Title: When A Tornado Meets A Volcano
Author: HigherMagic
Rating: PG-13
Pairings/Characters: Dean/Castiel pre-slash
Spoilers: End of 6x22
Warnings: angst, betrayal, drama
Word Count: ~2,000
Summary: He had seen murder in the eyes of many of his enemies, Castiel included, and this was no different; if he was going to be killed, he was going to go down swinging, damn it.
Notes: Unbeta'd. All mistakes are my own. Reaction to 6x22, the extra scene that they never seem to show, right at the end :D

"You will all bow down before me, and swear your love and fealty to me."

"…So, that's it, is it?" Dean asked after the longest moment, no one looking at each other but everyone watching Castiel – disbelieving, denying, angry, betrayed, shocked, and afraid. Dean, however, felt bitterness and fury most of all, welling up from a place deep inside of him that had been banished, locked away to fester and grow like some poisoned sore.

Castiel turned his head, fixing Dean with a steely blue gaze, but the Hunter was not deterred – he had seen death plenty of times, murder in the eyes of many enemies, Castiel included, and this was no different; if he was going to be killed, he was going to go down swinging, damn it.

"You get all hyped up on soul-juice and suddenly you decide that the old way was the right way?" He spat out the words, baring his teeth, still cradling his injured side which was throbbing to the time of his very fast heartbeat. He knew that Castiel – the old Cas – would heal him without a thought, without him having to ask, but this one wouldn't. "You gonna play the wrathful, Old Testament version?" Laughing, he shook his head.

"Things were better that way," Castiel replied tersely, eyes flashing. His hands flexed at his sides, seemingly of their own accord, and the Angel – God – looked down, watching his fingers flex and curl, turning his hands over in front of his chest as though there were some visible difference in him now. Perhaps there was, and Dean's eyes simply couldn't see it. "Humans, I've found, are much more amiable with an iron fist to keep them in line."

"Are you even listening to yourself?" Dean gasped, taking a step forward only to halt when Castiel's head snapped up again, and his icy gaze felt like it froze Dean's blood solid in his veins.

Castiel cocked his head to one side, insect-like and wrong. It reminded Dean of every creature that had ever seen the barrel of his gun or the business end of his knife or been trapped in a circle of chalk, paint or fire. It spoke of everything Dean and Sam and Bobby and Castiel had fought for in the past two years, crumbling down around them.

"Cas -."

"That is not my name," the Angel – God – snapped, his eyes flashing to Sam, who had spoken. The younger Winchester immediately backed away, eyes wide, hands up in defense. "You would do well to remember that."

"Let them go, Cas," Dean whispered, unable to help the nickname. Castiel's lips thinned out in anger, his fingers flexing again before the Angel – God – dug them into the pockets of his trench coat. "You're angry with me. Let Sam and Bobby go."

"Dean -."

"Get the fuck out of here, Sammy." Dean was just too tired – too tired to argue, to look Sam in the eye and tell him to get his ass out of there. It just didn't seem to be worth it – the car was totaled, where would they run? How could they hide from a God?

The receding footsteps let him know that, for once, they just listened and left him behind. He opened his eyes to find Castiel watching them go, and then the creature's eyes flashed to Dean's.

"I can find them easily. The sigils do not hide them from me anymore."

"I know." Dean sighed, rubbing his hands through his hair. "I know." Castiel's eyes felt like they were burning him, staring into his very soul but in a much more invasive and unpleasant way than the Angel had stared at him, when he'd still been an Angel. The Hunter sighed again, forcing himself to straighten. "I won't bow down to you."

Castiel's eyes narrowed. "That would be very foolish," he muttered tersely.

Dean barked out a harsh, bitter laugh. "Do you even realize how you sound?" he demanded, gesturing towards Castiel, visibly unchanged, but the power radiating off of him was something that could not be ignored – it blasted out like frozen heat, like a snowstorm made of volcanic ash. Staying in Castiel's presence gave Dean the unpleasant feeling of being coated in oil. "Damn it, Cas, listen to yourself! Everything we've fought for, everything you stood by my side for, and you're just becoming the same damned thing!"

The creature bared his teeth in a snarl, rolling his shoulders and Dean imagined he could hear giant wings unfolding, but instead of the soft sound of feathers falling that he was used to, it was metallic. It rang. "Humanity was left on its own by a benign God, and everything went wrong. You all need guidance again, and an iron rule…and then maybe you will learn. A few hard years will reap centuries' of benefits, Dean."

Dean gasped, shaking his head. "You poor bastard. All those souls are -."

"The planet is safe," Castiel declared, straightening up again. "You are safe. Your family is safe and you are without enemies now – Raphael is dead, Crowley is subdued. You will never come to harm as long as I am in power." He stepped closer, the metallic sound of razor feathers falling around him sounding out again as he approached Dean, who stood his ground despite the instinctive spike of fear and adrenaline that shot through him. He knew Castiel could wipe him from existence without a thought, and yet he hadn't – that had to mean something. "All I have done has been because of you, or for you."

Dean turned his face away when Castiel raised a hand, cupping his cheek. "Do you not believe in God, Dean?" Castiel asked softly.

