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Their bodies thump loudly to the ground. The vampire growls, showing off its teeth. Dean reaches for his machete, which lies in the mud pool in arms reach. He had dropped it few minutes ago, when vampire had tackled him to the ground and the vigorous wrestling had started.
The son of a bitch is stubborn. Vampire throws him over his head by taking a good grip of his shoulder and kicking his legs up. Dean flies over, making an unsteady somersault. In the haste he manages to grab his machete.
Vampire stands up, still growling, eyes gleaming in the moonlight. It launches himself towards Dean with all force. One good timed swing of his machete and head drops off neatly. Blood spills on his chest and arms. Dean grumbles, uselessly wiping his hands against his jeans. Why killing these suckers was always so dirty?
Dean had chased this one sucker outside, when they’d attacked the nest. Sam and Cas had been left inside the barn with four others. There’s loud thumping and grunting, and it's impossible to say, who it is.
“Hey, that was a good throw!”
“Thank you, Sam.”
Waving the knife around Dean comes back inside, where Sam and Cas stand in middle of four strewn vampire bodies. Two had their heads chopped off clean and easy, because they had managed to surprise them. Sam had had a heated fight with one of them, when Dean had chased the running rat into the woods. That vampire was sliced into pieces – one arm and hand lying a bit further from the woman’s head that had fluffy black curls on it. Right next to it laid another head – seemingly it looked like a teenaged boy’s head, but multiple sharp teeth peeked between its lips.
Sam gathers the body parts into a pile, giving a glance at him.
“You got him?”
“Yeah. I put him into a neat pile on the backyard. Thought we could just torch them up there.”
“Great, let’s drag these there too. By the way Dean, you should’ve seen how Cas chopped this guy here. He was on the other side of the room, and just threw his machete, cutting the head off cleaner than I’d ever could.”
Cas picks up the one of the legs and just starts dragging the carcass towards the door. His eyes are cast to the floor, when Sam praises him, but there’s a small smile tucking the corner of his lips.
“I’m not sure, Sam, how honourable it is to be good at slicing others.”
For the past weeks Cas had joined them on the hunts, things had become easier and easier for the brothers. Yeah, Cas might be out of angel mojo, but he was still a killing machine. When it came to guns he had steady hands and a good aim, even though he didn’t know much of them and sometimes had troubles loading. But with knives – huh – of course they knew Cas was a soldier, but it hadn’t really crossed Dean’s mind that heavenly battles and such weren’t won with a snap of fingers. Cas had to use heaven’s weapons, which mainly meant the angle blade. Given one of those or a knife, Cas had beheaded and killed all kinds of things easier than anything, becoming almost cross as a show-off.
Sam only smiles at Cas’ remark, carrying the heads past Dean to the yard. Dean huffs a little, kind of disappointed he didn’t get a chance to see Cas throwing machetes around. His lethally simple and effective fighting style was somewhat a secret turn-on for him. Well, people are usually sexy when they do things they’re good at. He shrugs his unwanted thoughts away and grabs the nearest body beneath the arms.
Soon they have a good pile of wood and body parts on the yard. Dean throws in some gasoline and lights it all up. They didn’t exactly have to burn the bodies, but this was the easiest and quickest way to get rid of them without having to dig up the whole yard. It’s already way past midnight and they’re all tired. No one wants to start digging graves for vamps.
Dean gathers all of their machetes and throws them to the back of Impala. From the back seat he pulls out few beers and a bag of fries he didn’t get to finish earlier. He returns to the bon fire, where Sam’s warming his hands, and pulling his jacket close as cool breeze goes over. Gratefully he takes the beer Dean offers and steals a handful of fries without asking.
“Hey!”
“C’mon dude, there’s more than enough, I’m hungry.”
“Of course you’re. You eat more than a moose.”
Sam grumbles something, but falls silent when Dean promises him another handful.
Cas is staring into the flames, apparently not even noticing them, as he jolts a bit to the offered beer. He takes it with a small nod, still staring into the fire. He holds the bottle only with two fingers, not taking a sip, not even glancing at it.
Seemingly casual Dean leans against a tree and takes a swig of his beer, munching away his fries. No one’s talking so they can hear well the crackles of the fire, the distant howls of an owl. Big chunks of smoke twirl up, colouring the sky even darker upon them. The burning flesh smells quite disgusting, but after all this time, he’s used to it. At least so much that it doesn’t bother his eating.
