Here it is, final chapter. Thank you to everyone that stuck around, and everyone that's reading this just now. I'm gonna get started on the next one pretty quickly, same formula as far as monster of the week with enough Destiel to keep me entertained. If you have suggestions or anything you'd like to see in the next one, that's what reviews are for. Maybe I'll listen, maybe not. I do what I want
An agonized scream jerked Dean to consciousness with the jarring abruptness of a deployed parachute ripcord. His immediate panic eased slightly when he realized the screaming was his own; that was much easier to deal with. He clenched his teeth and willfully choked down the pain filled, belligerent howl.
"Dean, can you hear me?"
He stared glassy-eyed up at Castiel, who knelt between his outstretched legs on the roomy back seat of the Impala, red smudged up and down his arms. Dean's stomach gave a familiar little lurch at the sight of so much of his own blood.
Cas had a silver pair of tweezers in one hand with a deformed, blood soaked slug held between the prongs. The bullet thudded to the floor when he dropped the tweezers onto the open first aid kit beneath them.
"Where'ssammy?" Dean gasped out slurred words, blinking as he tried to make sense of his blurry double vision.
"I'm right here, man." Sam spoke laboriously slow from the driver's seat where he sat hunkered against the door, one hand on the wheel and the other arm wrapped tightly around his chest. "That shot nicked your femoral artery, Cas just pulled the bullet and now has to-"
"Fuckin' ow!" Dean swore through his teeth as Cas knotted a strip of denim around his thigh; cinching the makeshift tourniquet as tight as it would go.
"Tie off the wound." The younger man talked sluggishly, as if every word left him surprised that he was still awake.
"Please stop trying to push me away with your right arm, Dean; the bones are severely broken and you're hurting yourself more." Cas' quiet monotone seemed anything but apathetic combined with his wide, anxious eyes and deeply furrowed brow.
"Can' you jus angel wave me into not hurtin' so friggin' much?"
The angel's face fell; a quick exchange of emotions crossing his usually stoic face. He stared down at Dean in wordless regret.
"No, listen, he burned out back there," Sam mumbled from the front seat, glancing out the driver's window at the abandoned road before switching lanes and speeding up even more. The speedometer needle wavered between 95 and 100. "Castiel here summoned enough power to knock a hole in our very existence, it must've been like surging an entire building's electricity through a single outlet. That's why we're driving instead of back at the hotel with our feet up and Casa Erotica on. But seriously, Cas, burnout aside; that was completely bad ass."
"Thank you, but you weren't even conscious for that part. And Dean says we're not allowed to watch that together anymore."
"Tha's right, we're not," Dean had settled his disturbingly numb right arm across his chest and sort of nestled into the seat, feet braced against the door as a way to fend off the continual waves of pain.
When Cas looked down and moved his hands from the hunter's thigh, Dean gripped drowsily at his arm, as if to ensure he wouldn't leave. "Jus' weird with Sammy there, we should… do that… but jus'… youanme…"
Color flushed under Cas' facial hair and he caught Dean's searching hand in one of his own. "Yes, whatever you want, just as soon as we get you properly cared for." He ignored the searching stare Sam was now directing at him in the rear view mirror, leaning down and angling his back in an attempt to focus only on Dean. "I'm so sorry, Dean. I did the only thing I could think of and now I can't heal you."
"It doesn'… bother me, man," He was speaking slower with each word, eyes fluttering closed in increasingly long blinks. "'Nuff that you saved my ass again, you don't gotta go being Doctor Sexy… ontopathat…" His eyelids finally gave in, and Cas couldn't get anymore than deep, nonsensical muttering out of him.
"I hate to ruin the moment, but you can't let him fall asleep." Sam said urgently. "He's lost too much blood and had way too many head injuries."
"What do you want me to do?" He asked, desperately shaking the non responsive man beneath him.
"Smack him or something!"
Cas reached up at the command, but his hand hesitated by the bruised, swollen face. With a defeated frown, he gently cupped Dean's cheek, eyes flitting from each visible injury before settling intently on his bloodied, slightly parted lips. Without knowing exactly why, he bent over and, as softly as possible, kissed him.
With a dreamy groan, Dean leaned up as he pulled away; lengthening the kiss even while mostly unconscious.
Surprised by the response, Cas broke away, pushing him back into the seat with a worried frown. "Don't-"
Eyes still closed, Dean caught the front of the angel's shirt and pulled him down as he lay back.
This time, the kiss was hard and tasted dull, like iron; heat swam to Cas' head and he forgot where they were and why there was blood between their lips. He closed his eyes, unable to get his vision to stop spinning. Dean's big, skilled hands were running through his hair, up under his shirt, leaving goosebumps everywhere they went.
The bed shifted beneath them when Dean lifted the smaller man up, firmly guiding his legs to either side of his own waist and rolling to a kneeling position. Cas was now in his lap, legs wrapped around his back.
