She’d decided against perfume, not wanting to overwhelm his physical senses, and she decided against anything overly flashy or dramatic in terms of dress. She wore her boots, jeans, t-shirt, and sweatshirt. Her dark brown hair pulled up into a messy bun.
Brigid was easily smaller than the man now calling from beyond the cracked door, not visibly armed but very clearly a demon judging by the aura that seemed to crackle and vibrate heatedly. She had a backpack over her shoulder, her hands handing loose, open, and out of her pockets.
She smiled widely, a toothy and friendly thing, doing her best to recall how she used to attempt to be endearing and innocent. Fell like centuries ago… come to think of it it was longer than that.
“I’ve got a delivery.” Brigid’s voice didn’t waver or break, but was gentle, “I was told it was special.”
The man had to blink several more times before his eyes registered the being before him. He didn’t budge the door as his mind started to kick into gear and then blow into overdrive. His head snapped back as the first thing he was hit with the energy she gave off. His lip curled out of reflex and he willed his eyes to get a better picture.
Demons...well, one at least.
Where there was one of them...
His hand held steady on his weapon as he quickly looked her over for potential threats. Then again, demons were always a threat...Especially those that ended up on his doorstep. That fact alone made his along his shoulders prickle and crawl with further unease.
Still, if she wanted to kill him...she might have already tried, or else the wards still did their job. He wasn’t certain, but he made a note to check them again - later.
Face still tense he turned his gaze back to the woman’s eyes and his gaze hardened at the mention of a delivery. He slowly found his voice again, the tone smoothing out as he continued to work out his vocal cords. He asked the question that he sort of didn’t want the answer to.
“From whom?”
Castiel sighed as he stood there in the middle of his elder brothers mansion. Balthazar had been and always will be his favorite brother. The one who taught him how to fight and how-...how sometimes it wasn’t always so horrible to have emotions and to feel. To question.
But this wasn’t how he wanted to meet his big brother again. In another war. He frowned as he watched the blond grab more alcohol. Whoever he was using as a vessel was apparently quite rich given the size of his home.
“I don’t understand why you didn’t tell me you were alive...You seriously couldn’t have just messaged me?” The raven haired angel looked away some. “I get you were stealing everything in Heaven sure but did it ever occur to you, if you had ask me to join you that I would’ve?”
“Home is-...Home isn’t the same. I-..there’s not a doubt in my mind that tells me I wouldn’t have followed you Balthazar. I was always trailing after you. Ever since I was a Fledgling.” Those had been happier times.
Dean hummed as he ate the last bit of pie off his plate, his eyes closing as he savored the taste. “That was fan-freakin’-tastic, Cas.”
“Good.” He could practically feel Cas’ smile on him, and Dean opened his eyes, smiling in return.
“I still like apple the best, but cherry’s up there.” He looked down at his plate wistfully, before Cas picked it up and placed it in the dishwasher.
“We can try more tomorrow.” Cas took a seat beside Dean at the bar in the kitchen, resting his elbows on the counter. “You still haven’t tried--”
Cas froze mid-sentence. Literally froze--his mouth open, eyes still looking at him softly, not a single muscle moving. Dean frowned, glancing around before leaning in and waving his hand in front of Cas’ face. “Cas?”
Dean went to stand, but as his feet touched the ground, he found himself standing in an unfamiliar bar. Dean twisted, looking around with wide eyes. The place wasn’t fancy--booths up against a wall with windows, a long wooden bar against the opposite wall. There was a jukebox in the corner playing some slow country song he didn’t recognize, a small stage beside that, only big enough to fit one, maybe two people and a guitar.
Dean turned around slowly, eyes combing over an empty bar, nervous energy bubbling up inside him. He felt the archangels inside him flaring their energy, reacting to his fear and readying themselves for fight or flight.
“No need for that, Dean. You’re safe here.” Dean whirled to face the speaker--a shorter man with slightly curly hair and a thick beard, his overall appearance looking unkempt. Something about him set Dean both at ease and on edge, frowning as he took a slight step back.
“I just need to talk with you, Dean.” The man motioned to a booth, sliding into the seat facing Dean with a small smile. “Take a seat.”
“I’ll stand, thanks.” His nervous energy didn’t settle at all, his brow furrowing further as he dared to look around quickly once more to make sure the room was really empty aside from this other man. “Where am I?”
“Oh, this? It’s just something I created for a bit of--what is it you humans called it?--’me time.’” The man leaned back in his seat, looking around the bar fondly. “It’s just a little pocket dimension. Useful when I need to talk to people like yourself.”
Dean turned a frown at him, his mind still working to try and place him. He was speaking to him as if he were familiar with who Dean was, but nothing about this rang a bell. “Sorry, but I don’t remember you.”
The man nodded, only looking slightly put out. “That’s fair, you’ve been through a lot. But even if you did remember me, I’m not quite the same person as before.”
A silence stretched between them before Dean gave a frustrated grunt. “And who were you before? Who are you now?”
“God. Though I’d prefer you keep calling you Chuck.”
“Chuck?”
“Yep,” The man--Chuck--nodded with a small smile on his place. “It was the name I gave you when we met, what I went by when I just wanted to live a fairly normal human life. Now take a seat, Dean, I’m not going to hurt you. The angels inside you should know that much.”
Dean paused, taking a moment to check with them. Michael’s grace confirmed what Chuck had just said, but a cold fury settled in his stomach like a rock, Lucifer clearly less than pleased to see this man. And that made sense, considering this was their Father--the one and same God who ordered Lucifer to be thrown into Hell.
Taking a small step forward, Dean slowly made his way to the booth, keeping his eyes on Chuck. The man’s features never changed, and as Dean took a seat, he looked at Dean curiously.
“So how are you getting along with my sons?”
“Uh. Good, I guess. They trust me, I trust them. It works.”
Chuck seemed pleased by that answer, folding his hands neatly on the table and turning a thoughtful gaze on Dean. “And Castiel?”
Dean stiffened, his gaze narrowing slightly. “We’re fine. Why’re you asking about Cas?”
Chuck held his hands up, shaking his head with a small smile. “No reason, just curious. It’s good to know you’re adjusting. But you’ve had quite some time to get used to things as they are now, haven’t you?”
“I guess...” Dean trailed off, unsure of where this was going. When Chuck leaned forward, Dean leaned back to keep space between them.
“I’ll be frank, Dean. You’ve handled things up to this point very well, all things considered. Better than expected, even. But now it’s time for you to get back to business. You’re needed in Hell. All of you is needed in Hell.”
