Title: Attempting Happily-Ever-After
Pairing: eventual Dean/Castiel
Rating: M overall, this chapter, PGish.
Warning: Some mentions of sexual content.
A/N: So this is the first chapter of a multiple chapter essay. I've been writing a rather dark Supernatural story and I figured I should try my hand at writing a happy one. Unfortunately, I am very unhappy with this chapter and hope my writing of happy things improves on the way. I'm also trying out a different writing style since my friend told me I was a detail whore... I'm so sorry, I just love details. So I tried, and now I feel like the chapter is short and incomplete.
I'll post a chapter each Wednesday... or as close to Wednesday as I can get.
Thank you for reading! Feel free to review and tell me what you think.
'This is it.' Dean groaned, pushing himself off the factory floor with his hands. They stung from the burn he had gotten when trying to stop his fall, and then another flash of stinging pain came when they came in contact with the dirt and grime of the floor, but that was the least of Dean's problems at the moment. Pain could wait, but right now it was a life or death situation. A heavy thud hit the wall to his left and Dean could only assume that was Sam being thrown, since the noise that was made from the body was a low, masculine groan. Well, he did have to give her props, not many people could lift Sam off the floor, much less throw him hard enough against a wall to make it hurt.
Just minutes previously, Sam and Dean had walked into what seemed to be a trap. Coming face to face with the witch they had spent a week tracking. The factory had looked empty enough and the brothers were sure that their lead had come to a dead end. But once they entered the main floor, the woman was standing there. Her messy black hair covering most of her pale face, her white dress torn and dirty. And before either one of them could react, she was on them, her face wanting their blood to spill onto the floor, her hands trying to dig through their chests to hold their hearts. The fact that they were still beating, and contained safely in their chests angered the witch.
Silence surrounded them, only the sound of their heavy breathing could be heard, and Dean glanced over at Sam, seeing a trail of blood leaking down his face from a wound above his hairline. But the younger Winchester was alert, his eyes scanning the room from his collapsed position, half of his back leaning against the wall. Dean's eyes left his brother and scanned the room. There was no sign of her, but of course she had disappeared before and come back with a vengeance, her desire to rip out their hearts and use them as sacrifice had increased.
A scream penetrated the silence, a signal that she was ready to attack them again. Dean, desperate, closed his eyes and mumbled out a half-assed prayer. "Cas. Feathery ass. Down here. Now."
Simple. Short. And to the point. Dean had never gotten the hang of the eloquent and pleasant praying. It took too much time and seemed so supercilious. Especially when the angel would come no matter how Dean called for him.
Dean opened his eyes and his hand tightened on the handle of his knife before he turned, staggering upright, his knees still weak from the blow that the witch had landed on his stomach. Whirling around, Dean was not expecting to come face to face with the exact thing they were hunting.
"Dean!" Sam shouted out, trying to struggle to his feet as well. He was worse for the wear, the blood gushing down the side of his face and his disoriented face showing that something was off.
Eyes wide, Dean brought the knife up to protect him, but the witch just watched him quietly before she raised her palm and placed it to his forehead. Before Dean could react he felt his body crackle with electricity, each nerve on edge, and his temperature rising, creating the oddest sensation in his body. A small groan of confusion left the man's lips and he tried to slice at the witch in front of him. But she just stepped back taking lowering her hand to the side of her body. The witch's face, which had been so calm and curious just seconds before, changed back to twisted rage with a blood thirsty-grin. She raised her hand again, her long nails glistening in the soft light of the sun shining through the windows, preparing to rip right through the skin on Dean's chest.
But the hand never fell. Instead a gurgling noise welled up from between the witch's lips, and her face turned to one of surprise and then fear before her eyes went dark and she slumped towards the ground.
Castiel let the witch fall, watching her body hit the ground and lie still, blood welling and pooling underneath her from the knife that was buried in her back. The angel looked down at his hand, feeling the sticky sensation of blood on his fingertips. With almost a curious look on his face, he turned his hand over a few times, inspecting the red substance that was considered humans life force. But within seconds, Castiel had used his grace to scrub his fingers clean and he reached down, grabbing the angel knife out of the witch's back and returning it to its proper place inside his trench coat. Finally, the angel glanced at the two men in the room with him. Sam seemed slightly disoriented, but Dean just stared at him with his big green eyes, and for some reason, it seemed as if Dean's eyes seemed to carry desire, and that caused Castiel to feel slight discomfort.
Deciding that his greeting had been forgone long enough, Castiel began to speak, his low voice rumbling around the factory in a quiet echo. "Sam, Dean, hello." Stepping over the witch, Castiel strode across the factory floor, his trench coat flaring out behind him as we went to stand in front of Sam.