It took Cas much longer than he'd like to admit to realize that Dean should not have been able to use both hands for anything, let alone picking him up without a word of exertion, and that there should be no bed to shift beneath them. He pulled back, staring in surprise at Dean's perfectly unmarred face. "I think I healed you. And moved us to the hotel. I have to go get Sam."
He stared back, brilliant green eyes half closed with sleepy lust; teeth dragging softly across a full, unsplit, bottom lip before settling on a seductive smirk. "Nah, man. I've just passed out from the pain, don't worry about any of that." Tightening his fingers in Cas' hair, he angled his head back with a soft tug, moving his mouth to the exposed neck. "I'm not about to be Sam blocked in my own fantasy."
"I couldn't take an active, sentient role in your dream. We're both still conscious and I have to-" The hot whisper of breath on his throat followed by the barest tracings of teeth froze his concerned protests midword. "Dean…"
"Shh," Dean's hand migrated from Cas' hair to his cheek, sliding a calloused thumb over his opened mouth. "I want you so bad, I could write an eighties rock ballad about it."
"I… I want you, as well. I'm not entirely sure how to…" Cas was becoming flustered, his face bright red as he shadowed Dean's roving hands with his own, not sure what else to do. "But now is not the time for it, I have to-"
Dean grabbed Cas' hip and bucked up, grinding against his crotch just as he slipped the tip of his thumb between his lips.
Cas could do nothing but moan, confused and aroused far beyond his comfort zone. He wanted to tell Dean to remove his thumb, but found he could do nothing more than encouragingly run his tongue against it instead.
"See? It's so much better if you just let it happen…" Dean had managed to undo the belt and was now working on the button on Cas' slacks, pushing further down than might be necessary.
The hand at his waist and knuckles softly grazing his erection was too much for the angel.
Finding himself suddenly groping empty air, Dean frowned around in confusion.
Cas stood at the end of the bed, cheeks bright red as he struggled awkwardly to get his belt back on. "Dean, we are not in your dream and now is not the time for sexual promiscuity!" He reprimanded the human in a deep, angry tone.
With a little head shake, he stood up and walked over to him. "I'm sorry, Cas. I… Wasn't thinking clearly. Let me help-"
The moment he grabbed either ends of his belt, Cas closed his eyes and let out a little scoff. He stiffly moved Dean's arms back. "That doesn't help anything."
A cocky grin broke across his face. "I know, thought I'd offer anyway."
"I'm going to go get your brother, don't go anywhere." Cas demanded once he'd stopped shaking enough to buckle the belt. He was stopped by a hand on his arm.
"Maybe just… Heal him and let him drive around a bit?"
Castiel smiled slowly at the hopeful suggestion.
Sam's pressing questions and accusing stare proved too much for Castiel to ignore, so he left Sam at the hotel with his brother and left on 'urgent angel business'. The Winchesters had a very short, booze free celebration at the hotel room together before Dean announced he was far too exhausted to stay awake another minute.
When Sam got up for a late night piss, he was hardly surprised by the extra body in his brother's bed. Obscured by the covers and Dean's arms, he didn't need to see a face to know who it was.
They were up and packed early the next morning. Neither of them enjoyed hanging around once a job was done, and this one in particular they were anxious to put behind them. It was time to ramble on.
"I gotta take this call from Bobby," Dean announced when his cell rang. "You finish loading up and I'll go check out." Sam shrugged at him in a 'maybe I will, maybe I won't' gesture that he ignored.
"What's the word, Bobby?" He asked, counting out the needed bills from his wallet and stuffing them into his back pocket.
"That's what I'm calling to ask you!" The familiar, gruff exasperation brought a smile to Dean's face. "I can't get a hold of either of you two idjits all night and this morning I'm hearing all these crazy reports about mass graveyard desecrations and a missing church roof! Did you two dumb asses blow the church up?"
He laughed at the question, like they were fondly recalling drunk hijinks from a rowdy night out. "Actually, no, that was not us. That was Cas. And he didn't blow it up, he 're-applied the atoms that it was composed of elsewhere'. He also single handedly whammied the big bad back into it's own dimension; I'm tellin' ya, he went full Return of the Jedi."
Bobby was silent for a moment, processing this new information. "I see. That brings me around to another question; why is there a picture of the two a you kissing like newly weds popping up on every corner of the internet?"
Dean drew a breath in through his teeth, trying not to grimace. "Yeah, about that. There was a… fangirl groupie of Chuck's shitty books that caught us at the exact wrong time. She black mailed me into letting her get the picture."
"She caught you at the wrong time? What the hell were you guys doing?"
