Archive of Our Own ^beta

Dean disconnected the call on his cell with an impatient jab, cutting off the voicemail message, and scrubbed a hand through his hair. "Damn it, why is Bobby always gone when we need him?"

"Well, considering we call him just about every other day..."

Dean glared at his brother. "I'm not looking for logic, I'm trying to bitch here, do you mind?"

Sam grinned and raised his hands in surrender.

They were sitting on the back bumper of the Impala drinking beer from the cooler. They'd parked just inside the entrance of an old abandoned warehouse they had spied from the road. The big bay doors hadn't even been locked and Dean had pulled the car into the cavernous space, needing a cool place out of the sun and a little privacy to take stock of the ordnance in the Impala's trunk as they tried to get a handle on the fugly Incan mask they had wrapped in a tarp in the backseat.

It seemed to be a representation of Supay, god of death and ruler of the Incan underworld. But more importantly it seemed to be cursed, if the trail of mutilated corpses was any clue, and they needed some reliable intel before deciding how best to destroy it. Hence the useless call to Bobby.

Dean drained his beer and, wiping one hand over his mouth, considered the contacts on his cell. "Okay, time to call in the big guns."

Draining his own beer, Sam crunched the can down between his hands. "A bigger gun than Bobby?"

Dean gave an internal smirk. Okay, he didn't know about bigger, because, ew? he had no idea about Bobby, but, yeah, pretty damn big gun all right. He scrolled down to the 'D's and found the entry labeled simply, 'Dan.'

"Gonna call that ancient history professor I consult with sometimes."

'Consult' with extreme prejudice, that is.

Sam suddenly sat up straight. "Oh no."

"What?"

"Dr. Daniel Jackson in Colorado, right?"

"Yeah..."

"I told him you died."

"You what!?"

"I called him after...you know." Sam's hand wave somehow encompassed Crossroad Demons, Hell Hounds, and a multitude of other incidents big and small from the last year or so.

"Sam!"

"I'm sorry!"

"You could've told me you called him."

Sam had the gall to look put-upon. "Well, I'm sorry but I've been a little distracted with the whole Apocalypse thing."

With a sigh, Dean said, "Why'd you tell him I was dead?"

"Uh, because you were?"

"No, why him?"

"I saw his name in your contacts and thought-- Well, I always thought he was more of a friend than a resource." Sam regarded his brother carefully. "And maybe more than just a friend...?"

Dean ignored that last bit. "All the more reason to tell me so I could've called him," he said gruffly, then eyed his baby brother with the impatience of big brothers everywhere. "Great going, Sammy, now he thinks I'm dead."

Sam seemed to be trying to decide between puppy-dog eyes and bitch-face before simply settling for the old favorite of flipping Dean off.

Dean turned away with a badly concealed smirk as he connected the call. Actually, this had possibilities. He stood and wandered a little distance from the car. Hmm... An emotional reunion. Daniel would have that cute worried little crease between his brows. He'd probably want to make a thorough check of Dean's body, preferably with his tongue. Oh yeah, the man had an amazing tongue. Dean wasn't sure how Daniel got his Ph.D in linguistics, but Dean knew how he would've conducted the oral board.

He heard Daniel's cell phone ring once, then after a series of clicks a toneless woman's voice came on, "Deep Space Radar Telemetry, how may I direct your call?"

"Deep..." What the...? Oh yeah, that was Daniel's bullshit cover with the Air Force to hide whatever crazy secret bullshit he actually did. "Yeah, I was trying to speak to Daniel Jackson?"

"Please hold."

Maybe Daniel was on one of his long trips, but his cell had never been directed to the Air Force switchboard before.

Another click and a man's voice came on. "This is Colonel O'Neill."

There was a long pause before Dean finally said, "Okay, that's nice, but I'm trying to talk to Daniel Jackson."

"Who is this and what is it regarding?" the colonel asked, his tone dripping with the officiousness and arrogance that only military officers could truly achieve, as if he had the right to question what should've been a private phone call.

"Yeah, none of your business and none of your business," Dean drawled. "I was calling Dan, not you."

