Updated Version

EDIT: Since I know the group of ppl only enjoy or mostly enjoy the smutty stuff:

Chapter 13 is yours...

We want to keep it INcharacter so we work with feelings and thoughts and slow development.

Also: This fic sets straight after Episode 10 of Season 5. Prologue reveals it all.

First chapter of a collaborative work of a friend of mine and me. If you expect a short entertainment with Castiel and Dean making out you can leave now. This story will develop slowly.


Enjoy the first of many chapters!



It still seemed like a dream. Everything that had happened until now! He would have never believed in angels. In his world demons existed, yes. Monsters as well! Many different kinds of monsters, but angels, heaven and hell? Christ, it was already hard for him to live his life, having a little brother he had to worry and take care about.

Sam Winchester: brother, freak and demon blood addict, it could not get worse, Dean had thought. But he was wrong, as always. He had been wrong in so many things and ways. He probably would not have known about his brother's secret yet, if Castiel, an angel of the lord, had not shown him. He still was not over that and it would take a while until he was.

To make things worse, his little brother had started the freaking apocalypse, unintended but he did. There were angels telling them they were some kind of vessels for the archangel Michael and the fallen one, Lucifer. That was not even the worst thing about it. The worst thing was God! After the chat with Joshua, Dean had felt a cold shower of despair. And Castiel? He was disappointed. He finally had reached the bottom of his existence.

Lost, betrayed and still, he was moving on.

Dean could not believe how the angel kept going but he did, somehow. This all sounded like a stupid teenager love-drama book. And he certainly did not want to read it since they always ended with a kiss, though!

Now, the big question was: what were they going to do next and how? Those damn angels were always one step ahead. How in god's name was he going to fight them if he did not even trust his little brother? It almost seemed like he only had Bobby.

1. A very shitty day.

Remember to always have a plan B.


The sky had already turned into a mix of purple and scarab-blue like color, while a few lousy clouds were surfing on the skyline of the city nearby.

The last four hours Dean had spent driving on the Route 36 to Indiana, but now he felt the urge to get some sleep, otherwise, he knew but did not want to admit he would have crashed the car against the next post. And there was the giant unmissable sign for the next motel around here, he was waiting for.

Dean drove his Impala into the parking lot next to the Motel called 'Good Old Stay'. The engine stopped working. He gave the wheel a last soft and firm grip, stroking the leather and he got out off the car. A very unpleasant loud smashing sound of the right door of his car caused the Winchester to turn his head.

"Sammy, I excuse a lot you were doing lately but hurt my baby one more time and I have to punch you in the face!" he said, taking out his bag from the trunk. Sam just lifted his shoulders.

"It's a car, Dean. It doesn't have any feelings." he said, not understanding, how his brother could be in love with a car!

"Just stop doin' it, Bitch." Dean replied and continued his way to the entrance, glancing around to see only a few more cars. This Motel was obviously 'very popular'.

At the reception Dean rang the bell.

No response.

Dean rang the bell once more. Again, silence. This time Dean punched the bell that the pushing-button bent a little.

"What the hell? Hello, customer waitin'!" the hunter said loudly. Nothing was to be heard but a giggling noise coming from behind him.

His neck already used to be bent like this the whole day. He turned his head to his brother, this time with a killing expression.

"Somethin' funny, Sam?" The addressed person shook his head, trying not to laugh into his older brother's stressed and pissed looking face.

Sam knew, the condition Dean was in, allowed no more joking around. He was sure if he went further, Dean probably would have killed him. Or maybe not killed but probably tortured. Nevertheless, he could not help but smile meaningful.

The hunter turned around, facing the reception again.

"For god's sake, could somebody just gimme a friggin' key for a friggin' room? I'm tired and I need a bed. Now!" Dean shouted and punched the bell so hard that it was not able to take the pressure anymore and broke.

Finally, a man appeared in his sight. Where the hell did he come from? Possibly somewhere out of one of the rooms but the doors were all shut. Sneaky guy! He appeared to look like one of these guys from a bad horror movie: a plaid green-red jacket, brown, dirty trousers and long filthy nails.

