Archive of Our Own

“So, come on. Spill your guts, buddy. Share. Let’s toast some marshmallows together and discuss the finer things in life. Tell me a secret. Tell me what you want, Castiel.”

Gabriel’s voice was light and his eyes twinkled in the dull sodium glare of the streetlights, but Castiel wasn’t fooled for a second. Not for nothing was this archangel known as a ‘Trickster’ down here on Earth. He was mischievous and cruel, full of plans and schemes, all to his own end and nobody else’s. The fact that he’d appeared before Castiel tonight with an olive branch clutched symbolically in one hand and a huge smile plastered in his face didn’t mean a damn thing – he was up to something, and Castiel didn’t trust him.

“I don’t understand why you suddenly wish to... bond,” he said, his words careful and slow. Gabriel might have a sense of humor and have absorbed many of the emotions and ways of humans in his time away from Heaven, but he was still dangerous. Castiel wasn’t going to forget that in a hurry.

Gabriel shrugged. “Think about it, little bro. We’re both away from home, mingling with humans, trying to get our kicks away from the family. We’ve got a lot in common.”

“I’m not trying to get any ‘kicks’. I’m trying to prevent the destruction of the human race.”

“I know, I know. By finding God.” Gabriel looked down at the leafy branch in his hand and picked off an olive. “Seems the old guy doesn’t want to be found though, huh? It’s a lost cause and you know it. So I’m curious. Why are you still here?”

Castiel studied him thoughtfully, still wary. “Because I have to try my utmost. Because this battle isn’t over yet. Because I owe it to my friends. Because I have nowhere else to go.”

“Because, because, because.” Gabriel tossed the olive into his mouth and grinned. “Don’t you ever just want to do your own thing, Cas? Like I’ve been doing?”

“You’ve been tormenting innocent mortals for... kicks, as you say.” There was so much disapproval in his voice that for a moment Castiel was almost shocked by it. But hell, he’d once called Raphael a bitch. He could live with this.

“I’ve been tormenting jerks and dickwads. There’s a difference. If you play fair and eat your greens and don’t pull the wings off flies I’ll leave you alone. It’s not my fault if humans are petty and cruel most of the time.” Gabriel took a step forward; Castiel had to steel himself not to take one backwards. “That’s my hobby. What’s yours? Come on, I’m curious. What do you want, Castiel?”

He answered almost instantly. “Peace.”

“And the award for the most obvious answer of the year goes to...” Gabriel shook his head in feigned despair. “That’s not what I meant, idiot. What do you want? For yourself?”

Castiel blinked. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You poor little worker drone, you. All these millennia taking orders and now you’re out on your own you can’t think for yourself.” Gabriel sighed and plucked another olive off the branch. “Think about it. If you could have anything for yourself, what would it be? Don’t think global. Don’t look at the bigger picture. Imagine all of this is over and you’re forgiven and free and your greatest wish has come true. What would it be? What would you choose for yourself?”

Castiel frowned, thinking hard. “Why do you wish to know this?”

“Because The Daily Show isn’t on until later. Entertain me. What’s your deepest, darkest wish?”

“I wish to see Lucifer defeated.”

“Why yes, Captain Obvious. And?”

“I wish to see Heaven restored to how it used to be.”

“Well, duh. And?”

“I do not want to see more humans dying because of our squabbles.”

“Figures. And?”

“I... I want Dean and Sam Winchester to be happy.”

“Can’t say I’m surprised by that, from what I’ve been hearing about you. And?”

Castiel stared at him, perplexed.

Gabriel snorted. “Are you telling me that there’s nothing, absolutely nothing, that you want for yourself? Are you really that brainwashed? All those years of bowing and crawling and following orders and this is where it’s left you? You don’t want a single thing to call your own?”

“I have no need for possessions,” Castiel began, wondering what Gabriel wanted here. He wasn’t sure if he should stay. This was an exasperating conversation and he shouldn’t be talking to Gabriel anyway.

“I’m not talking about possessions,” Gabriel snapped, narrowing his eyes. “I’m talking about feelings. Desires.”

“I have no desires, other than the wish to serve God.”

“You love Him.”

“Of course. Don’t you?”

Gabriel smiled, but it was a thin-lipped, precarious thing. “Oh yeah. I love Him to bits. But it’s possible to love other things too, you know. Aside from our Father, what else do you love? Who else do you love? Have you even met anybody aside from those damn Winchesters?”