"Dan?" the asshole asked in disbelief. "Okay, how did you get this number?"

"Dude, I got it the way you usually get a phone number, the guy who owns the phone gave it to me. Now where's Dan and why are you douchebags answering his phone?"

There was another long pause but Dean waited him out this time and the guy finally spoke. "There was an incident," he said grudgingly. Dean was only just registering the change in tone when the colonel said somberly, "Daniel Jackson is dead."

Dean's stomach dropped and he lurched to one side, trying to keep his balance. Sam, listening to Dean's side of the conversation, came over in concern.

Staring unseeing at the cracked concrete of the warehouse floor, Dean whispered, "What...? He...no... He's dead?"

Sam gripped his shoulder in support as the colonel said, "Yes."

"When? How?"

"Two months ago and that's classified. Look, kid, I've been pretty patient here. Now who are you and why are you calling?"

Dean pressed a fist to his forehead, the blood roaring in his ears.

God, no. Daniel was so alive, he'd never met anyone so full of life, so endlessly enthusiastic, so open and giving, so exactly the opposite of Dean himself. Older and more experienced and so fucking sexy, Daniel was the antidote, the one Dean ran to when things got so bad he felt like he'd explode, the one that took him in hand and gave him everything he needed, even the things he didn't know he needed.

His words small and lost, Dean finally answered, "I--I'm Dean. Dan's my--he was my friend."

"Uh huh," the colonel said, his voice dripping with hostility and suspicion. "Listen, Dean, you might want to do your research a little better next time. Daniel didn't have any friends. And no one called him Dan."

Anger swelled up then, pushing the overwhelming grief aside and Dean welcomed it. Anything to delay facing the pain of losing yet another friend. "You listen, Colonel Douchebag. Dan may not have had any friends in the Air Force, but he had me, and I fucking well called him Dan. What the fuck do you know about his private life?"

He felt a vicious pleasure when the only response was a flustered silence.

Wait. He knew the name O'Neill. "You're that son of a bitch Jack, aren't you?" Dean demanded, anger spiking.

"Excuse me?"

"What did you do? You got him killed didn't you?"

This time it was O'Neill's voice that was lost and small as he began, "I, no-- I didn't..." But the colonel recovered and there was twice the hostility as he continued, "I don't know who the hell you are but--"

"Fuck you!" Dean ended the call with the jab of a finger, then stood there staring at the phone, blinking back the tears in his eyes, tears of anger, of course, they were tears of anger. "Fuck!" He threw the phone down, stomping on it with the heel of his boot. It was just as well to destroy the phone. Fucker was probably trying to keep him on the line long enough to trace the call. More concerned about his fucking mind games than about Daniel being dead. "Fuck," Dean whispered, rubbing at his burning eyes.

"God, Dean, I'm so sorry," Sam said, his brother's solid presence at his side a comfort.

"I'm sorry, too, Dean," another voice came softly.

Dean slowly raised disbelieving eyes and saw Daniel.

Daniel.

It was him, standing there, big as life. He wore a creamy cable knit sweater and snug blue jeans, no glasses to obscure the bright compassion in his blue eyes, his dark blond hair cut short the way it had been these last few years.

Like a physical force, memories of his life with Daniel punched through Dean: the first time they met, Daniel's perceptive eyes piercing through Dean's eighteen-year-old bravado; a kiss stolen among dusty stacks of old books; Daniel holding Dean as the younger man poured out his fears and doubts with a frankness that was impossible with anyone else; Daniel's loving eyes fixed on Dean's as the scholar pushed gently, deeply, inexorably into Dean, fucking him sure and firm until all of Dean's demons were gone and only Daniel and ecstasy remained; and Dean returning the favor, Daniel surrendering himself, the trust and vulnerability in his gorgeous face almost breaking Dean's heart.

Throughout their years together, Daniel was the only person Dean ever returned to, maybe only once in one year, maybe a half dozen times the next, but always there for him.

And here he was. Dead, but somehow standing there, as gorgeous as ever.

Was Dean losing his shit? He glanced to the side, but Sam was staring at the specter that had materialized in front of them too, his mouth hanging open.