Dean frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means,” Chuck said, leaning forward and pressing his fingers to Dean’s forehead before he could stop him. “It means that you need your memories back.”
It felt like a cold bucket of water was dumped over his head, washing over him slowly from head to toe. Dean shuddered, hands curling into fists as his eyes screwed shut. It didn’t all appear suddenly, but rather, slowly faded into place. His mother dying, Sam going off to college, their father dying. Hell. Heaven. The Apocalypse. Purgatory. It all came back to him, and Dean shivered again, passing a shaky hand over his eyes.
“What the fuck, Chuck?”
He heard a small laugh and lowered his hand to see Chuck smiling. “What you’re going to do next will be easier with your memories.”
“What I do next? No, fuck you and fuck this.” Dean stood abruptly, feeling grace sparking through his chest sharply. “For once, I’m with Lucifer on this--whatever you’re fucking up to, you can do it your damn self. I’m not playing your game anymore.”
Chuck only lifted a brow. “Resist as much as you want, Dean. Lash out if it makes you feel better. But regardless of how you feel, I still have plans for you yet.”
In the blink of an eye, the bar was gone and he was back in the mansion kitchen.
“You still haven’t tried blueberry pie yet--Dean?” Cas’ features twisted with worry suddenly as Dean’s stool fell back as he stood. Dean stepped away from the counter, looking around with his heart in his throat. “It’s alright Dean, you’re just in the mansion kitchen. Take a deep breath--”
Dean cut through the air with his hand sharply, his voice gruff when he spoke. “I’m fine, Cas. Fuck.”
Dean looked up at the ceiling, glaring as if it had offended him deeply. Sure, God--Chuck, whatever--might not be up there in Heaven anymore, but it was still instinct.
“Dean?” Cas’ voice was quiet, worry clearly threading through it. Dean was thankful that he didn’t try to touch him quite yet, though that could certainly have something to do with the fact that his grace was roiling wildly inside him, causing the lights to flicker and the glassware in the kitchen vibrating too close to breaking for comfort. Dean took a deep breath to settle himself, everything in the kitchen settling as well.
“I’m fine, Cas. God’s just an asshole who decided we needed to talk.”
At Castiel’s confused frown, Dean gave him a small, bitter smile. “Apparently He’s still got work for me to do, and it required all my fucking memories too. Prick.”
Cas’ eyes widened and he slipped from his stool. “You mean...?”
Dean sighed and did his best to give Cas a real smile this time. “Yeah, Cas. I’m all here.”
Cas pulled him into a sudden hug, and after a second, Dean chuckled and wrapped his arms around Cas, palms pressing into his shoulders as he pulled him close. “I missed me, too, Cas.”
Well, he can probably be forgiven this time, since he did literally forget what a badass Cas is, but it’s hard to remember that he’s a real-life Angel of the Lord when all Dean can think about is how his nose wrinkles when he laughs at one of his lame jokes, or falls asleep with his head resting against Dean’s shoulder. Even with his memories, he has a feeling that it’d be hard reconciling the man who whispers soft “I love you”s into his skin each morning with the multidimensional celestial being he logically knows Cas is supposed to be.
Kira was giving them a tour of Dean’s territory, showing Dean and Cas a newly discovered training arena, watching several demons crawling over the pit below them to inspect the current condition of the arena. Dean held Cas’ hand the whole time--Cas hadn’t been down here before, and without any of Dean’s memories, they both were enjoying the tour.
Kira was just getting around to what practical uses there could be for the arena when the hairs on the back of Dean’s neck began to stand up. A warning trill started up in his chest, the grace of two archangels flying to his defense--but not nearly as fast as Cas. Just as Dean is whirling around to face a demonic would-be assassin, Cas has already engaged him, his angel blade in his hand as he works to disarm the demon. It’s over in seconds--the demon makes one good swipe at Cas, tearing at his shirt, but leaving himself wide open. Cas barely has to try to take advantage--he simply drives his blade down and into the demon’s head, hardly breaking a sweat as the demon fizzled out of existence. The archangels settled inside him as Dean stepped forward, reaching his hand out for Cas.
“Are you okay?” His hand lands on Cas’ shoulder, the angel looking up from the dead demon at his feet with a frown. It sent a bit of worry through his chest, his own lips turning into a frown as well.
“I’m alright. Who sent this one?” Cas nudged the dead demon with his foot, looking over at Kira.
“I don’t know, but I’ll work on finding out.” Kira sounded troubled, and Dean looked over at her with his brows drawing together. “Why don’t you to go back to the castle? There wasn’t much of the tour left anyway, just your rooms, Dean.”
Dean shifted on his feet, looking at the dead demon, lips twisting in a deeper frown. These attacks on himself were getting more frequent and far more daring. First it was at the Library, then once when he was out alone in the forest just past the Mansion’s warding, and now within his own Hell? And when he was with Cas? Whoever was sending these demons was getting bolder--and also uncaring of who they took out along the way.
Cas laid his hand on Dean’s shoulder, squeezing a little to get Dean’s attention. “Dean?”
“Hm? Oh, yeah. Uh, c’mon, lets go to my room.” He vaguely remembered the way as Kira had explained it, Dean remaining quiet until they were safely up in his tower, the door to his room shut behind them.
“Are... are you okay, Cas?” Dean trailed over to where Cas was standing in the middle of the room, his hand immediately running over the tear in Cas’ shirt. He felt Cas’ hands tip his face up, tearing his gaze away from the near miss in order to look into his eyes.
“I’m fine, Dean. He didn’t get me, or you.” Dean slid his arms around Cas’ waist as he spoke, slowly leaning in to rest his head against his shoulder. He felt Cas’ arms wrap around his shoulders. “Everything’s alright.”
“I know,” Dean’s voice was muffled against Cas’ shoulder, holding him all the more tighter. “I just don’t ever wanna see you hurt, Cas. That scares me.”
Cas pressed a warm kiss to Dean’s temple, holding him just as close. “You won’t. I keep us both safe, I promise.”
D.M. finished drawing the last of the sigils on the floor, immediately leaning back to flex his back in the opposite direction. He’d been bent over the floor for hours now, muttering enchantments under his breath as he slowly painted on the floor of what most people would call his library.
Looking down at his work, D.M. admired the intricacies of the spell that took up nearly the entire floor. He’d had to move tables out of the room in order to get to every inch of floor available. And in the center was a clear spot where he would sit--and right in front of that spot sat a smaller circle, as if another thing would go there.