The light of the flames frames Cas’ still body. Dean’s staring at him and not even bothering to hide it; he’s worried about Cas.
Sam’s hand ruffles around the bag, leaving behind only couple of fries. Dean’s too tired and worried to get angry at him, which causes Sam to give him worried looks in return. Dean’s eyes are still glued on Cas, who hasn’t moved or said anything. He just has that blank stare in his eyes.
Of course the man has a lot on his plate right now – he had lost his grace probably for good to save Dean from the Mark. He was suddenly human again and still weak from the lost. Or not weak. Sick. Dean knew it because he’d heard more than once Cas cough up blood in the bathroom. Noticed how he didn’t run anymore, got winded by one set of stairs. Granted, he hid it pretty well, but Dean wasn’t that stupid. Besides, he had heard more than once when Sammy coughed up blood, so he knew exactly what it sounded like.
Sam finishes his beer, playing with the empty bottle. He inches closer, whispering to Dean’s ear.
“What’s going on with Cas?”
“Dunno. Maybe he’s just tired. Not used to being human, that kind of stuff.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
The crackles slow down as the fire starts to die out. Dean walks to Cas, slapping his shoulder.
“Better finish that beer, we’re leaving soon.”
Cas looks up at him, squinting in confusion, as if he’d never met Dean before. He opens his mouth to say something, but closes it quickly. Then he blinks in confusion, shifting his gaze to Dean’s hand, which still rests on his shoulder.
Dean frowns. Something’s wrong. In a more fundamental way than he thought. Something is seriously off with Cas. It’s as he would be looking at the shell without the proper insides in it.
Eventually Cas comes to his senses, lifting his eyes to meet Dean’s. He gives him a small, one-sided smile.
“I’m sorry. I’m tired.”
“You sure that’s all?”
“Yes, Dean. Let’s leave, we have nothing left to do here.”
With that Cas pours his beer to the remaining flames, which sizzle and hiss viciously, before dying out completely. Then he taps Dean’s shoulder reassuringly, passing him and heading back to the Impala. Dean looks up at the sky, where stars peek behind the clouds. In the darkness after the fire, his eyes take a moment to settle. Looming moon light shows Cas’ retreating back.
Dean gives Sam a questioning look, but he can only shrug in confusion. They head after Cas, who’s now fumbling into Impala.
Engine roars, sounding even louder in the undisturbed silence of the night. Sammy leans against the window, eyes drooping. He yawns loudly. Dean steers them to the road. Glance to the rear view mirror shows Cas, who’s lying in the back, already asleep.
Soon both of them are snoring lightly, so Dean refrains from putting on the radio. The only sounds are the tires rattling against the rough asphalt and the engine purring under him. Quietness allows worry and confusion twist his mind, shadow his judgement. He keeps glancing at sleeping Cas every now and then. He taps the steering wheel in his thoughts, sighing.
They stumble to the motel room - everyone’s eyes are still crossed. Castiel’s hair is ruffled to all the directions possible, and his finger-combing does nothing to tame it. Sam keeps yawning loudly, mumbling something that Dean doesn’t even bother figuring out.
“I take the first turn in the shower, ‘cause I drove all night.”
He states it sternly, but there’s no disagreements to begin with. It’s still early in the morning, even the sun isn’t peeking out yet. It’s clear that others just want back to sleep.
The motel room is small and smells dusty. There’s two beds and a sofa, which should open up into a third bed. There’s a huge oil painting of some beach scenery hanging over the small TV, which is right at the foot of the beds, next to the small table and couple of chairs. For a small room, they had managed to cramp a lot of stuff inside. And horrible looking, brown flower wallpaper. Who the hell decorated this place had to be out of their mind.
The lights flicker, and Dean’s already stiffing up, but it stop after a while. When he gives it a look, it’s clear that bulbs were just a bit loose.
He sighs in relief. He didn’t want to start working on a new case this soon. Actually he thinks he could use a day off. They all could.
Cas slumps to one of the beds ungracefully, fast a sleep before anyone gets a chance to say any objections. Sam throws his duffel bag to the floor, rubbing a hand over his eyes.
“I can take a sofa, you go ahead and take over the shower.”
