Title: I'm The One Who Gripped You Tight To Screw Over The Other Guys
Author: HigherMagic
Pairings: Dean/Castiel, Sam/Ruby
Rating: PG-16
Word Count: ~5,800
Spoilers: Castiel, but different. Season 4 premise spoilers.
Warnings: blasphemy (of sorts), BAMF!not-Angel!Cas, language, confused!uncomfortable!Dean
Dean didn't know what had raised him from Hell. It could have been anything powerful enough – demons, Hunters…maybe Sam had made a deal for him. What he hadn't expected was…Castiel.
Notes: I wanted to write if Castiel had always been something…different. THIS IS WHAT HAS BEEN TAKING A SEVENTH OF MY TIME. I HATE YOU BUT LOVE YOU AT THE SAME TIME DIFFERENT!AWESOME!CAS *curls up into ball of submission and whines pathetically* Unbeta'd. All mistakes are my own.

They didn't know what it was that had raised Dean from Hell. So, they did what any sane, logical person would do. They built a veritable A-bomb of sigils in an old barn, summoned the damned thing, and hoped.

They knew its name. Castiel. But that was pretty much it – the thing was fuck-powerful, he assumed, and Dean hoped that that didn't mean all this would be ineffective because if there's one thing he hated, it was finding that actually the super-powerful creature they'd just jerked the choke chain on was actually still super-powerful, and now it was pissed.

He clutched the demon killing knife a little tighter in his hand, holding the sawed-off in the other.

It was deathly silent.

Dean (though he won't admit it) jumped when the sheets of corrugated aluminum on the roof started banging around, driven up and down by a high wind. Bobby looked over at him with wide, determined eyes.

"Wishful thinking," Dean said, "but maybe it's just the wind." Because nothing else was happening. The wind came, and then it -.

"Shit," Dean cursed as the lights started to blow out, one by one. Then the doors swung open, revealing a solitary figure.

So far as supernatural creatures go, it was pretty on-par, though a little showier than what Dean was used to. The creature didn't enter, which lent credence to the sigils being able to repel it. Dean raised his gun towards the creature, squinting because the light outside and lack of it inside was silhouetting the creature (man?) and he couldn't see its face.

"Are you Castiel?" he called, not really sure what else to do. This wasn't how it usually went down. Someone should be throwing blows or something.

The creature raised its head and started walking into the barn. Without thinking Dean raised his gun and shot it square in the chest. Nothing. Bobby added a couple of his rounds for good measure, but it still had no visible effect.

Dean dropped the gun full of salt rounds, clutching the knife tighter in his other hand instead, and the creature halted, cocking its head to one side and examining the table full of the ingredients for the summoning ritual, the open books of incantations…It moved his gaze around, taking in the sigils painted on the wall and the floor.

"Your Tibetan Djinni sigil for repulsion is incorrect," it said.

Bobby was moving around behind the anonymous being, and Dean caught his eye, nodding. Bobby brought down the crowbar and the creature caught it without looking, turning around and fixing Bobby with a steely blue gaze.

It sighed, and pressed two fingers to Bobby's head. The man collapsed.

"Woah, what the hell?" Dean said, trying to make his voice stronger than he felt and he knew he'd failed. He ran forward and knelt by Bobby, feeling for a pulse.

"Your friend is alive," the creature said, sounding bored as it moved back over to the table, flicking through a book nonchalantly.

Dean looked up towards the creature – Castiel? – he decided to call the thing that, just for lack of anything else. He stood up. "What did you do to him?" he demanded, gesturing towards the prone form of his mentor.

The creature rolled its eyes, spreading its arms out in the international gesture of surrender. "Alright, listen, fact of the matter is -." It paused, looking over at Dean, and it smirked. "Damn, I'm good."

Dean blinked, taken aback by the sudden one-eighty. "What?" he asked, feeling like they'd just skipped three conversations in one sentence.

"Remaking you," Castiel replied, cocking his – for the form he'd taken was decidedly male – head the other way, eyes flashing in pleasure, smile widening. "I did a good job. Damn, boy, you got all the good genes in the family, didn't you?" Dean blanched at that, grimacing in embarrassment – he felt like Castiel was violating him with his eyes. "I could just eat you all up," the thing purred.