"Hey, Cas." Sam chuckled weakly. Castiel reached up and placed two fingers on Sam's forehead, feeling his grace flow from his fingertips and heal the damage the witch had done to the younger Winchester. A slight emptiness accompanied the leaving of some of his grace, but once it's work was done it would return to Castiel along with some of the residing pain from Sam's wounds. But by now, Castiel had healed the boys so many times that he was used to it, he would take their pain any day as long as it meant they were safe. Sam's eyes brightened and he blinked twice, almost as if remembering what had happened and where he was. A small smile pulled up the left corner of the angel's lips. This. This reminded him that the boys still needed him, that he was still useful to them. That he was still their friend.
Friends. It seemed like a foreign word to Castiel. But it was what the Winchesters called him, and it was what he called them in return. But in meeting these two men, many foreign things had been happening to Castiel, and he could honestly say, he enjoyed every second of it.
Sam and Castiel then turned to glance at Dean who seemed to be frozen in place. Seeing Castiel kill that witch and then stand over her dead body. Well, Dean thought that was the most manly and most handsome thing he had ever seen. Dean was fighting the urge to run over to the angel, wrap his arm around his waist and press him into a vehement kiss. He knew it was wrong, to kiss a friend like that, especially a male friend. But something in his mind was still pushing him.
Instead of focusing on Castiel, Dean let his eyes rest on the witch, noticing how pretty she was, especially now that she was not half-mad and wanting to spill the brothers blood. Closing his eyes, Dean's head tilted to the floor, trying to get his bearings. Her face looked like she was in a deep sleep, the worry and hatred erased, turning her into a peaceful and beautiful woman. Her dress was not revealing, but it was form fitting enough, and it rode up her right thigh. The witch's hair was still a mess, but it splayed over her left hand which rested inches from her face. She was a woman that Dean would go for. but at the moment, she just looked like a person. Her face would be unrecognizable to him in a crowd. It confused the man that he couldn't find her attractive and a woman that he would gladly sleep with... if she was alive and not a crazy witch.
Her body was lovely, with curves and rather full breast. But it was not strong, Dean knew he could not grab on tight with out fear of hurting her, and the mammary tissue seemed pointless at the moment. Suddenly, the image of carving in the angel banishing sigil onto Castiel's chest plagued Dean. That was lovely, Castiel's body, firm and strong beneath his hands, a small shudder passing over the angels skin as the box cutter slid through his pale flesh. Although her face was lovely, those were not the bright blue eyes of Castiel, there was no stubble, no short and messed up hair. That was not his angel.
A small groan passed between Dean's lips. He was doing it again. Thinking of Castiel in a romantic and sexual way. It had never happened before, and this was not the first time Dean had been in Castiel's debt. His body felt warm and Dean figured he must have hit his head when he fell. There could be no other explinations for why he was suddenly having such strong feelings for the angel.
"Dean?" The low voice rumbled, and it felt like it was vibrated through Dean's body, causing odd sensations. Opening his eyes, Dean glanced up quickly seeing Castiel take a few hesitant steps towards him, standing a few feet from the hunter in order to maintain the personal space that Dean liked. But even though Dean had drilled it into the angels head that standing too close to him was uncomfortable and not something he liked, Dean couldn't care less. Without thinking, the hunter's hands grabbed the tan lapels on the trench coat and pulled himself up against Castiel, knowing that he would never be able to move the angel with his strength. Slight surprise was shown in Castiel's bright blue eyes on an otherwise stoic face, and two fingers raised to Dean's forehead, stopping the man in his tracks. "What are you doing?"
Dean was unable to answer the angel, his eyes focused on the lips that repeated the words that he had just said. Sam was in his brother's peripheral vision, but he just stood still, his eyes darting from one to the other. Attempting to lean closer to Castiel, Dean realized that the strong fingers on his forehead hindered the progress.
The surprise had left the angel eyes, instead replace with confusion. "Something's wrong, Dean."
"Damn right something's wrong." Dean replied, straining forward. His body felt like it had not had sex in years, hormones pumping at being so close to Castiel this way. All Dean wanted was Castiel, and he was frustrated that the angel was blocking his attempts.
Sam finally spoke up, stepping forward. "The witch touched him. You don't think she put a curse on Dean, do you, Cas?"
Those words seemed to break through to Dean and he stopped struggling against Castiel's fingers. Realization dawning on him. "That witch cursed me." He found it difficult to step away from Castiel, but he did, staring at his fingers and willing them to unclench Castiel's lapels. But once he did, he took another step back. Away from the angel that Dean found intoxicating. His body gave an involuntary shudder at being denied what it wanted. "She turned me into a sex-deprived homosexual!"
Castiel just tilted his head and looked confused at the two men while Sam burst into laughter.