing against him before he woke up, crying hysterically.

End of Chapter Nine.

Supernatural fanfiction -- You're Never Alone (8/?)

2009-10-22T06:11:08Z

This one's a bit longer, which gives you more time to enjoy it. ;]

Title: You're Never Alone (8/?)
Characters (Pairings): Dean/Castiel, Chuck, Sam, Zachariah
Ratings/Warnings: R for -- language, drugs, and just the overall theme (there's nothing to really laugh at here, sowwie). SEASON FIVE SPOILERS! This is essentially a different version of episode 5.04.
Word Count: 3, 548
Summary: Dean really doesn't like how things have changed.

Disclaimer: They're all Eric Kripke's. Sigh.

Chapter Eight: The Future Changes ~~People/Places/Things~~ Everything

“Dean?”

Castiel suddenly found himself alone in bed a few nights later. He and Dean had been spooning when, quite out of the blue, Dean was gone.

“Zachariah, what have you done?” Castiel murmured nervously, slumping back against the cushions.

--------

2014

“Sorry about the handcuffs,” future Dean said, “but let’s be honest, it looks a little weird.”

2009 Dean writhed against the confines of the metal digging into his skin.

“You can let me go,” he said.

“Sorry. Protocol and all,” Dean’s future self responded with a shrug. “I have some stuff that needs taking care of. Don’t you go wandering off on me – you just sit tight. Ha!”

Present Dean groaned, thinking, Am I really that lame?

Dean managed to loosen the cuffs enough to escape and make his way out of the small building he was being held in. He rubbed his wrists as he observed his surroundings.

A shorter, scruffy-looking man walked past, whistling unassumingly.

“Chuck?” Dean said, doing a double take. “Dude, your hair is so much shorter...and your eyes...they’re not as bloodshot.”

Chuck stared at Dean with obfuscation.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, sure,” Dean responded. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because you’re talking as though we haven’t seen each other every day for the past four years,” Chuck stated.

“Oh, you think I’m--? I mean,” Dean fumbled, “rough night. Think I mighta hit my head.”

Chuck laughed as though the other man had just finished telling the funniest joke he’d ever heard.

“It wouldn’t surprise me if you had,” Chuck cried out in amusement. “What with the noise coming from your guys’ cabin last night, I’d say you had plenty of chances to hit your head.”

Dean shifted uncomfortably.

“Noise? I was making noise?” he wondered.

“Well, it was either you or Cas, sometimes it’s hard to tell.” Chuck said conspiratorially, nudging Dean in the arm.

“Cas? He’s here?” Dean said, eyes wide. And we’re still together? “Where is he?”

“Well, let me think...” Chuck tilted his head and pondered for a moment. “This is his meditation hour, if my memory serves correctly.”

Meditation?

“Oh, right, right, meditation,” Dean nodded knowingly, sparing a glance down at the ground in befuddlement. “Thanks.”

Chuck nodded and turned to leave.

“Say, Chuck—“

“Yeah?”

Chuck halted, pivoting in his movements and giving Dean his full attention.

“Don’t suppose you’ve seen anything interesting lately?” the hunter asked.

“Seen anything?” Chuck repeated, crossing his arms over his chest. “Like what? How do you mean?”

“Seriously, dude? Your visions,” Dean clarified.

Chuck paused, a dark look coming over his face.

“Come on, Dean,” he said seriously. “You know I haven’t had a vision since 2010. What the hell’s the matter with you?”

Dean gawked, plainly surprised.

“Uh, I guess I hit my head harder than I thought,” he quickly lied. “I remember now. Sorry.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Chuck dismissed with a shake of his head. “Later.”

Dean stood rooted to the same spot for a moment or two after the other man had left, wondering what this all meant, before quickly finding directions over to the cabin that Castiel was meditating in.

Hopefully, things hadn’t changed too much.

--------

Castiel sat in a full lotus position on the hardwood floor, his eyes shut with deep concentration...until the door to the cabin banged open loudly and snapped him out of his Zen state.

“Dean, you know this is my hour of meditation,” Castiel said in annoyance. “What do you want?”

The dark-haired man stood up, crossing over to a small wooden table that had various drug paraphernalia laid out on it.

“What the fuck are you doing with that?” Dean gasped, knocking a glass bong out of future Castiel’s hands so that it shattered on the ground.

“Uh—wha—you—why?” Castiel cried, gaping down at the scattered remains of the instrument. He growled and shoved Dean forcefully in the chest until he stumbled backwards.

“Cas, what the hell is going on? You’re a druggie?” the hunter exclaimed, shaking his head in disbelief.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Dean?” Castiel yelled in response. “It’s not like this was some enormous secret that I’ve been hiding from you! I swear, you can be such a fucking dick sometimes. You know that?”

Castiel, fuming, grabbed a broom and dustpan and began cleaning.

“That’s quite the vocabulary you’ve got there,” Dean observed in shock, still trying to grasp the fact that his boyfriend was a user. “Since when did you start using all those fancy swears?”

Castiel rolled his eyes peevishly.

“You act like you’ve never heard me speak like this.” An evil smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he dumped the shattered glass into a trash bin. “Like you haven’t heard worse every night that we fuck.”

Dean’s face grew hot, and his knees felt weak when Castiel fired a sharp glance directly at him – through him – and crossed over towards him, tangling his fingers through Dean’s hair.

“Cas, don’t,” the hunter protested weakly, but felt warm, forceful lips against his a second after he’d said it.

Castiel knitted his brow, pulling back almost immediately.

“Something’s not right,” he murmured. “You’re you, but you’re not...from here and now?”

Dean shook his head.

“When are you from?” Castiel asked, pulling two chairs from against the wall for them to sit on.

“2009,” Dean answered, taking one of the proffered chairs. “You and I were...well, we were actually together when I was suddenly sent here. Everything’s so fucked up in this place.”

Castiel snickered bleakly, grabbing a cigarette from the wooden table and lighting it.

“Jesus, what happened to you, Cas?” Dean said grimly.

Castiel exhaled a mouthful of smoke.

“What, you mean this?” he asked wryly, twitching the object between his fingers. “It’s funny what mortality does to some people. Me, I realized that I was human; I could feel things, things that angels can’t. Pleasure came with pain, thirst with hunger, happiness with guilt, sadness and emptiness...It’s a wonderful experience, knowing that everything I do has an eventual outcome, a repercussion, even. I’ll die someday, maybe even of lung cancer. Wouldn’t that be just perfect?”

Castiel smiled mysteriously and took another drag from the cigarette.

“I don’t think I like the future you,” Dean commented softly. “You’re not acting like yourself.”

“How would you even know who I am these days, Dean?” Castiel retorted, his voice rising. “You haven’t gone through this...this inevitability yet. You don’t know the things I’ve seen and done, so don’t fucking pretend like you do.”

Dean opened his mouth to say something, though better of it, and sat back uncomfortably.

“Where’s my brother?” he finally asked.

“I don’t know,” Castiel shrugged. “Off killing more innocent people?”

“What?” Dean demanded.

“Oh, that’s right,” Castiel said ruefully. “You don’t know.”

“Know what?” Dean repeated, flustered.

“Sam said yes.”

--------

“When were you going to tell me?” Dean yelled at his future self. “What, it just didn’t occur to you to mention that Sam is the devil?”

Future Dean clenched his jaw, sorting through the weapons he’d laid out on a table.

“It didn’t occur to me that you might be sticking around long enough for it to become relevant,” he answered simply. “What is it you’re even here for?”

Present Dean ran his hand through his hair, thinking – why was he there?

“I’m supposed to come up with a way to change all this,” he sighed. “Zachariah wanted me to see this future so that maybe...”

“Do it,” future Dean breathed.

“Do what?”

“You know what,” future Dean responded quickly. “You take the deal. Say yes like San did. Look around you. Do you really see another way?”

Present Dean shook his head.

“I’m not doing it,” he said. “There has to be another way. I just...haven’t thought of it yet.”

“Yeah, well, think fast,” Dean’s future self grumbled. “The time is counting down and it’s only a matter of time before this becomes your reality.”

The two Deans stared at each other gravely, not saying a word.

“Dean? Uh...Deans,” Chuck corrected when he barged in, looking around in a confused matter. “Zachariah?”

“Yep,” the Deans said in unison.

“Right, well, we’ve located your brother,” Chuck said. “Or, I guess, that is to say...Lucifer, who now currently inhabits your brother’s body. It gets a little confusing sometimes, you know, because—“

“Chuck!” future Dean interjected. “Just tell me where he is.”

“A few miles north of here,” Chuck replied. “Should we get our things together?”

Dean nodded.

“I think it’s about time I tested this baby out,” he said, unveiling a gun from underneath a scrap of cloth.

“Is that--?” present Dean wondered, hovering over the long metallic object.

“The Colt?” future Dean said. “Oh, yeah. Found it today.”

Present Dean paused, his brows stitched together as he gazed down at Samuel Colt’s creation.

“You’re going to kill our brother?” He looked up at his other self, his eyes hard.

“No,” future Dean answered softly. “I’m going to kill the devil. There’s a big difference.”

“That’s still Sammy in there,” 2009 Dean protested.

“How do you know, Dean?” 2014 Dean demanded. “How do you know that Sam didn’t relinquish his soul upon uttering that one word of consent? How do you know that the devil didn’t kill Sam the moment he stepped into his body?”

“I don’t,” present Dean replied concedingly, “but you don’t know if he’s in there. How can you just take that chance so easily?”

Future Dean’s mouth twisted upward in a sad smile, picking up the weapon he’d been searching for for the past several years.

“I can’t afford not to.”

--------

Crunch.

Dean watched as Lucifer used his brother’s body, Sam’s foot coming down on future Dean’s neck until it snapped like it was nothing more than a twig.

“It’s good to see you, Dean,” Lucifer said with a smile, but it was Sam’s voice that sounded out, Sam’s lips that quirked up in amusement. “This you, the old you – or rather, the young you – you used to be so boyish and full of sass. That little light in your eyes hasn’t shone as brightly these days.”

“Well, any hope of it returning is lost now,” Dean stated, swallowing.

“Oh, what, this?” Lucifer kicked future Dean’s lifeless body. “Don’t look so shattered. You were bound to die young, with your line of work and
all. You should be thankful that I reside in your brother’s body, otherwise your death would just look cruel.”

“Why did you take him?” Dean’s voice shook as he spoke.

Lucifer stared down at Sam’s body, adjusting his suit.

“It’s a good body,” Sam’s voice answered. “Very strong, very handsome. It has a sort of youthful innocence that’s hard to come by.

“Regardless of the exterior, I would have chosen Sam no matter what,” Lucifer continued, advancing toward Dean. “It’s the demon blood, I think. It marked him from birth. It was inescapable; just as you were meant for Michael, Sam was meant for me.”

“I didn’t say yes to Michael,” Dean muttered vehemently.

“Yes, well, just a thought,” Lucifer started, “but when you return to your own time, you may want to rethink that decision. Oh, what am I doing? Giving pointers to the other side! Tsk.”

“I’ll stop you myself, I swear it,” Dean breathed. “I will kill you, you son of a bitch.”

Lucifer threw back his head and cackled.

“I love a challenge!” he cried, grasping Dean by the throat until he was lifted off the ground. “But if I kill you now, you won’t have to worry your pretty little head about coming up with a plan. Really, I’d be doing you a tremendous favour.”

Dean couldn’t breathe, could feel himself struggling uselessly.

“I’m going to kill everyone you’ve ever cared about,” Lucifer snarled, tightening his grip. “Every person you’ve ever had a single warm feeling for, I will—“

A blinding light cut through their surroundings and Dean was gone, back to 2009 where he belonged.

He laid on the ground, sputtering for breath, coughing uncontrollably.

“Well?” Zachariah said, staring over him. “Have you decided what you’re going to do?”

Dean took several shuddering breaths before whispering, “I have.”

“And? Will you agree to be Michael’s vessel?” Zachariah said with urgency.

Dean blinked, clearing the almost-tears that had sprung to his eyes while he’d been choking.

“Fuck you,” he said.

Zachariah’s eyes flashed.

“I see,” he said. “So nothing has changed. You are not willing to make a small sacrifice to save billions? Your brother included?”

Dean got to his feet.

“I’ll save them,” he assured, “just not your way. You’re forgetting that I have Castiel on my side. He’ll help me think of something.”

“That traitor?” Zachariah growled. “You really believe that he’ll be of any use? He’s done. He’s got nothing of worth left to his name.”

“You saying that doesn’t make it true,” Dean remarked blithely. “Powers or no powers, he’s smart and resourceful. He can help.”

Zachariah glared at Dean.

“This is your decision, then?” he demanded. “You would rather side with a former angel than be host to one of the most powerful Archangels?”

Dean merely nodded.

“No, I refuse to accept that!” Zachariah yelled, knocking Dean against the far wall without lifting a finger. “When I’m done with you, you’re going to be begging me to give you stomach cancer.”

Dean grinned wolfishly, though internally he was shaking like a leaf.

“Do it,” he said. “Whatever it is you’re thinking, do it. It won’t change my answer.”

“We’ll see about that,” Zachariah hissed, advancing.

He was roughly two steps away from Dean when he vanished, sent back to Heaven.

Dean exhaled with relief.

“It looks as though I am the one saving you again, like old times,” Castiel said, stepping through the doorway. He held up his bloody hand. “It is a neat trick, no?”

Dean chuckled softly.

“Thank God for angel banishment charms,” he muttered. “How did you know where we were?”

“Chuck called a few minutes after you were taken away,” Castiel replied, slipping his arms around Dean. “I was wrought with concern.”

Dean sighed, responding to the embrace.

“Don’t ever change, Cas,” he whispered, “ever.”

Castiel looked up quizzically.

“I’ll tell you all about it on the way back,” Dean said. “Which begs the question, how did you get here?”

“I drove,” Chuck called out, his head popping around the corner. “Aww, cute! You guys are hugging!”

Dean smiled softly.

“Let’s get going,” he said, holding Castiel out at arm’s length. “I have a lot to tell you.”

Dean regaled Chuck and Castiel with details about the future he experienced.

“I wasn’t a prophet?” Chuck asked, sounding disappointed. “How? I mean, do you know why it happened?”

“No clue,” Dean admitted. “I do know that it happens sometime next year, though.”

Chuck made a soft noise of acknowledgment as he drove.

“Okay, what else, what else?” he wanted to know.

“Cas, you were...very different,” Dean said. He was sitting in the back seat of Chuck’s car, his arm around Castiel. “I didn’t like it, you, what you had become.”

Castiel frowned apologetically.