Castiel scowled. “They are not damned.”

“Quick to spring to their defence then, I see. And not for the first time.” Gabriel tossed the olive branch onto the tarmac of the parking lot and leaned on a nearby station wagon, crossing his arms. “Okay, let’s see. You have no desires and you’re completely happy as you are.”

Uncertain, Castiel risked a nod. “I still don’t really understand what you want from me,” he observed. “This conversation is fruitless.”

“If you had to choose between Sam and Dean, who would you choose?”

Castiel’s head snapped up. “Are you threatening them?”

“Only hypothetically. Sam or Dean. Who do you like the most?”

Castiel couldn’t help it; before he could respond his mind automatically weighed up the options and hit a conclusion. Ignoring it, he opened his mouth to threaten his companion but closed it again when he saw the look on Gabriel’s face.

He’d read his mind. Of course he had.

“You really care about young Dean, huh?”

“Stay away from him.”

“Wow, suck on a throat lozenge, growly. That’s some serious deep throat goin’ on there.”

Castiel balled his fists. “If you touch Dean I will kill you.”

Gabriel’s eyes lit up. “You died to save him once before, didn’t you? He means a lot to you. I’d even say you love him. If an angel can even love a human, of course, considering all the problems involved. Having his eyes boil away in their sockets the first time he saw you naked would probably put a crimp on your relationship.”

Castiel fell silent. He had no idea what to say. He couldn’t deduce whether Gabriel was threatening Dean or not; this was confusing in the extreme.

“Well, I think that’s my question answered,” Gabriel announced after a short pause, turning on his heel and gazing up at the sky.

“I don’t understand,” Castiel said, nervous. “I didn’t answer it. I do not want anything for myself.”

“Oh, but you do, even if you don’t know it.” Gabriel smiled and, for once, it seemed genuine. “You poor schmuck, you. It’s staring you in the face and you don’t even know it. I think I’ll give it a little push, just to see what happens.”

“You’re talking in riddles.”

“Aren’t I?” Gabriel laughed. “You know, all this reminds me of a song by a group called The Rolling Stones. I know you’ve never heard of them and they’re way too cool for the likes of you, but anyway. It goes something along the lines of, ‘You can’t always get what you want, but if you try sometime, you get what you need.’ And that’s you, Castiel. I’m going to give you what you need. Now you just have to learn to want it.” And with a cheeky wave of his fingers, he was gone.

Castiel stared at the empty space in the parking lot for a long, long time before he moved on himself.

He had no idea what has just happened, but he had a very bad feeling about it.

~ ~ ~

The first thing he did was call Dean. Whether Gabriel had been threatening the Winchesters or not, he had to know they were safe. He arrived at the diner before Dean had even finished giving out the address, weaving through time and space while the words were still in the air. His appearance was greeted by a short, sharp scream and the sound of breaking china. Castiel was on the alert in less than a heartbeat, whirling around to face the threat, but all he saw was a middle-aged, rake-thin waitress staring at him in absolute shock, the tray at her feet and three broken mugs of coffee pouring steaming fluid onto the floor.

“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

He turned away before she could reply and spotted the brothers sitting in a booth by the window. He sat beside Sam and tucked his coat around his knees, darting his gaze around the diner for potential threats.

“Well, I guess she’ll be laying off the schnapps for a while,” Dean observed airily, nodding across at the waitress, who was still staring at Castiel in amazement with her hand over her heart as though she was scared it was going to break out of her ribcage.

Sam smirked. “Uh, y’know, just because we’re used to seeing you pop in and out, Cas, it doesn’t mean everyone else is.”

“Are you okay?” Castiel asked without preamble.

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Shouldn’t we be?”

“I don’t know. I just had a very... bewildering conversation with Gabriel.”

Sam dropped his fork. “Oh, that can’t be good. What’s that son of a bitch up to now?”

Castiel took a breath and held it for a few moments before answering, “He wished to know what I want.”

Dean raised both eyebrows this time. “What do you mean, ‘what you want?’”

“Precisely.”

Sam glanced at his brother before turning back to him. “Come again?”

“He asked me what I want,” Castiel repeated, dropping his voice. “I didn’t understand the question and he wouldn’t clarify it. But I got the impression he came up with an answer anyway and he’s going to do something. I think it may involve you two.”

“And that’s the end of my lunch,” Sam said bitterly, pushing his plate away from him. “Great, that’s all we need. What’s he going to do to us this time? Strand us on Gilligan’s Island?”