"No," Dean replied, closing his eyes. He stepped away from Castiel's hold, towards the tray that still held the empty bottle of blood concoction needed for the ritual. There was also a tray with three bowls. One of them was full of blood, the second contained a heart, and the third looked like…caviar. Dean frowned, trailing his finger along the edge of the table, before he turned around. Castiel was right behind him, giving him no space. "I believed in you more when you were a drunken human than I do now, standing before me as a God, and I won't kneel for you."

Castiel's eyes narrowed. His hand twitched again and Dean noticed. "You think you have control, but you don't," he whispered, unable to break away from Castiel's freezing, powerful gaze – when he looked into Castiel's eyes, he saw anger and fury and agony and it was awful. "All those souls – you could barely handle Jimmy in there, how can you handle so many?"

The Angel – God – cocked his head to one side again, pursing his lips. "You will kneel for me," he said softly, nodding to himself. "I will make sure of it."

Dean smirked. "So much for free will."

"I don't think I care much for something that makes me your enemy," Castiel replied without hesitation, but it made Dean pause. He could think of nothing to say to that for a moment, then;

"There was always a chance to turn things around."

Castiel snarled, gripping Dean's arm tightly, his hand sliding up to seal over the handprint on his arm. Even through the barrier of clothes, the heat and electric shock was incredibly strong – Dean remembered when he had electrocuted himself and almost died from heart failure and it felt incredibly like that.

"Do not forget that, even as I was, I owned you, Dean. My patience for you will not last long."

"Just fuck me over like a good little pawn," Dean snarled back, straightening up and forcing Castiel to take a step back. "That's what you guys do – fine. Go on, jerk on the choke chain and see if I roll over. Just try it, Cas, I dare you."

The creature's eyes flashed again, but he didn't snarl, or growl, or show any signs of anger. In fact, he smiled – it was the single most terrifying thing Dean had ever seen. "Oh, Dean," he said, shaking his head, and laughed; "You are not a pawn."

"Sure feels like it," Dean snapped back, and Castiel laughed again. He raised a hand, snapping his fingers, and Dean flinched, only to find that he had remained perfectly still – Castiel had frozen his limbs solid, and the creature smirked again, stepping close to Dean, close enough that Dean could feel Castiel's breath on his lips, and he wanted to lean away because this was wrong on so many levels, but he couldn't. Castiel had forced him to be still.

"Dean, Dean…" He shook his head, still laughing, his hands threading through Dean's hair as he looked over Dean's face. The gesture was so childishly affectionate that it made Dean sick. "Don't you realize? You're the Queen." He chuckled again when Dean's eyes widened in horror. His eyes were so vacant and yet so terrifyingly full of things that weren't Castiel – so many other creatures with fangs and claws and Dean could only imagine what it felt to have so much violence and power inside oneself. "You're my Queen," Castiel growled, leaning in closer, his lips just brushing Dean's jaw, and how badly Dean wanted to lean away, to lash out, anything, but of course he couldn't. "Together, you and I will reign and keep everyone safe – you, and your family, shall not be harmed. Not even the amnesiac whore and her bastard child shall come to harm if you so desire it." His voice darkened then, speaking of Lisa and Ben, his hands becoming just a little rough in Dean's hair before they smoothed out again and the anger was gone, fleeting as a shooting star. "Just tell me what you wish, Dean, and I'll grant it to you." He smoothed a thumb over Dean's lips and Dean found he could speak. "Tell me."

Dean swallowed, his eyes wide and horrified, locked with Castiel's, and he found himself unable to lie – he traced as far back as he could remember, when it all started going wrong, and answered honestly because he couldn't resist; "I wish I had shot my father in the face when Azazel possessed him," he said, and there was a flash of hurt in Castiel's eyes. "I wish I had killed him. Then I would have never met you."

"Shh," Castiel murmured, brushing his thumbs over Dean's cheeks, seeing the first few tears begin to fall. "It's alright if you don't want to admit it, Dean – you may hate me, but you love me, too." Dean swallowed loudly, choking on his inhale, and Castiel smiled again, leaning up and pressing a soft, chaste kiss to Dean's pliant, unresisting mouth. It felt like a Judas kiss. "Soon, beloved, you will see that all I have done, I have done for you, and you will thank me for it."

Dean swallowed again, wanting to shake his head, but Castiel still had much of his body paralyzed, and Castiel smiled, stepping away, and snapped his fingers once more. Dean collapsed limply to the ground, trying to use the cart as support but it ended up falling, the contents spilling on the floor. Castiel stood over Dean, still smiling.

"I'll see you very soon, Dean," Castiel whispered, grinning, and then the metallic fall of iron feathers sounded again and he was gone. Dean curled his knees up to his chest, resting his arms on top of them, and found himself staring at the sigil on the wall, the fake one, made of dog's blood.

His mouth twisted in disgust – he could still feel Castiel's warm, dry lips on his own. "Damn you, you son of a bitch," he snarled, wiping at his mouth. "I will never kneel for you."

There may have been the sound of more laughter, but Dean couldn't hear it over the sound of rain outside and the overwhelming noise of blood rushing in his ears.