Hey everyone! First off, I'm not dead! I've had a fair few months absence from fanfiction (as my readers from the Sherlock community know only too well, sorry guys :/ ), but now my exams have finished and my life is getting back on track so I'm easing myself back into my fanfiction writing again. ^^

I've got a couple of Sherlock fics still in progress, but then series 6 of Supernatural came out and BAM, this fandom sucked me straight back in, and I just couldn't resist writing myself a juicy Dean/Castiel fic. Or rather, Dean/God!Cas (The end of series 6 damn near broke my heart, by the way).

There's quite a few Dean/God!Cas rapefics out there, and I wanted to do something a bit different. Yes, this has sex in it, angry angst-filled sex, but there's definitely some love in it. Just read on, you'll get what I mean haha it's hard to explain XD

Spoilers for mentioning parts of a few episodes in season 6 in here, and major spoilers for the last five minutes of episode 6x22, since the bulk of this first part is pretty much that scene, which I don't own by the way.

And thank you so much to the wonderful InsaneMelon, who was lovely enough to look this through for me. Thank you, my darling! ^^

Read on and review for me? Ta! :)


Everything had been leading up to this, but Hell if I'd seen it coming. From that very first moment when he strode into that barn, beige trench coat whipping out behind him in the harsh wind as sparks exploded and showered down from the light bulbs above his head, those piercing blue eyes fixed unblinkingly on mine and nowhere else, I knew that this one man, this angel of the Lord, would turn my world on it's ass in more ways than one. But after everything we've been through, I never expected it to come to this. How could I have? None of us would've guessed that this was how it would end. It's a betrayal that cuts me so much fucking deeper than I could've ever imagined, and he knows it. I can see it so clearly in those unnaturally cold narrowed blue eyes of his.

Maybe it's partly my fault. This wouldn't have hurt anywhere near as much if I hadn't let that Goddamn son of a bitch worm his way under my skin and spread to fill the emptiness with his grace, his sheer presence searing through my heart and soul as white-hot and permanent as the handprint he left on my bicep. I should've realised sooner. After all, nothing good happens to Dean Winchester. You'd think a guy would just learn already.

Thinking back, it all started with the personal space thing. Hell, knowing my luck, it probably started long before Castiel's recurring lack of understanding of human personal boundaries first made me realise that there was… well, just something between us. I couldn't explain exactly what it was, back then. To be honest, I doubt I could explain it even now. But yeah, the repeated experience of having those soulful bright blue eyes staring contemplatively at me from a face that was literally a few inches from my own must've flicked the switch inside my head, opening my eyes to the fact that there was more than just an angel's ignorance of human customs at work here. It started small, the tiniest flickers of suspicion and confusion, not to mention a fair amount of panic, surfacing every time we came face to face, but it kept on growing. And boy, did that beast grow alright.

And eventually, it morphed into something that it really shouldn't have. As if I wasn't damned enough before; this was fate practically kicking my ass further and further towards a return trip downstairs.

Ok, so I'll admit I've always been comfortable enough with my sexuality (back then, as straight as a guy could be. Now… not so much. Selectively bent? Cas-sexual? Take your pick) to appreciate the attractiveness of other men, so obviously I'd noticed right from the start that Castiel was a fairly good-looking guy. Or rather, the meat suit he was riding, Jimmy Novak, was a fairly good-looking guy. I sometimes wonder if he'd taken someone else as his vessel, someone far less attractive, would it have made any difference to how I feel about him? But then again, when Jimmy took back control of his body that time, I looked at him and saw Castiel's strong jaw shadowed with stubble, the 'just-shagged' look he'd got going on with his dark hair, those Goddamn eyes, the thin blue tie and trench coat and everything, but I felt nothing for him. Just because he simply wasn't Cas. Totally fucked up, I know, but hey, this thing hadn't made sense from the get-go, so it wasn't about to start anytime soon.