His unwashed, brown hair dangled in long thin streaks from his head.

He was closing his pants and cursed very unholy.

"Jeez, ya guys know what time it is? People tend to sleep or are busy now!"

Dean stared at the man in front of him. He felt the urge need to punch him into his face. Lately he felt like punching everyone who was pissing him of, especially his little demon blood addict brother.

But being professional was one of his abilities, so he calmed himself down, his weariness helping to relieve the stress.

He put on a little smile and asked for a room for one night.

"I would like to sleep too, you know? So just gimme a key, I pay you and everyone will be happy again."

He was unbelievable polite regarding the situation and quite patient referring to his condition.

Dean exchanged a few more glances with the owner and finally received the key, number on it barely visible and turned to leave.

"Just to let ya guys kno'. The toilet on the first floor is broken. Ya gotta go to the one at the end of the second floor." Scratching his crotch he turned and left again. Not leaving a sound of any door shutting behind him.

Disgusting and creepy, yeah, that was what those guys made you trust your well being in.

The lock clicked and the door... did not move.

With a rough kick it finally jumped open. Sam, looking over his brothers shoulders into the room inhaled the mouldy smell. He wrinkled up his nose.

"Well then, Dean. Think you got the luxury suite here." Dean rolled with his eyes. He was simply not in the mood for any blunt joke right now. The Winchester moved his hand along the crumbling wall.

The wallpaper curled itself upside down and with every step, the floor made a unique sound they would always remember from the 'Good Old Stay'. The smell, sound and sight would stick to them for a while.

Dean shrugged. Finally he found the switch for the light. Sam was right. The room simply did not just stink. It also looked, well, like a gross disaster had met its fate in a pool of rain soaked interior combined with drowned insects.

Slowly, Dean moved to one of the beds and sat down. At least the springs were working, somehow.

"Guess we've reached another bottom in our lives." Sam said, checking the bathroom.

Leaving the bathroom by itself he returned to his brother, checking the condition of the sheets twice before he sat on the opposite bed with a disturbing squelchy sound.

"Let's just hope the water is clean." Sam commented in disgust. Dean was more used to such places but his little brother with his cleanliness, well... it was difficult. The older Winchester moaned something like "I don't care" before he fell backwards on the bed. Yes, the bed felt like a stone somehow, a wet soaked stone.

"Well." Sam stood up again, the springs moaning in protest.

"I'll go check out the little store around the corner. We need something to eat. Besides, I don't want to stay in this disgusting place. Have it all for yourself." the younger Winchester told his brother and left the motel room, not waiting for any reply.

Since Sam had already slept in the car, he was not as tired as his brother. Besides, it suited Dean well, when he said, he would check out the shop for food, that way he did not have to do it by himself.

He would not have done it anyway, since he was tired, no, he was exhausted. The last hunt had required all his input: physically as well as mentally.

10 Hours earlier

Why do girls always play with freaky dolls and voodoo stuff? It seemed to be a bad habit for these kids to test everything they read on the internet.

The parents screamed, the girls cried and he had to chase the damn thing which came alive after a couple of girls wanted to have their own 'Chucky the Murder Doll'.

It was just horrible! Dean sharply exhaled. After locating this stupid girl-toy he could not believe what he saw: blonde, long, curly hair, big boobs, full, red lips, blue eyes and a creepy smile.

This murder doll was a Barbie! After he and Sam had cornered Murder-Barbie, she escaped into a small pipe and Dean was chosen to go after her. It was obvious that Sam was way too tall for that job!

The result was Dean getting soaked wet and smelly.

To make things worse, he got attacked by that creepy little Barbie-Chucky-Murder-Doll-Blondie with a pocket knife.

A damn pocket knife! Since he was limited in his movements due to the little space he practically let Barbie cut him as she pleased until she got to self confident and got in his range.

He ripped her apart. Nobody attacked Dean Winchester with a pocket knife! A machete, yes, but not a pocket knife! However, he was listening to the screams of Barbie with satisfaction when he ripped off her left arm, than the other one, both legs and finally, slowly chopped off her head. Watching the spirit in the toy's eyes vanish with a grin on his face, he tossed the leftovers into the endless darkness of the pipe.