Padding into the kitchen, D.M. picked up his mug of tea, finishing it off before picking up the softly glowing jar. It was full of a few odds and ends--a piece of a favorite shirt, some old photographs, a watch. And inside a small sliver of soul floated around, absorbing all the old memories, the auras surrounding the objects. This new little piece of soul was now saturated in Sam Winchester, soaking up the remnants of his soul and imprinting on him. With the help of a little spellwork, the piece would lead him right to the source: to Sam Winchester himself.
D.M. was careful not to smudge any of the lines as he padded into the study, placing himself at the center of the spell and the jar in the other, smaller cleared space. Resting his hands palm-side up on his knees, D.M. relaxed, calming his mind and centering his magic. He forgot about how his back ached and the cold floor beneath him, instead focusing on the pulsing energy inside him, wild and strong. He let himself be wrapped up in it before speaking quietly. The words of the astral projection spell were familiar, but he tweaked it, making it so he would be attached to the little piece of soul as it flew through the planes to find and join the rest of Sam Winchester’s soul.
With his eyes still closed, he felt the writings on the floor slowly creep up onto his skin, starting at his bare feet and crawling up his pants legs. The ink slowly covered his skin, and once the sigils had worked their way onto his scalp, D.M. unscrewed the jar lid and fell limp against the floor.
His soul departed from his body, looking down on it with a small smirk before turning to the wisp of Sam Winchester. It hovered in the air, quivering as if tasting the air for where it belonged. It was a few seconds before it suddenly darted off, D.M.’s spirit close behind. They passed through walls and floors, down below the house, then through the dirt.
It was incredibly dark for the longest time--no sounds, no light, and for a brief moment, D.M. wondered if he’d somehow been cut loose from the wisp and was now stuck underground. But suddenly they broke forth, entering a new plane--a Hell plane.
It seemed almost prehistoric--large plants seeming to be enclosed in a massive cave, clouds whirling above among stalactites as the soul hurtled towards the floor. D.M. was dragged along, watching as they seemed to zoom in on a castle of sorts. He could feel demons crawling all over it, and a deeper, darker presence haunting the halls. As they got closer to what appeared to be the main hall, the wisp darted inside and circled the throne, like a dog that had lost the scent. It trailed around searching, and while it did, D.M. felt a familiar presence. Looking back down the length of the hall, he saw a familiar blond head briefly before suddenly being tugged down through the floor.
The dark underground only lasted a few seconds this time, and soon they were zipping down a long, large curved stone path. The slope was relatively gentle as it slowly wound down towards a rock floating among a massive sea of lava. the red writhing liquid stretched further than D.M. could see, though after a moment of study, he began to realize that instead of molten earth, the red sea was made up of bits and pieces of souls. Each piece was fractured, burned, and unable to bond with anything--at least, not in this raw state.
Before he could muse much further, the stone path finally met with the rock, giving D.M. his first look at the island. There was a couple of yards of ground between the edge of the island and the cage in the middle. D.M.’s jaw dropped as they neared it, scrambling to squint between his fingers against the brilliance within the cage. He quickly cut loose the spell binding him to the wisp before it dragged him inside, watching as the soul slipped through the bars of the cage and collided with another, smaller orb cowering in the corner.
The wisp’s addition didn’t go unnoticed. The two bright presences turned, focusing their attention on D.M. Normally he was invisible to other supernatural entities while astral projecting, but he could feel the intensity of each angelic gaze on him. Squeezing his eyes shut, D.M. broke the spell, snapping back to his body with a gasp.
Curiosity was right there, peering owlishly at him as a cat with it’s blank white eyes. It gently pawed at his face, and he reached out to stroke it’s smoky soft fur. “Where’s my phone?”
The spirit tilted it’s head before trotting off, coming back with the cell phone in it’s mouth. D.M. took it and immediately dialed Dean.
“Hello?”
“We need to talk. I found Sam’s soul.”
“What!?” D.M. could hear shuffling on the other side of the line, the sound of sheets being pushed away. “Where? Who had it?”
“A conversation best had in person. Where are you?”
“At the Library.” There was murmuring in the background before Dean spoke again. “Come on over, we’re in the back rooms.”
“I’ll be there in a minute.” D.M. hung up and slowly picked himself up off the floor, Curiosity smoking up onto his shoulders to perch. It nudged his head and D.M. gave it a few scratched behind it’s ear.
Wrapping his magic around both of them, he warped them over to the Library, down over to the front desk. He rounded it quietly, slipping into the back room and following the sound of Dean’s voice down the hall.
“...you’re worried, Cas, but c’mon, it’s Sam. I gotta do this.”
“I’m not saying you can’t, Dean, I’m just saying take me with you.”
“No. I don’t know where we’re gonna go or how this is gonna go down. I don’t want you hurt in the crossfire, if it comes to that. Besides, Crowley needs the help with that Queen person or whatever, right? Just let me handle this.”
“Dean, stop trying to--”
D.M.’s appearance in the doorway gave them both pause, the couple turning to look at him. “I can handle Dean, Castiel. You’re strong, but you won’t hurt him. I can do what it takes to hold him off.”
They stared at each other until Castiel nodded, though he didn’t look pleased. He crossed his arms, stare boring a hole in Dean’s back as he laced up his boots. “Call me if things get dangerous.”
“Yeah, yeah, I will.” Dean straightened and went over to Cas, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “I’ll see you when I get back.”
Dean paused at the hand to his shoulder, looking into Cas’ eyes. There was a lot unsaid in that stare--worry and love mingling with fierce protectiveness--and Dean nodded. Cas released his shoulder and Dean moved over to D.M., following him back down the halls and out of the living quarters. They didn’t speak until they were in the elevator.
“Where’s Sam?”
“In your Hell.”
“What?! We all searched everywhere, including my Hell, he can’t--”
“He’s in the cage with Lucifer and Michael. I didn’t get the chance to look around much, but if I had to guess how he ended up there, I’d say Lucifer marked Sam’s soul at some point, so it went straight to him once Sam died.”
Dean was quiet for a moment. “So you’re saying... Sam’s been down there with Lucifer all this time? The one that possessed him before?”
D.M. nodded, looking over at Dean with a small look of sympathy. “Yeah. Sorry man.”
The elevator dinged and they stepped out onto the grass. Dean shook his head, lips pursed for a moment before he turned back to look at D.M., his face hard. “Where are we going? To the cage?”