Being so often in close contact with the clueless angel of the Lord, I started to notice things. Tiny almost imperceptible things, mannerisms mostly, that maybe he didn't even realise existed. Ok, so the curious head tilt and that furrowed-brow confused expression of his were pretty much legendary around here (well, in our circle anyway, and possibly to other people we've met along the way that had been on the receiving end of said infamous head tilt or whatever), but I'd bet my life I'm the only one who'd noticed things like the way the pointer and middle fingers of his right hand brushed repeatedly against his palm by his side when he's pissed, which is basically the only physical outward sign that he can't hide behind his general uptight angel-ness. And the way he did a weird little mouth twitch whenever he saw someone eating a burger, no doubt remembering how he couldn't get enough of them when Famine worked his Horseman mojo on him. I'm sure he still craved them, despite how he didn't actually need to eat or anything. Oh, and of course, I've seen him smile.

Granted, I'd only had a full-out wide white grin directed at me from future Cas, (which had been damn near breathtaking, by the way), but as far as I knew, I was the only person to have ever coaxed a genuine upwards curve of those full dry lips from Cas of the present. No one else had managed it, so I was pretty freaking proud of that. One of my highest accomplishments, I think. Hey, it might've been pretty easy to top that particular list, but that didn't make it any less important to me.

"So, you see, I saved you."

God, yes he had. So many times over. He's the one who gripped me tight and didn't let go until he'd dragged my sorry ass out of the fiery pit and brought me back from the dead, leaving his handprint, his brand, burned into my flesh for the rest of eternity, unintentionally or otherwise. And then on top of that, I've lost count of how many times he'd helped me and Sammy out of a sticky situation, sometimes at the risk of his own life. Raphael had killed him, Lucifer had killed him, and a fair few others have come pretty damn close too. Dude was like a freaking cat or something, probably down to about seven or six lives left out of the original nine. Which, considering the situation we're in at this very moment, does not bode well for two out of three people in this room.

"Sure did, Cas. Thank you." I reply cautiously as me and Bobby take a few steps closer to the angel. I don't even dare to blink as I stare at the back of that beige trench coat, almost praying that he doesn't turn around so I don't have to meet his unfeeling gaze ever again.

The tension is mounting now, every word hanging thick and heavy in the air between us. I can't hide the apprehension and wariness in my voice even if I wanted to. He sees through me so easily. He always has done.

It's been a while since I've felt actual pure fear towards Castiel. Growing closer to him, falling for him, humbled by and perhaps taking for granted the sheer amount of loyalty he had to us… well. It sometimes made me forget exactly who this guy was. The all-powerful super-charged battle-hardened warrior of God was hard to see in the man who'd sat opposite me at that whorehouse and gaped in sheer terror at a half-naked blonde named Chastity (oh, the irony) when I'd tried to introduce him to one of the finer perks of being human. But then when he grappled with demons and burned them out of their meat suits with a simple touch of his hand, or beat the living crap out of me in an alleyway when I'd had a moment of weakness and tried to say yes to Michael, it struck me like I was seeing the impossibly powerful angel for the very first time all over again. It scared, awed, and aroused me. And not necessarily in that order.

But this time, the fear is far more overwhelming than it's ever been. Whoever this is, standing there wearing my closest friend's face and body, talking with his voice and sharing his name, he isn't my angel. He isn't Cas.

"You doubted me. Fought against me. But I was right all along." The impostor murmurs, his usually deep voice ominously soft as he turns to face Bobby and me. His eyes pin me in place, oh so blue and intense.

Warning bells ringing now, Dean-o.

"Ok, Cas, you were. We're sorry. Let's just defuse you, ok?"

He blinks at me, his lips fixed in the beginnings of a cold humourless smirk and his head tilted minutely to one side in almost a mockery of his old self. I've never seen such a hard soulless expression on the angel's face before. It's so out of place, so wrong. It physically hurts me to look at him like this.

"What do you mean?"