“I am sorry for changing, Dean,” he said. “Please tell me what I was like, so that I may prevent these qualities from ever emerging.”

God, I missed him, Dean thought.

“You were a foul-mouthed druggie who didn’t seem like a very pleasant person to be around, despite your meditation,” the hunter commented. “I got the feeling like maybe you weren’t very nice to me, like maybe you demeaned me in our relationship.”

Castiel looked shocked.

“But I would never—“ His eyes were huge. “Dean, I am so very sorry for my actions.”

“Cas, don’t take it so hard,” Dean comforted. “I know you, and you could never be like that. Besides, it wasn’t all bad.” He lowered his voice, pressing his lips against Castiel’s ear for privacy. “If it’s any consolation, we apparently had crazy loud sex every night; so loud, in fact, that it would keep other people up.”

Castiel blushed, turning his face towards Dean’s.

“Hey, no funny stuff back there!” Chuck warned. “This is a PG-rated vehicle, I’ll have you know.”

Dean rolled his eyes, shifting away from Castiel.

“This isn’t the route to the hotel,” he noted. “You missed the exit.”

“We’re not going to the hotel, dumbass,” Chuck said. “You guys are going to stay at my place for awhile.”

“Did you know about this?” Dean asked, staring at Castiel.

“Yes,” the dark-haired man confirmed. “I am tired of moving from hotel to hotel, and so when Chuck offered for us to stay with him, I thought it was a wonderful idea.”

“But my stuff, it’s—“

“In the trunk,” Chuck said. “We packed your things in the back when I picked Castiel up.”

Dean said quietly, not sure what to make of it all.

“Sleeping arrangements?” he asked vaguely.

“There are two bedrooms on the upper level,” Chuck answered. “One for me and one for the both of you—IF—“

Dean had gotten his hopes up too soon.

“IF you behave yourselves and don’t, y’know,” Chuck muttered. “I don’t wanna hear a bunch of sounds coming from there at two in the morning.”

Dean couldn’t help but grin.

“You seemed alright with loud noises in the future,” he insinuated.

“What?” Chuck queried, pulling into his driveway. A light dawned on him and he groaned. “Oh, really, did you have to? Now I have images in my head! They’re not pretty!”

Dean laughed maniacally as his door swung open and Chuck glared in at him.

“Dude, calm down,” the hunter said. “It’s only a joke.”

They carried Dean’s suitcases into the house, Castiel struggling with the biggest one.

“Why don’t you let me take that one?” Dean suggested, laying a gentle hand on Castiel’s shoulder.

“Evidently, I am not as strong as I used to be,” Castiel grunted, dropping the large travel bag and allowing Dean to pick it up instead. “Maybe Sam was right. I am useless.”

Dean carried the bag over one shoulder, holding his free hand out for Castiel.

“Don’t be stupid,” he chided. “Come on, it’s getting cold.”

Castiel took the hand that Dean offered him, letting his lover lead him into the house.

“Was Sam there in the future, too?” Castiel questioned when Dean finished unloading the last of the bags into the guest room.

Dean turned on one of the lamps and read the clock face – 4:33AM. It was only four hours since he’d been taken from the hotel room, even though it had been days for him.

“Yes and no,” Dean replied, setting about unpacking his clothing into the empty dresser. “He was there, but...Lucifer was in his body.”

Castiel sighed.

“I was afraid of that,” he said.

“What, you mean you knew that he would say yes?” Dean asked.

“Your brother is not as strong-willed as you would like to believe,” Castiel said, choosing his words carefully. “He can be broken much more easily than you can.”

Dean shook his head.

“That’s not true,” he said softly, staring down at an open suitcase; on top there lay a photo of he, Sam and their Dad.

“You know it is,” Castiel insisted. “He broke down and continued drinking the blood of demons, over and over, thinking it was making him stronger, thinking he needed it. Would you have done the same?”

“Don’t make this about strength,” Dean pleaded. “That’s not what this is about. What we need to be doing is figuring out how Lucifer would get Sam to say yes in the first place, and stop it from working.”

“But this is about strength,” Castiel persisted. “Lucifer will prey on Sam’s weaknesses until he can stand it no longer. He will beg Lucifer to have his body. Think – what are his weaknesses?”

Dean sat on the edge of the bed, burying his head in his hands.

“I’m a weakness,” he answered. “Bobby’s a weakness. Family, loved ones. Sammy cares about everyone but himself, that’s why it was so easy for the yellow-eyed demon to take away Mom and Jess. He knew it would hurt Sam the most.”

Castiel nodded.

“Good. Now, what are you going to do to stop Lucifer’s plan from working?” he inquired.

“Why are you even bothering to ask?” Dean barked. “We both know you’re going to the angels for their help anyway. Let’s just see how that pans out.”

Castiel flinched.

“Yes, but—“

“I have to call Sam,” Dean grumbled, rising up. “If I can prevent this from happening, there’s a better chance of me doing it while he’s close by.”

Dean started walking out of the room.

“Dean, wait,” Castiel said, his eyes full and round when Dean turned back around to face him. “Tell him about us. Please.”

Dean nodded hesitantly.

“And Dean,” Castiel added, “I forgive you for snapping at me.”

Dean rolled his eyes, but he was smiling as he left the room to find a phone. He dialled Sam’s number without further delay.

“Hello?” Sam yawned over the receiver.

“Sam, it’s me,” Dean said. “We need to talk.”

End of Chapter Eight.

Supernatural fanfiction -- You're Never Alone (7/?)

2009-10-16T04:51:13Z

It's sexy time. >:D

Title: You're Never Alone (7/?)
Characters (Pairings): Dean/Castiel, Sam
Ratings/Warnings: NC-17 for -- sexual content and language. SPOILERS FOR SEASON FIVE! Do not read if you haven't made it to, say, episode 3.03 at least. This is very porny, but there is a plot to it, just to keep things moving.
Word Count: 2, 694
Summary: Dean books a room at a hotel; Castiel is feeling conflicted.

Disclaimer: None of these characters are mine. YES, ERIC KRIPKE, I had to insinuate partial plot lines in order to fill in the gap between time lines, but I didn't steal your dialogue! DON'T HURT ME.

Chapter Seven: Sickness

“So, how’d you two make out last night?” Sam asked as he packed up his things.

Dean darted a glance at Castiel, who was sitting down eating a bowl of cereal.

“We didn’t—“ Dean fumbled nervously for words. “Uh, sorry, what was the question?”

“How. Did. You. Sleep?” Sam asked again, slowly.

Castiel passively watched the exchange between the brothers, every once in awhile looking back into his bowl and smiling wondrously at all of the colourful ‘o’-shaped bits.

“I slept alright,” Dean said, scratching his head. “What about you, Cas?”

“Mmph?” Castiel looked up, his expression guilty as his cheeks were stuffed with mounds of food.

“Cas, slowly, remember?” Dean said scornfully. “The whole discussion about choking?”

Castiel swallowed.

“Sorry. It is just so good,” he exclaimed joyously. “And look, Dean, look at how they are all different colours! How do they do that?”

Sam laughed.

“Try a bunch of dyes and chemicals,” he answered knowledgably. “I don’t touch that junk, but Mr. Sweet Tooth here...hey, have you gained a few?”

Dean pouted and clutched his stomach self-consciously.

“I think he looks wonderful,” Castiel chimed in.

“Uh...huh?” Sam raised his eyebrows curiously. “Okay, well, not to break an awkward moment or anything, but we should really be going. I’ll drive?”

“After that jab?” Dean scoffed. “You’re riding in back, dude.”

--------

A few nights later

Dean and Castiel sat quietly together in the parked Impala.

“So you don’t know what’s going to happen in there with Raphael?” Dean asked.

“It is very risky, especially now, considering I have not got a single friend left from my brotherhood,” Castiel. “I have a few old tricks in my bag, such as it were, but...I still may wind up injured.”

Dean blew out a breath of air.

“Well, you know, I was thinking, since we’re kinda going into this whole thing blindfolded,” he started, “maybe we should...you know...”

“Yes?” Castiel asked, watching Dean intently.

“Treat this night as though it were special,” the hunter said. “Kind of like, just in case we never see each other again? You know?”

“But we may very well see each other after this,” Castiel said hurriedly. “Chuck has seen me in a vision of the future, so I am quite alive and well. We will—“

“Jesus, you know how to ruin a moment, don’t you?” Dean grunted out of frustration.

“Oh. We were...having a moment?” Castiel smiled and placed his hand on Dean’s.

“I was trying to get across that maybe tonight could be our night,” the sandy-haired man said quietly. “We’re alone...I booked us a room with a big bed. Do you get it now?”

Castiel hummed softly.

“I see what you are insinuating,” he assented. “What are we still doing in the car?”

--------

No sooner had Dean closed the door to their hotel room than Castiel had shoved him up against it, crushing their mouths together.

Dean groaned, his body reacting immediately to Castiel’s actions. He wound his arm around the former angel’s hips, pressing their bodies snugly together as their tongues clashed against each other with fervour.

Castiel moved them towards the bed, pushing Dean backwards until he fell on top of the squeaky mattress.

“Wanna see you naked,” Dean murmured, chewing his lip as Castiel stood at the foot of the bed, loosening the buttons of his shirt one by one. He noticed the red hue creep along the man’s face as he’d uttered the words. “Are you still embarrassed? We were naked last time, but I mean, I guess the lights were out and—“

Castiel smiled thoughtfully, dropping his shirt to the ground in an almost seductive manner.

“I am not embarrassed, merely...confused and flattered that you would think my body, of all other bodies out there, is one to be desired,” Castiel replied, crawling astride Dean’s lap.

The hunter licked his lips and ran his hand over the expanse of Castiel’s milky white back.

“It’s definitely goddamn desirable,” Dean said, lifting his shirt over his head before pulling his lover down, so that they were chest to chest.

Castiel kissed Dean’s jaw lightly, moving towards the crook of his neck. He trailed his fingers down Dean’s bare flesh until they rested against the sizeable bulge at the front of his jeans.

Dean moaned softly, arching his neck for Castiel’s access, shuddering when he felt the wet warmth of his lover’s tongue caress his pulse point.

Dean slipped his hand into the back of Castiel’s pants, firmly grabbing his ass and pulling his lower body closer.

Castiel’s eyes were hooded and dark, unlike their normal round brightness, when he stared down at Dean.

“What do you want, Dean?” the dark-haired man asked. “What should I do?”

“Want you to blow me,” Dean groaned, feeling Castiel still palming his erection. When his lover’s gaze showed he had no clue what he was talking about, he clarified, “Like what I did to you on that first night. Take my cock in your mouth and...and suck it.”

Castiel smiled devilishly, unzipping Dean’s jeans and pulling them down. He slid down the hunter’s body until he was at eye level with the throbbing erection between Dean’s legs.

“Forgive me if I am not very good,” Castiel said apologetically before licking an experimental stripe up the length.

“Fuck, so far so good,” Dean gasped. He nodded encouragingly to Castiel, who lowered his mouth onto the head and licked softly. “Mm, that’s nice...” He threaded his fingers through the dark mess of hair hovering over his pelvic region.

Castiel lowered himself further and moaned quietly. He was sure he must be enjoying this as much as Dean was. He hollowed his cheeks out of natural instinct, forming a tighter suction that Dean seemed to like, if his hips rhythmically canting upwards was any indication.

“No good my ass,” Dean moaned, bucking his hips wildly when Castiel intentionally scraped his teeth lightly against the most sensitive flesh on his body. “Cas, I’m...I’m gonna come soon.”

Dean tried to pull Castiel away, but he seemed desperate to continue. He groaned as he watched the dark head bob up and down between his thighs, thought that it was probably the hottest thing he’d ever seen.

Dean gasped and squeezed his eyes tightly shut as his cock hit the back of Castiel’s throat. He came fiercely, emptying into his lover’s mouth and feeling him swallow it all.

“Oh Jesus, fuck me,” Dean grunted, his chest heaving. “You can fucking deep throat. And you haven’t even done this before? Fucking incredible...”

“It was good, then?” Castiel asked, giving a satisfied smirk. A drop of Dean’s cum still lingered in the corner of his mouth.

“You’ve got a little—“ Dean mimed wiping his lip. “Right there.”

Castiel lifted his finger to his mouth and sucked the remainder of the pearly liquid off of it.

“Oh, you have no idea what you’re fucking doing to me,” Dean groaned.

“I am beginning to form an idea,” Castiel said, raising his eyebrows as he dropped his gaze southwards to the part of Dean that was awakening with renewed interest. “What now?”

Dean grinned, flattening Castiel to the bed and tugging at his pants.

“We get to have sex,” he said anxiously, tossing all of their clothing onto the ground.

“Oh. What is that like?” Castiel asked curiously, asserting his dominance once more by easily switching their positions.

“With a dude? I don’t know,” Dean answered honestly. “I’ve never done it with another guy. I’m assuming – and this is just a guess here, judging by the fact that you rather enjoy pinning me down – that you’d like to be topsies?”

“Topsies?” Castiel furrowed his brow.

“Yeah, well, you know,” Dean said, “someone’s gonna get it up the ass. They’re on bottom. The person on top is the guy who shoves it up there. Or, you know, something like that...”

“Tell me what you want me to do, and I will do it,” Castiel murmured.

Dean smiled wryly.

“I kind of like having someone else be in control for a change,” he admitted. “For you – and ONLY for you – I will...take it up the ass.”

“I was hoping you would say that,” Castiel sighed with relief. “Being on the bottom sounds rather uncomfortable.”

“You’re not making this any better,” Dean snapped. “I could go back to fucking girls, you know.”

“You wouldn’t,” Castiel stated.

Dean shrugged.

“I could,” he said. “It wouldn’t mean anything, though. It never did.”

Castiel smiled.

“So, should I do something?” he asked.

“Oh,” Dean said, and rolled out from underneath Castiel. He grabbed a tiny tube out of his discarded jeans’ pocket. “Lube. Put some on your fingers.”

Castiel uncapped the small tube and squirted some of the contents onto the fingers of his right hand.

Dean bent forward on hands and knees.

“Put one up there,” he said, shaking his ass in indication.

Castiel swallowed nervously, placing a hand on the small of Dean’s back. He slid his index finger along the crevice of Dean’s backside, feeling it dip in slightly. He pushed the finger forward into a small opening.

The hunter groaned, leaning backwards.

“Move it in and out,” Dean whispered huskily.

Castiel obliged, sliding his finger out almost all the way before pushing it back in, to the keening sounds of the man beneath him.

“Another.”

Castiel slid his middle finger in alongside the other, thrusting them gently in and out.