"You're not…going to, are you?" What? It was a legitimate supernatural concern. It was up there on the checklist of determining if it was friendly.

Castiel smirked, and made a low sound in the back of his throat. It reminded Dean of a purring jungle cat, and he shivered, taking a step away and regarding Castiel with a wary eye. Dean shifted the knife in his hand, just slightly. Castiel didn't seem to notice.

"So…what are you?" Dean asked, taking a step forward so he was in range to stab the thing (because you could never be too careful).

Castiel pursed his lips, nodding his head. "A little of column A, a little of column no-one knows." He grinned, shrugging. "I, ah, guess I had to take this form now 'cause of the little mishap earlier, trying to contact you."

"That…in the gas station?" Castiel gave a little sheepish smile. "That was you talking?" The thing shrugged. "Dude, next time, lower the volume," Dean said, taking another step forward, holding the knife tightly in his hand. "And Pamela?"

Castiel tutted. "I did warn her," he said with a shrug. "No human is meant to perceive my true visage."

"So…what 'visage' is this?" Dean asked, gesturing towards Castiel. "And what the fuck are you?"

Castiel took a look at himself. The body he'd chosen had been middle aged, once, but he'd observed enough of the world to know that the younger and prettier you looked, the easier it was to really get others to do what he wanted. And he liked getting others to do what he wanted, with their brains all muddled with hormones and pheromones. So he'd chosen a vessel that suited the job and just tweaked it a little.

Jimmy Novak had been a handsome man, and Castiel had just changed him a little. There was no stubble on his jaw, less wrinkles around his eyes – he still had smile lines, though they were less pronounced, and his lips were less chapped and pale. He'd gotten rid of the more unnecessary human parts of him too, so his skin was smooth and flawless, pale and creamy.

He'd also dressed him a little differently, with clothes that showed off the man's lithe body, tight black jeans and leather on pretty much every surface he could get away with. There was a chain hanging from his belt that dipped down past his thigh and wrapped around to attach to the knee of his tight black jeans. He was dressed almost entirely in black and it made the bright blue of his vessel's eyes even more vibrant, and they glowed with ethereal light, marking him as not of this world. On the other side of the belt hung a long, thin sword sheathed in black leather and tipped in silver.

"Basically," he explained, arms spread wide in a gesture of goodwill, "you have your bog standard -." He raised his hand to waist level, examined it for a moment, and then moved it to knee height. "Bog standard demon." He flashed white teeth Dean's way, straightening a little. "You have Fallen Angels. Yellow-eyes and all that jazz." He raised his hand to chest level. "Then, you have Angels – they're the dicks trying to jump your pretty white ass."

Dean shuddered at the predatory look that crossed the creature's face, Castiel's blue eyes flashing black. He moved his hand up level with his temple. "Then…you have me."

"And what are you?" Dean asked, throat dry.

The creature smirked, cocking his head to one side, and spread his arms out in a 'Here I Am' gesture. "Oh baby, I'm the world's best back-up plan." He chuckled darkly, a sound that made another small shiver run up Dean's spine, and then he moved towards the table, flicking casually again through the book of incantations. He muttered a few words and the lettering began to change. "You know, some of these phrases are unnecessarily long and repetitive."

"You said something about Angels," Dean said, hesitantly stepping towards Castiel, not knowing what to really make of the situation. Castiel clearly wasn't out to kill Dean (yet) and he seemed weirdly…charming. In that annoying and off-putting kind of way. "Angels don't exist."

"Mm, hate to contradict you, gorgeous, but they do," Castiel replied, biting his thumbnail absently. "Gonna wanna possess you and make you do all sorts of nasty things. Gotta keep sayin' 'No' to them, if I were you."

"Why are you telling me this?" Dean demanded. "What the hell is going on?"

Castiel told him. He told him about Dean breaking in Hell, and what it meant. He told Dean about Michael and Lucifer and how, given half the chance, they'd start the fight to end all fights and the demons and Angels are totally all in on it. Now that the first seal had been broken the rest would fall soon enough.

"Wait…I've started the Apocalypse?" Dean asked, uncomprehending.

"'Fraid so. But not to worry," Castiel said, clapping his hands together and smiling. "Like I said, I'm here to help."