I mean how fucking deep you've stabbed that knife into my back, Castiel, that's what I mean! Stabbed and freaking twisted it. I'd been so unwilling to believe he'd betrayed us, completely ignoring that little voice in the back of my mind that told me otherwise, urging me to wake up and face facts. Bobby and Sammy could see it, so why couldn't I? Oh believe me, I knew exactly why. And then that single Goddamn Superman reference had given him away, and realisation hadn't just hit me, oh no. It'd torn straight through my chest like a pack of Hellhounds, shredding me to the very core and then some.

And the worst part of it? The way he'd smiled back at me, totally unsuspecting and oblivious to the fact that he'd just let the cat out of the bag. That and the way he could barely meet my eyes when we trapped him in that ring of holy fire and demanded answers. We had so much faith in him, so much trust, and he threw it all back in our faces. He threw it back in my face.

"You're full of nuke. It's not safe, so before the eclipse ends, let's get them souls back to where they belong."

That smirk again, his eyebrows raised slightly as he surveys me with almost amused superiority. Shivers trail the whole length of my spine, those warning bells ringing louder and louder inside my head.

"Oh no, they belong with me." Cas says, as though it's obvious they couldn't possibly belong anywhere else. This situation is getting more dire by the second.

"No, Cas, it's scrambling your brain…" I start, but he calmly cuts across me before I can beg him to see reason, and out of my rapidly increasing fear that he's so far past the point of no return right now, I let him.

"Oh, I'm not finished yet." He smiles coldly at me, "Raphael had many followers, and I must… punish them all severely."

Punish them severely, ie: splatter them all over the walls and floor in a hundred bloody meaty chunks with nothing but a single click of his fingers. Is that going to happen to everyone who opposes him? Anyone who doesn't follow him? Because if so, that means all I've got to look forward to is congealing in a gooey red mess on various surfaces in this room, no doubt being one of the top people on his hit list. I've been against him on this from the start, and no matter how many Purgatory souls he's crammed down his throat or how many times he's sworn blind that he's done this all for me, my views won't ever change. If he's smart, he'll kill me right here and now.

It'd be in his own best interests after all this.

Against my better judgement, I take another couple of steps forward, my hand unconsciously clenching a little harder against my bruised chest where Crowley did a number on me less than ten minutes ago. Cas watches me approach him with another slight head tilt. It feels like all he's doing is indulging me, just letting me plead with him for the sheer vindictive pleasure he's getting out of it, but I'll be damned if I let that stop me.

"Listen to me." I say, pausing to swallow harshly and wet my lips with the tip of my tongue before continuing, "Listen. I know there's a lot of bad water under the bridge, but we were family once. I'd have died for you… Almost did a few times. So if that means anything to you… Please. I've lost Lisa, I've lost Ben, and now I've lost Sam. Don't make me lose you too."

This is literally an inch away from me spilling my soul to him, and I can't afford to let that happen. Not now, not ever.

I was going to tell him everything, y'know, before this. I'd planned it all out, waiting until Raphael was gone and the battle upstairs was finally over, and then when Cas came back down to us, I was going to man up and actually admit to his face how I felt about him. After God knows how much crap we've been through, I figured I owed him that much, and then it was up to him if he felt the same or not. It seems so pathetic now, but I wanted him to know. Lisa and Ben were the most perfect family I could've ever wished for, and although I loved them both, they were nothing but a cover to hide the fact that I'd fallen head over heels for the angel of Thursday. And now… Now I wish I'd never laid eyes on the backstabbing son of a bitch.

"You don't need this kind of juice anymore, Cas! Get rid of it before it kills us all!"

Cas averts his gaze for a second and I feel a tiny glimmer of hope, thinking maybe something managed to seep through all those unnecessary souls and reach the real Castiel I know is buried in there somewhere.

And then his eyes return to mine, and that hope shatters like glass.

"You're just saying that because I won." He decides, so quick to assume the worst in me, "Because you're afraid."

He moves at last, walking unhurriedly towards me, completely unfazed by my frown of confusion and disbelief that he would even think I could sink so low as to grovel and lie to him just to save my own skin.