Dean takes a look at the sofa. Even spread out Sammy would never be able to nestle into it comfortably.
“Nah, don’t bother. Your giant ass won’t fit in it. Take the bed, I’ll sleep on the sofa.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, you go back to sleep, you have huge bags under your eyes.”
“So do you.”
“Well, my charming looks make up for it.”
“Jerk.”
“Bitch.”
Sam gives in easily, settling to bed, as Dean ruffles around to go to the shower.
The hot water relaxes his tensed muscles. Blood turns the water at his feet red. He smells the rust of it, and his own sweat. Thank God, the clerk hadn’t really taken a proper look at them, or she could’ve panicked.
He can hear light snoring through the walls when he shuts the shower down.
Water drips around. Dean wipes the steamed up mirror, staring at his own reflection. The few restless nights and then the night of driving had indeed left him with bags under his eyes. His wet hair is sleek against his forehead. But his eyes – for the longest of time, they are alive. Twinkling with light and life.
Dean takes a look at the fading hand print on his shoulder. Cas’ handprint. If he closes his eyes he can still feel Cas’ touch. All the way back to when he was still a full-powered angel, grace forming a halo around his head when he rescued Dean from Hell. It was only lately he’d been able to go back to those memories. They seemed distant, yet so close. Only few weeks before he hadn’t even remembered how Cas rescued him.
Dean is certain he could now, because Cas had saved him again. He’d placed his hand on Dean’s shoulder again. Giving away the last part of him, the last part of angel in him, burning the mark straight out of his soul with blinding light. It had hurt, but there had been something comforting in it. Cas’ grace had felt like a dive into a flames just to be dropped seconds later into the ice water. He could still see faint lines of the mark, but it was gone from his soul. The mark doesn’t want anything anymore. It’s a mere light scar. At the same time the world seemed to have brightened, sharpened. Sometimes it was so bright Dean wanted to close his eyes and ears, pretend he couldn't see or hear anything.
Cas. He and his grace are a cooling and burning sensation in Dean's veins. It’s life in its purest form, dripping out of his eyes and fingertips. It’s such an overpowering love it colours his vision and riches his hearing. Dean could see – no sense – his beautiful, flickering soul. See his halo, which had dimmed down because of humanity, but it was definitely there. Its shine was dim but pure – crystals in the sun light pure.
He’s worried about Cas, sure, but he also feels a bit guilty.
Okay, quite a lot.
Guilty in every cell of his body guilty.
That’s a new level even for Dean Winchester.
Getting a headache from his own thoughts, Dean quickly brushes his teeth and pulls on clean clothes. He sneaks around in the darkness of the room, peaking at the digital clock on Sam’s bedside table. 05:13 AM. Great.
He doesn’t bother opening up the sofa. He just grabs the extra blanket from Cas’ feet and crawls under it.
Dean wakes up hours later to the coughing that comes from the bathroom. His heart stings with guilt and worry. He rubs his eyes, yawning. Sun light comes through the gap between curtains, casting a beam across their room. Both beds are empty.
Cas obviously is coughing up in the bathroom. Sam’s… Somewhere. Dean gets up, pulling his jeans on and scrubbing his eyes to wake up properly. He’s now listened to this for a week. He’s not going to wait any longer.
Fear stops his heart, when the coughing dies down and everything goes silent. He bangs the bathroom door with his fist.
“Cas?!”
“Um, yes?”
“What are you doing?”
“I… I took a shower. I’ll be out soon, sorry for the wait.”
Nope, I don’t care about the wait. Don't give a damn. Cas’ voice is muffled through the door, but Dean can still hear how tired he sounds. The bits of grace running in him yearn towards the voice, pushing Dean to kick the door down.
“Cas, you open this door and let me in.”
“Dean…”
“Now.”
“That’s not a good…”
“I don’t care. I said now.”
There’s a defeated sigh on the other side. Some shuffling and then a loud clonk, when Cas opens the lock. Dean pushes in to find Cas with a motel’s towel wrapped around his waist. His eyes are red, and he looks like he hadn’t slept in weeks. His muscles still glisten because they’re wet; Dean forces his eyes upwards back to Cas’ face.
There’s blood on the sink.
Dean gasps, now looking Cas into the eyes. He doesn’t turn his gaze away, but stares back. It feels as if he was trying to tell Dean not to worry about it, mainly not to blame himself.
