Disclaimer: The Supernatural universe belongs to Eric Kripke and CW, not me!

There is no profit to this, as it's harmless silly fan fiction!

Genre: Humor, suspense, romance

Rating: M (for safety, though I feel it's more T)

Ship: Destiel

Viva`la Revolution!

… … …


"You think the armies of hell should just follow you around? There's a bigger picture here."

It had been intolerable. Castiel had tried to be understanding, graciously dismissed the anger and the insults. They were only human beings, limited in their understanding of the world. But he had raised him from the ultimate darkness, from an eternity of pain and despair, and yet Dean mocked him. Mocked what they where trying to accomplish, what their brothers and sisters had been dying for. He had been standing there in front of him, so defiant and vain, incapable of understanding the truth Castiel was generously sharing with him.

"You should show me some respect."

Castiel had paused slightly, trapping Dean's wavering glance with his own intense glare.

"I dragged you out of hell… And I could throw you back in."

Then a silence had followed, only interrupted by the fast drumming of a frightened heart, left alone in the cold kitchen.

It didn't improve.

Dean Winchester just didn't learn. It was like if his mental programming strictly forbade him to behave in a civilized manner, or at least a logical one. Castiel could have settled with a logical one.

"Stop him?" Dean halfway turned around, with his hand on the doorknob. "Excuse me, would you mind digging a little deeper into that one?"

"Dean, unless you stop him, we will…"

"You will what…?" It came out as a hoarse whisper.

Castiel didn't even blink.

"You will what, really?" Dean couldn't stop the anger from tearing him up on the inside.

"The wrath of heaven..."

"We are not talking about heaven, we are talking about you. And I ask again, you friggin son of a bitch, you will do what?" Dean raised his voice, and gave him an infuriated glare.

"Do you want a detailed gospel, or should I just give you a short summary?" There was an unusual amount of sarcasm in the angel's voice.

Dean shook his head slightly, and raised an eyebrow.

"Over my dead body, you winged freak."

As Castiel opened his mouth to answer, Dean punched him. Not a soft smack, but a real blow to the eye, powered by the intense anger he was feeling. He punched him again, and hit him on the lip. The third punch was stopped in mid-air, as Castiel gripped a hold of his wrist and pulled it towards him, causing Dean to fall forward on his knees. Then he bent down, holding the wrist in such a position that it would snap if Dean moved even just slightly.

Dean made an almost inaudible groan of pain.

"You won't throw me back in the pit, cause you need me. Hell, I don't fudging know why, but you bloody need me! So, you go to hell! And you take your brothers with you, cause you're not getting mine, no matter how screwed he is! "

He just couldn't make himself stop.

The angel leaned in even closer, and Dean failed to meet the cold glare. His pulse sped up, and fear made the contents of his stomach painfully heavy. It dawned on him, as the angel suddenly came up dangerously close to his face that he possibly had finally gone too far. There was a look of cold wrath in the dark blue eyes, as power radiated from the impassive face.

Barely inches apart, Castiel cocked his head and narrowed his eyes.

"I don't have to send you anywhere. All it requires is for you to be asleep. Time is flexible, Dean, remember?" He stared at him, and there was a faint hint of some emotion in his face.

For just a moment, Dean found himself wondering if it was pity. Then the angel raised his finger, and it came up towards his forehead. Dean froze; his heart beating almost up in his throat.

"God, that's a cheap trick, you bastard."


He didn't make him sleep, and just thinking about it made Dean wanna kill something. Despite him doing everything he could to piss the angel off, he still hadn't made good of his threats. It struck him, as he was driving the impala towards no place in particular, that it was really all screwed. Just so very wrong. Sam out there with that demon bitch, using his powers in the darkness. Being threatened by angels was actually just the last straw.

It could go either way, he figured.

Through the happy "merry-go-around" routine; where Dean would try to hide his emotions, fight the war like a dutiful son, break down once or twice, throw off nasty comments and deflated puns whenever there was room for it, while at the same time thoroughly please the angels on his shoulders.

Dean shook his head. Or he could just revolt. Strike.

Tell the divine fudging `A holes to blow themselves with a wet hairdryer and take a crap-bath in their own reverse pie-hole.

"What are you thinking about?"

Dean almost drove off the road.

"That line is getting old, you know. Repeating lame lines won't get you anywhere in the world of awesome." He said hoarsely.

"Dean, the truth…"

"…is out there, but I really don't give a damned!"

"Why do you insist on being intolerable?"

Castiel had never had a problem with frustration before. Now, he did.

"Actually, I used to be adorable, before the whole being "shredded by hell hounds and groped by angels" crap." Dean smiled, and gave a small sideways nod, "Good times…"

There was a soft poof of feathery flapping, before only cold and dark occupied the seat next to him.

"Good riddance…" Dean mumbled.

Something touched his shoulder, and he jumped two feet in the air, knocking his head against the impala roof.

"You will not be rid of me that easily." Castiel looked at him with a deadpan expression in his strict features.

"Oh, for cryin`out loud, what do you want from me? Huh? You want me to ram this friggin beauty of a car into a damned tree? Cause I will!" He paused, and raised an eyebrow. "Or actually, I'll steal someone else`s car, and smash that!"

"I want you to turn this vehicle around, and go back to your motel. You need to talk to your brother!"

"Since when did any of you bitches give a crapstickle about what I need?"

"We saved your soul from hell, Dean."

"Well, you know what they say, fool me once…"

He tore at the steering wheels, and did an abrupt left turn. Then he suddenly slammed on the brakes, and sent the car almost spinning out of control out into the open desert.

Castiel just sat there, staring out of the right car window. His Prussian blue eyes glinted of something rather indeterminable in the still sharp light from the ebbing sun in the horizon. Then he turned his stare at Dean, his mouth a thin line that screamed of inner turmoil.

Dean refused to pay him a single glance, and marched out of the tired-looking car.

He kicked aside a rock that lay cradled next to the left front-wheel, and leaned up against the bumper and the hood.

As Castiel came forth on the other side, Dean drew a .38 pistol, and shot 5 bullets directly into the angel's chest. Castiel was stopped rather abruptly, and sent Dean a vaguely annoyed glare. Dean did another sideways nod, without a smile this time, and pointed the gun at the angel's face.

Before he had time to pull the trigger, something knocked the air out of him, and sent him flying into a heap of sand.

"Uriel, stop!" Castiel`s voice was somewhat unnerving to Dean, who didn't even have a chance to stand up before he was slammed down with his back against the hood of the car.

The dark man that was holding him by the throat had a rather pissy look in his sour face.

"This disgusting little mud monkey needs to be dealt a little punishment."

"If you had worn one of those hybrid metal/leather outfits, that sentence would have been hell of a lot scarier…" Dean wheezed out through clenched teeth.

"Uriel…" Castiel was loosing his patience.

The big hand loosened its grip on Dean's throat, and by the time he had gotten up, the other angel was gone.

"Can we have a civilized conversation now?" The angel asked, eyes narrowing.

"I don't know, are you gonna threaten to send me back to the pit again if I say no?" Dean raised an eyebrow and creased his forehead.

"Enough of it." He came closer, and Dean could almost feel the nerves awakening inside him. Hairs rose on his arms when Castiel leaned in closer.

Dean swallowed, and realized he was just flat out exhausted.

"Look, I want to fight, I do, but your divine BS is just not…"

Whatever it was, he never managed to finish, as Castiel suddenly locked his lips onto his. It was soft, and sweet, and better yet, Dean didn't really have the time to panic.

There was a Blink.

He opened his eyes, and saw that he was back inside the empty motel room.

"What the…?"