"Who are you, to want to help me?" Dean asked, knowing his voice was shaking but he honestly couldn't make it stop. He swallowed.

Castiel sighed, finally seeming to sober up a little. He closed the book of incantations and, with a snap of his fingers, the sigils on the wall and the spells and ingredients for the ritual disappeared. "Alright, you know the Fall?" Dean swallowed and nodded, still not quite sure if he believed all of this crap. "Well, basically, the Pit is kind of more than just that – the Fallen Angels, see, they went to a specific place and, well, I was kind of meant to be the guardian of it." He winced a little. "Azazel got out, which was totally my bad, by the way – sorry – but now they're trying to get Luci out too, and I kind of like my job and life and he's not gonna look too kindly on me, you get it?"

"You…" Dean swallowed again. "It's your fault Azazel ever…" Anger curled, hot and heavy, inside of his stomach and he took another step forward. "So it's your fault all of this ever happened? Dad's death – Sam's death – my deal? All of it?"

Without waiting for Castiel to respond, Dean brought up the knife, intending to plunge it right into the creature's chest. Castiel snapped his fingers and Dean found himself frozen, the tip just pricking Castiel's clothes.

"Only if I get to fork you later, big boy," the thing purred, and Dean flinched away from the knife, dropping it, suddenly able to move. He was caught between staring incredulously and glaring hatefully at Castiel as he took the knife from midair, examining it curiously.

"Mine's bigger," Castiel said, grinning and tapping the sword at his side, before he snapped his fingers again and the knife disappeared.

Dean growled. "Get the hell away from me, Castiel," he snapped, turning his back on the thing and going over to Bobby, intent on putting as much distance as he could between himself and the thing. He hauled his mentor up, slinging one of Bobby's arms over his shoulders and began to carry him, slowly, out.

"Look," Castiel said, hurriedly following on behind Dean. He waved his hand and the sigils disappeared from the walls and floor, so it looked as though Dean and Bobby had never been there. "I know we don't really have a good track record here, and I'm willing to accept responsibility for that, but I'd like to start afresh, if I can."

"I have nothing to say to you," Dean gritted out. Jesus, Bobby needed to lose some weight. Just as he thought that, it seemed that the weight of the older man completely disappeared from his shoulders, and Dean looked to find that Castiel lightly touched a finger to one of Bobby's elbows, which apparently was the equivalent of lifting him full-bodily. "What do you want from me?"

Castiel rolled his eyes. "Well, a little gratitude might be in order. I am the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition."

Dean blinked over at him. He hadn't thought about that. "Fat lot of good it did, if you were too late," he bit out. Castiel pressed his lips together and said nothing. "And if you were the one who let Yellow-eyes out, it was your fault I had to ever go there so…"

The creature sighed, folding his arms across his chest. Bobby's weight returned to Dean's shoulders and the hunter stumbled for a moment before Castiel seemed to remember that he had been helping, and again touched a finger to Bobby's clothes, lifting his weight.

"You really are a very stubborn creature," Castiel muttered.

Dean smirked. "Winchester trait."

"Hmm." Castiel helped Dean haul Bobby into the Impala. The man gave a soft groan when Dean put him down, signaling he would wake up soon. "A few hours," Castiel said, as though reading Dean's thoughts. "I didn't spell him for very long. Now." He clapped his hands together, drawing Dean's attention, and smiled. "Sam, next, right?"

Dean paused, not liking how much this creature knew about him already – not liking that he knew Sam's name, and likely his whereabouts too. Castiel was a wild card and Dean hated wild cards. "Why are you doing all this?" he demanded, wanting answers.

Castiel's eyes flashed, his patience obviously running short. "Maybe I'm one of the few supernatural creatures who doesn't want to change, kill, torture, trap, enslave, chase, hunt, lie to or trick you," he snapped, rolling his bright blue eyes. "Hard to believe, I know, but it's true. I don't even want to take a bite out of you, though I wouldn't be opposed to having some part of you in my mouth eventually." He smirked.