"You're not my family, Dean." Cas says, stopping less than a metre in front of me, "I have no family."

There's barely a split-second for those chilling words to sink in before I catch a flicker of movement behind Cas and his back suddenly arches as Sam, honest to God, Sammy, one hundred percent alive, stabs Raphael's abandoned archangel blade straight into Castiel's spine. I jerk in shock, both at seeing my brother and his knifing of the angel who was once our friend, but then that shock abruptly spikes, turning my blood ice cold in my veins. Because Cas's expression hasn't changed. Not even a flicker of an eyelid as Sam lets go and staggers back from him, leaving the handle sticking out from between his shoulderblades.

Any other time, I would've been overwhelmed with relief and happiness that my brother had turned up relatively unharmed in time to save our asses, especially after God knows what crap he's had to fight through inside his own head to get here, but not now. Because right now, there's a freaking huge elephant in the room that's beyond impossible to ignore: The fact that Castiel's still standing there.

He should be screaming in agony as he burns inside his vessel, bright light searing out of his eyes and mouth and filling the room until he drops to the floor, the shadowed outline of his huge black wings splayed across the tiles beneath him. He definitely should not reach behind himself with one hand and yank the blade out, bringing it up to glance at it indifferently before laying it down on the metal table beside him.

"I'm glad you made it, Sam." Cas says, turning around to look at my brother who looks every bit as shocked as we all feel, "But the angel blade won't work. Because I'm not an angel any more."

Sam flicks his gaze to me, frowning like he's asking what the hell happened to Castiel while he was out for the count, but I'm as clueless as he is. This is news to all of us.

Cas turns back to face me and Bobby, but he doesn't even acknowledge the older man, those piercing blue orbs just fixed solely on mine and mine alone. I'm used to being stared at by Castiel, but this is a Hell of a lot more unnerving. Before, he'd stare almost through me, like he could see everything inside me and read my entire soul like an open book, but this… this feels as though he's trying to force himself inside my head, trying to claw and corrupt every inch of my soul with his stare alone.

"I'm your new God. A better one." He tells me. My sharp intake of breath is the only reaction I give, because trust me, any words for this kind of crap have long since fucked off.

"So you will bow down and profess your love unto me, your Lord. Or I shall destroy you."

He's so far gone he believes every insane word that's coming out of his mouth, and nothing we could say or do will make any difference. The stunned silence in the room is deafening, with me, Sam and Bobby staring wide-eyed at the ex-angel and now self-proclaimed God of mankind like we're waiting for the punchline to this unbelievably sick joke. It doesn't come.

"You can't…" I croak, breaking the silence. My voice practically scratches the inside of my throat raw, "You can't be serious, Cas."

But he is, oh God, he really is. There's no doubt or confusion in his eyes, only sheer determination and conceit. He believes it completely; that he's right and untouchable, and that there'll be no Higher Power repercussions for this type of sacrilege. It's impossible to accept just how far he's fallen.

Castiel doesn't answer me. He doesn't need to. That damned smirk says it all for him.

"Cas, please, don't do this. It's wrong and you know it." Sam practically begs, momentarily diverting the angel-turned-God's attention from me. He looks like he's about to take a step forwards but then sways uncertainly on the spot instead when Castiel's cool gaze makes him think better of it. The shorter man regards him thoughtfully, taking a second or two to consider my brother's words before he shakes his head slightly with a soft dangerous chuckle that's every bit as unfeeling and hard as the expression on his face.

"Perhaps. But it's far too late to go back now. We all know that." Cas responds calmly, slowly twisting his head back around to look at me almost slyly out of the corner of his narrowed eyes, "Now kneel and swear your love and loyalty to me alone, and I will be merciful. You have my word, your lives will be spared."

"You might as well go right ahead and kill us, you son of a bitch." I growl suddenly, surprising myself. Every previous drop of fear in my body is rapidly twisting and morphing into raw burning fury, anger and adrenaline flooding my system as I meet Castiel's stare with a vicious glare of my own. The tiniest flicker of astonishment widens those bright blue eyes for a second before it's gone nearly as fast as it appears, but I don't miss it.