"Well… We…" He sighed. "Remember when you told me that only someone an angel loved unconditionally could remove one of his feathers? Well, I'd already taken one from Cas at that point…"
"What are you… Oh!" Bobby's laughter was muffled, like he was trying to cover the mouthpiece, but still audible and full of mirth. "I forgot about that. Sam told me to tell you that to poke fun at your special angel time. You know how easily he feels left out- he's been like that all his life."
"Oh. Hm…" Dean was squinting ahead, barely aware of his uncle's voice. He was trying to sort out if this new knowledge changed anything. He flashed back to the daring rescue at the church, the desperate attempts to heal and comfort him without angel magic, the excited, quizzical stare he saw when they kissed. He smirked. 'Doesn't change a thing.' He thought with a shrug. "Well, we made out a few times anyway."
This time, a full minute passed in silence while Dean paced impatiently outside the door to the front office. "Bobby?"
"Yeah, sorry. You and…?"
"Cas. The angel. Yeah."
"Huh. It's about time he got some, maybe it'll help mellow him out."
Dean smiled so wide that he felt indecent; no one should look that pleased in public. "Thanks, Bobby."
"Whatever. Try not to blow up anymore churches."
The grin he was wearing melted away as he pushed open the door and stepped into the office. Zeppelin's Traveling Riverside Blues was playing from unseen speakers and the fresh, tangy smell of hot apple pie filled the small room.
The blonde from before was leaning seductively against the counter in front of him. She wore a form fitting halter top, a faded Guns 'n Roses logo stretched across her perky breasts. An impossibly tight, leopard print mini skirt hugged her curvy hips and a worn leather jacket covered her shoulders. She bent to fix her heeled boots just as he walked in, and he gaped at the perfectly toned ass swaying to the beat of his favorite song in front of him.
"Oh, dear, I didn't see you there!" She straightened with an airy giggle, posing carefully to accentuate all her best qualities. "Could I interest you in a piece of pie, Mr. Winchester?" She said, offering a still steaming desert straight out of a Betty Crocker cook book.
"Haaah," Dean gave a short laugh before swallowing hard, worrying subconsciously at his shirt collar. "No, that's, no, I'm a cos… a cos…" Oh god. He couldn't remember what she'd called them earlier. He couldn't remember much; he'd just caught sight of a tiny devil's trap tattoo peaking above the girl's skirt, and he was helplessly studying it, the tip of his tongue held between his teeth. "Uh, LARPer… Is… what I am. And I need to check out."
"You seem to be doing enough of that already, Dean." She said with a giggle, her boobs somehow pushing out even further. "Listen, man." She leaned forward conspiratorially. "I know."
He scoffed in disbelief, rolling his eyes at her cleavage. "Yeah, what do you think you know, sweetheart? Cuz I'm not betting on much outside of the choreography to a Whitesnake video."
"Oh, believe me, I know that, too…" She bit her lip and winked, causing Dean to groan inwardly. "I also know about you. You're no cosplayer, you're the real deal. The real Dean Winchester."
Folding his arms, he looked in her eyes, staring her down until she looked away with a blush. "That's crazy."
"See, that's what I thought, too! But there's this total psycho on the main fansite who's been insisting for months that she'd met the real Sam and Dean. She claims that the books are prophecy. After I posted that picture the other night, She wouldn't leave me alone. Don't get me wrong, she's crazier than a bag of cats; her screen name's 'SammyGurl4Lyfe' and she's the admin of the Wincest is Best RP board. But I think she's on to something this time. And if she's wrong… You're hella hot, I'm not really out either way."
Dean blinked. "W-Wincest? What's-?"
The blonde shook her head adamantly. "If you don't know, I'm not telling you. You're missing my point, Dean." She got a little giddy every time she said his name, and he knew he needed to bail. The Kathy Bates vibe was back in full swing; but god help him, maybe Misery wouldn't have been so miserable if she'd looked like this chick. As she got closer, he found his feet incapable of moving.
"I know all the things you've done, I know what a hero you are." She sashayed closer, hips swinging hypnotizingly. "I think you deserve more groupies than Mick Jagger at his peak."
"Listen, lady, as much as you are so completely doing it for me, believe me, a week ago I'd have you bent over that counter like your chiropractor," She groaned when he said this, closing her eyes grabbing the front of his jacket, still swaying enchantingly. "But I've got, uh, a, I've got uh…"
"He has a prior engagement." Castiel finished as he grabbed the girl by the back of her heavy jacket, lifted her from the ground and set her down a few feet away before closing in on Dean himself. He grabbed the collar on his coat, roughly jerking him into a kiss. He slid a hand down, seemingly reaching for Dean's ass, instead removing the wad of cash from his back pocket and tossing it carelessly at the girl behind them. They both disappeared.
Dozens of bills fluttered down around the startled fan. She slowly put her hands to her face, mouth open in shock. "Oh my god." She turned slowly, looking directly at the barely noticeable webcam clipped to the back of her open laptop and the hundreds of people watching the direct stream online. "That went so much better than expected!"