Dean swallowed and did his best to ignore that last part. "So you just expect to waltz in here, claiming that you brought me from Hell, with the light show and all these fancy scare tactics, blind Pamela and almost deafen me twice, after leaving me in a hole, might I add,and you knock out Bobby with nothing more than a touch, you start talking about shit that's from an old book that frankly I've never believed in that much, Angels, the Apocalypse, and I'm meant to just believe you?" Dean shook his head, derision heavy in his voice. "Sorry, buddy, but I'm not buyin' what you're sellin'."

For a split second, there was nothing, and then Castiel's eyes darkened. He snarled, and the sound was inhuman and Dean felt himself take a step back instinctively, until he felt the cold body of his car against his back. "You want me to prove myself?" the creature asked, taking a step towards Dean. His eyes were lit with azure fire, hot and chilling at the same time and Dean felt himself start to shake.

Within another step Castiel had Dean pinned up against the side of the car. He bared teeth that were sharp and serrated but in a flash they were gone. "You cannot fathom the depth of my power, Dean," he whispered, bracing a hand on one side of Dean, on the car. "I have seen more than you could ever hope to imagine – more than your entire species could ever hope to imagine, and yet I have sworn, with my blade and my blood, to protect you, and to guard you from those who would want to do you harm."

For the briefest moment, his eyes flashed black. Another snarl rolled from deep in his gut.

"I raised you from Hell, you ungrateful boy," he hissed, pressing closer, and Dean's eyes widened, his heart spiking in fear, but he couldn't move away. He was pinned by Castiel's gaze and the power in his voice. "I fought against the armies of the Damned and the Blessed. I am second only to God and Death himself."

Slowly, never taking his eyes off of Dean, Castiel drew his sword. It came free of its casing with a high-pitched ringing sound, and Dean shuddered, seeing the blade. It was long and thin, but he could feel the power radiating off it, and it glowed with a dark blue-golden light.

He pushed himself away from the car, taking a step away from Dean, and laid the tip of the sword against the hollow of the human's throat. "So," he growled, his eyes flashing black once more, "you will show me," he flicked the tip up, and Dean winced when it nicked his skin and pressed under his chin, forcing his head up and his throat to be bared, "some respect."

Lightning flashed above them in the open air and Dean flinched, looking up to the sky. Dark storm clouds were gathering and thunder rumbled over them not two seconds later. Dean didn't know if it was Castiel trying to scare him or if it was just a by-product of his presence, like demons, or what, but it was scaring the living shit out of him.

The lightning flashed again and Castiel's silhouette was cast onto the wall of the barn. Only it wasn't human – not even close. Four huge wings were extending, flaring out high over Castiel's head. The bottom pair looked like an eagle's, huge black shadows with indefinite edges, bristling with feathers. The higher pair was like that of a bat or dragon – huge, taloned things that were too big to fit on the wall, and extended out into the darkness on either side. They were joined to the body of a great beast, and if Dean didn't know any better he'd say serpent. Three long, dragon-like necks rose out from the giant body, weaving and ducking their heads, which had the shape of dogs – Rottweiler's, or pit bulls.

Hydra, Dean's mind supplied him with. His eyes widened and he somehow managed to tear his eyes away from the shadow to Castiel's face. The creature's eyes were glowing a dark, fiery blue. Cerberus. Guardian of the Gates of Hell.

Then, the lightning and thunder stopped and Castiel lowered his sword, but didn't sheathe it. The silence between them was absolute – Dean couldn't even hear his own breathing. Just a heartbeat, steady and slow like the beat of the world.

"Good things do happen, Dean," Castiel whispered, his voice softer now, and he sheathed his sword with a smooth push. The sound of it clicking back into place was like a guillotine, and Dean shivered at that. His entire body felt hot and cold at the same time, like he was coming down with a fever. "You're right. though," Castiel continued, fixing Dean against with his bright blue eyes, that were softer now – more like a lake and less like a stormy ocean. "I could have just left you in Hell to rot. After all, you're no use now, right? You've broken…so now it's just time for others to clean up the mess."

Dean flinched, knowing that Castiel knew exactly what he was saying – knew it would get a rise out of the Hunter.

"You don't think you deserve to be saved," the creature whispered, cocking his head to one side with a slight furrow in his brow. Then his expression smoothed out and Castiel stepped closer, the heat of his body a pleasant contrast to the chill of the car and the night air. "But we're both here now, so let's say we stop behaving like children in a sandbox and get something done, hmm?"