That had indeed been very satisfying. But later on the road to the next stay for the night he could feel the result of his Barbie encounter. Cut by a ridiculous pocket knife...


As Dean rolled from one side to another he groaned again but neither position was good enough. Both of them hurt like his chest, his legs and his head. For one second he thought about calling for his apparently private angel to make him take all the pain away and heal his wounds though his ego was still scratched but instead he yelled angrily.

"Jesus Christ!"

He closed his eyes and changed his position once more. As he realized that there was no way he could sleep he sat up again. Glancing straight forward as his eyes widened for second.

"For Chrissake!"

When did he show up? The male figure just stared at the ground between him and Dean, standing motionless in the corner of the room. When he finally considered that Dean was capable to listen again, he raised his voice.

"Hello, Dean."

"Damn you, Cas! How often did I tell you not to zap yourself into the room but in front of the damn door?" Dean replied without greeting the angel.

"You are angry, Dean." Monotonous as always, making a statement and not a question. Nothing the angel had ever asked sounded like a question to him in the first place, whatever.

"Why do you always keep referring to Jesus Christ, Dean? Apparently, he died a long time ago, so he won't be able to help you." Dean raised an eyebrow.

"I know. Everybody says that. It's called a general statement or do you want me to say 'Oh my Cas'?" Castiel tilted his head a little to one side: looking curious, confused and serious at the same time. On second thought it did not even sound that bad.

"That wouldn't make sense, Dean. Why would you want to do that?"

With a loud groan the Winchester hid his face in his palms. He was even too exhausted for Castiel! Why did he even want to heal him?

Oh dear. He was a man, a human! He could heal those pathetic little scratches by himself!

"I don't know why you're here Cas, but whatever it is, please man, wait 'till I'm well rested and recovered, just a bit." Alright, he had cut the angels name once again and he did not seem to bother about it. In that case, he could get used to make things short and simple.

Shortening names was just as effective as calling out 'hey' to someone in front of you, always made things easier. The angel moved towards the Winchester.

"You are tired."

Again, a statement, a conclusion! But not a question!

However, Dean was way too done to get angry about that now. He, actually, got a little used to that if he was perfectly honest. Considering that the angel did a lot to behave a little human, he could only encourage his behavior, even if he wanted to kick the angel sometimes. Hurting himself in the process was not necessary to be considered. Just the moment that counts. But, instead, he said out loud:

"Yes, Cas. I'm tired. I had a long day and I'm exhausted. My whole body aches, so please, gimme some time to relax." Since when did he use 'please' in his sentences?

"You need to relax, of course." The angel repeated more for himself than to Dean. This short sentence was enough to get the ball rolling.

Castiel rolled up the sleeves of his trench coat and what lied beneath it. Dean just watched him doing so, wondering, even a little curious, what the angel was up to.


He had not seen the angel do such a thing ever before. Sometimes he reminded Dean of a statue due to his limited movements and when he actually moved it seemed so surreal, like he had a stick up his ass.

The Winchester felt a little strange watching Castiel but he was way too curious not to do so. He never had seen his arms.

"Speak to me, Cas!" Dean commanded but the angel seemed to completely ignore him until he was finished. Obviously being busy to prepare himself for whatever he was going to do next.

Castiel looked at Dean, seemed to think of an answer and finally spoke up.

"You have to lay back now." Dean Winchester did not budge a single muscle. Unsure if he had misunderstood the angel. Just staring back at the angel was all he managed.

"Dean." Castiel said patiently.

"Lay down." he continued, but when Dean still refused to be willing to move on his own, the angel just gripped the hunter's shoulders and forced him down.

Now was the right time for Dean to start fighting, kicking, punching, whatever just to get those hands off of him. Unfortunately, the odds were not in his favor.

The angel was much stronger than he was. This was not that surprising. He even managed it to turn Dean over and made his face meet the stinky pillow.

What the hell is going on, Dean asked himself and panicked a little bit. That was nothing Castiel usually did. That he knew for sure! Castiel may have some problems with keeping his personal space but this was completely different and that scared Dean.