On a back highway interconnect hundreds of miles away from civilization, the black Chevy swam smoothly through the darkness; yellow headlights cutting the path ahead.
From the front seat, the desert ahead seemed endless, stopping only where it melted into the brilliant skyline. Dean was smiling contentedly at the stars above, softly drumming his hand on his thigh to the melodic piano of REO Speedwagon's Can't Fight This Feeling that had randomly picked up on the only radio station they'd been in range of for hours.
Sam sat in the back seat with his feet up, one of those stupid clip on book lights illuminating the small paperback he held almost right to his nose. He didn't seem bothered by the music, and Dean probably couldn't have stopped himself once the singing started anyway.
"What started out as friendship, has grown stronger," He sang along as quietly as possible, nodding his head to the music. "I only wish I had the strength to let it show."
Sam's eyebrows had shot up, but he kept his expression carefully neutral, eyes fixed on the John Grisham novel in his hands.
"Cause I feel so secure when we're together, you give my life direction- you make everything so clear!" The further into the song he got, the louder and more dramatic his singing became.
Ignoring it was nearly impossible now, and Sam covered his face with his hand, fighting off the laughter. If you encourage him, he'll never stop.
"And even as I wander, I"m keepin' you in sight! You're a candle in the wind on a cold and dark winter's night! I'm getting-"
Dean froze mid drum-fill, putting his hands back on the wheel and frowning at the rear-view mirror. "What?"
"Candle in the window, not wind."
His lips immediately pursed in a spot on impression of Sam's own bitch face. "Art's open to interpretation, Sam."
"But that's not interpretation, that's just being wrong- ow!"
A tap on the brakes was all it took to rock Sam forward, banging his head against the seat back.
"Oops, sorry, there was a," Dean coughed in an attempt to disguise a snicker of laughter. "An armadillo. A big one."
Rubbing his head and frowning, Sam settled back. "Listen, Dean, we gotta talk."
"Aw, come on, man. If this is about singing, you know I gotta get at least one out a day. I kept my pie hole closed through all of The Wall, you can let me have this one."
"No," Sam said with a laugh. "But I do appreciate the limit. No, I mean we gotta talk about Cas."
He stared stonily ahead, light hearted humor completely gone. "Go back to your weird law porn, I promise to keep the volume down."
Sam shook his head, sitting up and leaning into the front seat. "I'm serious. I'm not judging you or anything-"
"Damn straight, you're not. There's nothing to judge me for."
"Yeeaaah. Yeah, I know. It's just, I mean, are you sure he has the same… Intentions as you?"
Dean didn't respond. His knuckles were white around the wheel, and his slight frown seemed plastered on.
Wishing more than anything that he'd say something about it, give him a read on how he actually felt, Sam pushed on resolutely. "I'm not talking about sexual stuff-"
"Oh god." Dean scoffed in disgust, glaring out across the empty desert.
"Dean, you're Michael's vessel. You're kind of a big deal to the heavenly crowd. I just… I don't want you to get invested in something that's just another cosmic power play…" He actually tensed as he said this, his body bracing for violent repercussions even though Dean was still driving. As long as he didn't pull over, Sam was likely safe from physical counterarguments.
Dean tilted his head, lips pressing tighter against each other, but stayed silent.
With another sigh, Sam frowned deeply, sincere worry in his puppy dog eyes. "I just don't want to see you go through what I went through with Ruby."
The brakes complained shrilly at the sudden stop, the stench of burning rubber filling the night as the rear of the car fishtailed ahead of them. Dean had barely angled it onto the shoulder before he was jumping out and slamming the door behind him. He stood on the edge of the road, body tense, shoulders squared.
"Dean!" Sam scrambled out the door, tangled legs causing him to tumble to the desert floor before straightening and walking around the car, reaching for his brother. "Just talk about this with-"
Dean caught his wrist and, with a spin, swept a leg under Sam's, slamming him against the Impala. He had twisted his arm expertly behind his back, restraining him like a felon. "I do not believe this is a constructive conversation for the two of us to be sharing in." He was forcing a calm, mocking smile as he held tightly against Sam's struggling. "I believe the best course of action is to drop it and pretend it never came up. Don't you agree, Sam?"
When Sam didn't answer, he gave him a shove. "Huh?"
Sam looked mad enough to kill regardless of family relation, but he gritted his teeth and nodded once.
Releasing him, Dean waited until he'd turned around to grab the front of his coat and yank him down to his eye level. "If you ever compare Castiel to that demon bitch again, we'll have problems."
They stared in anger at each other until Sam gritted his teeth and knocked the other man's arms back. He stalked to the car without a word.
Resting a hand on the top of his car, he slowly exhaled the breath he'd been holding. "Hey, you wanna pick the music?" He asked as he opened the door and stepped into the warm glow of solace.