“No. Your throne room.” At Dean’s confused look, D.M. continued. “It’s a straight path from the cage, to your throne, and up to where Cain killed Abel. And if I had to guess, below the cage is a line straight to The Darkness’ cage as well. Which means...”
“It’s influence will be stronger on me down there. Damn.” Dean rubbed a hand over his face, puffing out a breath. “Alright. So I gotta keep my cool. But you’ll be there--”
“Kind of. I’m going to be above, in the throne room, organizing your forces. I’m gonna need their help if I have to contain you. You’ll be going in alone, but I’ll be keeping tabs on you.” D.M. shrugged. “I’ll sense if you begin to shift over and come down, but I’m gonna need as much backup as possible.”
Dean nodded. It wasn’t a great plan, but it was what they had. “Any other bad news?”
D.M. shook his head. “Nope. You sure you want to leave Castiel out of this?”
“Yeah.” Dean looked back at the elevator before putting a hand on D.M.’s shoulder and flashing them both down to his Hell.
The throne room was bustling as usual, but as soon as the demons sensed Dean’s presence, they all froze, many of the young ones dropping down on one knee. The older ones bowed as Kira and Castiel immediately started working their way towards the throne.
“Dean. We weren’t expecting you.” Castiel looked over D.M. before focusing on Dean. “Is there a problem?”
“Kind of. D.M., how do we get down to the cage?”
Castiel cut D.M. off before he could answer. “Cage? As in, Lucifer’s cage? Dean what--”
“I don’t have time to explain, Cas, but it’s about Sam. D.M.’s gonna get me down there and then he’ll fill you guys in. D.M.?”
The witch nodded, walking over to the throne. He circled it slowly, his eyes seeing all the tendrils of magic connected to the seat. His shadow began to move, smoke rising from the floor before congealing together into the form of a raven. It landed on the right side of the throne, squawking and flapping it’s wings. As D.M. moved over, the raven landed on the floor, pecking at one slab of stone in particular.
“Thanks. I got the rest from here.” Curiosity dissipated, turning back into smoke and melding with D.M.’s shadow. The witch began tugging on the strands of magic attached to the stone, and after a bit of tugging, the stone rumbled and shifted, opening up the path to the stone ramp below.
Dean stepped forward, sucking in a deep breath before turning around to look at the demons that were now gathered behind Castiel and Kira. “Okay, here’s how this is gonna go down. D.M.’s in charge--you do what he says, ‘cause he knows what he’s talking about.”
Before anyone could object, Dean nodded and turned, going down the ramp without any other explanations. No one chased after him, and as he continued down the stone ramp, he began to realize why. No one had been down here before, and he could sense the age of the place.
Dean paused to peer over the edge, down at roiling waves of lava. Except it glinted in a way he didn’t imagine lava did. In some ways, it looked more like... souls? He continued down the path until he reached the cage, pausing to take in the sight.
Sam sat in the corner, knees curled into his chest and head resting on his arms. Dean hadn’t seen Sammy like that since he was eight, coming back from a hunt to find his little brother had had an awful nightmare.
This was worse.
Both Lucifer and Michael were turned towards Dean. The Devil wore a pleased smile, Michael frowning over his shoulder with his arms crossed.
“Well, well, well, looky here Sammy, Dean’s here to rescue you. Don’t you wanna look up and see your big brother?” Lucifer crooned, looking from Dean to Sam and back again. Sam didn’t budge, seeming to curl in on himself further. “Sorry, Dean-o, looks like Sam doesn’t want to come out to play. But maybe you wanna come in?”
Dean ignored Lucifer, pacing closer to where Sam was situated. “Sammy? C’mon, man, look at me, okay? I’m gonna get you out of there, just hold on for me Sammy.”
Lucifer laughed and Dean turned toward him, glaring. He felt the tingling burn of their Grace against his skin, but the rage boiling inside him was hotter. He stepped up to the bars, his eyes flashing black as his hands balled into fists. “Give. Him. Back.”
“Ooh, so tough, so convincing. And I’d love to follow through, but there’s one teensy-weensy catch, Dean.” Lucifer came right up to the bars, leaning his forearms against them and meeting Dean’s eyes squarely. “What goes in the cage can’t come out. Not without some magic words.”
“What, you want me to please and thank you your asses out of there?” Dean growled, shuffling as close as possible to the cage, getting right in Lucifer’s face. “You got my brother in there, you can get him out. Fuck you.”
Lucifer chuckled, shaking his head and pacing away. Michael stepped forward. “Dean. Lucifer got Sam because he branded his soul when he possessed him. When Sam died, his soul returned to Lucifer’s ownership.”
“So what the fuck am I supposed to do?!” Dean hit the bars in his anger. The cage echoed with the blow, but didn’t budge.
Lucifer was suddenly in Dean’s face, his eyes bright and sly smile on his lips. “Say yes. Say yes, and the cage breaks, and your brother’s free again.”
Dean snarled and paced away, squeezing his eyes shut. He could feel his pulse pounding in his head, the lightheaded haze slowly filtering over his mind, making it hard to think. He fought it off, knowing now wasn’t the time or place for The Darkness.
Although, it was the most powerful thing in creation, strong enough to rival God himself. Certainly it could take on two archangels? And if it ate them, it would be sated quickly, so Dean should revert back to himself afterwards...
He put his hands to his head, trying to think things through, but Lucifer’s taunting voice over his shoulder was distracting. “Wow, I can practically see the steam coming out of your ears, Dean-o. Thinking awfully hard, I hope you do realize what you’re trying to decide--your life or your brother’s. And little orphan Sammy can’t just walk away like you are. He’ll be here, with me, for forever.”
“Lucifer,” Michael’s voice was low. “Things have changed, can’t you see it? You shouldn’t--”
“I’ll do what I want, brother. Stay out of my way, if you know what’s good for you.”
Dean turned to see them glaring at each other. He pursed his lips, looking over at Sammy, his fists slowly uncurling. “Alright.”
Lucifer’s head whipped around, looking at Dean with some surprise. A slow grin spread over his face. “Say it louder, Dean. With conviction.”
“Dean--” Michael had taken a step forward, but Dean ignored him.
“I’m saying yes, you asshole. Yes.”
Lucifer began to glow brightly, his energy flaring. “Ahh, nothing like bitter consent in the morning.”
With a sound like a thunderclap, Lucifer disappeared from his spot in the cage and Dean felt him burn to life inside his chest. He fell to his knees as he choked on the Grace in his body.