Dean swallowed, his eyes wide, and nodded. "Okay," he whispered, at a loss of what else to say. The image of Castiel's silhouette was still burned into his mind and he couldn't shake it off. He was standing in front of something he'd never seen before – something unfathomably powerful, and he couldn't say a single thing.

Castiel nodded, smiling, and stepped away. "Good," he said, clapping his hands together, and then moved to the passenger seat of the car. "Let's go."

With the gaze broken, it was like Castiel's influence snapped from Dean – the Hunter felt more like himself again when not the focus of that powerful blue gaze. "Wait," he asked, frowning and turning around to look at Castiel from the other side of the car, "you're coming with me?"

Castiel smirked, raising a brow. "If you think you can last as long as I can," he replied with a leer, and Dean felt himself grimace, blushing at the line. That…would take a little getting used to, if Castiel continually made innuendoes out of everything he said. "Now come on, we're running out of moonlight."

"Can't you teleport?" Dean asked, deciding to let that go for now and getting into the Impala, slamming his door shut behind him. Castiel merely appeared there without bothering with the door. "Or…fly?" Dean swallowed, a small, involuntary shudder running up and down his spine when he remembered the giant silhouette of Castiel's great body against the barn wall, his wings unfurling, powerful and magnificent, out to his sides.

Castiel chuckled, sprawling out on his side of the car. His 'vessel' wasn't particularly tall, but he took up enough room in the Impala to rival Sam – one arm, he slung over the bench seat and Dean felt himself tense when Castiel's long, pale fingers settled uncomfortably close to his neck. He propped his other elbow up against the window, using that hand to support his head – he slouched lazily in the seat, his tight clothing stretching over his body and leaving very little to the imagination. It took more willpower than Dean thought he had to avoid letting his gaze wander.

"I can fly," Castiel murmured, lips pursing in thought as he looked out of the windshield, waiting patiently for Dean to start the car, which the Hunter did, pulling away from the barn and out onto the farm road, towards the highway. "But it is very tiring, and my back sustained a lot of damage when I took you out of Hell." He paused again, tilting his head the other way. "It hurts, but I shall recover quickly."

"You don't look hurt," Dean noted. And it was true – Castiel looked totally unruffled, aside from his naturally disheveled hair and, now that he was closer and could see, there were dark circles under his eyes. Nothing too noticeable but they were there.

Castiel smirked, flashing bright blue eyes towards Dean and baring his teeth a little. The fingers on the back of the seat trailed lightly across Dean's neck, one nail lightly scraping over the flexing tendon in Dean's neck, and the Hunter flinched, sitting forward so Castiel stopped touching him. "Aww, Dean, you worried about me?"

Dean growled at Castiel. "Shut up, and keep your Goddamn hands to yourself," he snapped, glaring with as much anger and vehemence as he could towards the creature.

Castiel laughed, but it was lost in a low, rough sound as he let his head fall back over the seat. His arm moved back to his side, much to Dean's relief, but that was only so that Castiel could map the smooth, flat plane of his chest, down his stomach in a teasing touch that had Dean's eyes widening, watching out of the corner of his eye and trying to watch that and the road at the same time.

"What the hell are you doing?" he asked, more than a little uncomfortable.

Castiel chuckled again, eyes half-lidded. "You're pretty when you get all ruffled and demanding like that," he purred, flashing white teeth again and Dean shivered, watching the black shadow flare in Castiel's eyes. "So…appealing, like a caged animal," the creature continued, leaning closer to Dean so that the Hunter could feel the extreme heat pouring off of Castiel's leather-encased body. "They tried to tame you, to break you down, but you've still got plenty of bite to that pretty mouth, don't you?"

Dean felt like he was frozen, unable to speak, to breathe, until he felt Castiel's warm hand slide across his thigh and he slammed down on the Impala's breaks, pulling off the road. He flinched away from Castiel's touch, one hand fumbling with the handle to the Impala door but with a snap of the creature's fingers, the doors were locked and Dean had no escape.

The Hunter stilled, his breathing heavy, eyes wide, heart beating fast, and Castiel graced him with a smile that would unnerve the Devil. He moved to his hands and knees on the Impala seat, crawling forward until he was kneeling next to Dean, the Hunter unable to do anything but watch and raise an arm in a meek kind of defense.