"I might have come to tell you myself," Daniel continued in the bemused tones of someone talking to himself, "although to be fair, I was told you were dead." Now he had that cute little frown, the one that used to drive Dean crazy with the need to kiss it away.

"Yeah..." Dean said slowly. "Like I was just told you were dead."

The little frown grew as Daniel's gaze sharpened. "You can see me?" His eyes flicked back and forth between Dean and Sam. "Both of you?"

Well, fuck. Of course Dean's dead boyfriend would come back as a ghost. Because that was just Dean's life, wasn't it? "Sam!" Dean shouted.

Sam dove for the Impala's open trunk, scooping up a shotgun and tossing it to Dean, who racked and aimed it within seconds. Not that Daniel was making any move to either attack or escape, merely standing there watching Dean with a vaguely puzzled frown that Dean realized kind of reminded him of Castiel.

Daniel's eyes flicked to the gun. "What's that for?" he asked, as if discussing the weather.

"Restless spirits," Dean answered, voice dry and hoarse.

"Restless spirits? Um..." Daniel tilted his head. "I'm thinking that's not as romantic as it sounds."

"No, it's not."

Dean fired, the rock salt round shooting straight and true...

...and useless.

"And here I thought I had it bad when Jack threw his shoe at me." The Daniel-specter remained standing there, blinking at Dean with bewilderment.

"Shit," Dean remarked.

Daniel licked his lips as if tasting something. "Do you usually load your buckshot with salt?"

There was a whiz and a flash, and the knife Sam had just thrown passed through and clattered to the concrete floor behind Daniel.

The thing looked increasingly puzzled. "If a gun wouldn't work, why would a knife?"

"Silver," Dean said, distracting Daniel long enough for Sam to swing a long length of chain in a heavy arc, once again passing through the manifestation without the slightest flicker.

Daniel looked at the chain and then at Dean like he was seeking answers in a parlor game. "Iron," Dean ground out through clenched teeth.

Next came a wet spatter as Sam splashed holy water from a bottle. "Exorcizamus te, immundus spiritus," Sam said, although the words ended up sounding more like a question than a command.

Daniel's befuddlement only grew as he translated, "We exorcise you, impure spirit?"

"Crap, Dean, what is it?" Sam hissed, hand hovering over the arsenal in the Impala's trunk, unsure what else to try.

"Fuck if I know."

Daniel's brow cleared. "Oh! That was holy water, wasn't it?" He looked pleased, like a man who had just figured out the correct answer in a game of Trivial Pursuit. "Salt, silver, iron. You think I'm a ghost or something, right? Something supernatural?" His lips curled in a gentle smile, blue eyes effortlessly holding Dean's. "I'm sorry I scared you, Dean. I should've come in a dream or something. I am dead, my corporeal body at least, but I've passed on to a higher plane."

"Yeah, 'cause people do that all the time," Dean drawled, still holding the shotgun at the ready.

"Um, no. It's called Ascension and an alien made it possible for me."

"An alien."

"Yes."

"On another planet, I'm guessing?"

"Well, no, it was on Earth. Cheyenne Mountain to be precise. But I did initially meet her on another planet."

Dean took a deep cleansing breath. "Right," he said with false brightness. "Well, that makes sense."

Daniel pursed his lips. "Less sense than the supernatural? I'm guessing you aren't actually a bounty hunter who works in antiquities recovery."

"Uh..." Dean cleared his throat guiltily.

Sam gave him an appraising look. "Huh. That's a pretty good cover, Dean."

Dean scowled at him. He didn't have to act so surprised when Dean did something halfway clever.

"And you must be the brother, Sam," Daniel said.

"Yeah, I am," Sam confirmed, then raised his brows questioningly at Dean.

Dean gave a little shrug in response, lowering his gun. With nothing else to go on, they would have to take this as it was.

"Uh, pleased to meet you in person, I guess," Sam continued. "If this really counts as in person." He trailed off in confusion.

Daniel looked at Sam critically. "You're taller than you sounded on the phone."