Cas should know him better than this. Naturally he blames himself. Especially in this situation.
“Where’s Sam?” He asks it to stray the silent conversation they’re having, but to also make sure they get some privacy. He needs to – and wants to – talk with Cas seriously.
“He went for a run not about ten minutes before you woke up. He also said he’s going to get breakfast, because you were still sleeping.”
Dean nods sternly. Good. Then he points at the blood in the sink.
“You done now?”
“Yes, I think so. I should wash it away.”
“Think about it later. We’re gonna talk. Now. So get your ass on the bed.”
“Dean.”
“Now.”
Cas sighs again, but walks back to his bed, blobbing down. He doesn’t make a move towards his clothing, and in all fairness, Dean is a bit too happy about that.
Dean paces around, trying to think where to start and at the same time trying not to stare at Cas’ bare chest or calves too openly. Cas leans to his clasped hands, eyes on him. So he clears his throat and just goes for it.
“Are you dying because you gave all your last grace to me?”
“I was dying because my grace was fading. It’s different when you give it away.”
“You’re not okay.”
“True. But I don’t think I’m dying.”
“How’d you know?”
“It’s a feeling.”
“A bit too vague for me!”
Cas gives him a startled look. Dean hasn’t even realised how loud his voice had risen.
He takes one of the chairs and plants it right in front of Cas. When he sits down, their thighs brush together briefly, and their knees end up against each other. He tries not to get distracted, but it’s hard, as every fibre in him tells him to get closer. To touch more.
Dean clears his throat again, lifting his eyes to Cas’. They’re lakes shining in the midsummer sun. Full of forgiveness and acceptance.
Dean swallows awkwardly, just realising how close those eyes are to his. Why you look at me like that? Like he could rip Cas’ heart out and burn it, and the man would let him cry against his shoulder for it.
“Listen, Cas. I’ve got some of your angel mojo in me. If I can push it back to you, you’d get better, right?”
Cas frowns at him. Dean had expected Cas to sound excited, or at least interested of the possibility to get some of his grace back, but he looks scolding. Almost disappointed.
“What do you mean?”
“Your grace, it didn’t all go for burning of the mark. Some of it is still in me. I can feel it, Cas.”
Cas tilts his head and squints at him.
“It’s in my fingertips, this life. And the light! I can see your halo, Cas. It’s dim, but it’s there. And I can hear your soul, how beautifully it sings, “Dean feels the hotness creep up his throat to his cheek, but he needs to make it clear to Cas that there truly was a chance for him, “There’s this part of me, this weird flow or pool of warmness, which reaches to you. All the time. It’s like small parts of your grace that all the time pull towards you. Cas, you can get this back and then you’ll heal, right?”
Hotness comes over him in waves, when he realises in his excitement he’s grabbed Cas’ thigh. It’s firm and warm under his palm. He wants to pull his hand away like from the burning pan, but he doesn’t want to alarm Cas or make this even more awkward, so he pats his thigh couple of times before pulling away.
“Dean, it doesn’t work that way.”
“Why not? You transferred your grace to me, why can’t I give it back to you?”
“First of all, you are human, I was an angel. No disrespect, but even the righteous man can’t control such a heavenly force. Your soul just bears it better than a regular human soul.”
“But you’re dying Cas.”
Cas cuts off his rather pathetic pleading with a firm shake of his head. His eyes look through him, right into his soul, so tender.
“I’m not dying. My body just needs adjusting, because it’s been through so many stages of changes. Also angels are not supposed to have souls, yet I seem to have somehow ripped one off from the scrapes of my grace and am alive.”
Dean nods slowly, not sure if he’s understood correctly. Cas sounds calm for a man who coughs up blood.
“Ohm, are you saying you’re supposed to be dead already?”
“Yes, I should’ve died when I gave you my grace. But I’m alive and seem to have a developing soul in me. So, I’m not dying. My body is only… Changing.”
“Okay, I guess. But if you’re not dying what was it last night?”
“Huh?”
“You zoned out completely and looked at me like you didn’t know me.”
Cas chuckles. When Dean gives him a confused look he laughs louder.
“I’m sorry I scared you. I was deep in thought and sort of forgot human habits. I was thinking about my past and all the changes in my body. Felt a bit light-headed, that’s all.”
