Seeing Castiel's Bad Side
A/N: Set right after My Bloody Valentine. That was a hard episode to watch, right? I mean, Sam loses control, but in the end he still has enough of himself to go and save Dean, but then he has to go through withdrawal all over again. Man, what a crap fest, right?! And Dean's all emotionally broken and raw at the end. They need a lot of therapy, or love. Love is good, speaking of which, this is Dean/Castiel.
Sam wasn't around. In fact, he hadn't been around much. It had been a week since the freak valentine incident paired with the ravenous hunger and the Horseman. It had been three days since Sam had gone through detox. Since then he'd been wandering around town, dazed and avoidant whenever he was at the motel with Dean.
Dean barely thought about trying to get Sam to stick around. He had let him take the Impala without any time limit, any threats for bodily harm if it came back with a dent, didn't ask for any food either. He felt nauseous about it, but the truth is that Sam was like some mutt. He'd take off if someone he loved, Dean, struck him, but he would always come back sooner or later. Dean knew that Sam was in a dark place right now, full of self-hate and shame, but Dean was going through a dark place too.
The weird thing was that Castiel had disappeared too. Looking for God, or something, but more than that. A few times Dean had felt as though Cas was there, but by the time he turned around there was nothing. There was usually a charge that ran up his arms, and made every inch come to life. He suspected that the angel showed up a few times a day. Dean would clench his fists and whirl around as fast as he could, but never quick enough. One time he was sitting on the edge of his bed. His hands were in a knot in his lap, and his eyes looked blankly at the television screen. He felt the familiar warmth take over his body, it spread over his biceps and up his neck. He looked up at the screen and Castiel's reflection was clearly in it. His tan trench coat moved silently as he leaned over Dean's back slightly. His head was cocked in his signature confused look, and his lips were slightly parted. They moved, but Dean didn't hear a word. He yelled Cas's name, but once again the angel was gone by the time he managed to look.
The face that Castiel had outside of Sam's detoxification room, he'd looked at Dean only when he knew Dean wasn't looking back. When Dean walked outside and started to tear up, when he begged for help. He couldn't have been certain that Castiel hadn't heard him, but for some reason he suspected that if the angel had then he was in safe hands. Cas had the emotional span of primitive animal, he knew basic things that fell into either "satisfied" or "not satisfied." Stuff like need, want, don't like, feel bad, and every once in a while a sense of anger or frustration. Cas didn't feel complex things like shame, resentment, ecstasy or pity.
That was why it was okay to let Castiel watch. Dean couldn't be certain if he was watching, or listening to his thoughts, but even if he was it didn't matter. The one thing Dean didn't want anyone to feel for him was an emotion he thought to be too complex for the messenger of the Lord. Pity. If Cas couldn't feel pity for Dean, then the human didn't give a fuck what the angel saw and thought of him.
As long as no one pitied him.
Even if Castiel did magically appear around Dean, stared at the back of his head and always gone before Dean could get a sentence out. The reflection in the TV screen showed that Cas was confused, but not that he pitied Dean.
Jesus Christ he was fucking annoying! That was another thing Dean would have to ask Castiel one day, whether or not God actually had a son. He doubted Cas would answer though, he was too vague. Half the time he didn't say anything, the other half what he said barely skimmed the complexity of some matters. He should just come on up, say what he meant, and mean what he said. Then they could be done with the stupid game of mysterious angel.
Dean hadn't considered how angry (whether or not Cas would express his emotions was another matter) Castiel would feel when he was caught. Since Cas had lost his grace he was weaker than when he'd first appeared in the barn with light bulbs blowing out overhead. Being weaker, he was easier to catch. The seal that Dean had drawn on the underside of the motel mattress was designed to hold an array of powerful non-humans. He wasn't certain it would hold Cas, and he felt slightly stupid standing in the bathroom dragging a knife across his forearm. He painted the symbol in his own blood. Maybe if the seal didn't hold him, Cas would at least stick around out of curiosity as to why Dean would go so far to capture him.
Dean sat on the edge of his bed and waited. He stared at the blank TV, prepared to see at any moment the reflection of the angel. He considered what he would ask Castiel when he finally saw him.
It wasn't long before Cas had his reflection across the blank TV. Dean could feel the heat, up his arms, over his collar bone, swiftly up his neck and then down his back. He watched as the image of him flickered, a sound like tin foil crunching as he flitted in and out of the room. Finally it stopped, Cas standing still and no longer attempting to get away. He looked into the TV screen, their eyes meeting there.
Dean stood up, breathed deeply and then turned around. He had an eyebrow raised and the corner of his mouth cocked up as he looked at the angel.
"Release me." Castiel said it in his straightforward, do-not-disobey-me voice. His eyes were narrowed, the soft blue almost invisible. He was kneeling on the middle of the bed, but the mattress didn't yield under his weight. It was as though he was floating, or not really there.