“Is it good?” he asked.

Dean choked out a strangled sort of cry when his prostate was brushed against.

“Fuck yes, it is. Not at all like I imagined,” he responded. “One more, just to be sure.”

Castiel added a third finger, stretching Dean from the inside out.

“Shit, okay, okay, that’s good enough,” the hunter hissed. “Better stop before I come again. Now, take some of the lube and slather it over your dick.”

Castiel squirted a handful of the gooey gel, spreading it over his painfully hard prick.

“Now what?” he asked.

“Just put it in,” Dean said. “Slowly, though. I’m new at this, too, remember?”

Castiel flipped Dean over onto his back.

“I want to be able to see your face,” he said lowly, positioning himself between the hunter’s legs.

Castiel took hold of himself, pressing against Dean’s entrance and pushing forward slowly.

“Oh, shit,” Dean hissed, grimacing.

“Are you okay? Am I harming you?” Castiel inquired worriedly.

Dean took a few deep breaths.

“Keep going. It’s alright,” he said.

Castiel reluctantly pushed forwards deeper inside, his eyes falling shut and an almost whimper escaping his lips.

“Dean, you are so tight...so hot,” he breathed. “Feels so good.”

Dean swallowed, willing his body to relax.

“Should I move?” Castiel asked.

“Yeah, slowly...slowly,” Dean answered. He felt his body soften slightly as Castiel gently kissed the side of his face.

Castiel pulled out part way and gently thrust back in, moaning against Dean’s cheek.

The sandy-haired man bit his lip and started moving his body in return, canting his hips upwards to meet Castiel’s shallow thrusts. The feelings of it being uncomfortable were slowly being exchanged with feelings of pleasure.

“Dean, ahh,” Castiel gasped. “I...I need to move faster, please.”

“Fuck, yes, do it,” Dean begged. “Fuck me, Cas.”

Castiel sped up his movements, hearing the springs of the mattress start to squeak.

Dean yelled a string of obscenities as he felt that magical bundle of nerves inside of him being nudged with each increasingly faster, deeper, harder thrust from Castiel.

The blue-eyed man gripped the palm print he’d left on Dean’s arm, staring into his lover’s eyes with intensity as their moans and groans of pleasure filled the room their breathing escalating into heavy panting.

Dean grasped his cock, jerking himself off roughly as Castiel’s hips pistoned into him with such force, his head banged against the wall. It didn’t matter; his head was already swimming.

“DeanDeanDeanDeanOH!” Castiel cried, slumping forwards and panting loudly into his lover’s neck as he came, spilling himself deeply inside Dean’s body.

Castiel continued thrusting weakly until Dean came with a loud groan, spurting over his hand and over their stomachs.

Dean grinned goofily, his eyes shut, completely sated.

“My God, that was...that was...” He struggled for the right words. “What would you call it, Cas?”

Castiel had stayed slumped on top of Dean, but he was trembling uncontrollably.

“Cas, are you okay?” Dean asked with concern, stroking his lover’s head and in turn, realizing his own head was beginning to throb.

A sob fell from Castiel’s lips as he continued to shake.

“What’s wrong? Tell me,” Dean murmured. He sat up and folded his arms around the smaller man.

“I-it is hard for m-me to express,” Castiel stammered. “What w-we did just now...it was b-beautiful, was it not?”

“Yeah, of course it was,” Dean replied soothingly.

“And it felt r-right?” Did it feel right for you?” Castiel asked.

“It’s never felt this right,” Dean answered. “I’ve slept with a lot – A LOT – of women, but it always left me feeling kind of...hollow. But Cas, you
still haven’t told me what’s wrong. Why are you crying?”

Castiel shied away from Dean’s embrace.

“If this is so right, how come I am being punished for it?” he whispered. “There is a small part of me -- a very small part, I assure you, but it is still there – feels sick with myself right now. I do not wish it to be so, but...”

“It’s how you were taught to think, Cas,” Dean said. “Hell, if my Dad were alive, he’d beat my ass from here to Canada if he knew what we were doing. He was a total gay-basher. It’s a wonder I didn’t turn out like him.”

Castiel pondered Dean’s words.

“Do you think I will quell this sickness, this...self-loathing, in time?” he wondered quietly.

“Yeah, probably,” Dean responded. “Come on, Cas, be serious – you’ve already outright professed your love for me. Whatever you’re feeling right now, that part of you – the loving part – is much bigger. Right?”

Castiel sighed and smiled weakly.

“I suppose so, yes,” he agreed.

“C’mere, you,” Dean said affectionately, grabbing Castiel and laying down with him in his arms.

“I am sorry for making you hit your head,” Castiel apologized, entangling his legs with Dean’s.

“You’re a lot more...free...during sex than I would have imagined,” the hunter smiled. “Don’t apologize. It was hot.”

Castiel grinned sheepishly.

“You know, just if it would make the bad feelings go away...” Dean whispered, “I love you, too.”

Castiel relaxed into Dean’s arms. The small hole that filled him was slowly disappearing.

--------

“I think I know what Chuck’s vision was about,” Sam said urgently over the phone.

Dean held his cell phone in one hand, a gas pump in another as he filled up the Impala.

“Really? I’m all ears,” Dean said.

“Last night, Jessica came to visit me, only it obviously wasn’t really her,” Sam began. “I was...ugh, I was kissing her and she turned into this guy, I’m not sure who, but anyway – Lucifer wants me to be his vessel.”

Dean nearly dropped his phone.

“What?” he said incredulously. “Lucifer just showed up in your room last night? How?”

“I think it was only through my dreams,” Sam said, as though that made things any better. “He made it sound like he was having a hard time finding me and that it was the only way he could come talk to me.”

“So you think that Chuck’s vision was about Cas asking the angels—“

“Archangel,” Sam reminded playfully. “That he was asking them to stop me from becoming his vessel? I can’t be sure, but it’s the only lead we have right now.”

Dean got back into the car, staring out the windshield in contemplation.

“You wouldn’t say yes, Sam,” he stated. “You wouldn’t.”

“It’s not like I want to, but who knows what the devil has up his sleeves?” Sam answered. “He said he wouldn’t lie or trick me, but am I really supposed to believe something like that?”

“Don’t let your guard down, Sammy,” Dean advised.

“I won’t, Dean.”

End of Chapter Seven.

Supernatural fanfiction -- You're Never Alone (6/?)

2009-10-15T05:28:20Z

You will be happy to know that I already have the next chapter written. I just have to type it up. :]

Title: You're Never Alone (6/?)
Characters (Pairings): Dean/Castiel, Chuck, Sam
Ratings/Warnings: NC-17 for -- sexual content and language. SPOILERS FOR SEASON FIVE! Do not read if you haven't made it to, say, episode 3.02 at least.
Word Count: 2, 491
Summary: Chuck has another vision; this time, it's about Sam.
Notes: If you notice the tense changing, it's intentional.

Disclaimer: None of these characters are mine. YES, ERIC KRIPKE, I had to insinuate partial plot lines in order to fill in the gap between time lines, but I didn't steal your dialogue! DON'T HURT ME.

Chapter Six: Trust me, I’m a Prophet

Chuck was passed out on his couch, spasming frequently as visions flashed into his head.

A man...standing at the edge of a rooftop. Watching. What was he watching?

No, not a man...lightning struck through the empty sky and he was able to catch a glimpse of wings. An angel. Red wings? Light hair.

“Why did you call me here?” the angel asks deeply.

Not alone. He’s not alone. Someone else...not an angel...

But he used to be. Castiel.

“You are the one with the powers,” Castiel says. “You know why I sent for you.”

“The Winchester boy.” Red wings flash ominously.

Dean. Where’s Dean?

“You have to stop it,” Castiel pleads. “I beg of you. I cannot do it myself.”

The light-haired angel turns away from the edge of the roof.

“Sorry, I don’t help traitors,” he grits out through his teeth. “If they want Sam—“

“Sam?” Chuck called into the room, jolting upright. He wiped his eyes drunkenly and quickly searched for a pen and paper.

Why does Sam figure into this all of a sudden? Chuck thought, scribbling notes. I haven’t seen anything about him for weeks.

He checked his watch and realized it was only one o’clock in the afternoon.

Dean has a right to know.

--------

“Chuck, I think this is even worse than your vision of Castiel,” Dean groaned as Chuck relayed what he’d just seen. “Was it the same angel that you saw pushing Cas out of Heaven?”

“Yes,” Chuck answered. “That is to say, if you asked me to bet on it, I would wager...ninety dollars?”

“Ninety--? Chuck, that’s not a very good wager!” Dean fumed.

“It’s all I’ve got in my wallet!” Chuck cried back. “It’s the same angel. I would most certainly think.”

“You are insufferable,” Dean muttered, annoyed. “Did he say anything else about Sam?”

“No, I told you; he said the name and I woke up,” Chuck replied. “I thought he was talking about you, at first, as I was watching the whole thing going on. I don’t exactly see Sam too often in my visions these days.”

“It’s not exactly like I ever see Sam. Period,” Dean stated. “Would you do me a favour and stop going to sleep when you’re drunk? I think it's causing...alcoholic interference.”

“I make no promises,” Chuck sighed. “I’ll let you know if I see anything else. In the meantime, maybe it wouldn’t hurt for you to give your brother a call.”

“Right.” Dean paused. “Bye, Chuck.”

He crossed the room and knocked on the bathroom door.

“Dude, you’ve been in there for twenty minutes,” Dean said. “I know you’re new at this, but it shouldn’t take so long!”

Castiel opened the door, staring down at his feet.

Dean’s gaze traveled past the man in front of him to the mound of toilet paper unraveled on the ground.

“You unrolled the toilet paper? And—“ Dean looked over the rest of the room, his eyes falling on the overflowing sink. “You blocked the sink? How did you manage that?”

Castiel shrugged, embarrassed.

“It might have been after I spat out the candies,” he said.

“Candies?”

“The ones that were over there on the countertop,” Castiel said. “Well, they did not taste very good, so I spit them out into the sink and tried to make them go down the drain.”

Dean slapped a hand over his face.

“Those weren’t candies,” he said. “Those were bars of soap.”

“Oh, I see.” Castiel shrugged again.

“Never mind,” Dean sighed. “Did you hear me talking to Chuck just now?”

“Yes,” Castiel responded. “What are you going to do?”

“Call Sam, I guess. It’s just...” Dean’s voice trailed off.

“You do not know what to say to him,” Castiel finished. “Dean, what you are feeling is understandable, but he is your brother. If Chuck is right, and I was in contact with Raguel, after...I would not go to him unless it was the most important thing happening at that time.”

Castiel caressed Dean’s cheek.

“You would talk to him sooner or later anyway,” he said softly. “Now, it is merely a chance for you to talk sooner.”

“I know. You’re right,” Dean mumbled. He clutched the wrist up by his face.

“And I will, of course, stay for moral support,” Castiel smiled, taking Dean’s hand and leading him over to the phone.

Dean’s hand tremored as he reached out for the receiver. He took a deep breath and dialed Sam’s cell phone number.

“Hello?” Sam’s voice answered gruffly.

Dean hesitated. Does he even want to hear my voice?

“Hello?” Sam repeated, with some annoyance.

“Sam, it’s me,” Dean answered.

“Dean?” Sam said querulously. “Why are you calling?”

“Chuck told me to,” Dean said, immediately regretting his choice of words.

“Oh. Well?”

“Are you in any trouble, Sam?” Dean burst out. “Because Chuck saw Castiel and an angel—“

“Raguel is an Archangel,” Castiel corrected.”

“An Archangel talking about you,” Dean said in a rush, “talking about how there was something they needed to stop from happening.”

“Calm down, Dean, I’m fine. I’m better than fine,” Sam said almost cheerfully. “As a matter of fact, I located the final seal. If I get there in time, I’ll be able to stop Lilith from breaking it.”

“What? You’re going alone?” Dean asked, his voice panic-risen.

“No, Ruby’s with me,” Sam said. “Dean, don’t you get it? If I kill Lilith, she won’t be able to break the seal. No apocalypse! I’m strong enough, Dean, you’ve gotta trust me on this. Listen, I’ve gotta go but I’ll call you when it’s over.”

“No, Sam, wait!” Dean started.

The noise of the dial tone was the only thing that answered him.

--------

Two days later

”Where to now?” Sam asked. He, Dean and Castiel were piled into the Impala.

“We should check on Bobby, see if he’s okay,” Dean suggested. “Everything after we got off that plane seems a little...off. I just want to make sure nothing major happened in that little time gap.”

“Who got us off the plane, do you think?” Sam questioned. “I mean, once upon a time I would have thought it was Castiel, but he’s pretty useless now.”

“Begging your pardon, but I am not useless,” Castiel said vehemently. “I can still do this.” He knocked Sam’s head into the window.

“Shit, I was only joking,” Sam gasped.

“Hey, hey! Cut it out back there,” Dean ordered. “Sam, stop picking on Castiel. Cas...nice work.” He winked in the rear-view mirror.

--------

The three of them checked into a motel off the interstate in South Dakota after checking in on Bobby, beating up some demons, and subsequently receiving a visit from Zachariah.

Sam was in bed, snoring softly, completely oblivious to the fact that Dean and Castiel were breaking the sleeping arrangements (Castiel was to sleep on the other twin bed; Dean, on the couch) to lie next to each other on the same mattress.

“Is it true, what Zachariah said?” Dean whispered. “Am I really Michael’s vessel?”

Castiel thoughtfully stroked Dean’s arm.

“Yes,” he answered just as quietly. “It was pre-determined, long before you were born. You were destined for it.”

“I don’t wanna carry around some old geezer inside of me,” Dean complained. “I won’t.”

“You don’t have to,” Castiel said, “but you should know that, maybe even as we speak, Lucifer has found a vessel of his own.”

“I don’t want to think about this right now,” Dean muttered.

“Later, then,” Castiel agreed, bridging the gap between them to bring their lips together.

“Sam’s six feet away,” Dean protested against the warmth of Castiel’s mouth. “He doesn’t know about us yet.”

“Shh,” the blue-eyed man hushed. “Just be silent.”

Castiel held Dean close so that their bodies fit together (perfectly). The petals of their lips danced across each other, and Dean fought to suppress a moan as he realized quite clearly that Castiel was dominating the situation, which felt very unfamiliar.

Castiel parted Dean’s lips with his tongue, gaining easy access. He received mild resistance as he swiftly climbed on top of the larger man, pinning his arms down to the bed.

Dean tried to regain dominance, both with his tongue and his body, but Castiel would have none of it.

Fuck, he’s hot like this, the hunter thought, growing hard underneath Castiel’s hips.