Michael was suddenly at the bars of the cage, kneeling to look at Dean. “Dean! Lucifer is going to kill you in an attempt to cleanse the Darkness from you. If he succeeds, untold chaos will be released--it will be Lucifer, powerful enough to rival God. But if you let me in, I can control him. Let me keep my brother in check!”
Dean was on his hands and knees, wheezing for breath. He could barely manage to lift his head, but when he did, he stared at Sammy, still curled tightly in on himself in the corner.
“...... y-yes.”
Michael began glowing, and soon Dean’s pain doubled. He cried out with agony, feeling like the two angels were burning a hole in his chest. His mind was fried as he collapsed on the ground, his body beginning to bubble and rip apart. He would have screamed, had his throat not been burned. The last thing he could process was Sam lifting his head as Dean was enveloped in light.
Eyes opened and stared up at greens and blues. It took a while for his vision to focus, to see the shapes in the green and the wispy white in the blue. He slowly began to move, crawling up on his hands and knees in the brown underneath him. Unlike the green or blue, he could feel the brown as it stuck to him, wet and thick.
He stumbled to his feet, legs collapsing underneath him and sending him to his knees as he tried to take his first steps. None of the falls seemed to hurt him, though his knees were red by the time he made it through the green and found black.
The black was on top of the brown, and as he stepped onto it, he could feel the sharp-hard black poke into him. It was hot, too, not like the brown at all. He was so engrossed in looking at the black that he didn’t see the shiny black come whipping into view. The loud scream that the shiny black made caught his attention, though, but not soon enough. He was hit by the shiny black, and sent flying over top of it before falling again onto the hard-sharp black. He made a weak noise, head blossoming with a pounding pain.
Two wings appeared on the shiny black and things got out of it. The last he knew was that they approached him, but he couldn’t keep his attention on them. He looked back up at the blue before passing out again.
Dean flashed into Cas’ room, immediately opting to sit down on the bed with his head in his hands. Telling Cas everything he learned from D.M. was going to be hard, but he knew it had to be done. This wasn’t something he could keep to himself, he needed Cas in this. He needed his firm hands and his deep voice, he needed the comfort that only Cas could bring him.
The door swung open suddenly, startling Dean from his thoughts as his head rose. Cas quickly shut the door behind him, looking over at Dean with wide worried eyes. “Dean, where’ve you been?”
Dean’s whole body stilled and his eyes widened. “What do you mean? I was at D.M.’s farm and then I came right here, I haven’t--”
Cas took a step forward, his wide blue eyes looking more concerned than Dean had seen them lately. “Dean, you’ve been missing for twelve hours.”
If Dean had been standing, he’d be flat on his ass at that piece of news. “I--what? What do you mean I’ve been gone, I came right here! I haven’t gone anywhere else!”
Castiel carefully sat beside Dean, putting a firm hand on his shoulder. “Dean, we’ve been looking for you for hours. Myself and everyone here, Kira and the other Castiel--we’ve all been searching for you. We’ve even reached out to Heracles. No one’s seen you for the last twelve hours, you just... vanished.”
Dean’s stomach sank while his heart was pounding somewhere above his head. “Oh god, oh my god, fuck--I didn’t--oh my god--”
He suddenly jumped up, looking down at himself. Rough hands brushed over his clothes and he stared hard at his shaking hands. Everything was clean, no blood to be spotted. But--
“These aren’t the clothes I was wearing earlier. These aren’t--oh my god.” Wide, horrified green eyes looked up at Cas. “Cas, what the hell’ve I done?”
Though the angel was clearly upset, Castiel seemed to be trying to keep calm for Dean’s sake. He stood, catching Dean’s gaze with his own steady blue. “Breathe, Dean. What happened at D.M.’s? What’s the last thing you remember?”
“I--I remember calling you. Telling you I had bad news... oh fuck. That’s it.” For the second time that day--well, in Dean’s day--he felt like he’d been sucker punched. Dean swallowed and closed his eyes, pressing his hand over his face. “It’s The Darkenss. I’m--god, I’m upset and it just takes over. It worms it’s way deeper whenever I’m--I’m angry, or sad, or guilty--which of course for me is fucking always. So it--while I was overwhelmed it must’ve--it--”
“Dean,” Cas took a step forward, reaching out, but Dean took a step back, opening his eyes and shaking his head.
“No, Cas, I can’t--this thing, it’s--I’m--fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, I don’t know what I did. Cas, it could’ve been anything! I could’ve gone anywhere, hurt anyone--oh my god, I could’ve left them--”
A knock at the door cut Dean off short. Both Dean and Castiel’s head’s snapped up, looking towards the door as it quietly opened. Sachiel was there, his lips twisted into a frown.
“You guys need to come downstairs.” Sacha’s eyes flicked from Cas to Dean, tightening slightly. “There’s something you need to see.”
Sacha took off back down the hall and Cas turned over to Dean. Dean passed him, avoiding his touch, staring straight ahead with his jaw clenched, ignoring his red-rimmed eyes.
The three of them padded into the living room. The only sound came from the TV, Gabriel and Sam already seated at the sofa. Sam’s eyes were glued to the TV, completely still, but Gabriel glanced over as they approached, his features in a hard grimace. Sacha leaned against the arm while Dean and Cas stood behind it, staring at the footage playing across the screen.
Several apartment buildings were in the process of burning to the ground--it looked like a few had already collapsed in on themselves and only one had been successfully put out. The views kept changing between a street view and a helicopter on the scene, showing a whole city apartment block on fire. No one was rushing into the buildings, not while the flames arched so high into the sky that the helicopter had to veer to the side at times as the flames got too close. Slowly, the reporter’s words began to sink through to Dean.
“...reports say the destruction began sometime around 1AM this morning. Witnesses are giving mixed information, but many are saying that early today, screaming could be heard from inside every apartment building as black smoke practically covered the entire block. Then each building began to burn, reaching the flames you see now hours ago. The fire departments have been fighting to tame the flames for four hours now, with no end in sight. The source of the fire is unknown, and at this time, containment is the biggest concern. But the question on everyone’s mind is the same: what about survivors? We turn over to--”
“I’m gonna be sick,” Dean wavered, practically sprinting from the living room for the patio. Cas was hot on his heels, on his knees and rubbing Dean’s back as he retched into the swimming pool.