Bright blue eyes searched Dean's face, the creature's expression softening, just a little. He reached forward, cupping Dean's cheek and the Hunter shied away, trying to turn his head, to escape, but there was nowhere to go. "Shh," Castiel murmured, leaning in to gently nose along the rise of Dean's cheekbone. His other hand flattened itself over Dean's rapidly beating heart. "Let go of your fear."

"I don't -." Dean was cut off as Bobby groaned lightly in the backseat, and the Hunter felt himself flush because he'd forgotten entirely that the older Hunter was still back there. He cleared his throat, turning away from Castiel and the creature let him go, and Dean shifted the Impala back into gear and onto the road. "Should probably get him home."

Castiel nodded, settling back into place in the passenger seat, and started humming a song that Dean didn't recognize, but would later come to be known as Katy Perry's 'E.T.'. He thought it was suiting.

Dean remained silent for a long while – it took a surprising amount of time for his heartbeat and body temperature to return to normal levels, which of course amused Castiel to no end. He decided quickly that he liked the 'ruffled feathers' look on Dean – it was adorable.

He could sense the Hunter wanting to ask him something – Dean's gaze kept flashing over to him, those green eyes lighting up in the glow of overhead orange highway lights.

Castiel didn't press – in a sadistic kind of way, he enjoyed watching the Hunter get all twisted up inside over the desire to speak whatever was on his mind warring with the knowledge that he probably didn't want to know the answers, or that Castiel would probably give some kind of nonsensical, dirty answer that left him squirming and unsatisfied. He smirked at his own thoughts.

"So there is a God," Dean said, finally, after many miles of open road and nothing but Castiel's occasional humming. The creature nodded. "And…the Devil? All that kind of stuff?" Again, Castiel nodded, and Dean's fingers went white around the wheel. "I don't…I don't know if I can believe that."

He said it like he expected to get smote, or perhaps for Castiel to go all bad-ass and silhouetted-monster-y on him again, and blinked, body relaxing slightly when Castiel threw back his head in a laugh – a full, not-dark-not-chuckle kind of laugh that made all sorts of warmth spread throughout Dean's chest.

"This is your problem, Dean," Castiel said, with a soft sigh and a shake of his head, "you have no faith." He raised a hand, pressing two fingers to Dean's lips before Dean could protest. "I understand, though, why you don't." He turned his head to watch Dean watching him, the Hunter's attention completely on the strange, terrifying creature in his passenger seat, but the Impala never deviated from the centre of her lane, kept there by Castiel's influence as the creature slid forward across the seat. Bobby's quiet groans and snores, too, fell silent. Dean seemed unable to stop himself letting Castiel in, when the creature's fingers dipped just slightly, pressing against his lower lip, and then pushing into the warm wetness of Dean's mouth. A small shiver ran through Castiel, and there was the sound of feathers rustling. "You are a creature of fact, of truth," he whispered, blue eyes burning with azure flame as he slid ever closer, and Dean didn't pull away – couldn't pull away. If Hell was the magma underneath the Earth's surface, then Castiel was the iron core – he was magnetic. "You have never needed faith because you have never been faced with something that you couldn't prove – it is a blessing, and a curse, but you go off of eye-witnesses. You trust that the person you are interviewing or the incantation you are translating is correct, that the words won't lie. Or you trust yourselves enough to know what is farce and what is not."

The cold metal of the handle of Castiel's sword pressed up against Dean's side, forcing the Hunter out of whatever daze he'd managed to sink into, and he flinched away, spitting Castiel's fingers from his mouth with a disgusted, embarrassed, wanting sound.

He shied away again when Castiel was suddenly on him, the slim, lithe creature easily snaking himself into the tight confines of the Impala front seat, his slim thighs falling on either side of Dean's legs, his shoulders hunched up above the Hunter. Somehow, even though the space was far too small, Castiel had managed to draw his sword made of glowing blue light and pressed the sharp side of it against Dean's throat.

His eyes flashed black and Dean's eyes widened. Something inside of him – something dark and not altogether human – flared at the sight, the demon-black eyes. He snarled, his hands finding Castiel's thighs and gripping tight enough to hurt a human. He pressed forward, into the soft, almost-absent cut of the incredibly sharp sword and the Impala's air became saturated with the scent of blood.