I know I'd spoken for all three of us when I said that, because I know for a fact that we'd all sooner shag a Hellhound than freely get down on our knees and worship this high and mighty dick who used to be practically blood to us. If he wants me to kneel before him, he'll have to cut me down himself, because that's the only way he'd get me there. No doubt Sammy and Bobby would be the same. And Cas should know that, if he ever knew us at all.

"You're wasting your time with us on this, Cas. No way are we ever gonna willing bow down to you after all this. Personally, I'd take death any day."

Do I have a death wish? Yeah, I think I do. Antagonising Gods never goes down well, as I've learnt from past experiences, and antagonising Cas is also a painful mistake to make, again learnt from past experiences, so combining the two is nothing short of suicide. Maybe even eternal damnation. But right now, I really couldn't care less. Part of me wishes Cas would just get on with it and smite me already, because there's no sense in him drawing this out any longer now he's got my answer.

He isn't smirking anymore, which is a really bad sign. In fact, he looks angry now, his brow furrowed and his lips pressed hard together, white and thin. Those eyes blaze like blue flames, meeting my glare head-on with thinly-veiled contempt. Then, slowly, deliberately, he stretches his arms out from his sides, palms facing the floor and his fingers splayed, ridiculously steady despite his fury.

Dread twists my insides tight, every muscle in my body instinctively clenching taut, ready for anything he could throw my way that I might be quick enough to dodge (if I'm lucky). I don't know what I'm expecting, but if he goes to click those fingers together, I'm so very very screwed.

His gaze fixed unwaveringly on mine, he slowly lowers his hands.

"Dean!" I hear Bobby groan through gritted teeth behind me and I jerk my head around in time to see the older man struggling against some kind of invisible force pressing down on him, holding out determinedly for a few painful seconds before his legs give out beneath him and he's driven to his knees. Another dull thud of kneecap against tile echoes from behind Castiel, and sure enough my brother's in a similar position, beads of sweat breaking out on his forehead as he fights as hard as he can against whatever mojo Cas is using to pin him down. For some reason, I've been left standing. Yeah, I seriously doubt I'll be staying like that for long.

Cas's hands are back by his sides now but Sam and Bobby are still kneeling against their will, both grunting and writhing, straining desperately to get free. To be honest, all four of us know they haven't got a chance in Hell, because if Castiel can literally tear apart an archangel without touching him, then there's no way on earth that two humans will be able to stand up again until their new God damn well lets them.

Impulsively, (or rather, stupidly), I make to dart forwards, either to grab the ex-angel or help Sammy or something, I don't even know what, and unsurprisingly, I don't get far. Suddenly, Cas is in my face, no more than five inches between the tips of our noses, effectively blocking my path with his body and the sharp length of the archangel blade digging uncomfortably deep into the soft flesh of my throat.

"You shouldn't be so quick to wish for death, Dean." Castiel murmurs lowly as I flinch at the abruptness of his attack and then freeze in place, not wanting to give him any more reason to press the tip of that blade any harder against my jugular vein. I swallow out of reflex, the metal riding against my Adam's apple. Those intense blue orbs follow the movement almost greedily before they flicker back up to my face, his warm breath ghosting against my lips, each inhale and exhale slow and even.

Castiel is so close, like with his previous lack of personal boundaries only doubled, and his entire body is radiating such an unnatural amount of heat, his warmth seeping through my jacket and shirt even though we're not physically pressed chest to chest. It must be all those souls inside him, all their rage and hate and sheer scorching fire from Hell, shooting his body temperature through the roof. Can he feel it? Inside, I mean? Standing a few inches from him is like standing in front of an open furnace, so I can only imagine what it feels like to be in the dead centre of it all.

Castiel's pupils dilate slightly as I stare back at him with admittedly no small amount of fear, and before I can say or do anything that would either convince him to release me or just to go right ahead and sever my head from my shoulders, he moves purposefully, propelling me back towards the nearest wall.