“Didn’t look like it.”
“I’m sorry that I scared you so badly,” there’s a hint of amusement in Cas’ voice.
“I still think I’d oughta give you what’s left of your grace.”
Cas drops his gaze down from Dean’s. He twists his hands. His voice is suddenly softer, quieter. Like he was trying to comfort Dean.
“There is no grace left. What you are experiencing Dean, is cleansing of your soul. It was darkened and dampened by the mark, and now it is clearing itself. That’s why everything feels so bright and vivid at the moment. Over the time it will wear off, but your soul will be clearer and more transparent.”
Cas takes in a breath, looking difficult. He still isn’t looking back at Dean, who’s trying to take it all in.
“You can see what’s left of my halo because of it. You are not turning into angel, but you can think about it as having a bit more angelic sight in you. You are human with angelic addition.”
Dean snorts at that. It sounds like a goddamn stupid love poem, but makes sense. It explains all vivid and weird things he experiences. It explains the halo around Cas, the warm pool at the pit of his stomach. This weird sense that he could see people’s aura. He saw these colours at the corner of his eye when he looked away quickly. When he does that to Cas, he sees this blueish and golden flare around him. And Sammy had this green and some kind of red wave surrounding him.
Word crimson pops to his head, but he can’t say for sure how he knows it. Must’ve seen it sometime in paint samples or something. But that definitely is the reddish wine colour he was thinking about.
He’s pulled out from his odd thoughts when Cas continues with even quieter voice. It’s so quiet Dean has to lean in to hear properly every soft spoken word.
“The pull you described is because it’s my grace in you. I saved you from hell. I’ve rebelled and resurrected for you. I became a human for you. My grace had a very strong bond to your soul, Dean.”
“A profound bond.”
Cas only nods.
Neither of them say anything.
The sun light plays on Cas’ hair, revealing the different shades in it from lighter brown to almost black. Cars drive by and occasionally there’s voices in the hall. In middle of the silence Dean briefly remembers that Cas is still sitting in front of him practically naked. His hands are still clasped loosely, fingers entwined, head hanging. Every muscles taunting him.
Dean can’t decide how to feel. He’s happy Cas isn’t dying. Well, if he wasn’t. He didn’t think Cas would lie to him like that, but maybe he didn’t know for sure. Maybe it was only stupid faith that he wasn’t.
Profound bond.
When Cas had said it for the first time, Dean didn't completely understand what it meant. Now, over the years and after all the sacrifices he felt like he’d learnt it the harshest way possible. When something tried to break the bond it felt like someone gutted him and left him to die in the desert. And every time he got Cas back, it felt like those ripped off organs were stuffed back in with a horrible force. The bond definitely forgot he was human and couldn’t take so much tearing apart just to be sewed back up.
“Cas, thanks.”
Cas looks up to him – finally! – and gives him a bit confused look. It’s such a familiar look, it warms the roots of his heart.
“For saving me. Thanks for going all human for me.”
“Of course, Dean. I don’t regret it at all.”
“I know.”
Dean smiles at Cas shyly, swelling in happiness when he smiles back. Cas’ eyes soften when he smiles, crinkles forming to corners.
Such a lightness and life. Pulsing love, so pure and clean.
Dean can feel it in every part of his being. Bond goes two ways.
Suddenly every hesitation he’s ever had flies out of window. With his soul’s new purification he’s free from doubt and desperation that bound him down for so many years. Even when the same eyes pierced through the walls he’d put up, lacing his soul with warmth and forgiveness he’d never allowed to himself.
Dean leans in the almost non-existant distance that had been disappearing between them on its own. Cas’ lips are soft. There’s a hint of mint in his taste.
He pulls away slowly, exhaling deep. His heart is swollen. It’s bumping out his chest, and the rush of adrenaline feels dizzying. Cas smiles widely at him.
Then Cas' hand cups the back of his head and gently he pulls Dean back into the kiss.
Dean follows happily and eagerly.
His hands wrap around Cas’ bare waist, skin tingling with the touch. His lips part, feeling the tip of Cas’ tongue.
In no time the kiss deepens, their tongues circling each other in a weird dance. Dean nudges closer, pushing Cas to the bed until he’s lying down. He presses Cas down, bare chests burning against each other. Mattress gives in under their pressure, allowing them to drown deeper to the bed.