In a quiet aside to Dean, Sam said, "I guess the shock of dying and becoming an alien ghost really screwed him up."

Dean sighed. "No, that's just Dan. He says stuff like that."

Daniel ignored Dean. "May I ask why you told me Dean was dead when he clearly isn't?" he asked Sam indignantly.

"He was! At the time at least." Sam rubbed the back of his neck. "It's kind of complicated."

"But Dan," Dean said, trying to get the conversation back on track. "Is this real? Is it really you?" He didn't want to let himself hope that this was true, that Daniel was nothing that needed Hunting.

Daniel shrugged. "Well, since I'm dead I don't guess my non-disclosure agreement really counts. Basically I belonged to a branch of the US military that travels to other planets."

"And you met aliens? So the telemetry thing is real?"

"No, that's still a complete lie. The truth is a little more complicated."

"Whatever, I don't care," Dean said. "As long as you're okay."

"I would rather still be alive," Daniel admitted slowly, "but I am okay."

"So, what? You have phenomenal cosmic powers now?"

The movie reference flew completely over Daniel's head, as usual, and the scholar simply said, "Yes. Not that I can always use them. Actually so far as I understand, I can never use them. It's against the rules. But I do have them."

"Phenomenal cosmic powers, itty-bitty living space?" Dean prompted.

Daniel looked puzzled. "No, Dean, my space is all of, well, space, so there's lots of room."

Dean rubbed his hand over his mouth to hide a smirk. Sometimes Daniel and Castiel were two of a kind. "You have cool powers but you can't use them?" he enlarged.

"Ah. Correct."

"That sucks."

Daniel took in a breath, then let it out with a frustrated gust. "Yes, it does."

"Does Colonel Douchebag know you're still...hanging around?" This last Dean captioned with finger quotes.

Daniel raised a brow, lips quirking as he tried to suppress a smile. "Yes, Jack knows," he said, then he rubbed his hands together and looked at them expectantly. "So, why were you trying to call me?"

"Oh, there's this old Incan mask," Sam said. "We think it represents the god of the underworld."

Daniel nodded. "Supay," he said.

"Yes," Sam confirmed eagerly. "But the mask is cursed somehow and we need some more information before we take action."

"Hmm." Daniel frowned in concentration. "That's nothing I can remember off the top of my head, but it should be in my books. Call my research assistant at the SGC." He gave a negligent wave of his hand and Sam's cell phone chirped. "His name is Nyan and he comes from a planet about twenty-nine million light years away. He's a good guy, just tell him you were my friend and he should give you any help he can."

"Uh..." Sam shared a blank look with Dean. "Thanks."

Daniel waved his hand again, Sam flinching before he realized it was just a dismissive gesture this time. "No problem," he said. "It's nice to be able to help and not have Oma come down on me like an avenging angel--" he broke off, then chuckled. "You know, you could sort of think of me that way."

"What way?" Dean asked.

"Like an angel," Daniel explained. "I may not be able to use all my phenomenal powers, but I can watch over you like a guardian angel and try to keep you safe."

It was Dean's turn to chuckle. "Funny, but I kind of already have a guardian angel."

"What?"

Just then there came the familiar sound of rustling feathers and there was Castiel, rumpled trench coat, wild thatch of just-fucked hair, cute little concerned frown and all.

"Dean?" Castiel said staring in that way that made Dean feel like he was the center of Castiel's whole universe. "I felt shock from your mind. Did something upset you?"

"Hey, Cas," Dean said, laying a welcoming hand on the angel's shoulder. "Yeah, but it turns out it's okay. Well, not totally okay, but better than I thought." Dean gestured at Daniel. "Cas, this is Dan. He’s my, uh..." He trailed off not sure how to explain Daniel.

But Castiel didn't seem to be listening anyhow. Once the angel caught sight of Daniel, both men's preternaturally blue eyes had fastened on one another with unmistakable hostility.

"Well, he's my..."

"Dead boyfriend?" Sam supplied helpfully.

Dean scowled at him. "And Dan, this is Cas, uh, Castiel, he's..."