“If he strands you on an island, I will find you,” Castiel promised, although even as he said it he realized he didn’t have the faintest clue exactly where Gilligan’s Island was.

“I don’t get it,” Dean muttered. “Why would he ask you what you want?”

“I don’t know.”

“Does he want to buy you a present or something?”

Castiel quirked a small grin at the very idea. “I would imagine not.”

“What do you want?” Sam asked abruptly.

“I want the end of the apocalypse,” Castiel said, a little unnerved by the sudden question. “That’s what I told him.”

“And?”

Castiel met Dean’s eyes and caught his breath. Why was everybody asking him questions he couldn’t answer today? “I don’t want anything else,” he said after a moment’s hesitation. “This line of questioning is pointless.”

“Clearly it’s not pointless if an archangel’s riding your ass about it, Cas. What did you–”

Castiel held up a hand in warning. He could sense something; a presence. The air was suddenly thick with the scent of roses and a soft breeze rustled through the diner, blowing patterns in the hair of the patrons and sending flimsy paper menus sailing to the floor. It only lasted a few seconds but Castiel felt it as strongly as a hurricane.

“Something’s happening,” he growled, rising to his feet and staring around the building. He saw nothing untoward, and after a few heartbeats he glanced back down at the Winchesters. Sam had pulled out his demon-killing knife and was staring around them suspiciously, but Dean was gazing at Castiel. His head was tilted to one side and he was frowning a little, looking up at him with an emotion Castiel couldn’t read. He didn’t seem aware of any danger at all. He just... stared.

“Are you alright, Dean?” Castiel asked. Sam swivelled in his chair and turned to face him.

“I’m fine,” Dean replied, smiling. “You’re too dreamy, has anyone ever told you that?”

There was an uncomfortable pause.

“Dean?” Sam said uncertainly. “You okay, man?”

Dean grinned at him. “Sure.”

“You just said I was dreamy,” Castiel pointed out, slowly sitting down. He wasn’t too sure what ‘dreamy’ meant but, from the way Dean had said it, it seemed to imply he was attractive in some way. It definitely wasn’t something his friend would have come out with.

Dean sat back and folded his arms. “So?” he replied. “It’s the truth, isn’t it?”

Sam’s face was a mask of worry. “What the... Seriously, Dean, what’s got into you?”

“I’m in a good mood,” Dean said with a shrug. “Cas is here. Everything’s fine. I’m happy.”

Sam closed his mouth and looked at Castiel helplessly. “What just happened?”

Castiel was starting to get a very, very bad feeling about this and there was only one way to know whether his suspicion was correct. “May I?” he asked, raising a hand, and when Dean grinned hugely and nodded, he leaned across the table and placed it palm-down over his chest.

“I like it when you lay hands on me,” Dean quipped, but something about the way his eyes fluttered told Castiel everything he needed to know even before he sensed the Enochian sigil carved into the pumping muscle of his heart.

“That presence I felt was a Cupid,” he sighed, sitting back in his seat again. “He has enchanted Dean.”

“There’s only one guy round here doing any enchanting, and he ain’t a cherub, Cas,” Dean told him meaningfully, waggling his eyebrows.

Sam spluttered before he spoke. “No way. You have got to be kidding us. Dean got hit by Cupid’s arrow? That’s crazy!”

“It’s not crazy. This is Gabriel’s doing. I don’t understand why he thought this was necessary, but...” Castiel’s voice trailed off. Dean was staring at him intently. Very, very intently.

“Holy crap, he loves you!” Sam said it extremely quickly, aghast.

“I believe so,” Castiel answered forlornly.

Dean scowled. “I’m not under a spell, you morons. Do you really think I could feel this way just because some fat naked dude who likes to hug everything in sight told me to? Don’t be dumb, Sammy. I’m a grown man. I’ve got a mind of my own. If I like Cas, it’s because he’s awesome and it’s nothing to do with any stupid Cupid.” He nudged his brother. “Heh. ‘Stupid Cupid.’ I like that.”

Castiel noticed that Sam’s face was changing color, growing more deeply red with every passing second. His eyes were shining and he seemed to be having difficulty controlling his voice when he asked, “Dean, are you in love with Cas?”

Castiel looked at him, dreading the response. Dean, however, didn’t seem perturbed at all. “Well, duh,” he said. “Why wouldn’t I be? It’s Cas!”