"Do you trust the Master to hold the blade at bay?" Castiel whispered, leaning forward, his eyes still that unnatural black color and Dean felt himself begin to tremble at the raw power in Castiel's voice. He sucked in a breath, able to feel the soft rasp of steel, or something so much stronger than steel, against his neck, and without thinking he tilted his head back, letting Castiel lean forward and mouth at the small cut across his throat. "Do you trust, Dean Winchester, if you have no faith?"

Dean swallowed, his hands gentling, just slightly, and he closed his eyes. "Not even a little," he replied, soft but strong – at this point, he wasn't even sure he trusted Sam.

Castiel dark laughter curled around him like bar smoke and warm whiskey. He sheathed his sword and, with a gentle touch, pulled Dean's head up to meet his eyes. His lips were reddened and shining with his blood. He leaned forward, his eyes shifting back to blue with a flutter of his dark lashes, and pressed his lips to Dean's.

It seemed like all of Dean's senses blacked out, like they had when Castiel had shown the silhouetted of his true form against the barn. The taste of his blood, of his mouth, and the low roar of the Impala were the only things he was aware of. And the heat of Castiel's body, thrumming with the pistoning of the engine beneath them.

His eyes fluttered to half-mast, his entire body stiffening as though he had been struck by lightning and hit with a wrecking ball at the same time. Castiel was…absolute. He was terrifying – the feel of him, of such an intimate action, made it seem like he was too close, far too close.

The creature bit at Dean's lower lip, eyes heavy-lidded as he carefully tilted Dean's head to the angle he desired, and Dean couldn't do a damn thing but go with it, opening his mouth to the probing caress of Castiel's borrowed tongue. He tasted like blood and ash, a taste Dean had become all too intimate with in Hell and it made his heart jump-start in his chest, his breathing hitching, his grip finding Castiel's body and holding on tightly.

Castiel jolted, making a wounded sound, and Dean pulled away, looking up into the creature's wide, somewhat-human-again eyes. Castiel had pressed his lips together from the pain, turning his face away as he braced his hands against the Impala seat, trying to get control of himself. Cautiously, unsure what he had done, Dean pressed again, his palms flattening over the slight rise of Castiel's spine.

It was wet. His palms came back stained with red.

"What…?" He flashed bright, worried eyes back up at Castiel, who swallowed. It was then Dean noticed that the scent of blood in the car wasn't just his own – Castiel had been bleeding for a while now. The passenger seat was lightly stained.

"I told you," the creature whispered in reply, his eyes gone soft, "that I was injured. But it is no matter." He cocked his head the other way, flashing a smile, and stroked a hand down Dean's face. "You're so adorable when you're worried."

Instinctively Dean batted his hand away, a scowl on his face. "Stop it," he growled, angry and uncomfortable – Castiel was making him feel things, dark things that he had attempted to keep good and buried since Hell, short a time as that was, and this dark, powerful creature being around him…wasn't good for his sanity. Or, apparently, his virtue.

He shoved at Castiel and the creature went with a sigh, dipping his head so that he rested on Dean's shoulder, and he sat close against the Hunter, allowing the Impala to once again respond to Dean's driving. The sword, despite feeling solid enough when it dipped into the soft skin of Dean's neck, just slid right through the Impala seat as though it didn't exist – Dean got a feeling that Castiel to his sword was like a Tetragrammaton Cleric to his gun.

"How long will it take?" Dean asked, throat dry, voice raspy, and Castiel made a sleepy sound, blinking open lazy eyes to look up at Dean. "For you to heal up?" He cleared his throat, worrying the inseam of the leather with his damp thumbs. "You know," he amended, forcing a carefree smile, "so you can get back to doing whatever the hell you're meant to be doing up here."

"Like you?" Castiel asked without a pause, making Dean stiffen, and the creature chuckled, shifting again, this time resting his head on Dean's thigh. The action was so casually child-like that Dean didn't even think about preventing it until it was too late. "A couple of days, maybe more. Depends."

"On what?" Dean snapped.

Castiel bared his teeth in a smile. "On how fast you work."