He trailed off again, Castiel moving away to stalk toward Daniel, the two beings beginning to circle around each other like a couple belligerent junkyard dogs checking out which one would claim alpha.

"I am an angel of The Lord," Castiel said in the gravelly voice that still gave Dean the shivers.

Castiel gave him the shivers, not that Dean would ever act on it, not that he could ever act on it. At least he didn't think he could. The guy may have a 'corporeal' body, but he had no idea what to do with it. But the night that Castiel had confronted Dean in Bobby's kitchen, demanding respect, crowding him against the counter, cramming them together practically cock to cock... Dean had gotten so hard so fast that he'd almost keeled over when the angel had disappeared. Oh yeah, a lifetime of jack-off material in one sweet hot fucking moment...

Dean swallowed, tearing his eyes away from Castiel to find himself speared by Daniel's narrowed and knowing eyes. He gulped again and ducked his head, scuffing his boots on the dirty floor.

Daniel's gaze darted back to Castiel. "Angel of what lord?" he asked, his voice betraying nothing but mild curiosity.

"The Lord God."

"Which god?"

Castiel went back to staring.

"It's just, you know, from my adventures out in the galaxy," Daniel continued, waving breezily at the ceiling. "There are creatures out there that make it a habit of pretending to be gods. Forgive me if I doubt your words."

"Angels do not dispense forgiveness."

"Do they dispense justice?"

Castiel's eyes narrowed to mere slits and the two walked another slow orbit, Sam and Dean backing away nervously.

"What manner of creature are you?" Castiel asked.

"I'm an angel, too," Daniel claimed brightly.

"You are not an angel of The Lord."

"No, I'm an angel of the Ascended and I'm here to watch over Dean."

"Dean is under my protection," Castiel stated. "He and I share a profound bond."

"Really? That's quite a coincidence, because Dean and I share a profound bond, and have for a number of years."

There was another rotation as Dean tried to figure out how to diffuse this situation. As well as to figure out why it even needed diffusing. He and Daniel had an open arrangement. Neither had ever been bothered by the other man's outside relationships, whether with men or women.

What was it about Castiel that pinged Daniel's jealousy? And why did Castiel see Daniel as a threat?

"How exactly did Dean come under your protection?" Daniel asked.

"Dean was sentenced to Hell through trickery."

Daniel gave Dean a stricken look. "You really did die? And went to hell?"

Dean rubbed his neck and shrugged. "Yeah. For four months and then Castiel got me out."

"Four months?"

"Actually with the time differential," Sam just couldn't resist adding, "it was forty years from Dean's point of view."

"Forty years!?" Daniel glared accusingly at Castiel. "And what exactly were you doing all that time, Angel Castiel? Sitting up on a cloud playing your harp?"

Castiel's tone may have been a touch defensive as he said, "It was a perilous mission and one I could not undertake lightly."

Another 360 degree rotation passed, the only sound the crunch of grit under the shoes of two pacing men. Dean started to fidget, sliding the shotgun bolt back and forth.

"Nice trench coat," Daniel suddenly said, tipping his head and raising his brows to indicate Castiel's outfit. "Into film noir are you?"

"Meow," Dean muttered under his breath.

"What?"

"Uh, look, Dan," Dean said, speaking up. "Angels are pretty much dicks with wings, but Cas is an okay guy."

Castiel fingered his coat, mystified. "These clothes are what my host was wearing when he delivered himself to me."

Daniel's eyes widened with horror. "Host?! As in possession? You're possessing this body, this man?"

It was Dean's experience that many people mistook Daniel for a pacifist and Dean sometimes wondered if that was intentional misdirection on Daniel's part. But right now? No one could mistake Daniel for a man of peace. He seemed to be trying to burn Castiel's Grace out of the host body through the power of his glare alone.

"An angel always needs permission," Castiel said. "Jimmy Novak consented to leaving his family and becoming my vessel."

Daniel's suspicion was unabated. "How long will he be your host?"

"This is unknown."

"Was it informed consent? Did Novak know he was giving up his life, his family, maybe for good? Did he really understand?"

Castiel tilted his head, puzzled. "He consented."