"Dean!" Sam roars, my name echoing around the room a thousand times over as my back slams against solid brickwork, followed swiftly by the back of my skull. My vision completely whites-out and I feel literally nothing in the few sluggish seconds of total sensory deprivation that follow, not even Castiel's overwhelming heat or his knife still poised at my neck. Dazedly, I blink back to reality, two hazy blue eyes in front of me sharpening as Cas's face comes back into focus.

I glance past him automatically to reassure my brother that I'm still in one piece, and that's when I notice our surroundings. That's when I realise exactly what the ex-angel has just done.

He's pressing me against a wall alright, but not the white brick surface it should've been. Instead, my back is flat against the peeling faded wallpaper of what is obviously a motel room; probably one Sammy and me have stayed in before on one of our hunts. Cas might not be an angel anymore, but obviously being God hasn't stopped him from zapping himself from place to place whenever he feels like it. He's left Bobby and Sam in that room and brought the two of us here… but why? Does he want to kill me in private, or something? Because if that's the case, then he could've chosen somewhere a bit more, I don't know, classy than some nameless motel room in the ass-end of nowhere to dump my corpse. I'll admit I'm a little insulted.

"What the Hell?" I exclaim, because really, what else is there to say about this kind of situation?

Castiel doesn't even try to explain himself, instead turning his head away from me and staring absently over at the window, which of course makes me look over too just to see what's so interesting about it. Its raining heavily outside, water hammering against the windowpane so hard that the glass rattles in its frame. I think the weather pretty much reflects the mood in this room right now, to be honest.

"Cas." I say his name softly, regaining his attention. His eyes return to mine questioningly, blinking steadily. For some reason, he looks more like the old Castiel now than he did a few minutes ago, those unfathomable blue orbs and his overall demeanour moderately less cold. I have to look away. It hurts so much more, the reminder of the angel I once knew and loved resurfacing in this corrupted and deluded self-proclaimed God standing here in front of me. "Are you gonna kill me, Cas?"

There's a moment of silence as he seems to think about it, and I can see his contemplative head tilt out of the corner of my eye even as I keep my gaze resolutely on the wall to my right.

"No."

That definitely wasn't the response I was expecting, but sure enough he eases up on the pressure of the archangel blade at my throat and I only just manage to bite back a sigh of pure relief as the sharp bite of metal turns into a barely-there tickle against my skin. He lets his hand drop almost lifelessly, the flat of the blade sliding smoothly down the column of my neck, over my collarbone and down my chest until his arm is back by his own side, the weapon held loosely between his fingers.

"No?" I repeat his answer as a question, genuinely curious as I face him again with a frown.

"Every soul inside me screams for your death, Dean, they demand it. They want me to tear your heart out with my bare hands because you're such a danger to them, to us." Castiel says, and I flinch at the deadly seriousness in his eyes and voice. Millions upon millions of Purgatory souls all baying for my blood? Just when I think things can't possibly get any worse. Ain't that just the story of my life?

The ex-angel's knife-free hand is suddenly pressed flat against my chest, directly over my heart, and I'm sure he feels that exact moment when my pulse spikes in response to the sheer sweltering heat of his touch and the fact that those souls are now literally a hair's breadth away from forcing Castiel's hand straight through my ribcage. The expression on his face is one of utter confusion, as though even he hasn't got a clue what's going on inside his head right now.

"But I won't kill you, because I do not want to. Despite everything I've done, I still think of myself as your guardian, your friend, and from the moment I raised you from Hell, our souls were bound together for all eternity. I couldn't bring myself to end your life even if my own depended on it."

I mentally reel at this confession that is totally out of the blue, and even Castiel looks surprised at himself for revealing so much to me. It's comforting to know that there is actually some semblance of Cas in there, some part that's keeping control and making his choices fully his own regardless of the countless evil souls hissing their venomous influence into his ears.