Cas didn’t speak, not until Dean had quieted, resting his forehead against hte cold concrete. “Dean--”
Dean shot up, feeling a bit dizzy with how fast he moved. “No, Cas, fuck it--don’t ‘Dean’ me, that was me, that was my fault, I’m--god, I’m a monster, I kill--killed all--”
“That wasn’t you.” Cas gripped both of Dean’s shoulders, dragging him a little closer as he glared at Dean. “It was The Darkness. You would never hurt those people--”
“Wouldn’t I!? Cas, you don’t get it--I have to feed now! I have to eat people’s souls! That’s what all this is about!”
That seemed to catch Cas by surprise and he stilled, eyes narrowing to a squint. “What do you mean you have to eat people’s souls?”
Before Dean could speak, someone else beat him to the punch. Both angel and demon turned to see Crowley standing in the open door, hands in his pockets. “I think what he means is that he’s got to keep The Darkness fed and happy. It gets control, goes on soul sucking sprees, then cleans up the mess with a little mayhem to cover it’s tracks.”
Cas turned to look at Dean for confirmation, but he could only close his eyes, sagging a little. Cas’ grip changed, pulling Dean into a hug, soothing his hand down his back. “What do we do?”
“Kill me,” Dean’s voice was quiet, and he felt Cas stiffen around him.
Crowley snorted. “Drama queen. No need to overreact. All you need is a healthy diet. A soul a day keeps The Darkness away. Seeing as it just gorged itself, you’re good for the rest of the day. I’ll have some souls waiting for you when you’re ready.”
Dean turned his head to look over at Crowley, but the King was already retreating back inside the house. He closed his eyes tightly. “How’d he know?”
“I’ve stopped asking that question.” Cas’ breath was soft against Dean’s neck as he gently coaxed him into raising his head, opening his eyes only so he could see Cas’ blue eyes. “But let him help you, Dean. Please. For my sake, if not your own.”
It was instinct to resist, but Dean swallowed and nodded. It made him feel weak to accept this kind of help, but there weren’t a whole lot of other moves he could make. It was this or... or continually blacking out and possibly losing himself.
“I don’t wanna die, Cas, I don’t want it to take over.” Dean’s voice was quiet, barely above a whisper, and he felt Cas’ hands on his neck and shoulder twitch at them.
“I won’t let it take you from me. I promise you, Dean.” Cas drew him into another hug, holding Dean tightly as if that alone could keep him safe. “I promise.”
Dean wakes up tense, feeling Cas’ hands gently shaking him. His palm was slotted perfectly against the old hand-print scar on his shoulder, grip firm and warm against his skin. His eyes flash open, meeting Cas’ worried blue as he feels his body readying for a fight.
“You were having a nightmare, Dean,” Cas murmured, grip loosening so he could rub his hand up and down Dean’s arm soothingly. “You kept saying Sam’s name.”
Dean’s gut twisted. He only remembered bits and pieces of the dream, but he’d had it often enough since Sammy had died that he knew it by heart anyway. His hands were the ones that gutted Sam from throat to pelvis, his hands causing the light to leave his eyes.
He rolled over onto his back, staring up at the ceiling instead of facing Cas’ intense gaze head on. As it was, he watched Cas out of the corner of his eye as he propped up on his elbow, sliding closer until Dean could feel the comforting heat of his skin pressed against his side.
“I just... keep thinking there’s something I could’ve done...” His voice trailed off in a sigh, closing his eyes. Fingers tipped at his chin, guiding Dean to look back over at Cas.
“It’s not your fault, Dean. The Stynes are the ones at fault, and you’re making sure they pay for it. Whoever else has Sam’s soul will pay soon as well.”
“I know.” He pressed his lips together, voice quieting to a whisper. “Sure doesn’t feel like it. It really feels like I fucked up the only job I was supposed to do.”
Cas’ brows drew together while his hand trailed down to rest on Dean’s chest. His palm pressed flat, fingers splayed across his freckled skin. “Please don’t blame yourself.”
Dean felt like saying he couldn’t stop, or that there was really nothing else that he could do. How was he supposed to stop blaming himself--Sam was his brother, and he’d been charged with taking care of him. He’d failed spectacularly this time. Dean didn’t deserve comfort, didn’t deserve a reprieve from the guilt trying to crush him from the inside out.
Almost as if he could sense the shifting emotions, Cas leaned forward, pressing a firm kiss to Dean’s lips. He sighed and gave in to it, letting himself be distracted from the knot in his chest in favor for the press of dry lips against his. He opened his mouth, feeling Cas’ tongue brush against his, running over the roof of his mouth, just the way Dean liked it. He hummed and returned the favor, sucking Cas’ bottom lip between his teeth.
Cas shifted so his leg was over Dean’s hips, slowly moving so he was straddling Dean’s groin, pressing him gently to the bed by hands on his shoulders. His hips rolled, testing the mood, and Dean found himself responding in kind, groaning as he pushed up into Cas’ ass. His hands rubbed up Cas’ thighs to his hips, squeezing gently.
Cas pulled off of Dean’s lips to kiss a trail down Dean’s jaw and neck. “Cas?”
The angel above him grunted, but continued nibbling at Dean’s pulse, as if fascinated with the quick throb of it against his lips.
“What if... what if I didn’t want... to top this time?” His voice was very quiet.
Cas pulled up to look at him, blue eyes curiously searching Dean’s face. He stared up at the ceiling, as if seeking answers from it instead, blushing.
Cas’ hands came to rest on either side of Dean’s face, gently tilting his head down so he was looking properly at Cas. His thumbs gently ran over his cheeks. “I can top, if you’d like.”
Dean let out a slow breath, nodding. “Yeah. Yeah, I’d really like that, Cas.”
Cas smiled and kissed him reassuringly, shifting over Dean in order to move from atop his groin to between his legs. It felt odd at first, splitting his already bowed legs to accommodate Cas, like he was weirdly vulnerable. But Cas didn’t make anything of it, rolling his cock against Dean’s, the slide eliciting a groan from both. Cas continued to grind down against him, hands sliding down Dean’s chest to tweak his nipples until he forgot to be self-conscious. Cas’ lips trailed down his chest while his fingers pinched and flicked at Dean’s nipples, Dean pushing up into his hands. He flushed a little bit as Cas nipped and kissed extensively at the softer parts of his stomach.
“Cas, quit kissin’ my love handles.”
Cas merely flicked his gaze up, giving a particularly sensitive part of Dean’s stomach a soft bite, causing him to jerk. “But I love your stomach. It’s soft.”
Dean snorted, one hand running over Cas’ shoulder, the other through his hair in an attempt to pull or push him elsewhere. “Way to make a guy feel awkward.”