“Too...many...clothes,” the former angel murmured, running his hand down the length of Dean’s torso until he reached the hem of his T-shirt and yanked it upwards over his boyfriend’s head.

Castiel gazed longingly down at the newly exposed flesh.

“Tell me I may touch you,” he whispered, his blue eyes flashing in the dark as they peered up at Dean.

“You may,” the hunter croaked, biting his lip as he felt unnaturally cool fingertips graze the skin of his stomach, tracing a route over every square inch.

Castiel bent forwards, hovering slightly over Dean’s right nipple. He glanced up.

“May I?” he asked again.

“You don’t have to ask,” Dean assured him, “just do it.” Please.

Castiel let his breath ghost over the hard nub of flesh for a brief moment before lowering his head and covering the nipple with his mouth. This action was met with a tiny moan from Dean.

Taking this as a good sign, Castiel decided to dart his tongue out for a taste. He closed his eyes to concentrate better.

Dean laid his hand on the back of Castiel’s head, urging him on. He inadvertently bucked his hips and groaned aloud as his boyfriend’s teeth grazed his sensitive flesh.

Castiel felt his arousal heightening when Dean’s hips thrust up to meet his.

“Again,” the former angel whispered throatily as he pulled his mouth away.

“What?” Dean asked, puzzled, then swallowed a gasp as Castiel drove his hips downwards. “Oh, that.”

Castiel bit his lip, laying his palms flat against the other man’s chest as their lower bodies rocked together.

“Dean, it feels good,” he moaned softly.

“Yeah,” Dean breathed. He felt mildly surprised as Castiel’s hand fumbled at the drawstring of his pajama bottoms.

“Off,” the former angel ordered. “Get them off.” He sat back for a moment, allowing Dean to shimmy out of his pants. He removed his own shirt while he waited.

Dean felt hot even in the cool air, his heart hammering wildly. He’d never been this intimately exposed around another man before – well, there was that one drunken encounter at one of Sam’s birthday parties back when he was nineteen. But even then, he’d still been partially clothed.

“Dean, you are beautiful,” Castiel uttered softly, immediately setting Dean’s racing mind at ease. He pressed a chaste kiss to his boyfriend’s mouth, guiding the hunter’s hand down to the waistband of his pants.

Dean felt excited at the hardness his hand skimmed over as he dragged the offending material off of Castiel’s body, bringing their bodies close until they lay naked, pressed against each other.

“I am sorry, I do not know what I am supposed to do next,” Castiel apologized, flustered.

“Follow my lead, then,” Dean breathed into his ear. He grasped Castiel’s erection, pumping it slowly in his fist.

The dark-haired man felt his breathing quicken and eagerly reached out to reciprocate. His hand was clumsy and inexperienced as it held Dean’s cock for the first time.

“Just move your hand like I’m doing,” Dean advised, relishing at the soft mewling sound Castiel made as he slid his thumb over the head of his dick.

“Like this?” Castiel experimentally twisted his wrist, moving his hand up and down.

“Fuck, you’re a fast learner,” Dean groaned.

They worked in tandem for several moments, moving in time to each other’s strokes.

Castiel pushed Dean backwards into the mattress again, and tried something new by taking both of their cocks into his hand to stroke against each other simultaneously.

“Oh, fuck, Jesus,” Dean hissed, turning his face into the pillow. “Don’t stop.”

Castiel pumped his fist rigorously over their lengths, keeping his eyes open to watch Dean’s expression.

“Dean,” Castiel gasped suddenly, burying his head into Dean’s neck and undulating into his fist until he came in thick spurts, covering his fingers and spilling over onto his lover’s stomach.

Dean bit down on the pillow to muffle his cry of pleasure as he joined Castiel, coating his stomach with his own come.

They collapsed against each other, chests heaving as they came down from their shared high.

“Is Sam...?” Dean asked into Castiel’s shoulder.

“He is still asleep,” the former angel assured him. “You will tell him, won’t you?”

“Of course,” Dean murmured, pulling his clothes back on. “I’ll let him know when the time is right. We’ve still got Chuck’s vision to figure out right now, and I think that’s a little more pressing.”

Castiel nodded sadly as Dean returned to the couch.

“Good night, Dean,” he said. “I love you.”

Dean hesitated.

“You do not have to say anything,” Castiel said, as though reading his mind. “I just wanted you to hear it.”

Dean laid his head back and, for once, thought about his feelings.

--------

Chuck had taken Dean’s advice and gone to bed sober. Still, what he saw wasn’t any less confusing, and worse yet, it disturbed him.

A man was having trouble falling asleep, seemingly plagued by thoughts. He rolls over onto his side and there lies a woman, staring back at him. He’s scared.

“Who are you?” he says.

The woman frowns.

“I’m your wife, Nick,” she answers. “Don’t you remember?”

“No, no, my wife...” The man, Nick, has hopped out of bed and is hanging his head sorrowfully. “My wife is dead.”

“Aw, poor baby,” the woman – she’s awfully pale, almost grey, and her eyes are shining with malevolence – is crawling on her hands and knees to the edge of the bed. “I can only imagine how hard that must have been for you. But I’m here now, aren’t I?”

Things move forward in time – perhaps the next night? – and Nick is sobbing by a baby’s crib.

“Why are you doing this?” he asks the air around him. “ANSWER ME!”

Nick is back in his bed, and the woman – is she dead? – leans over his sleeping form.

“Wake up, Nick,” she whispers.

He wakes up with a start, seeming both to loathe her sudden appearance and yet be filled with relief at the same time, as though she’ll hold the answers to what’s going on.

“Who the fuck are you?” Nick hisses.

“I am an angel. Or, I was, once, a long time ago,” she says. “My name is Lucifer.”

Chuck opened his eyes and scanned the room, almost expecting someone to be there. He clutched his head in his hands and breathed deeply.

“I don’t understand this,” Chuck muttered. “Why am I being shown this?”

He waited for an answer, from anyone who was listening, but nothing came.

End of Chapter Six.

Supernatural fanfiction -- You're Never Alone (5/?)

2009-10-08T05:28:05Z

WHAT? A NEW CHAPTER??? Yes, in fact, it is a new chapter. And it may offend some people, so just a warning.

Title: You're Never Alone (5/?)
Characters (Pairings): Dean/Castiel, some other people I made up
Ratings/Warnings: R for -- it's controversial!
Word Count: 2, 987
Summary: Castiel is hungry for the first time in a very long while.

Note: Still unbeta'd. There are homophobic themes in this chapter (including a certain derogatory word). Having said that, I am obviously not homophobic if I dream of these two being together; but if you're uncomfortable reading about this, I suggest you not read it.

Disclaimer: I don't own them. I think I'll go cry now, thanks.

Chapter Five: Hunger Pangs

“I don’t get it,” Dean said, flicking through all of the news stations. “No one’s mentioning any sort of supposed meteor crash or anything – not that you’re anything like a hunk of space rock – but it’s like no one saw you fall.”

Castiel was curled up into Dean’s side.

“That is because you are the only one who saw,” he said knowledgably. “Humans cannot see or hear angel activity like you do. You were chosen to be special.”

“Hm, and my high school principal always figured I was a dumbass who wouldn’t amount to anything,” Dean chuckled. “Shows him.”

A loud gurgling noise broke through the air.

“Hungry much?” Dean smirked. “When’s the last time you ate?”

“About four-hundred and twenty-six years ago,” Castiel answered, as if it were no big deal.

“Goddamn! I’ve never gone without food for more than an hour,” Dean said incredulously. “Hang on, I’ll toast you some waffles.”

Castiel sighed at the loss of Dean’s body next to his.

“Dean, what are waffles?” the former angel asked, peering over into the kitchenette area to see Dean popping two round disks into a metallic device.

“They’re a way of life, if you’re hungry and have no time to make anything,” Dean replied matter-of-factly.

Castiel made a noise of surprise as the strange metal box regurgitated the food disks, a darker colour than what they’d been before.

“See if you like this.” Dean sat a plate down on the bed next to Castiel, who looked at the food hesitantly.

“Hm,” Castiel picked up one of the waffles, examining each little crevice before inhaling its scent.

“I’m not trying to poison you, you know,” Dean said. “Just try it.”

Castiel warily obeyed, taking a tiny bite out of the corner and chewing.

“Mmm,” he groaned, his eyes closed as he let the starchy food linger in his mouth.

Fuck, I should not be turned on by this, Dean inwardly chided himself.

“Ohh,” Castiel gasped, licking his lips. “Yes, this is divine.”

Dean gaped as the dark-haired man shoved the rest of the waffle into his mouth, eliciting more sounds of pleasure.

Dean shifted away from Castiel to hide the fact that he becoming more and more aroused with each sound the man made.

“Dean, so good,” Castiel said with a satisfied moan after he was finished eating.

“Good, good...glad you liked it,” Dean mumbled, feeling rather hot. “So, how’s your back feeling?”

Castiel sat up.

“I had not noticed until you asked, but I believe it is feeling better,” he said. “Should you look at it?”

Skin? Now? No, probably not a good idea, Dean thought.

“Yeah, I’ll take a look,” Dean responded, mentally cursing himself for saying so in his current state.

By the time Dean turned around to face Castiel, he’d already managed to shimmy out of his shirt.

“You must be feeling better, considering you could barely move last night,” Dean observed, moving around behind Castiel’s back. He slowly removed the bandages and gasped.

“What is it?” Castiel asked nervously.

Dean traced his fingers over the other man’s back, marvelling over the fact that the wounds had completely healed – not even a scar remained.

“Cas, the holes are gone,” Dean said in disbelief. “Are you sure you aren’t still packing some of that angel mojo?”

“Well, it takes a short while for an angel’s powers to completely dissipate after they have been excised,” Castiel pondered aloud, “but even so, my body would have been too weak to heal itself. It is a highly unlikely situation.”

“Then call it a miracle,” Dean offered. “Somebody up there must still like you.”

Castiel frowned.

“I am afraid that would be an even more unlikely possibility,” he murmured.

“What could you possibly have done that was so bad?” Dean asked.

“Let us not,” Castiel said softly. “I do not wish to discuss it.”

Dean sighed, flopping down on the bed so he was staring up at the ceiling.

“It has to do with me, doesn’t it? Cas, I may be a bit stupid sometimes, but I get it. You fraternized with a human.”

Castiel’s face was grave as he stared at Dean.

“You only think you understand, but you do not,” he stated. “I’m still rather hungry. Shall we dine out somewhere?”

“We’re really not going to talk about this? How you fell?” Dean asked.

“No. Can we eat?” Castiel said with a note of pleading in his voice.

Dean sat up to meet Cas’ puppy dog eyes.

“Oh, fuck, you’ve gotta be kidding me,” he snapped. “Yes, fine, you are insatiable, but yes. We’ll go somewhere, but you’ve gotta know that we’re not through with this subject. No matter how long and hard you stare at me with those eyes, I’m not going to change my stance on this.”

Castiel’s gaze hardened slightly.

“Now, come on,” Dean said, “let’s get dressed and go.”

--------

“Pizza? What is that like?” Castiel inquired, his nose pressed into the folds of the diner menu.

“Cheesy. Saucy. Yummy,” Dean answered, glaring at the waitress who’d brought them both a glass of water – and flirted with Castiel.

“I see,” the former angel said, although his voice still sounded puzzled. “What are you going to have?”

Dean glanced back down at his menu.

“I dunno...the brunch special, I guess,” he grumbled.

Castiel laid his menu down and proceeded to fiddle with the napkin dispenser.

“Have you decided what you’re orderin’?” the waitress asked, eagerly pressing the tip of her pen to the notepad she was holding.

“The brunch special,” Dean said, an icy tone in his voice. “Extra whipped cream on the side.”

“Alrighty, and for you, hon?” she asked, leaning over Castiel slightly, giving him a view of her cleavage.

“I shall have the same,” Castiel answered, without looking up from the napkin dispenser.

“Okay, are you sure I can’t interest you in anythin’ else?” She grinned.

“No, thank you,” Castiel responded politely, pulling a napkin out of the metal box with a grin.

“I’ll be back soon then! Don’t you go sneakin’ off on me!” she giggled.

“Un-fucking-believable!” Dean burst out the moment the young lady was out of earshot.

“Do not use such crude language in a public venue,” Castiel scolded. “What is not to be believed?”

“Dude, she was practically smothering you with her rack,” Dean said vehemently. “Did you not notice the way she was throwing herself at you? If she got any closer, she would’ve been in your fu – frigging lap!”

“No, I did not notice,” Castiel replied obliviously. “Do not be so upset, Dean. She is merely a child seeking out attention, a young woman struggling to find her place in the world.”

“Pft, yeah, and I suppose she thinks she’ll find it with a little help from you,” Dean laughed, but his eyes remained serious.

“You are jealous, Dean Winchester,” Castiel observed with a small smirk.

Dean folded his arms over his chest.

“I just don’t appreciate her actions towards you,” he huffed, a faint blush creeping over his cheeks.

“I understand,” Castiel nodded. “The next time she comes over here, I will let her know that her attempts to woo me are futile. Would that help?”

“It wouldn’t hurt,” Dean confessed.

“You are cute when you are jealous, Dean,” Castiel said in a low voice, intensifying the hunter’s blush.

The waitress started over towards their table, balancing a platter in each hand.

“Okay, now who had what?” she asked. “I’m just joshin’! One for you, and one for you," she said, taking extra care to place Castiel's plate right down in front of him.

“Miss, if I may trouble you for a moment – something has caught my attention,” Castiel said seriously.

“Yeah, and what’s that?” the waitress asked throatily.

“It has come to my attention that you have put forth valiant efforts for me to notice you,” Castiel answered.

“Really? Imagine that!” she cried.

Dean stared down into his food, determined not to say anything even as he caught a glimpse of the waitress’ hand disappearing under the table.

“Perhaps you have not noticed that your actions are quite inappropriate, not only because of the current venue,” Castiel said sternly, grabbing the woman’s wrist and wrenching it away from his leg, “but also due to the fact that I am dining with my significant other.”

The waitress stared confusedly over at Dean, whose eyebrows shot up as he felt Castiel’s foot crawling up his calf.

“You...and him?” the waitress squealed in surprise.

“That is correct. Dean, tell the young lady,” Castiel suggested.

Dean coughed uncomfortably.

“Well, what’s there to say?” he said, flustered. “Other than, I would kindly appreciate it if you would stop trying to make a pass at my boyfriend.”

“Fine. I’m real sorry for any discomfort I may have caused y’all,” she whined, and stomped away.

“I am...your boyfriend?” Castiel asked softly.