Cas's palm on my chest starts to inch slowly upwards, fingertips brushing against the edges of my open jacket. A pleasant shiver trails the entire length of my spinal cord, because at the end of the day, my attraction to him isn't something I can turn on or off whenever I want. He could be filled to the brim with hordes of demons without a single scrap of my angel left inside, and my traitorous body would still react instantly to his touch.

"I know what I'm doing, Dean." He murmurs as his inhumanly warm fingers trace over my left collarbone and skim along the tendons of that side of my neck. "I need you to trust me."

"And why the Hell should I?"

Castiel chuckles softly under his breath. His gaze is fixed almost unblinkingly on his own hand now, watching its progress up to my face rather than looking me in the eye. The pad of his thumb presses down gently against the flesh where my throat meets the bony edge of my jaw before swiping along my jawline to my chin. I don't even try to pull away from him, partly because I'm scared of how he'll react, but mostly because I honest to God don't want to move out of his reach. It's twisted, I know, and pathetic beyond all reason, but I can't help myself. It's… It's Cas. I can't explain it. It's just Cas.

"A little faith every once in a while won't kill you. In fact, it might just save your life." Castiel says, his lips quirking briefly upwards in a small smirk that isn't far off the ones from earlier. His eyes flicker back up to meet my own, wry amusement shining in those infinite blue depths for a second before the coldness seeps straight back in. The tip of his index fingernail touches my bottom lip, creating an odd tingling pressure from the contact and I shiver yet again, unconsciously pressing myself back a little harder against the wall.

"I'll take my chances without it, thanks." I snap back with one of my infamous shit-eating sarcastic grins, knowing it would get under the ex-angel's skin like nothing else. Sure enough, raw unadulterated rage surges through those narrowed eyes like lightning and he tears his hand back from my face to instead slam both palms into the wall either side of my head, this time actually pinning my body in place with his own lithe form. The brickwork shudders beneath me in protest against the sheer strength of this deceptively slender man and the archangel blade clatters to the floor, missing my foot by inches.

For a second, I actually think he's going to kill me. Even though he's already said he won't, that expression on his face makes me think that he'd like nothing better than to rip my head straight off my shoulders. He looks like he's seriously considering it. But then his face changes as he tilts his head in deliberation, changing that murderous expression into what almost looks like curiosity, his full dry lips slightly parted.

Castiel leans slowly forwards, his bright blue eyes fixed purposefully on my own green orbs as he closes the gap between us and brushes his mouth oh so gently against mine. To say I'm surprised would be the mother of all understatements. My entire body freezes rigid just like when he'd jabbed that angel blade against my neck, but for some reason my lips move on autopilot, pressing back against the ex-angel's unexpectedly soft mouth every bit as chastely before I realise with a sickening jolt exactly what I'm doing.

The shorter man pulls back almost immediately, those damned eyes roving over my face searchingly, but what he's looking for I have no idea. He obviously finds whatever it is because that conceited smile of his stretches a little wider in triumph, and my stomach instinctively plummets down to somewhere around my ankles. I know for a fact that I'm not going to like this. It's just some more rope to hang me with at this point.

"Oh, Dean…" Cas murmurs, his voice like gravel. Behind the cold smirking exterior, there's the smallest flicker of something akin to remorse in those twin blue depths. "If I'd have known, I would've done this so much sooner. I wouldn't have asked for something that's already completely mine."


Y'know, this was supposed to be a oneshot, but the wordcount just got higher and higher (and is still getting higher, since I haven't fully finished it yet), so I decided I'd split it into two parts, to save you guys from reading the whole thing for hours on end XD And this seemed like the best place to half it.

So, what d'you think? Like it so far? I think a part of me refused to believe that Castiel is well and truly overrun by the Purgatory souls, so that's probably why I've written him a bit less... demonic? Evil? Corrupted? And hence, less rapey :) I hope it's working.

The aforementioned angry-angsty smex ensues in the next part, so keep and eye out for that! ^^

I'd appreciate a pretty little review, if you can spare the time? Thankies, and see ya next time!