First murder Barbie, second Castiel showing up and forcing him onto the bed? Did he want to sleep with him, or what? That was way too much for one unusual day.

"Castiel, stop this." was the only thing the hunter could say muffled by the pillow. Dean turned his head so he could, at least, see him.

"Dean, do not move. You just hurt yourself." The Winchester heard the angel say. That bastard angel remained focused and spoke as nothing embarrassing and weird was just happening.

"I've seen this in a place you call 'stores'. I witnessed a woman doing this to another. She had said it would make her feel relaxed. If I do it right, you'll relax too." Castiel explained patiently and calm.

That explanation was not really helpful to keep the freaked out man quiet. The truth on the other hand was the angel was not sure on how it was done properly, so he had to improvise.

The Winchester still tried to get up again but lost at Castiel's next move.

To prevent Dean from moving he sat on his backside, straddling him. That way, he could not turn around.

After he pinned Dean down properly, making sure he would not move, he put his hands on the hunter's shoulder blades, starting to push a little, not intending to hurt the human under him. Castiel started to move his hands in circles. Slowly! Very slowly.

Dean held his breath. What was the freaking angel doing, now? The Winchester had tried to turn but when Castiel had sat on his ass and started to press him down, it was over. Literally!

"Dean, if you keep moving so much, I cannot make you feel relaxed at all." The angel said, moving his hands to Dean's shoulders back and then down his spine.

How did he expect the Winchester to relax in this overpowering situation? He was not even able to speak anymore. His face color competed with a tomato and then, the switch in his head turned. Castiel was not trying to abuse him or anything like that. He tried to massage him. He strained his muscles, inhaled and yelled.

"Stop doin' this, Cas, now, as in immediately!" His voice sounded too high in his opinion but the hunter did not care about that right now. He had a worse problem. Surprised, the angel stopped moving his hands as he was told.

"Do you dislike it, Dean?" What a question…

"Stop Dean-ing me! Are you outta your mind or why are you almost assaulting-slash-abusing me?" Dean hissed. His face was still red, but not only with embarrassment, also with rage. How often had he told the angel not to do certain things?

Or simply ask, before he tried to do something human! A dozen times, if not even more! When Castiel moved off his ass, Dean sat up. He looked furious. If looks could kill, the angel would have died a very slow and very painful death.

"What the hell were you thinking? Don't you dare to do that ever again, you understand me? Never ever again!" Now, staring at the angel made him feel exposed.

He still could feel his cheeks burning.

"But, Dean, I thought it would help you feel better. That's what the woman in the store had said." Castiel looked down on his shoes. His facial expression showed disappointment.

"I did not mean to make you angry." Castiel continued.

Dean looked straight into the angels face. He somehow looked intimidated and confused?

No way! He must have been mistaken. Right at that moment he was that outrageous that he did not want to care about the angels hurt feelings. Perhaps not intended but Castiel's words made Dean's anger grow a little more.

"Don't you dare to say another word or I swear I'll punch you!" Dean hissed threatening, anger boiling inside of him.

"If I wanted a massage, I would go grab me a girl for that. Not a man, not an angel. If I really seriously wanted somebody touching me all over than I would go into a store and not do it in a dirty stinky motel room like this one!" The hunter took a deep breath before he continued.

"Now, Castiel," Feeling way saver to return to the old fashioned proper name, he continued. "You're gonna tell me why you did it and what you actually came for because after that I'm gonna go to bed. Sleeping! I had a shitty day and you don't need to make it worse, what you actually already did."

Silence! Dean raised his eyebrows.

"I'm waiting." Castiel, obviously confused, did not know what to do, now. First, Dean said to shut up, than he wanted him to speak. Could he not finally decide what he wanted? So, he hesitated before he said the most logical thing he could say.

"You said I shall not speak, Dean." Castiel looked at Dean. His bright-blue eyes were stabbing into him, as always.

For a second, Dean seemed confused, not knowing what the angel was talking about. Then he knew. He shook his head.

"Yes, you're right but now I want an answer." He said, trying not to sound too impatient and angry.