"Right. So he's a helpless prisoner in his own body."

"Jimmy Novak's soul resides within my Grace, existing in joy and peace."

"What about his family?"

"I am not responsible for his family. Humans have been granted free will. The choices are frequently painful to themselves and others, but this cannot be otherwise without the destruction of that very free will."

Daniel nodded with grudging agreement. "Non-interference, right."

They paused their hostile rotation. Maybe detente could be declared? Butt sniffing accomplished, now the two alpha dogs could just lay down and glare lazily at each other?

Castiel's head tilted the other way, his attention still locked on Daniel. "You are a human who died," he said, more statement than question.

"Yes to human, more or less to dying."

"When your body failed, your soul should have been properly delivered."

"Oh am I unaccounted for?" Daniel gave a mirthless smile. "Isn't it a pain when the register comes up a dollar short at the end of the day?"

"Your soul should have either ascended to Heaven or been condemned to Hell."

"Well, I Ascended, but not to Heaven."

"Anything else is abomination."

"Using a man's body as a sock puppet is abomination."

"Jimmy Novak is a man of deep and abiding faith. Perhaps you are not capable of understanding faith?"

Ouch. Point to Castiel if the flinch Daniel gave was any indication. Dean knew the cost of Daniel's increasing cynicism over the years.

Castiel took a step forward, staring a with intentness and Daniel suddenly stumbled back as if from a blow.

Dean straighten up in alarm. So much for detente. "Whoa there, Smitey McSmites-a-Lot!" he called. Castiel usually did his smiting up close and personal, but maybe this was a variation on a theme. "Uh, can we dial it down a notch?"

Daniel gave a little waggling wave of his fingers that reminded Dean of a Jedi mind trick and Castiel stiffened, rocking back on his heels.

"C'mon, Obi Wan," Dean said to Daniel. "I swear these aren't the droids you're looking for."

Resolutely ignoring Dean, the stare-out continued without a blink.

"Sam!" Dean hissed. "Do something!"

"Me? What can I possibly do? They're your boyfriends."

Dean tried a smiting scowl on his brother, failing utterly to incinerate him on the spot.

"What are your intentions towards Dean?" Daniel demanded.

"He is the Righteous Man," Castiel said. "His soul is pure and clean."

Daniel snorted impatiently. "I know that. Everyone who meets him knows that."

Sam gave Dean a look that said, 'I told you so,' as Dean's face burned in the hottest blush he'd had since middle school. "Guys? I'm right here."

"Be quiet, Dean," they said simultaneously, both giving him identical quelling looks. Dean shrank down at the combined rebuke and Sam's smug look grew to a grin.

Boyfriends? Dean pursed his lips in a sullen pout. More like posturing fools. Hmm... Really hot posturing fools, of course. Seriously, who knew how deep Castiel's growl could go? And Daniel's show of territorial aggression was apparently wired straight to Dean's cock. He cleared his throat, covering an adjustment to the crotch of his jeans with the shotgun he still held.

Castiel asked, "What are your intentions toward Dean?"

Daniel raised his expressive brows. "My intentions are the same as they've been for the past twelve years I've known him. To be a friend, to offer comfort with no strings attached."

"This can no longer be, you no longer have a place here on Earth."

"Really? I'm a human, I belong here. You're the one who has no place here."

"You are no longer human. You made your choice. You are abomination, outside of nature. You should go back out to the galaxy to which you have given your allegiance."

"So your god is only god of this one little rock then?"

"God is God of All," Castiel said, scandalized.

"Then why differentiate? Earth is part of the galaxy." Before Castiel could answer, Daniel pressed his attack. "I actually care about the people who live here. I value their lives and don't use them like pawns in some silly passion play."

"We are shepherds."

"Who sacrifice their sheep at every turn."

"Soldiers must make sacrifices."

"But you're not sacrificing yourself, you're sacrificing others, people who have no say in what's happened. Would you sacrifice Dean?"

"I…” Castiel shot a quick and unreadable look at Dean. “I would strive to avoid that at all costs. Dean is mine."