Cas pulls apart for a second, smiling tenderly at him.
“I love you, Dean.”
His heart skips a beat. Anymore he can’t separate the pull from their bond, it’s mixed with his very human want and lust. Cas is closing in back to the kiss, so Dean mutters against his lips.
“Love you too, Cas.”
Their kisses get more and more heated. Dean pulls the towel from Cas’ waist in a fumbling moves. His skin burns, yearns, to touch every inch of Cas. He can feel his hard on rubbing against Cas’ thighs. Cas grabs his back with remarkable force and pulls him even closer, throbbing erection against his stomach. Both of their hands tumble with Dean’s zipper, desperately trying to free him, while groping each other as much as possible in the process. Dean goddamn giggles excitedly, and Cas hums happily to his mouth. One of his hands end up squeezing Dean’s ass.
“Morning sleepy heads, I found som…”
Sam freezes midsentence on his tracks. There’s a light sweat on his forehead and on his hand his carrying a big bag that smells like freshly baked bagels and bacon.
Both Dean and Cas turn to stare at gaping Sam, who doesn’t really know what to do.
“Uh, sorry to disturb, didn’t know you guys were… busy.”
“No shit, Sherlock.” Dean pulls up a bit, so that he isn’t weighing Cas down with his whole body.
“Uh, sorry, I’m gonna go…uh, somewhere else.”
Sam turns around, giving them an impish grin. He drops the bag on the nearby table, trying to seem as normal and relaxed as possible. Too late. Dean still wants to dig into Cas’ flesh, still wants to devour him completely, but this pretty much killed the mood. Besides, he’s hungry.
“Sammy, wait.”
Sam stops at the door, but doesn’t turn around.
Dean sighs and gives a chaste kiss to Cas, who squints at him.
That look makes his heart swell in happiness, making him convinced for a second that everything is okay. Reluctantly he pulls up, stumbling to close his jeans. He helps Cas up, who doesn’t seem too bothered about being naked in front of everybody. He just walks around until he finds most of his clothes and pulls them on.
Sam takes a peek at them, sighing in relief when they’re both almost decently covered. He turns back at them, giving Dean a confused look.
“Look man, I don’t mind you two at all, I just thought you’d want some time alone…”
Dean waves him off dismissingly, digging into the bag of bagels. He snatches the one that seems to have most bacon and takes a big bite. Delicious.
“We need to go meet some angels.”
Now both Sam and Cas give him a confused look, but he just takes another bite of bagel. Grease slicks his lips as he licks them hungrily. Cas finally finds his shirt and pulls it on, also taking a bagel. He stares at it calculatingly, and Dean huffs.
“You take a shower and we’ll finish with breakfast.” Dean points at Sam and then turns to Cas, who’s taken a testing bite of his bagel. He seems to approve the taste and takes another.
“Then we’ll call some winged bastards and ask them what they think about Cas’ condition here.”
Cas swallows loudly and glares at him.
“I already told you I’m not dying, Dean. I should be fine in few days.”
“Yeah, should. Not taking any chances. We’ll check with your winged family first and get one of them to patch you up.”
“Dean, I’m fine.”
“Nope, you’re fine when you stop coughing your guts up. We’re going.”
Sam has been standing awkwardly at the door. He edges closer and pats Cas’ shoulder.
“Maybe it’s best to check. We want you alive, but also healthy, Cas.”
Cas looks up to Sam and smiles. Then he nods in defeat.
“Alright. We can talk to Hannah and see what she thinks.”
“Great! I’ll head to the shower now.”
Sam passes them, patting Cas’ shoulder again, and grabbing his stuff in a haste. Dean munches down the rest of his delicious bagel, savouring the salty taste on his tongue. Then he surprises Cas completely by putting his arm around his waist and pulling him into a kiss.
Cas’ lips rest against his for a second before moving, answering his surprise tenderly. Dean smiles to the kiss, warmness spreading from the pit of his stomach to every cell of his being. When they pull apart, he leaves his hand on Cas’ waist, and lifts his eyes to meet Sam’s, who’s trying to slip past them.
Sam nods at him, smiling encouragingly. He nods back, before turning his gaze back at Cas’. They would do everything to help him. No, they would help him, they’d find a fix.