Cas surged up, suddenly framing Dean’s face with his hands again, lips skimming against Dean’s while he spoke. His voice was especially low, and he could partially feel it rumble through his chest where they pressed together. “I love every part of you, Dean. I put your body back together myself, exactly the way it was before Hell, and I plan on fully enjoying it and you as I slowly work you apart.”
Cas’ words went straight to Dean’s dick, and he rolled his hips, hands falling to Cas’ waist. “Fine, but no foot stuff. It’s weird.”
Cas narrowed his eyes, sitting up and dragging his hands along Dean’s body until he was pointedly reaching back towards Dean’s feet. Fingers ran feather light against the soles of Dean’s feet, and he arched his back a little to keep himself from kicking at the sensitivity.
Dean sat up and kissed Cas before he could do anything else, dragging him back down on top of him. He laughed at what a little shit his boyfriend was, the angel smiling smugly into the kiss. “Would you just start playing with my ass already?”
Cas hummed, seemingly opting not to answer in favor for kissing down Dean’s neck. His hand, however, reached over to the bedside table, grabbing the lube that rested there. Instead of opening the bottle, he laid it on the bed near Dean’s hip as he worked himself lower, nipping at his skin before finally licking the underside of Dean’s cock.
Dean pushed his hips up needily, head arching back as he felt Cas mouth at him, taking him easily into his mouth and swirling his tongue around. A hand fell to Dean’s hip, stilling him, and Dean knew it was more for the sake of whatever plan Cas had rather than some gag reflex. They both knew how good Cas was at oral, and just thinking of the last blowjob had Dean moaning loudly.
Cas flicked his gaze up at Dean through his eye lashes, humming around Dean’s cock. God he loved it when Cas did that, looking up at him with his fucking gorgeous eyes as his cheeks hollowed out and his tongue flicked at all the right spots on the underside of his cock. This was one of the best things about being in a solid relationship--Cas knew what Dean liked, and vice versa. It’s why he began pulling at Cas’ hair, combing his fingers through, feeling deep satisfaction in knowing he’d be wearing sex hair for the rest of the day.
Cas groaned and gripped Dean’s hip, stilling it as he swallowed Dean down all the way. He picked up the pace, and Dean was so distracted by his own pleasure that he barely noticed Cas lubing up his fingers until it was pressed against him. He stilled for a moment, looking down breathlessly as Cas eased his finger in, rolling his bottom lip into his mouth.
Cas’ eyes flicked up to meet Dean’s and he pulled off of Dean’s cock, giving the underside of his head a little scrape of his teeth before sliding up to nip at Dean’s jaw. “Relax. You’re tight.”
“Thought that was a good thing,” Dean smirked, a little breathless. One look from Cas had him biting his lips again, his voice less sarcastic. “It’s been a while. M’a little nervous.”
“Don’t be,” Cas murmured, running bites and kisses along Dean’s jaw. “I have you. I would never hurt you, Dean.”
Dean snorted--which felt weird with a finger in his ass--and ducked his head down the extra inch to shut Cas up with a kiss. Cas controlled the pacing, opting for deep and slow as his finger worked to push lube inside of him. He could feel Cas’ thumb brushing against his perineum, a slow circling massage as his finger worked in and out. A second finger pushed inside once Dean had relaxed, and he groaned as Cas began stretching him. Dean hitched one leg over Cas’ hip, the other bending slightly to give him more room, letting out an embarrassing gasp as Cas’ fingers found his prostate.
“Fuck,” Dean tried to push back onto Cas’ hand, but Cas stilled him once again, apparently bound and determined to do all the work. It left Dean to huff impatiently, running his hands over Cas’ back, biting at his clavicle impatiently. “Stop teasing.”
He could practically feel Cas smirk against his temple, fingers slowing down even more as they dragged purposefully over his prostate again, leaving Dean breathless from a shout and bucking his hips.
“I’m not teasing, Dean. I’m giving you exactly what you need, at the pace you need it.” Cas’ voice was so deep, so low and close to Dean’s ear that he whimpered--that he’d deny furiously later--squeezing around Cas’ fingers and trying to roll his hips.
“Cas, please,” Dean trailed his hands up Cas’ back and his lips up his angel’s neck. “I wanna feel you already.”
Cas groaned quietly, rocking a third finger into Dean gently, spreading him wide as he breathed just below Dean’s jaw. “I want to work you open still, Dean.”
Dean groaned, pushing back onto Cas’ fingers with a needy whine, his eyes fluttering shut. “Please, man, I don’t like begging.”
Cas pulled his face out of Dean’s neck, his blue eyes hazy as he hovered over Dean’s lips, free hand tangling in Dean’s hair to keep him from moving forward to kiss. His voice was nothing more than a gravelly whisper when he spoke, eyes flicking from Dean’s mouth up to blown green eyes. “I want you to beg for me, Dean. I want you to let go.”
A flush crept across Dean’s cheeks, feeling like Cas was prying him apart mentally and physically--hell, might as well throw in spiritually too--but with another brush of Cas’ fingers over his prostate, all Dean could reply with was a moan. Cas kept his hand in Dean’s hair, forcing his head back, alternating between watching the moans break across his face and biting his neck. Dean’s breath hitched at each bite, hips rolling Cas stretched him and teased with his fingers, pulling against Cas’ firm grip in his hair in an attempt to get a kiss.
“Cas, please--fuck--I-I can’t, I need you, please, I wa-want you inside me, please, I feel--feel empty, ah--” Dean broke off in a whimper, cock aching and his legs shaking with pleasure as Cas’ fingers pressed hard at his prostate.
Cas practically growled, shifting and pulling his fingers from Dean’s ass. Dean clenched down on nothing, a broken whimper leaving his throat as Cas shifted. He smeared more lube onto his cock, pausing to rub some excess against Dean’s hole, pushing it in lightly, groaning as the muscle fluttered against him. It was like Dean’s body was trying to claim his fingers back, desperately needing something inside him.
Teasing his cock against Dean’s hole, he smeared his fingers along Dean’s lips, pressing gently. “Clean them.”
Dean parted his lips, easily taking down Cas’ fingers, groaning because he needed something in him now, eyes flicking open to catch Cas’ wide-eyed expression. Dean licked at every finger, tongue curling around the pads, tasting himself and finding that it didn’t bother him--rather, the thought went straight to his dick, which was nearing uncomfortable levels of hardness.
“Please, Cas, please, I need you,” he murmured against his fingers, hooking his legs around Cas’ hips, trying his best to draw him closer. “Please?”