Whoa, what? Sam and Dean's heads had been swiveling back and forth like spectators at a tennis match, but that comment gave Dean whiplash.

"You can't own a human being," Daniel said flatly.

"I mean, Dean is my responsibility."

"Why?"

"I raised him from Perdition, I rebuilt his body, he became my charge and I left my mark upon him."

"Mark?" Daniel asked.

"The mark of my hand is seared upon his flesh," Castiel stated with a disturbing amount of satisfaction.

"You marked Dean?"

Oookay... A minute ago? When Dean thought he'd never seen Daniel madder? Yeah, no. This was the maddest ever.

All but incandescent with fury, Daniel rounded on Dean. "Show me."

Dean shrank down. "Uh, Dan, it doesn't really--"

"Show me!"

Dean sprang into motion, passing the shotgun off to Sam. Angling himself so Sam couldn't see, he pulled his Henley and tee shirt collars aside with a sweaty hand, blushing hotter than ever.

Daniel stared without comment, then, re-aiming his laser glare at Castiel, the two resumed their predatory stalking.

Dean righted his shirt with a huff, trying to regain a little dignity. Unsuccessfully if Sam's snigger was anything to go by.

There was a growing heaviness to the air in the warehouse, and midway between Castiel and Daniel a shimmer began to glow and blister, will-o'-the-wisps lights sparking and dancing. Dean realized the two angels weren't simply looking daggers at each other, they were actually fighting, like boxers jockeying for advantage, testing defenses, somehow subtly pushing at one another.

Simultaneously coming to a halt, they faced off, Castiel's shadowy black wings flaring high behind him, Daniel half-dissolving into a glowy white, tendrils shooting out, flexing and throbbing as they spread and grew.

"Wow," Sam said, watching the display avidly. "It's like old-school angel versus techno-alien angel!"

"Not helping, Sam! And Dan's not an alien! I don't think, at least..."

"No, I'm not an alien," Daniel paused to remark to Sam. "Although the ascension process was triggered and facilitated by a member of an alien race--"

A sudden blast of heat and dark fire erupted from Castiel, and too fast for the eye to follow, Daniel's form was eclipsed and obliterated in an ear-ringing roar.

"Hold on!" Dean shouted in horror. "What did you do, where is he?"

Castiel crossed his arms looking pleased. "I do not know, but he is no longer here and that is all I--"

But Daniel was there, reappearing with an electric flash, one hand flung out at Castiel, a jagged bolt of lightening enveloping and eradicating Castiel in a retina searing blast.

"Dan! Stop it!" Dean blinked furiously. "Is he okay?"

Daniel crossed his arms looking smug. "I have no idea. Maybe he flew back to his cloud to--"

With a gust of flame-hot wind and the sound of muted thunder Castiel returned, his wings clearly defined now, glossy black feathers sharp as bristling spears. Opposing him floated Daniel, his indistinct form flickering like an afterimage, the white glow almost blinding, long lethal tendrils whipping and snapping like the plasma of a Jacob's ladder.

The roll of thunder persisted impossibly and a static charge filled the cavernous room, the air pressure building. The warehouse shuddered around them, metal pipes and I-beams groaning under the strain, concrete spalls bursting from the walls with sharp pops, the floor shifting and cracking under Sam and Dean's feet, knocking them off-balance.

"Dean! We gotta get outta here!" Sam shouted, the electric charge making his long hair stand on end in a way that would've been comical in other circumstances.

"No! Goddamn it!" Dean jumped up and, avoiding a restraining grab from Sam, threw himself into the thick of it, running out between the two angels. Skin crawling from the energy crackling around him, eardrums aching from the pressure, Dean held up his arms.

"Okay, enough!" he roared. "Both of you! Tuck your dicks away right now or I'm cutting them off!"

The thunder switched off with a high-pitched squeak, and the crescendoing power stuttering to a halt, shriveling up and reeling back like a dog brought to heel.

In the cowed silence, a spray of wilted black feathers floated on an aborted buffet of air from Castiel and a limp sizzle came from Daniel as a last tendril slunk away on the floor like an embarrassed snake.