“Considering your foot is halfway up the inside of my leg, I’d say yes,” Dean smiled. “Damn, she’s still looking over here.”

Castiel merely smiled, taking up his plate and moving across the other side of the booth to sit beside Dean.

“This is nice,” Castiel sighed, picking up his fork and digging in. He attacked the berries, whipped cream and pancakes with a fervour like no other.

“Whoa! Slow down, you’ll choke,” Dean said, eyes wide at the amount of food his boyfriend had just devoured. “I can’t have you dying your first day here on Earth as a human.”

Castiel swallowed sheepishly.

“My apologies,” he said. “I shall try to eat more slowly from now on. Here—“ He loaded a bunch of food from Dean’s plate onto his fork, holding it expectantly out for Dean to taste.

The hunter parted his lips and let the food dance along his palate.

“It is delicious, is it not?” Castiel asked, his eyes full and round.

“Yeah, it’s...good,” Dean agreed, trying to ignore the fact that he’d just swallowed under ripe berries, burnt pancakes and drippy whipped cream. “Right about now, though, I’m thinking you’d describe anything as ‘delicious.’”

Castiel furrowed his brow in confusion.

“Don’t look so wounded!” Dean said, startled. “Just eat. You’re right; it’s great.”

Castiel smiled and resumed eating. He let the sweetness envelope his taste buds, sighing with contentment when he was done.

“I like eating,” Castiel noted, slumping back against the padded bench.

“I’ve noticed,” Dean laughed. He saw the waitress talking with someone and stealing glances in their direction. He slid his arm protectively around Castiel’s narrow shoulders.

“What are you doing?” the smaller man asked, tensing out of reflex.

“Putting my arm around you,” Dean answered. He added, more softly, “It’s a sign of affection.”

Castiel’s shoulder muscles relaxed.

“I like this,” he murmured, settling against Dean, “but people are staring.”

“Fuck ‘em,” Dean said. “Let them stare.”

“Dean, I think you may have upset someone,” Castiel uttered as a burly man in an apron – the same man the waitress was talking to – lurched towards them.

“I’m going to have to ask you two to leave,” the man stated unkindly.

“Is there some sort of problem?” Castiel wondered, squaring himself off as he stood up.

“Cas, sit down,” Dean hissed.

“Our establishment doesn’t condone the lifestyle of your...type,” the man said darkly.

“Our...type? I do not comprehend,” Castiel lamented, though he felt that he should be offended.

“Your boyfriend got some sorta learning disability?” the man asked Dean.

“No, sir. He’s just new to these parts,” Dean answered, taking Castiel by the arm and attempting to lead him away.

“I am not leaving, Dean,” the former angel snapped. “Not until this man explains what we have done wrong.”

The man unhooked his apron and flung it over his shoulder.

“Let me explain this to you as plainly as I can, son,” he snarled. “We don’t allow faggots in our diner.”

“Come on, Cas,” Dean pleaded, tugging Castiel by the elbow until they were out in the parking lot. “Jesus, Cas, you can’t go and stand up to a guy like that. You’re not an angel anymore, and if I hadn’t been there, you could have been hurt. Or arrested. Or both.”

Castiel stood staring at the pavement as Dean unlocked the doors to the Impala.

“That word the man used,” he said, “it is a bad word, correct?”

Dean opened the driver’s side door, but didn’t get in.

“Yeah, it’s one of the worst,” the hunter replied. “Look, you’ve got to know – there are people out there who discriminate against everyone and everything. That man in there was one of them. You can’t dwell on what he said, though, because it’s not true, and if you do dwell on it, it will become true.”

“That word was to describe homosexuals, or am I wrong?” Castiel asked, getting into the car after Dean.

“No, you’re right,” the hunter answered. “Fuck, I’m so not gay though...am I? I mean, I’ve been with hundreds of girls before now.”

Castiel glanced over thoughtfully.

“I can’t answer that for you,” he said quietly. “I think you know the truth.”

Dean nodded soberly, pulling out onto the freeway.

“You asked me earlier about why I chose to fall,” Castiel whispered.

“I did,” Dean said. “You’re ready to tell me now? So soon? I was expecting a fight.”

“I feel it is only right, after what has transpired today,” Castiel replied. “Dean, I did not fall. Let me make that one fact perfectly clear.”

“Wait, I don’t understand,” Dean said. “You fell out of the sky and became human. If you didn’t fall, then what happened?”

Castiel stared out the window and up at the dark clouds.

“I was pushed,” he stated quietly. “Forced out. It was not a choice. I was plucked from your room two nights ago, into an isolated room up in Heaven. I sat and I waited, not knowing what to expect. And then...”

“Then what?” Dean questioned urgently. “Was it Zachariah?”

“No, not him,” Castiel said. “It was Raguel. He walked in, and I knew right away that I had done something terribly wrong. I knew before then, even, but it was confirmed as I sat there gazing up at Raguel. He looked down on me with such disgust that I felt ashamed. Raguel told me that my interest in you had become too much in the interest of sin, that our night together was, as he put it, ‘immoral and abjectly iniquitous.’

“He had informed the rest of the Archangels of my arrival in Heaven, and while he was away, I reached you through a singular phone that I was able to think up in my time of need. When every angel stormed into the room with such fury, though, I could not concentrate, and lost our connection. I have never been as scared as I was then.

“I could not tell you who it was who struck first, but I remember how every blow felt.” Castiel’s voice cracked. “I felt my wings being torn from my body, slowly and painfully. And when it was over, I remember tumbling down and down, further than I’ve ever fallen before. It seemed to last forever.”

“Castiel...” Dean had pulled over to the side of the road some minutes ago. “And it’s all because we...?”

“Because I fell in love with the one I was meant to protect,” Castiel whispered, unable to face the other man. “Because I fell in love with a pathetic homosapien.”

Dean felt crushed at the words.

“That’s what you think of me?” he asked.

“That’s what you all are to us,” Castiel sighed painfully. “In the beginning, that’s what you were to me, as well. The fact that you became something more, which is why I was punished. I am not sure if you have ever read the Bible, Dean, but there are quite a few passages about the vulgarity of love between two of the same gender. Many try to dispel it, but it is there. God wrote it and he taught us to believe it. Falling in love with a human may have been forgiven, at some point in my life, due to my being young and foolish; I am no longer young, and I know better. And I should have known better than to love another man.”

Dean rested his head against the steering wheel.

“God is a homophobic son of a bitch,” he grunted.

“Do not speak ill of the Lord,” Castiel berated.

“You mean after everything you’ve been through, you still have respect for Him?” Dean asked quizzically.

“I must,” Castiel returned. “If I still have faith, then there will still be a small part of my life that will remain the same, even if everything else has changed.”

Wait a minute... Dean thought.

“Did you say you love me?”

End of Chapter Five.

Supernatural fanfiction - You're Never Alone (4/?)

2009-09-25T05:33:33Z

This chapter took a lot of time, and lots of rewriting. I feel as though it was worth it, though -- hopefully you will, too. :]

Title: You're Never Alone (4/?)
Characters (Pairings): Dean/Castiel, Chuck
Ratings/Warnings: R for -- look, this is just extremely bleak, we'll leave it at that.
Word Count: 2, 567
Summary: Chuck informs Dean of some bad happenings-on up in Heaven.

Note: Still unbeta'd.

Disclaimer: I don't own them. I think I'll go cry now, thanks.

Chapter Four: With This Pen, I Write

Dean couldn’t believe it. He was used to it by now – sure, he had even done it himself – but he wasn’t expecting it this time.

Castiel had ditched him.

Dean had woken up on his stomach, shirtless with his pants still cuffed around his knees and Castiel had just left him there alone, despite their previous night of revelations (as it were).

“Un-fucking-believable!” Dean grunted, wiping the sleep from his eyes.

He scoured the room, looking for a note, a small message of any sort to indicate where Castiel had gone.

One night and he’s got me hooked, Dean berated himself. Stop acting like a needy bitch.

The hunter sighed with resignation, depositing himself into an armchair.

Dean had a sudden thought. He strode over to where the phone sat on a table, and dialed 0 for the front desk.

“Yeah?” a nasal voice answered, not bothering hiding any annoyance. It sounded like whoever it was was busy playing computer games instead of doing their job.

“Hey, I was wondering if there were any messages for room fourteen?” Dean asked.

“Fine. Hang on,” the nasal tone replied irritatedly -- it was impossible to tell if it was a man or woman due to the insurmountable mucous which prevented the voice from sounding clear. “Yeah, someone called at about six this morning. Some guy named Chuck. Said it was
urgent and to call him back straight away.”

“Alright, thanks,” Dean said before hanging up.

He dialed Chuck’s home phone number, wondering what could be so “urgent.”

“Hi, you’ve reached the Prophet Chuck,” Chuck’s voicemail responded. “I can’t come to the phone, because either a) I’m prophesising and can’t be disturbed; b) the females have once again come knocking at my door—“

Dean burst out laughing.

“—c) I’m hungover (this is the most likely option); or d) any or all of the above combined. Leave a message – and I know you will, I foresaw this! – and I’ll get back to you soon. Peace out!”

A loud beep sounded.

“Dude, what the hell?” Dean snapped. “I get a call from you – which, by the way, I find to be an invasion of privacy, since I didn’t give this number out – saying it’s urgent and you don’t even answer?”

Dean exhaled sharply, trying to compose himself.

“Just call me back,” he said roughly. “I’ll be here the rest of the day, so we won’t have to—“

“Dean,” Chuck cut in. “Sorry, I was writing a new draft of something I saw. I tend to get a little carried away with the intensity of my work sometimes.”

Dean rolled his eyes. There’s nothing intense about this guy.

“Whatever,” he grumbled. “What is it you needed to tell me?”

“Well—“ Dean could hear Chuck shuffling around piles of paper. “This isn’t going to be easy. What I saw last night wasn’t very clear to begin with, and considering I was sort of in a drunken haze, things are even more foggy than usual.”

More shuffling.

“Nevertheless, I’ll do my best to inform you of what may or may not be transpiring,” Chuck said quietly.

“Chuck, just get to it already!” Dean exclaimed impatiently. “What’s this about?”

“Right, okay, well...it’s more like ‘who’ this is about than ‘what,’” Chuck answered, “and it’s Castiel.”

Dean felt suddenly dizzy. He somehow knew he wasn’t going to like whatever Chuck was about to tell him.

After it was clear Dean wasn’t going to interrupt with another outburst, Chuck cleared his throat and began talking again.

“Well, first of all, I’d just like to say right on for laying an angel last night!” Chuck congratulated, a small semblence of laughter in his voice.

Dean coughed uncomfortably.

“Dean, I think something’s happening between Castiel and the other angels,” Chuck continued on.

“What do you mean, you think?” Dean asked feverishly. “Chuck, what did you see?”

“Well, and here’s where it gets pretty vague,” Chuck warned, “I saw him – Castiel – and another angel. His face was turned away, so I
couldn’t see who it was. And then he – Castiel – was lying on the ground, surrounded by feathers.”

Dean’s mind raced, trying to piece together what Chuck was telling him.

“So Cas and some other angel guy are talking, and what?” Dean puzzled. “Forgive me for being dense, but I don’t get it.”

Chuck sighed, and the sounds of paper rustling picked up again in the background. Presumably, he was checking his facts.

“’Castiel and light-haired angel stand talking,’” Chuck recited. “’They argue. Argument heats up and Castiel is pushed. Castiel lays in a pile of feathers.’ I’m sorry, Dean, that’s all I’ve got. Like I said, I was severely pissed off my rocker.”

“Okay. Any idea when this is going down?” Dean questioned, more than a little annoyed by Chuck’s lack of insight.

“Soon,” Chuck answered. “Castiel’s already up there. My guess is it’s only a matter of time before something bad happens.”

Dean took a deep breath, staring up at the ceiling.

“So where do I find him?” he asked softly.

“You don’t. He’s going to come to you.”

--------

Dean spent the next few hours in various spots around the room, not wanting to leave for fear that Castiel would show up while he was gone.

He sat on the edge of the bed, leaning forward onto his elbows. Dean nearly toppled forwards at the sound of the telephone ringing.

“Hello?”

Dean could hear plenty of static before a voice finally cut through.

“Dean...” Castiel’s voice quaked.

“Cas? Cas, where are you?” Dean asked, gripping the phone tightly.

“Heaven. I am sending this message from Heaven. Oh.” Castiel gasped in surprise, static threatening to cut the phone call short.

“Castiel—“

“Dean, just listen,” Castiel demanded, his voice fearful. “The angels are extremely wrought with anger. I have done wrong, and they will see fit to punish me. They – no!”

Castiel’s voice died out.

“Cas? Castiel!” Dean yelled.

Static was the only sound that greeted him in response.

“Fuck...Castiel.”

Dean defeatedly placed the phone back down on the table, collapsing on the floor.

He’s going to come to you, Chuck’s voice reminded him.

But when? Dean’s own thoughts answered.

--------

Sometime after midnight, Dean had turned on the local news station, looking for a sign that anything out of the ordinary had happened.

“We urge you to please contact the number at the bottom of your screen if you have any information,” the news anchor reported as an Amber Alert scrolled across the bottom of the screen. “In other news, today a local man claims to have seen what he describes as—“

A blindingly bright light shone through from outside Dean’s room, causing him to fall off the bed, shielding his eyes.

Dean gasped and rubbed his eyes, only daring to open them after hearing an enormous crash – like something heavy connecting with pavement.

Dean quickly crossed the room and threw the door open.

A naked man lay curled up against the ground of the parking lot, bloody feathers strewn about him – and more continuing to fall from the sky – and two large, gaping holes were apparent even in the darkness, one on each of the man’s shoulderblades.

Dean’s hand trembled as it lay clutching the doorknob; his feet wouldn’t move.

“Castiel...my God,” he breathed, nearly inaudibly.

Dean’s feeling finally returned and he lurched forward, crumpling next to Castiel’s shivering form.

“Jesus, what did they do to you?”

The hunter swept his fingers over the downy feathers, which faded to ash beneath his touch.

“We need to get you to a hospital,” Dean said, beginning to maneuver Castiel’s weight onto his own until the man stopped him.

“No,” Castiel said, hissing in pain. “Please. Just...get me inside.”

Dean hesitated but nodded, heaving the shaking man into his arms.

“Okay, I’m gonna set you down on the bed as gently as I can,” Dean said soothingly. “Try not to lay on your back. You ready?”

Castiel nodded weakly, his limbs hanging lifelessly in Dean’s arms.