"And sit down. You're making me nervous, standing so close to me."

Castiel obeyed and sat down on the other bed. A few seconds passed by before he started talking.

"You said you need to relax because you are tired. That is what humans do. If I would help you feel better, you would fall asleep more quickly. When humans sleep they 'recover'." Castiel used his fingers to indicate quotation marks when he said the last word.

"And what was the actual reason you got your ass here in the first place?" Dean asked, slowly calming down again. He could not be angry at the angel, he just tried do help him, apparently. Failing on that, but that was a different topic.

When Castiel did not answer Dean slid a little forward.

"Hey, big boy! C'mon tell me, what's the reason for you being here?" Okay, that was odd, Dean decided and moved back again. Keeping his sacred personal space and waiting for an answer.


After Sam had left the room he hurried along the corridor of the first floor. Even there it was stinky and the corners showed signs of gray.

Iuhh, that's disgusting, Sam thought and continued his way to the reception. He noticed that the lights were dim and ones sight was pretty much affected by the semi-darkness. Sam really had a strange feeling about this place.

Usually, there were noises. People talking in their rooms, snoring or at least groaning like there was no tomorrow but it was disturbingly silent. The floorboard was creaking, but strangely, everything else was all quiet. Not even water was dropping from some leaking pipes which he, to be perfectly honest, expected in this motel.

Sam shrugged. Perhaps he was starting to get paranoid. After all that had happened he would not even disagree.

The hunter pushed the door open and left the motel. The fresh clean air burned in his nostrils but it was not unpleasant. He eventually liked it. The young man took his time, walking slowly over to the shop.

Somehow, Sam felt very uncomfortable again. He turned around, looking back to the motel. All windows were dark, not even a light was burning behind those dirty glasses. Weird, but at the sight of the few cars in front of the motel, it was nothing surprising.

Sam shrugged, turned around once more, cursing himself and continuing his way to the nearby shop to buy some food and something to drink, mainly beer. Dean would be so proud of him…

The younger Winchester inspected the broken shop sign and the nearby trash with one eye before he pushed the door open and entered the shop. Sam glanced to the counter and his eyebrows rose.

Okay, nobody there, fantastic, he thought and stepped further in. He grabbed a basket and started packing things he and his brother needed: a salad, an apple pie, oh yes, Dean would surely love some pie, sandwiches, a milkshake and beer, lots of it.

Walking to the counter the light above him flickered for a second, too short for him to notice. Placing his basket on the counter he looked around, searching for any sign of an employee. He waited a few minutes but still, there was no cashier Sam could pay. The Winchester made an annoyed grunt.

Close to calling out for somebody, his attention got caught by something afar. In the corner of his eye he saw a dark figure moving in direction of the motel entrance. Sam turned his head but whatever he had seen, it was already gone. He pulled out his wallet left enough money with a generous tip and left the shop. He exited the shop and went back to the motel.

Back in the motel room

Castiel looked up from the floor, stared at Dean in his usual manner and opened his mouth.

"I wanted to have a few moments not thinking about why God won't help. The search was pointless from the start. That's a big disappointment, his decision too!" Castiel said quietly nearly whispering the last part.

Was Dean mistaken or did the angel look a little bit embarrassed because of that explanation? Before he could ask anything else, the angel threw him an

"I better get going." against his head and was about to disappear, as a high pitched scream emerged from somewhere in the motel and was closely followed by a few gunshots.

"Damn it, why does this shit always need to happen when I'm pissed and tired?" Dean cursed. Castiel turned his head towards the door.

"Where's Sam?" It seemed his plans to leave got canceled for now. The angered Winchester jumped to his feet and headed straight for their bags.

Considering the scream he needed something bigger than his usual Colt M1911A1 and retrieved a larger rifle out of his bag.

"Now let's get goin'!" he said as he turned towards the door only to discover the Thai-massage angel was gone.

"Having an angel isn't as useful as they make the people believe." Dean resigned and made his way out of their stinky bedroom.

Hope you did enjoy it.

The next chapter will contain blood and gore so if you can't stand that, you should skip it.