"Why don't you just get comfortable." Cas looked at Dean with slight confusion, and then yielded, sitting cross legged on the motel bed. It was a near painful reminder of the Cas of 2014. Hippie Cas. Dean quickly pushed that image away, Cas having an orgy with a bunch of women was not the Cas he knew. And certainly not the Cas he preferred. "You've been dropping bye, but always disappearing before I can say one thing, haven't you? And don't lie."
"As an angel of the Lord, I do not lie."
Dean waited, but once again Castiel would not elaborate without being propositioned. "You never lie?"
"It depends." The angel looked away and then returned to Dean's face. "Is omitting information the same as lying?"
Dean sighed and raised his hands in frustration. "It is when you're applying for a job."
Castiel didn't respond. Dean still waited, but soon he knew that Cas was shutting down the road to communication. He turned away and paced slightly. He crossed his arms over his chest. "Yes or no?"
Dean whirled around. "You know I thought I was losing my bloody mind?! What the fuck are you playing at? If you want something from me, then just spit it out!" He swallowed roughly. Cas had his head cocked to the side again, looking like a German Shepherd uncertain of the command he was just given. "Well? You have something you want to say to me?"
"Yes, I wondering if you could let me go."
Dean was tempted to punch him. He grabbed a chair from the small, round table in the corner and pulled it up to the bed Cas was on. "No, you aren't going anywhere. Why have you been acting like a creeper? I mean come on, you don't usually hold back when something's on your mind."
Castiel let his eyes flicker over Dean's face. Over his rough stubble, his thin, upset mouth. He sat up a little, back onto his knees. He leaned towards Dean, and watched as the human's eyes flickered around, up and down Jimmy Novak's body. "I thought you might be…" Cas frowned, his eyebrows furrowing. "I do not know, I suppose I thought you might feel distaste towards me."
Dean blinked, slowly, and then when the image of confused Cas didn't disappear from in front of him, he closed his eyes again. Staying that way for a few moments, he shook his head slightly. "What are you talking about? I don't get it Cas."
Castiel shifted slightly at his pet name. For some reason he thought that it meant he was unique to the Winchester. It was something personal, and something that had remained the same since Valentine's Day. "When I succumbed to Jimmy's desires. I thought that maybe when you looked at me, perhaps you felt something akin to distaste, disgust maybe. I thought it possible you might also be angry at me, because I failed you for… rotting flesh…"
Dean figured this had more to with Castiel feeling disgust for himself, his own feelings of guilt at succumbing when Dean needed him the most. He rolled his eyes at the angel. "Don't call it 'rotting flesh', you'll alienate every human who has ever had a burger."
The angel stared at him. The way he leaned forward let his tie hang down and lightly brush the bed spread when the angel moved. Dean knew the angel was testing how much he could move away from the center of the bed, and the bloody seal. Still, Castiel wasn't very aware of his own body language, and the position didn't appear at all masculine, powerful, or any of the other things that Castiel was known for.
Castiel grew uncomfortable. He let his chest fall forward and put his hands out to catch himself. On his hand and knees, he continued to stare at Dean.
It looked like a very bad strip tease, without the stripping, the tease, and with a Y chromosome instead of an X. Dean's mind briefly floated to a stripper he had seen once, with blonde hair dyed pink and a cherry red, cup-less bra. She had slid down the pole, gotten on her hands and knees like a cat, and crawled towards him. Other guys stuffed twenties into her boy shorts as she went by them.
Castiel was definitely not a stripper. More asexual than a sexual being. And he lacked a certain lustful side to be an entertainer. Dean shook his head. When had he gotten so messed up in the head?
"You couldn't help it. There's nothing else to say. I don't think of you as any different."
Castiel's blue eyes tried to bore into Dean's hazel green eyes, as though trying to memorize the pattern in the iris. "You are lying. Even now you look at me differently."
Dean briefly let his mind wonder what the angel's reaction would be if he told him the truth. The only reasons why Dean was looking at him differently was either a problem with himself, or because Cas had put himself in a position that reminded Dean of a stripper he used to like. If he said that, "Cas, you remind me of a stripper" he could picture the angel cocking his head to the side again. His eyes narrowed and his lips pursed. Dean leaned back and covered his head with his hands. He then let out a dark chuckle and stood up. "I'll let you out now."
"Thank you," the angel said. Cas then sat back on his heels, his hips jutting out slightly beneath his dark pants.
Dean pulled a knife from its sheath and then got down on the floor. The mattress was held up with horizontal bars. He stuck the knife between two and sliced through the pattern. All it took was one small incision to destroy the power of the seal. He leaned back and flinched slightly as Cas stepped off the bed and over him. Dean stood up, and turned away to place the knife back on the side table.
Dean straightened back up, slowly. He could feel Castiel behind him. The warmth back in his arms. He turned around only to find that Cas was a little closer than he needed to be. Figures.
Cas looked away for a moment, and then leaned closer. "You should not lie, not to me." Then the angel vanished, leaving the motel as quick as he had appeared.
Dean knew he'd be back. Him and Sam, like lost dogs would always wander back eventually.
Hey, this is not a oneshot. Please review! And this will contain various sexual and emotional themes.