The angel groaned as his lacerated skin made contact with the rough linen sheets, curling up into the fetal position.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” Dean assured, exiting into the washroom.

He looked through all of the first-aid equipment he’d unpacked – antiseptic spray, bandages, sutures, and, of course, pain killers.
Dean piled it all into his arms along with a bucket of hot water and a wash cloth.

When he went back into the main room, Castiel was faced away from him, trying (and failing miserably) to pull the sheets up over himself.

“Stop it, you’re just going to hurt yourself,” Dean scolded, unloading the supplies onto a table and hurrying over to the bedside.

“I do not want you to see me like this,” Castiel bit back, gasping in pain.

Dean took Castiel’s hand in his own, steadying its feeble movements.

“What are you worried about?” the hunter asked.

“It is embarrassing,” Castiel whispered. “I am naked, and hurt, and I do not want you to look upon me and remember me as someone who was weak.”

Dean sighed.

“You’re not weak, Cas,” he answered. “Look, I’ve got to clean you up. Please, don’t be so hard on yourself.”

Dean grabbed the water and wash cloth, kneeling beside the injured man.

Castiel bit his lip as he felt the damp cloth scrape against the painful wounds of his back.

“They removed your wings,” Dean stated dumbly.

“They cut them off, yes.”

Dean rinsed the blood out of the rag before continuing to cleanse the holes where Castiel’s wings had been.

“Why did they do it?” the hunter asked soberly.

Castiel’s eyes closed remorsefully.

“I broke one of the cardinal rules,” he responded softly. “This is something that cannot be forgiven.”

Dean uncapped the bottle of antiseptic.

“Not gonna lie, this is going to hurt like a motherfucker,” he warned before squirting the liquid onto Castiel’s back.

The wounded angel cried out a bible passage, writhing in pain.

“If it’s any consolation, that’s likely going to be the worst of it,” Dean said, grabbing the sutures. “You’ll barely feel this. I promise.”

Castiel nodded, his breathing still coming in pants with the aftershock of pain. He felt a slight pinch at his left shoulder, but the antiseptic spray had stung so much that it was relief to feel that sensation.

“What are you doing?” Castiel inquired, feeling as though a lot was going on behind his back.

“I’m closing up your wounds,” Dean answered distractedly.

Snip.

“There, one down,” Dean remarked. He placed a bandage over the stitches on Castiel’s left shoulder blade.

“You are not going to ask me,” Castiel noted. It wasn’t a question.

“Ask you what?” Snip. Dean placed the second bandage over the wound on the right side.

“What rule I broke,” Castiel murmured as he watched Dean rummage through his suitcase for spare clothing.

“No,” the hunter replied simply. “I figure you’ll tell me when you’re ready. But right now, we need to get you into some clothes.”

Dean sat next to Castiel, lifting him up into a sitting position.

“Let’s try this,” he said, gently easing one of the angel’s arms through the sleeve of a button-down shirt. “Just like Jimmy would wear, right?”

Castiel smirked as Dean’s fingers deftly fastened the buttons.

“Can you stand? I don’t want you freezing your dick off,” Dean said, “so it’d be good to get you into some pants!”

Castiel held onto the other man, trying to pull himself up.

“I am too weak, I am afraid,” the angel moaned with exertion, slumping back down.

Dean knelt down on the floor, sliding boxers and pants halfway up Castiel’s legs.

“You’re going to have to lift your hips,” the hunter said.

Castiel awkwardly hoisted his weight onto his elbows until he felt fabric being tugged firmly up against his waist.

“Can I get you anything?” Dean asked, laying Castiel back down on his side.

“No, you have done more than enough,” Castiel insisted.

“Don’t be stupid,” Dean quipped. “If there’s something you need, tell me.”

Castiel sighed.

“My throat is scratchy.”

“I’ll bring you some water,” Dean said.

He returned all of the first-aid supplies to the bathroom, instead filling up a cup with cold tap water.

“Drink this,” Dean whispered, lifting Castiel’s head up slightly.

The angel eagerly gulped down the water.

“Better,” Castiel remarked. “This water can relieve a scratchy throat?”

“It can relieve thirst,” Dean replied, “which is something I guess you’ll be experiencing not that you’re...are you human?”

Castiel laid his head back down, his gaze meeting Dean’s.

“Yes, I am human now,” he confirmed, “which means I am also very tired.”

“Of course, I’m sorry,” Dean apologized. “Sleep now. I’m too keyed up to even think about trying to sleep.”

He stood up.

“Dean,” Castiel murmured, grabbing Dean’s forearm. “Just lay here, with me. Please.”

“Yeah, sure,” Dean said. He went around the other side of the bed, lying down next to the other human so that they were facing each other.

Castiel tentatively took Dean’s hand, locking their fingers, knowing this was an intimate gesture of affection, and therefore half expecting the hunter to pull away.

Dean stared down at their intertwined fingers, then back up into Castiel’s blue eyes.

“I was scared for you,” he admitted. “If Chuck hadn’t already told me that you were going to show up, I would have been afraid I wasn’t going to see you again.”

“Chuck told you of this?” Castiel asked hesitantly. “What did he tell you?”

“Uh, nothing really,” Dean said, being careful with his words. “I mean, the guy is not exactly helpful, being a prophet and all. Are you sure you guys didn’t make a mistake on that?”

“Dean, what did he tell you?” Castiel asked more seriously, his fingers tightening around Dean’s.

“Fuck, Cas, it was nothing,” Dean answered, pulling his hand away. “He said you and some other angel got into a fight, then he said you were on the ground with feathers all around you – that’s how I found you.”

Castiel closed his eyes.

“That’s all he told you?” he whispered. “You’re sure?”

Dean shifted uncomfortably.

“I’m not lying, Cas,” he said meekly. “I don’t know anything.”

Castiel let out a long exhalation.

“Good.” He lightly brushed his fingers against Dean’s arm, tracing over the handprint he himself had left not so long ago. “I am sorry for the way I spoke to you.”

Dean moaned at the pleasant feeling he got from Castiel’s hand over the mark on his arm, so unlike the burning pain he normally felt.
“It’s...it’s okay,” he muttered.

“I will tell you. Some time,” Castiel whispered. “I just cannot talk about it tonight. I hope you understand.”

“Yeah,” Dean answered, barely comprehending anything other than the tingling sensation in his arm.

“I suppose I should slumber now,” Castiel said. “I am not used to feeling so depleted. Thank you for letting me use your bed again, Dean.”

Dean let out a breath he didn’t even realize he’d been holding in, as Castiel let go of his arm and curled up closer, letting his eyes droop shut.

“Good night, Dean,” Castiel mumbled into Dean’s shoulder.

“Good night. I’ll be here, you know,” Dean said, clearing his throat, “if you need me.”

He didn’t sleep a wink.

End of Chapter Four.

College sucks ass (rant + Supernatural fanfiction update)

2009-09-17T22:34:13Z

Especially when everything goes wrong.

The booklet for continuing education courses (Fall '09) came out in August, but I'd already been looking at the course guide online. I enrolled in some classes for a business certificate program, only to have someone call me the next day and tell me the courses I'd registered for on-campus were canceled.

Hey, ever heard of editing your publications so people don't have misinformation and get their hopes up?

I then had to look into online classes instead (which is not something I wanted to do, because I've never had the college experience. Come on, guys everywhere? Like my avvie says, "yes, please!"). Number one, they were more expensive, and number two, they came with a lot more course material -- which isn't included in the price.

So, I had to pay approximately $550 for just two out of eleven compulsory courses -- not fun -- and when one of those courses (Keyboarding Essentials) requires you to purchase a $100 textbook (which, by the way, is insanely overpriced for the size of it), things start getting even more hefty.

Imagine my surprise when my textbook arrives on my course start date (September 11) only to find out it should have come with software. No joke. It was supposed to come bundled with the mandatory software for the class! Obviously, I freak out and contact the college bookstore right away, and they're complete idiots who, on a Friday afternoon, will say anything to get their asses out the door faster. In other words, they've never heard of any software, and this is all my fault.

A quick email to my instructor assures me that this is the college's error and that I'm entitled to a full refund. Of course, that also means I need to fork over another $130 for the textbook/software bundle from a different website, extra costs ($15) for premium shipping to ensure it arrives in a timely fashion in order for me to hand in my first assignment (due tomorrow).

I paid fifteen fucking dollars for premium express shipping on SUNDAY and it hasn't arrived yet. What's the fucking point of express shipping if it doesn't get here any faster?

So there's my rant. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Continue reading for information on upcoming chapters of my Supernatural fanfiction.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Firstly, for those of you who have been reading and commenting, thank you! I appreciate my readers very much.

I'm currently writing chapter four of the story. It's extremely bleak, for one thing, and it will be longer than past chapters. I don't have as much time to write since I started courses, but if I write a bit every night, I should be able to upload it next week.

SPOILER!!

Its title is "With This Pen, I Write". I'll leave the rest to your imagination. :]

Supernatural fanfiction - "You're Never Alone (3/?)"

2009-09-15T04:41:51Z

I'm assuming this is the chapter you've been waiting for.

Title: You're Never Alone (3/?)
Characters (Pairings): Dean/Castiel
Ratings/Warnings: NC-17 for -- sexual content and some language.
Word Count: 1, 149
Summary: Dean was right -- sleeping in the same bed was not a good idea.

Note: Still unbeta'd.

Disclaimer: They aren't mine. If they were, don't you think they'd be getting themselves into naughty situations on the show?

Chapter Three: No Rest for the Wicked

Dean couldn't sleep. And, unless Castiel was a completely soundless sleeper, he suspected that the angel was lying awake as well.

"Cas, are you awake?" Dean asked, groaning as he sat up.

Why is it so goddamn hard to make a fold-out cot that won't crack your fucking spine? he thought angrily.

Castiel was laying on his side, staring at the wall. He had been quiet, feigning sleep all this time. He thought it was polite, and that it would make Dean happy; he had seemed so intent on it.

"Yes, I am awake," Castiel said truthfully.

"Good, 'cause man, I can't lay on this so-called 'bed' any longer," Dean remarked gruffly.

Castiel could feel the mattress sink on the other side of the bed.

"I hope I don't have to remind you to stay on your side of the bed," Dean sighed as he curled up, facing away from the angel.

The bed shifted as Castiel turned over, staring raptly at the hunter's back.

"Dean--"

"Shh," Dean shushed. "No talking. Sleep."

Castiel licked his lips, watching the way the human's shoulders rose and fell with every breath.

You should not do this, the angel scolded himself. He does not want the same things from you that you desire of him. It's wrong.

Castiel moved minutely forward, despite himself; there was no sign that Dean had noticed.

The angel scooted forward two more inches, until their bodies were nearly pressed front-to-back.

Castiel's heart was pounding furiously, feeling the tightness in his pants beginning to form at the sheer proximity of Dean's body to his own. He daringly reached his arm around, encircling Dean's waist. His hand lay flush against the hunter's lower stomach.

Dean sat up on his elbows, looking down into Castiel's eyes, which shone brightly even in the dark.

The angel leaned over, bringing their faces close together by lightly cupping Dean's cheek.

The human held onto Castiel's wrist, his eyes never leaving the ones piercing into his as their lips touched.

Dean could feel his heart inexplicably leap at the kiss. He liked girls. This shouldn't be happening.

They broke apart after a moment, and Castiel leaned into Dean's neck.

"Dean, does this feel wrong?" he whispered, pulling away to look into the depths of Dean's green eyes, which were deeply hooded -- with sleep or with lust, Castiel could not tell.

Dean cradled the angel's face between his roughened hands.

"It should," he answered, "but it doesn't."

Dean pressed his mouth firmly to Castiel's, feeling the angel's lips move in a way that was entirely unexperienced.

When the angel felt a tongue sliding against his lips, he pulled back.

"Dean, I do not know--"

Dean gently kissed along Castiel's jawline.

"Don't think about it," was his answer before pushing the angel down into the mattress, sitting astride his slender hips.

Castiel moved his hand cautiously up Dean's shirt, running along the firm muscles of his back as he felt the hunter's mouth once again descend upon his.

Dean's hands moved to Castiel's shirt, pulling open the buttons, and tracing his fingers over the smooth skin of his torso.

The dark-haired man moaned at the contact, finding his body arching upwards into the touch of its own accord.

Dean pried open the angel's lips with his tongue, tasting every corner of his sweet mouth. They both made small sounds of pleasure as their tongues slid along each other for the first time.

Castiel tugged at Dean's shirt with clumsy fingers, trying to get it off.

The hunter pulled away, sliding the garment over his head and tossing it aside. He placed his mouth over one of Castiel's nipples, running his tongue over it and relishing in the gasp it elicited from the angel.

"Dean," Castiel breathed, his fingers tangling in Dean's thick strands of hair.

The angel's eyes were clamped shut, focusing in on the sensations of Dean's lips, tongue and teeth dragging across his skin, his hand traveling downwards towards the source of friction in Castiel's pants.

Castiel knew, somewhere in the dark corners of his mind, that what they were doing was highly frowned upon by his kinsmen, but he somehow found it hard to care when Dean's hand wrapped tightly around his erection.

"Dean!" Castiel cried, bucking his hips involuntarily into the hand grasping him.

Dean crawled lower, removing his hand for the briefest of moments to open Castiel's trousers, lifting the angel's hips in order to pull them down, along with his underwear.

Dean pumped his fist up and down Castiel's newly-exposed cock, glancing up to see the angel's head turned against the pillow.

The seraphim's hands were clenched in the bedsheets, trying his best to be quiet when he felt a wet heat envelope him.

Dean held Castiel's hips to the bed as he lowered his mouth further along the length of the angel's cock, hollowing his cheeks and sucking deeply.

His tongue slid along the length, and Dean could hear muffled sounds coming from above.

"Let me hear you," Dean whispered husikly before ducking his head once more.

"Oh, Father, who art in heaven, forgive me for my sins!" Castiel gasped as he felt Dean's tongue dip into his slit.

The hunter smiled around Castiel's dick -- he's religious even in the throes of ecstasy?

Dean unzipped his own pants, reaching inside and stroking himself in time to the bobbing of his mouth going up and down on the angel's erection.

"Dean, something's happening," Castiel cried out, grabbing Dean's shoulder as he felt his muscles tighten in the final moments before his orgasm.

Dean swallowed, choking slightly at the unexpected amount of semen that flowed into his mouth.

The hunter leaned back on the bed, pushing his pants around his thighs, hand flying over his dick.

"Oh, fuck," Dean groaned as he came over his hand, panting heavily. He collapsed next to Castiel, staring up at the ceiling contentedly.

The angel laid against the human, tucking his head into the crook of his shoulder.

