Summary: Set one week after Lazarus Rising: Sam is growing distant; Dean is trying to cope with being brought back; and the world's heading to hell in a hand basket unless a certain angel can lead Dean to accept his duty and destiny.
Ratings and Warnings: T (Rating may go up. There will be profanity. Violence in later chapters. If you have a have problem with slash or yaoi (two guys loving each other) I recommend not reading. Eventual Dean/Castiel. You've been warned.)
Author Note: Hello! This is my first fanfic, so please play nice. No flames, I'd rather constructive criticism. I can't improve if I don't know what the readers like and dislike about the chapters. I really do hope you all enjoy. I'm dedicating this story to a very special young lady, my dear Angeal Valentine from the FFVII fandom.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Last time I checked Supernatural belonged to Eric Kripke.
His mouth opened in a silent scream; his whole body shuddering violently from where he lay tangled in blankets on a motel bed. Even now, he burned, the chains came around him tighter, and knives and needles were driven into his flesh. He was dreaming, but for four months this had been his reality.
At the desk, in an uncomfortable and flimsy motel chair, sat his savior. The angel watched him quietly, for a long while before rising to his feet and approaching the older Winchester carefully. He knew better than to handle this situation with anything less than tender precaution. "Dean," Castiel spoke quietly as he inched closer to the sleeping man. "Dean… wake up, my charge." Slowly, he brought a hand to touch the man's cheek gently.
Dean lashed out immediately like a caged animal, attacking with his fists. His legs were too entangled in the sheets and blankets to move his lower torso. He was no longer in a dream state, but he was not aware enough at this point to separate friend from foe. It was his instincts as a hunter kicking in full-blast. Something had touched him; he had to defend himself.
Castiel sighed as he blocked Dean's rash punches and wrapped his hands around the young man's wrists. "Stop it. It's me, idiot…" Dean refused to stop struggling and the angel released one wrist to lay a hand on the mark on Dean's shoulder.
The hunter twitched, feeling a shiver run up his spine. He had begun to calm down, though. "Where's Sam?" were the first sensible words to leave his lips.
"He went out for a drink," the angel replied quietly. He quickly released the hunter. When he was this close to him, impure thoughts ran through his mind. As an angel, he knew that was unacceptable. Dean was his charge.
"He does that a lot now…" Dean muttered, in disbelief.
"Yes, he does… either says he's going out for a drink or something to eat… but that's not what he's really doing… you know that…" His brow furrowed in a thoughtful expression and he met the hunter's eyes with a curious and oddly innocent look.
"I…" Dean shook his head. "Don't look at me like that. And Sam just went out for a drink, I told him not to mess with that psychic mumbo-jumbo, he said he wouldn't. Whom I supposed ta believe my brother or some basket-case who thinks he's an angel on a mission from the God I don't even think exists?" He clenched his fists and then began to free himself from the sheets and blankets that entangled him. "Sam doesn't even trust you and he believes in that God-shit."
"Charge…" Castiel's lips curved into a small smile.
"Don't you, charge me. I'm not buying into that bullshit. You can't even prove it."
"Isn't this proof enough?" the angel whispered as he laid his hand back down on the mark on Dean's shoulder. Even in a human vessel, the connection remained. Dean could feel his grace when he touched the mark. The grace that God had given the angel and that the angel had placed a little of into the hunter when he had gripped him tight and raised him from perdition. "And you, Sam, and Bobby have already tried exorcising me in every manner you could think of, holy water has no effect against me, I don't twitch when you say Cristo, my eyes don't go black, white, red, or yellow, Devil's Traps won't trap me, rock salt won't keep me out… isn't that enough proof that I'm not a demon either?"
"Whatever…" Dean grumbled, still stubborn in his disbelief. He shrugged Castiel's hand off. It sent shivers up and down his spine. "I'm going back to sleep, wake me when Sam gets back."
"As you wish… I hope you sleep well this time." The angel bowed curtly and walked away from Dean, taking his place back at the desk. He watched the hunter intently.
"Honestly…" Dean shook his head and sighed, rolling over on his other side to turn his back to the angel. "That's creepy, you know?"
"Is it really?" A mixture of confusion and amusement crossed Castiel's face. "I didn't think the Dean Winchester could be so easily creped out," the angel teased.
"Fuck you," the hunter growled and stuck his head under a pillow.
"In my dreams, maybe…" the angel whispered with a sigh.
"What'd you say?" His sensitive hearing picking up on the words, but he was convinced he must have misheard. He looked out at Castiel.
"Huh? I said nothing." The angel's eyes widened and his face gained a completely innocent expression. "Go back to sleep, charge. I fear the lack of it may be affecting you greatly. I promise to wake you as soon as your brother returns."
The hunter muttered something about a creepy, annoying, perverted angel, and then rolled back over on his side falling asleep again.
"God, please give me the strength to complete my mission without sinning. And please grant the boy some peace when his work is done… Lead me not into temptation," the angel prayed quietly with his eyes closed and head bowed.
Castiel wasn't quite sure exactly when he had fallen in love with his charge, but he suspected it might have been in that moment when he really looked him in the eyes for the first time and saw something he had to protect there. The angel could not explain it, but it had troubled him greatly that his charge could not believe that he was worth saving; deserved to be saved. In that moment, he had wanted nothing more than to kiss that man and hold him close. He wanted to prove to him that he was worthwhile, special, and completely worth saving. However,
he had let that moment slip past him. It had been a week since their first official meeting and too late now.
What he felt for the hunter was wrong, anyway. Who had ever heard of a gay angel? Ridiculous. Not to mention what had happened to the Watchers/Grigori when they had taken human lovers. Surely, God would smite him where he stood if he ever acted upon such terrible desires or he would Fall. His wings would be clipped and he would spend an eternity burning in Hell. Humans were off limits; all the angels knew and understood that now. Castiel watched Dean sleep was a sigh. "The most important thing is that I see to it that the mission is completed… otherwise, this will be the end of all things… no time for love now…" the angel whispered to himself.
Everything depended on the broken young man, laying in troubled sleep. The war would be reaching its climax soon and unless Dean Winchester was ready, it would be Hell on earth. There would be no hope left. All the pieces on the chess board were finally in place and the game was already in motion. Only time would tell now.