Dean turned his head back and forth looking sternly at the two would-be combatants. Daniel had the wit to look sheepish, while Castiel stood there giving his own crotch a confused glance.

"Okay. Dan," Dean began. "I admit, getting an S & M brand on my arm wasn't something I ever really planned on, but if that was the price for getting out of Hell, then I'm willing to have paid it." He shrugged. "Maybe it was a dick move, but Cas saved me when no one else could."

His expression contrite, Daniel nodded. "All right. I'm sorry, Dean."

Dean turned to Castiel. "Cas, I trust Dan. I trust him with my life. Nothing you can ever say or do will cause me to give him up, even if he is a freaky space squid now."

Castiel looked to Daniel with reluctant respect. "I cannot fault him his love for you. He is a passionate champion and cannot be denied."

"Yeah, good," Dean said.

"Be aware, however, that I treasure you also, Dean," Castiel said.

"Jeez, Cas, you make it sound like--" Dean broke off then continued blithely, "I'm sure you feel the same about all your 'charges.'"

"No, you are unique and I will protect you."

"That's great, Cas, but not against Daniel."

"I understand." Castiel straightened his coat. "I will join my fellow angels now to attend to other business. Please pray if you need me."

Daniel had only just finished rolling his eyes at that last part when Castiel turned to him. "Daniel," he said.

"Castiel," Daniel said.

Okay, it wasn't much as truces went, but the two supernatural beings nodded civilly enough and Castiel disappeared to the tune of rustling feathers.

"I should go too," Daniel said, "in case all that posturing attracted attention from my own fellow angels."

"This is goodbye, then?" Dean asked gruffly, trying to pull the tatters of his tough-guy mask into place.

"I'm not sure," Daniel said gently, seeing through Dean effortlessly just like always. "I can't promise to always be here for you if you need me, even if you pray--" he pursed his lips in disapproval, "but I will try. I managed to get Jack out of a tough situation without breaking the rules and I'm sure I can do the same for you. Only if you really need it though."

"So I might not ever see you again." God the words sounded so needy and weak, but Dean couldn't help it.

Daniel reached out to Dean's face, the solid-seeming flesh of Daniel's hand extenuating, becoming one of his funky tendrils, but it was warm and soft and kinda sparkly and Dean closed his eyes, leaning into the touch as it ran lovingly down his temple and jaw, just brushing across his lips like a kiss.

"The galaxy's a big place, but if I have to move Heaven and Earth, I will try to be here for you, I promise."

Dean almost stumbled at the loss of the comforting touch when Daniel released him and turned to Sam. "Take care of your brother for me, Sam," he said.

"Uh, yeah," Sam said, then cleared his throat. "Yes, Daniel, I will."

Sam reached a hand out cautiously and Daniel curled a tendril around it like a handshake. "Take care of each other," he ordered, including both Sam and Dean in his gaze.

Then in a blink he was gone and the two brothers remained, standing shellshocked and strangely bereft in the empty warehouse.

"Sooo," Sam huffed out, blinking. "That happened..."

Dean shook himself. "C'mon, let's clean this up. We got a Incan demon to Hunt."

They made short work of recovering their weapons, closing up the trunk and climbing into the car, the slamming doors echoing in the quiet space. Putting the key in the ignition, Dean glanced over and was annoyed to find Sam staring at him with a smirk. "What?" Dean asked, his tone making it plain he didn't really want an answer.

Whereupon of course Sam answered him. "Dude, was that...a cat fight?"

"Shut up."

"It was. It was totally a cat fight... Over you."

Dean glared but his little brother's grin was unrepentant. Dean looked out the windshield and started up the Impala, listening to the comforting purr for a moment. "Bitch," he finally said.

"Jerk," Sam responded immediately, leaning back in his seat, his shit-eating grin not fading a whit.

Dean grunted, spinning the wheel, steering his baby out of the warehouse and back out onto the open road.

Daniel wasn't dead, not really, and maybe he could even come back some day. Dean did. And in the meantime... Cas was nice and he had such pretty blue eyes...

Yeah, Dean would survive. It's what he did.

-end-