"I never thought you reciprocate my feelings for you," Castiel murmured, closing his eyes as Dean wrapped a protective arm around him. "You act very...indifferent towards me, even coldly at times."

"I'm very confused about what I feel for you," Dean admitted. "I mean, come on, I love the ladies. This isn't something I expected."

Castiel smiled one of his rare smiles.

"Is it something you could see yourself enjoying?" he asked, tracing lazy patterns onto Dean's stomach with the pads of his fingers.

Dean tilted Castiel's head up, so their eyes met.

"Dude, I'm practically gay for you!"

They exchanged knowing smiles before they both drifted off to sleep.

End of Chapter Three.

Supernatural fanfiction - "You're Never Alone (2/?)"

2009-09-12T02:43:43Z

Thanks for continuing to read. :]

Title: You're Never Alone (2/?)
Characters (Pairings): Some minor Dean/Castiel; Dean/OFC.
Ratings/Warnings: Hard R for -- more dark themes, more use of the word 'dude,' pervy Castiel, sexual content, and language
Word Count: 3, 372
Summary: Castiel suggests that Dean get out for awhile.

Note: I am my own beta. All mistakes are my responsibility.

Disclaimer: Sadly, the only characters that are mine are the lovely Cassidy and the surly bartender, Dave. Castiel and Dean -- and the Burger King corporation -- are not mine.

Chapter Two: This Game we Play

When Dean woke up, Castiel was still sitting next to him, in the exact same position he'd been in before.

“Mm,” the hunter grunted, rubbing his eyes. “What time is it?

Castiel stood up, crossing the small room to open the blinds. Dean leaned over to look at the clock.

“It's slow,” the angel said, folding his palms behind his back as he walked towards the bed. “It is nine forty-three.”

Dean yawned and nodded groggily.

“Ugh, man, I've gotta take a leak,” he groaned, stretching out of bed and walking lazily toward the bathroom.

“Ahh...” Castiel heard from the other room. ”So, Cas, you angels don't have to sleep, but do you still have to go to the bathroom like us regular schmucks?”

The sounds of a toiler flushed, and Dean walked back into the bedroom.

“No, we do not,” Castiel answered simply, a faint smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. “We do not have most of the bodily urges you 'regular schmucks' have.

Dean's eyebrows shot up as he rummaged through the suitcase on the floor. He rose with a t-shirt and jeans in hand.

“Most? But you do have some?” he asked curiously, pulling his pyjama top over his head.

“Ah...yes, that is correct,” Castiel confirmed with a cant of his head.

“Could you?” Dean gestured for the angel to turn around before pulling off his boxer shorts.

Castiel turned and faced the motel room door. “I assure you, I have seen the human form in its entirety many times before.” The angel's wandering eyes fell to the slight reflection given off by the doorknob. He could see Dean as he shimmied out of his boxers, into new ones; saw every inch of the hunter's impressively-sculpted lower body.

“Well yippee for you,” Dean said, fastening his jeans with a 'zzzzip.' “I bet you've seen your share of women's locker rooms in your day, huh, Cas? You angels sure are a pervy bunch.”

Dean tapped Castiel on the shoulder.

“I’m decent,” he smirked. ”So, those urges you were talking about—“ he flopped on the bed and pressed the 'power' button on the T.V. remote “--what are they?”

Castiel sat next to Dean, his gaze averted. He felt ashamed.

“Angels can love, too, Dean.”

The hunter looked up from his channel surfing, and saw that Castiel was looking anywhere but at him.

“Oh yeah?” Dean was intrigued by this; at the same time, though, he saw that Castiel looked uncomfortable by the subject. He cleared his throat. “Well, whoever she was, it was her loss.”

Castiel was taken aback by this remark. He stared at Dean with his bright blue eyes, but saw that he was already pre-occupied with the motel's pay-per-view selection.

“Niiice,” he grinned, coming across the adult section. “Hm, but I guess this isn't exactly something you'd approve of.”

“No,” Castiel sighed, “but perhaps, given that you've done so much for my comrades and I, I could grant you a small screening of the public fornication of your choice.”

Dean fidgeted. “Oh, dude, why do you have to say it like that? It's porn -- it doesn't require your bigass vocabulary skills to describe it.”

Castiel's eyes gleamed with pride at the lexicon of words he possessed.

“Very well,” he replied. “Shall I leave you to your—“ he couldn't help the small smile that crept onto his face “--porn?”

“Yes, finally, please do,” Dean retorted restlessly. His fingers were itching to press the 'play' option next to the title 'Claire & Vicky in the Big City.'

“Until we meet again, then.” And Castiel vanished with a bright light.

Dean unzipped his jeans and hit 'play.'

--------

Castiel felt something. What was it that he felt?

He was feeling saddened, saddened over the fact that Dean needed to watch mindless smut instead of basking in the simple pleasure of being near someone who loved him.

The angel found himself wishing that it was he who Dean wanted, he whose face, whose voice would be imprinted in his mind as the hunter fell asleep at night, and when he rose in the morning. He wanted Dean imagining him, seeing his face when he gave in to sin and pleasured himself, not some random girl from the pornographic film he watched.

Castiel wished it badly, and knew it was sick and wrong. Falling in love with a human? Preposterous. Falling in love with a male human?

What was that called? Homosexuality. He shook every time he thought of it; knew that men were killed for loving others of the same gender. How could he let this happen?

Moreover, how could he fix it?

--------

Later on in the evening, Dean was eating mac and cheese in the small kitchenette when he heard the phone ring. He was startled by this, as he had not given his room number out to anyone -- not even Bobby -- and therefore, had not received any calls since he'd checked in six days ago.

Dean swallowed his spoonful of macaroni and walked across the room, rebating whether to answer or not.

His hand hovered over the receiver before finally giving in and picking up on the eighth ring.

“Hello?” Dean answered, half-expecting it to be a wrong number.

“Hello? Dean? Can you hear me?” It was Castiel; judging by the volume of his voice, he had never used a telephone before (or he had, but had long since forgotten the technique).

“Cas, you don't have to yell,” Dean laughed. “I can hear you.”

“Oh, I see,” the angel answered meekly. “I apologize. This apparatus seems foreign to me.”

I’m sure a lot of things seem foreign to you, Dean thought before saying aloud, “What's up? It sounds kind of loud where you are.” He could hear muffled conversation, clanging noises, bells. “Where are you, exactly?

“I am at a small eatery. It is called Burger King. Have you heard of it?” Castiel asked over the background noise.

“Ha, no, I haven't,” Dean responded, hoping the angel would pick up on his sarcasm. ”Why are you—“?

“I should very much like to meet this King of Burgers,” Castiel cut in.

“Oh...no, Cas, it's not—“ Dean tried to think of a way to explain that Burger King was just a fast-food joint famous for its hamburgers, and not a kingdom to the ruler of patties themselves. “You know, he'd probably like to meet you too, Cas. But more than that, I think he'd like you to tell me why you're calling.”

There was a pause as he heard Castiel's amazed voice exclaiming, “The flame-broiled burger? Excuse me, miss? Would not that be a bit hot for the human mouth?”

To which Dean could vaguely make out the answer, “You bet! So hot, the devil himself could have cooked it.”

“Blasphemy,” he heard the angel mutter.

“Castiel!” Dean yelled into the mouthpiece.

“Dean, you do not have to yell. I can hear you,” Castiel mocked. “To answer your question, you've been holed up for nearly a week in the same exact room. I want you to get out for awhile. Come meet me here.”

“No offense, Cas, but a crowded burger joint isn't exactly my idea of a good time,” Dean said. He could barely believe his own ears, refusing saturated fats so blatantly.

“Where would you prefer to go?” Castiel inquired.

“Some place quieter, for one thing,” Dean murmured. He was lost in thought.

What was that bar he and Sammy (a pang of sadness filled Dean at the thought of his brother's name) had gone a few years back?

“I know the place we should go,” Dean said. “It's called 'Happy Hours.' Do you need directions on how to get there?”

“No. I will find it,” Castiel answered vaguely. “Goodbye, Dean.”

--------

Dean slid himself onto an empty stool and waved the bartender over.

“What’ll you have?” the man asked gruffly.

“What’s on tap tonight?” Dean inquired, scratching his chin.

“Miller.” The bartender -- whose name, upon further inspection, was Dave -- was wiping a shot glass clean.

“Good stuff. I'll take two,” Dean ordered. Did angels drink? He figured it was polite to order ahead anyway.

“Coming up.”

Dean glanced around the small venue; there were a couple of booths at the back, one of which was already filled; three girls leaning against the bar, presumably waiting for their dates; Castiel standing—

“Shit!” Dean cursed, jumping at the unexpected arrival of his companion for the evening. He clutched his chest in an overly dramatic fashion. “Cas, don't do that. Jesus...gave me a heart attack.”

The angel hoisted himself onto the barstool next to Dean's and said, “Do not take the Lord's name in vain. I apologize for startling you.”

“Here you go,” Dave the bartender announced his presence by setting two full glasses down in front of Dean.

“Thanks,” he answered, slapping a bill down on the bar. “Here, I hope you don't mind --I ordered your drink for you.” He slid one of the glasses over to sit in front of Castiel before taking a sip of his own drink.

The angel stared down at the glass, picked it up, and sniffed it hesitantly.

“What do you call this concoction?” Castiel wondered curiously, dipping his finger into the amber liquid and bringing it to his mouth.

And sucking.

Dean stared, transfixed.

“It’s....it's beer.” He cleared his throat, shaking his head before turning away from Castiel's ministrations.

The angel released the digit from his mouth with an audible 'pop.'

“Oh,” Castiel said, with a strange sort of glee in his voice. “It's good. He licked his lips and brought the glass to his mouth, drinking deeply.

“Whoa, whoa, slowly there,” Dean said, setting his own drink down as he watched Castiel down half the contents of his beverage before coming up for air (did angels need air?). “Take 'er easy. You'll get pretty hammered if you keep going at it like that.”

Castiel closed his eyes, feeling sudden warmth spread through his human vessel.

“I feel...hot,” he said, opening his eyes to stare questioningly at Dean, “like my body is being enveloped in liquid heat.”

“That's normal,” Dean assured, clapping the angel on the shoulder. “That's the alcohol warming up your system. Feels good, right?”

Castiel stared at the place where Dean's hand had been.

“Yes,” he replied with a hint of a smile. “It feels very good.”

Dean’s attention had traveled elsewhere, to the blonde in the corner giving him the eyes. He raised his glass to her, drinking the remainder of his beer in one sip.

“Listen, Cas—“ Dean broke eye contact with the blonde to speak frankly with Castiel. “I think I'm gonna -- you know. Okay?”

Castiel's face was alight with confusion.

“I'm not sure I understand,” he said, puzzled. “We are having a good time, are we not?”

Dean sighed, gesturing to the blonde that he would be with her in just a minute.

“Sure, we are,” the hunter answered cheerfully, “but it's like you said earlier -- I've been caged up in that room for waaay too long. And no offense, but as much fun as we have together, I think I'd have more fun with her. See what I'm getting at?”

Castiel felt disheartened, drank the rest of his -- what had Dean called it? – ‘beer,’ in one fell swoop. He wanted to experience those feelings of warmth again.

“I see what you are getting at,” Castiel confirmed.

“Good,” Dean sighed with relief. “So, I'm gonna go over there with her, and here's...twenty bucks. You can do what you want with it, or you can go...it's your choice, dude.”

Castiel took the twenty-dollar bill from Dean's hand reluctantly.

“Okay then. I guess I'll see you later, then.”

Dean gave Castiel the thumbs-up as he headed towards the blonde vixen.

The angel watched as Dean leant down and whispered something in her ear; watched her bite her lip and smile up at him.

“Excuse me, sir,” Castiel called over to the barkeep.

“Yeah. Another round?” Dave shouted back.

Castiel drummed his fingers against the countertop, his eyes burning as he looked back over in Dean's direction; he had the girl pressed up against the wall, whispering things he could only imagine were dirty and sinful; and the woman reciprocated by running her hand up Dean's thigh.

“Give me the strongest alcohol you have.”

--------

The blonde (whose name turned out to be Cassidy), giggled as Dean escorted her into the men's washroom.

They went into a stall and locked it, Dean pressing Cassidy up against the door. He covered her mouth with his own, groping at her ample chest.

Cassidy moaned and opened her mouth, inviting Dean's tongue inside. Her hands roamed over the front of his jeans, trying to get them undone.

Dean's hands joined Cassidy's, pulling at his zipper until he was able to slide his jeans down around his thighs.

He lifted her skirt, pulling down the lacy fabric of her panties.

“You have a condom, right?” Cassidy asked breathlessly.

Dean shoved his hand into the back pocket of his lowered jeans, plucking out a prophylactic.

“Always be prepared, that's my motto,” the hunter murmured slyly.

--------

Castiel felt dizzy. And more than a little nauseous.

He had downed three shots of something called a 'Hammerhead' (which contained 15% alcohol per shot), and had chased it with another beer.

Castiel attempted to lower himself from the barstool, but it seemed a lot higher than it had when he's first sat down.

“Hey buddy, you need me to call you a cab? Dave the bartender asked.

The angel finally touched his feet to the ground.

“No, my friend...Dean, he went...” Castiel stumbled slightly as he went towards the men's room. “I will go find him.”

The angel slowly made his way to the room in the back, taking baby steps and blinking frequently, as though hoping this would make the room stop spinning.

Castiel leaned against the door to the men's room, nearly losing his footing when his weight caused it to open.He could hear a man's low voice, grunting in time to the sound of a stall door banging against its frame.

“Dean, Dean, fuck!” a woman's voice gasped loudly.

Castiel crept closer to the stall, felt guilty for eavesdropping on such a private act. He could hear Dean's strangled moans of pleasure, and felt his heart beat rapidly in response.

Castiel noiselessly -- or, he rather hoped it so -- crept into the adjoining stall, lifting his feet so as not to attract any attention. He closed his eyes and listened.

“Almost there...almost...ah, fuck!”

Castiel tried to steady his breathing as the sounds of the neighbouring stall dissipated. He felt an unfamiliar friction in his trousers, and didn't know what had caused it to happen -- or what to do about it.

“Dean, that was so amazing!” Cassidy exclaimed contentedly.

There was a sound of clothing being shuffled around, and then Dean's response:

“For sure. I'll give you a call sometime, alright?” The door to the men's room banged shut, and Castiel listened intently as he heard running water; Dean must still be out there.

The angel shifted uncomfortably, opening his eyes only to find the room spinning even worse than it had been before.