Cas ran his cleaned fingers down Dean’s throat, palm coming to rest at the base as his fingers squeezed lightly. His lips hovered against Dean’s, warm breath pooling against parted lips as he nodded slightly.
He felt the hand on his neck shift down between them, lining Cas’ slick cock up, his hips slowly moving forward until he was flush against Dean’s ass. Dean had arched up off the bed, head thrown back before half-shouting, half-groaning his pleasure. God, Cas felt good, hot and firm and solid inside him, pushing slowly past where his fingers could reach, stretching him more than his hand had. It wasn’t painful in the least.
Cas moved slowly, pulling out almost completely each time, pausing, then inching his way back in. Dean tried rolling his hips up, trying to speed Cas along, but the angel growled, pulling Dean’s hair and pinning his hips to the bed. Dean gasped, clenching down on Cas in surprise, only to hear him groan loudly against his throat.
“God, Cas, move. I need you to move, please. I need you to fuck me--ahh--” Dean’s voice broke, gasping as Cas suddenly snapped his hips forward, pausing to push himself up to watch Dean’s face before setting up a fast pace. His hand angled Dean’s hips, purposefully dragging against Dean’s prostate with every thrust. Dean felt himself clenching down, tightening, his back arching up off the bed even as Cas held his head in place, catching his eyes and holding them. Dean’s breath stuttered and his hands gripped whatever part of Cas they could reach--
“No,” Cas murmured, hand coming down between them, pressing at the base of Dean’s cock hard, and holding his hand there. “Not yet.”
A harsh cry that almost sounded like a broken sob left him, Dean riding the painful edge between pleasure and pain, riding the constant line of his orgasm, cock hard and leaking come as Cas pounded into him, pausing only to grind into his prostate especially hard every few strokes.
“Please, Cas!” The words tore out of Dean’s throat, shouting as he clung to him, hands at his sides, arms, shoulders, holding on as hard as he could.
Cas’ hand on his cock finally moved, as his cock hit his prostate hard. His hand formed a tight fist, pumping Dean’s cock, thumb rubbing hard on Dean’s cock head with every stroke. “Come.”
Dean barely had to be told, unable to hold back. He was loud as he came, trembling, shaking as he held onto Cas, and he couldn’t even tell if his eyes were open or shut. He was babbling and cursing, and Cas shut him up with a hard kiss, still fucking in to Dean as he came, long white spurts of come landing on his chest. Dean felt breathless and lightheaded, weakly hanging on as Cas pounded him still.
“Cas... Cas, Cas--” He was coming again, cock twitching as come dribbled out of him, muscles tightening in pleasure. Cas’ hips stuttered as he groaned into Dean’s neck, and Dean cradled his head close, running his fingers through his hair. He felt Cas go stiff, hips jerking, and Dean gathered what energy he had to tighten his legs, holding Cas in him and squeezing hard around him through his orgasm.
Cas collapsed on top of Dean, hand finally loosening from his hair to comb through the brown locks, lazily and messily kissing at his jaw. Dean felt like he could barely move, breathing hard as he felt Cas laugh lightly against his skin.
“What?” Dean finally rasped, his voice hoarse from yelling.
Cas shifted slightly--pulling out which caused Dean to groan and momentarily feel how wet and loose he was--before nestling into Dean’s side. “I got you to come twice.”
Dean tried to snort, but it just came out as a breathless laugh. “Weren’t you trying to do that?”
“I was trying to see how loudly I could make you come.” Cas sounded rather pleased with himself at his results.
Dean smoothed his hands up and down Cas’ back, pressing a kiss into his hair as he rested his head on Dean’s shoulder. He flushed at the thought that everyone had probably heard him practically screaming Cas’ name. “Dick.”
Cas huffed. “You enjoyed it.”
“Yeah, yeah, you smug bastard.” Laughter colored Dean’s words, taking out any possible heat. Cas tipped his head up for a kiss, and Dean happily obliged, sighing into his mouth.
Cas wiggled a little after a moment, and Dean frowned. “Where you going?”
“To shower. We’re sticky.” He raised a brow at Dean. “You must be uncomfortable.”
Dean laughed, his eyes straining to stay open. “Power nap first. If I try to stand now, I don’t think my legs’ll hold me.”
Cas narrowed his eyes, then was suddenly at the foot of the bed, grasping Dean’s ankle and yanking him down. Dean yelped, but was silenced by a firm kiss from Cas. “Aftercare now, then a power nap. I’ll carry you to the tub.”
Dean snorted, but before he could argue further, Cas had wrapped Dean’s legs around his waist and hoisted him up, dotting kisses over his shoulders and arms as he carried Dean into the bathroom.
“Show off,” Dean mumbled, flushing a little and smiling into Cas’ temple.
He didn’t see it, but he somehow knew Cas had rolled his eyes.
Cas somehow managed to draw a bath, pouring in some sort of fancy oils, all while carrying Dean around like he weighed nothing. Hell, he probably did. He wiggled at one point, though, just before it looked like Cas was going to put in him the tub himself. “Dude, I can at least do that.”
Cas slowly let Dean down, hands on his waist as he climbed into the tub. The angel slid in behind Dean, warm fingers finding the muscles of his shoulders and pressing firmly, starting a gentle massage that went all the way down his spine. Dean grunted, cleaning off his chest before lathering up his hands and working on his hair. Cas pulled Dean back against his chest after he’d rinsed off his hair, humming as he kissed Dean’s neck. Dean sighed and closed his eyes.
“Cas?”
“Mmmm?”
“Why’re your hands between my legs?”
“You need to be clean.”
“I can do that myself, Cas.”
“Mmmm.” Cas made no move to take his hands away, instead, gently pushing his fingers into Dean. He was still slack enough for Cas to easily push in, Dean moaning slightly as his fingers gently cleaned at Dean’s hole.
“Cas,” Dean shook his head a bit where it rested on Cas’ shoulder, pursing his lips. “God, I turned you into a sex monster.”
“Mmmm. I like watching you. When you’re being pleasured like that, you make... I enjoy your expressions as much as I like the pleasure.” Cas gently kissed his neck.
“Well, I gotta say, I enjoy the pleasure plenty.” Dean smirked, pulling Cas’ hands up and wrapping them instead around his waist. “Let me get a nap in before you go back to sticking your fingers up my ass.”
Cas hummed, pressing a kiss into his shoulder. His voice was low with promise as he ran his nose over Dean’s throat. “I look forward to it.”