“I knew you angels were a pervy bunch,” came the sound of Dean's laughter as the tap shut off.

Castiel froze, unable to say anything as Dean pushed the door to his stall open (he hadn't bothered locking it).

Dean stared wryly down at Castiel, who wasn't looking so well.

“Dude, you are so smashed,” he observed, squatting down until he was at eye level with the angel. “How much did you drink?”

Castiel was breathing heavily, feeling nausea, shame, dizziness like no other, and...something else. His mind was still reeling after having heard Dean in the next stall, making love with that woman. He could feel stiffness in his lower region, but with his knees bent up to his chest, was hoping Dean wouldn't notice anything amiss.

“I may have had one...” Castiel murmured, “or four more drinks. “I am not feeling very well.”

“No, I wouldn't think so!” Dean stated the obvious. ”Especially considering you're a virgin when it comes to alcohol.

Castiel's eyes drooped and he swayed slightly, about to fall from a simple sitting position.

“Okay, it's okay. I've got you.” Dean grabbed the angel by his shoulders.

Castiel groaned softly.

“Let's get you back to the motel, alright?”

Castiel shakily nodded his assent.

--------

After the short car ride back, Dean helped Castiel sit down on the bed.

“Can I get you anything?” he asked. Castiel tugged at the sleeves of his trench coat.

“Have you ever noticed that I wear the same thing all the time?” he asked. He started shimmying out of the tan coat.

“Well, maybe, now that you mention it,” Dean said, chuckling slightly. “Do you have a whole closet full of the same clothes, or is it really the same outfit every time?”

Castiel grinned and prodded Dean in the chest.

“That's funny!” he giggled. “You're a funny guy, Dean Winchester.”

“Yeah, sure,” Dean agreed half-heartedly. He's drunk off his ass. “I'll go get you a glass of water.”

The hunter went into the bathroom with a plastic cup and turned on the faucet, letting it flow until the cup was full.

Dean turned around and saw Castiel leaning against the doorway, unsmiling, an odd twinkle in his eye. His button-down shirt was clumsily undone in a few spots, and his tie was hanging uselessly from his shoulders.

“Go lay down, I'll bring it to you,” Dean ordered, trying to scoot Castiel back to bed.

The angel stepped forward until he was standing mere inches from Dean; he placed his hands on the hunter's arms, running along the length of them.

“Castiel—“

“Shh, Dean.” Castiel leaned closer, until their faces -- their lips -- were millimetres apart.

“You're fucking drunk,” Dean whispered, his voice cracking slightly.

“I know,” Castiel replied and pressed his lips to Dean's. His eyes were tightly shut, trying to savour every second before—

Dean shoved Castiel, perhaps a little harder than he'd intended to.

“You don't know what you're doing.”

Dean sauntered past the angel, water still in hand.

“Come back and lie down,” he said pleadingly, “please.”

Castiel watched as Dean left the room and waited for him to follow.

Reluctantly, the angel sat back down on the bed, taking the water from Dean without drinking it.

Dean sighed, running his hand through his hair. He seated himself in a chair a few feet away.

"Dean?” Castiel looked over at the hunter, his eyes wide and apologetic.

“What?” Dean asked tiredly. 'You know he's giving you the puppy eyes. Don't look at him.'

“I am sorry for making you uncomfortable,” Castiel said remorsefully. “That was not my intention.”

Dean smiled weakly.

"Get some sleep,” he said. “I know you think you don't need it, but you'll feel a lot better if you do.”

Castiel set the water down.

“Will you sleep, as well?” he asked.

Dean thought of what might happen if he slept in the same bed as a drunken, apparently horny, Castiel.

“I'll sleep on the pull-out cot,” Dean responded, “that way, you'll have your space, and I can have mine.”

Castiel felt slightly hurt by this arrangement, but did not object.

"I think that I would like to try this 'sleeping’ thing,” the angel said. “Shall we say good night?”

Dean walked over to Castiel, showing him how to lay down under the covers and rest his head on the pillow; he then unfolded the cot from the couch and curled up, trying to make himself as comfortable as possible. Fold-out cots were always so damn hard on the back.

“Is this where we say good night?” Castiel questioned, raising himself onto an elbow to look over at Dean.

“Yes, it is,” the hunter replied, yawning. “Good night, Cas.”

Castiel settled back down.

“Good night, Dean.”

End of chapter two.

Supernatural fanfiction - "You're Never Alone (1/?)"

2009-09-12T02:38:39Z

I've been having so many problems posting to communities, so from now on I'm just linking back to here.

Title: You're Never Alone (1/?)
Characters (Pairings): Eventual Dean/Castiel, Alastair, mentions of Sam.
Ratings/Warnings: PG-13 or R for -- Dark themes abound; Dean's pervasive use of the word 'dude.' Set in between episodes 4.21 and 4.22.
Word Count: 1,402
Summary: Dean's last words to Sam just aren't sitting well, and he hasn't been able to sleep for a week.

Disclaimer: Sadly, none of these characters belong to me. I just like to tamper with their lives.

Note: This is unbeta'd, purely self-edited. Any mistakes you see are solely to blame on me.

Chapter One: Nightmares

Dean was restlessly sleeping in the sleazy motel room. It had been another long, hard day without Sam around to keep him company or cheer him up.

"If you walk out that door, don't you ever come back."

He kept replaying the words over and over in his mind after the fact; a week later still and Dean could not believe the events which had unfolded that day.

And so it was that the hunter lay there, his body covered in a damp sweat as a fretful sleep overtook him. Dean's unconscious mind had placed him in the middle of a cold, dark road; no streetlights shone as a guide. His beloved Impala was nowhere to be seen.

"I don't want to be here," Dean said, rubbing his hands over his face in fearful anticipation of what was to come. "Come on, dude, dream yourself someplace nice for once."

He settled himself on the ground, the dirty gravel covered with litter and remnants of animals that had been run off the road.

Dean took a sharp intake of breath and shakily whispered, "Three, two, one...I know you're there."

There were no noises to be heard; the only reason Dean knew of a presence lingering over his shoulder was due to the fact that this was the fourth time he'd dreamt of his.

Like clockwork, a male voice replied, "Dean. Oh, Dean, Dean, Dean...what have you done?"

That voice. Dean could not put into words how much he despised that voice. What had he once likened it to?  Oh, right -- a bad Marlon Brando impersonation.

"Alastair," Dean said as he rose, turned on his heels but did not raise his gaze. "Always a pleasure. Really, three times this week was not enough. I was jonesing for you, dude."

By now, Dean knew that i didn't matter what he said -- Alastair's words would be the same every time. Still, he figured he had better switch things up a bit, for his own sake.

"Dean Winchester...you know, I've been thinking about you," Alastair said, stepping forward a few paces, "thinking about your brother, too. Tell me, where exactly is ol' Sammy boy?"

Dean's jaw clenched at the mention of his brother. He finally met the demon's eyes, his stomach broiling over with hate as he did so.

"It's kind of sad, really, kind of...pathetic."  Alastair's teeth flashed grey-white in the moonlight. He leaned forward and grasped Dean's throat. "Your brother is off slutting around with some demon tramp, and you?"

The hunter gasped, trying to break free of his former mentor's killer grip.

"I'm disappointed, if I'm being frank. You had your chance to kill him, but you were too weak." Alastair squeezed once, tighter, before releasing unexpectedly (or it would have been, if Dean hadn't been through this before).

Dean was dropped unceremoniously to the ground, coughing and vaguely wondering if these little choking sessions were affecting him back in reality.

"Dean, you had so much potential. You could have been something, I mean truly...undeniably, a force," Alastair said with laughter in his voice. He tilted his head up to the sky and breathed deeply. "If those damned angels -- no pun intended -- hadn't ripped you away--" at this, the demon proceeded to grip Dean by the arm, hauling him to his feet; all the while his hand was clasped tightly over the print that had been scalded onto the skin beneath the surface of clothing.

The hunter cried out in pain. Any time any physical contact came to his mark -- Castiel's mark -- he experienced an excruciating pain like no other.

"I could have taught you, Dean, taught you everything you needed to know when you got back to the surface land. You brother?"  Alastair howled with deranged amusement, ignoring Dean's squirms and cries of discomfort. "You would never have hesitated like you did. Sammy would be six feet under. You want that, Dean?  You want me to teach you?"

Dean was close to tears, shaking his head vehemently.

"No, no. Please," he begged.

Alastair grinned, his grip softening as he answered, "We both know that you wouldn't be here if some part of you didn't want your baby brother's head on a serving platter."

Presently, Alastair's hold on Dean relaxed completely, and the hunter proceeded to charge him...

Only to go straight through him, as always.

"Dean," Alastair said lightly, "I'm dead. I wouldn't be here unless you needed me. Tell me -- what do you need?"

The demon began advancing again, and Dean clenched his hands into fists.

"I need..." His voice wavered, was barely audible. "I need..."

"Dean."

He awoke, panting slightly and looking around for the source of the voice.

"Cas?" Dean asked the seemingly empty room, until his eyes focused and saw a shape in the shadows. "Cas, what's wrong?"

Castiel stepped out from the darkened corner of the motel room and glanced around, his face expressionless.

"Nothing is wrong," he answered. "You seemed troubled, so I came. I wanted to make sure no trouble was befalling you."

Dean relaxed back against the headboard, only just realizing that he was shirtless. Surely, an angel had seen shirtless men before?  He shouldn't feel the need to be embarrassed, right?

"I wasn't aware I was so high up on your priorities list," Dean yawned, looking at the clock -- 4:26 AM, "especially considering it's the middle of the night and I was just sleeping."

"You were having a nightmare," Castiel said -- it wasn't a question. "That's the fourth time this week."

Dean quirked his eyebrows; in the dark, it likely wasn't noticeable.

"What, so you've been watching me sleep?" he asked with mild exasperation, scrambling for the switch to the bedside lamp.

"Hm."  Castiel turned the lamp on, warily eyeing Dean's angered face. "If you wish for me to desist, I will. I have merely been concerned for your well-being."

Dean's arms were folded over his chest, and he glanced up into the angel's blue eyes, then back ahead.

"Yeah, well...that's an invasion of privacy. And I'm no cause for concern," he said, jumping back a bit as Castiel's weight settled next to him on the bed.

"I was thinking," Cas said as he sat there, his hands pressed into the mattress on either side of his legs, as though testing its durability, "perhaps it would be best if I stayed here for tonight. Just in case."

"In case of what?" Dean responded, easing himself onto the other side of the double bed; he grabbed his shirt and pulled it on, starting to feel uncomfortable with being half-naked when an angel of the Lord was sitting just a few inches away.

"In case of more bad dreams," Castiel said, his large blue eyes looking over to meet Dean's green ones. "I can assure you will have a much more satisfying slumber if I am in your presence."

Dean could swear that Castiel was giving him puppy dog eyes. He was severely fucked.

"Yeah, yeah, fine," he conceded, snuggling under the sheets. "Just stay on your side of the bed, I beg of you."

Castiel nodded complacently. "Of course."  He continued to sit there placidly, hands folded in his lap.

"Dude, are you just going to sit there, or are you going to catch some z's?" Dean asked, squirming over onto his side to face the quiet angel.

"Z's?  I am sorry, I do not comprehend," Castiel answered, admiring the paint job of the wall in front of him.

"Sleep. Do you intend on getting any sleep?"

"Mm," Castiel said contemplatively, "no. Sleep is something I have not required in a very long time. You sleep. I shall stay here and wait for you to wake."

No sleep? Dean thought. How does this guy function?

"Cas, not to be rude, but I'm not so sure I'll be able to sleep with you just--"

Without warning, Castiel laid his hand on Dean's forehead. The last thing the hunter saw was a flash of light before, finally -- because it had felt like an eternity since it had -- a peaceful sleep washed over him.

"Sleep well, Dean," Castiel whispered, turning off the light. He let his fingertips linger ever-so-lightly against the hunter's forehead -- so lightly, in fact, that later on Dean would not recall having felt it. "Everything will be okay."

End of Chapter One.

Really old---probably very bad---poems

2008-01-22T00:56:09Z

Yay, old poetry! They were probably written when I was between twelve and fifteen...so they really are old. Go ahead and laugh :) I'll be laughing, too.
------------------------------------------

Lying awake
It's so surreal
(trying to catch my breath)

When I need help
You see right through me
My eyes a burning abyss
Don't stare too deep
(inhale)

Why is my heart racing?
My tears are like liquid darkness
Burning and torturing my soul as they start to overflow
(exhale)

It's starting
My mind is going numb
Tongue flickering over my lips, I taste the revelation I've had
(pause)

It feels like there's a knife of sorrow twisting into me
Am I still breathing?
(inhale)

My tears burn
Your face is blurred
Have I done his to me?
Has pain corrupted me?
I've had an epiphany
(exhale)

Good or bad
I feel no more

------------------------------------------

I hate the confusion that goes on in my head
I thought I really liked you
It's okay if you wanna drop dead

Now it's all messed up
Did I ever have a clue?
My cheek, in your hand cupped
Nevermind- fuck you, too

I never saw eye to eye with you
You never respected me back
Now that this is done, it's been gone through
I can see how you stared at that other girl's rack

If I ever need help, I know where to go
It won't be to you, though
You hurt me like a stubbed toe

------------------------------------------

Have I ever felt this numb?
My heart seems to have stopped
I don't have any feeling as the blood trickles down my fingertips
Your blood or mine?

My mind is in a stupor as we drop to the floor
There are no tears shed
You hold onto my arm as the sun starts to set
The blood stains my fingers and I know it is near the end; yours or mine?

I breathe in the morbid air
'Tis an air of death; grim defeat in our lives
We raise our hands in a pact of friendship
Vows are exchanged
My head begins to pound as you rest on my black shoulder
Are you there?

Then I close my eyes in a bout of sleep
I can't wake up
It was my blood
I was just too numb to know

------------------------------------------

When you told me you loved me,
was that just a lie?
A meaningless peck on the lips;
good bye!

I can't undo all the lies that you've told
I can't quit looking back,
Stand up and be bold

All of those lies that you fed to me
Made me too blind,
But now I can see

You've never told the truth,
and that's really sad
Considering all the good times I thought we'd had

Now that that's over,
you wave to me in the halls as I pass
With everything said and done,
I just say "kiss my ass"

------------------------------------------

Spinning your web of deceit,
everything you do,
you lie, you cheat

Cutting off everyone as you go along,
Humming the same tune to your very own song

You don't understand how I say you're not the same;
Every word coming out of your mouth is dripping with lame

You say I'm stuck up when you haven't a clue,
I'm not the one to blame in this situation;
That would be you