Sam seemed torn between a laugh and a sob. He turned his gaze on Castiel and raised his eyebrows. “What the hell is Gabriel doing?”

Dean’s knee bumped Castiel’s under the table, making him jump. Hurriedly, he stood up and tried to ignore the flash of glee in Dean’s eyes. “If you will excuse me, I need to find that Cupid and ask him some questions,” he snapped, finding it surprisingly difficult to breathe all of a sudden.

“No goodbye kiss?” Dean asked cheekily, and Castiel shot him a look of utter terror before throwing himself through space and away.

~ ~ ~

Cupid told him he was acting on Gabriel’s orders, but that wasn’t much of a revelation.

“Dean Winchester is in love with an angel because of you,” Castiel said accusingly.

“I know,” Cupid grinned. “Isn’t it great? I’ve never done anything like that before! I was a bit worried at first because, hey, you know – Heaven isn’t too keen on humans and angels getting it on. But Gabriel said it was meant to be, so who am I to argue?” He batted Castiel playfully on the arm, his chubby face beaming with delight. “So, how’s it going? Have you smooched yet?”

“No,” hissed Castiel, shocked. “You have been tricked. Gabriel is merely playing a cruel joke.”

Cupid’s face fell. “Love isn’t cruel, dude. Don’t ever say that.”

Sighing, Castiel pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers. He thought for a little while and then, realizing that he had no choice, he shouted Gabriel’s name. The archangel arrived so quickly Castiel knew he’d been waiting to be summoned.

Cupid fell to his knees before the new arrival, bowing his head in respect, but Gabriel waved him away. “You’ve done your job. Go eat some ice cream or something.”

“Your wish is my command,” giggled Cupid, rubbing his hands in glee, and then he was gone.

“You have a sick sense of humor,” Castiel snapped, glaring at Gabriel with all of his might.

Gabriel was unfazed; he merely grinned from ear to ear. “Have you any idea how many women would sell their soul to a demon to have Dean Winchester fall madly in love with them? You’re a lucky guy, brother.”

Castiel balled his fists. “Restore him to his senses. This is a despicable act.”

“Love ain’t despicable, Castiel.”

“It’s not real love!”

Gabriel put his hands in his jeans pockets and looked him up and down. “And how do you know that? You understand how Cupids work. If this wasn’t a match made in Heaven it wouldn’t stick. Seems pretty sticky to me.”

Castiel opened his mouth to retort, then closed it again. Actually, Gabriel had a point. A man as stubborn and contrary as Dean wouldn’t fall under a spell so easily unless there was something there already; some fondness for Castiel, perhaps. Warm feelings. Friendship. He refused to believe it was love, though. Dean did not love anybody except his family, and Castiel wasn’t family.

“You have imposed your wishes on his mind,” Castiel said eventually, scowling. “However he may feel about me, you have taken those feelings to their extreme. You shouldn’t meddle with human emotions this way. It’s... it’s indecent.”

Gabriel snorted. “Indecent? Castiel, you wouldn’t know ‘indecent’ if it came up to you in a leather gimp outfit and asked you to spank it. You’ve never been indecent in your entire existence. And what the hell for? Why haven’t you ever had sex?”

Castiel felt his vessel blushing and hated himself for it. “That is none of your concern,” he replied, hoping his voice didn’t sound as flustered as he felt.

“Oh, it is,” Gabriel smirked, and Castiel felt hatred spike up his spine. “You’re missing out, buddy. You’re missing out big time. Your life’s been nothing but duty and following orders and you’ve never taken time out for yourself. You don’t even know how to. If I said to you ‘relax’, you wouldn’t know what to do. Hell, look at your record – you’ve got a human who’s been making goo-goo eyes at you for years and you ignore him because you can’t comprehend something as basic as ‘fun’.”

“I don’t know what ‘goo-goo’ means,” Castiel interrupted in frustration.

“He wants you, Castiel! And you’re too stupid to see it!”

“Dean does not...”

“I don’t care how many times you deny it, it’s the truth. Dean probably doesn’t even know it himself yet, but this little plan of mine will wake him up to it, too. You need to loosen up, Castiel. Enjoy yourself. Be happy.”

Castiel was utterly confused. “Happy? You’re doing all this because you want me to be happy?” It didn’t sound like Gabriel. Gabriel mocked and belittled; tricked and humiliated. He lived for his own amusement and not anybody else’s.

“Yes,” said Gabriel, his face softening. “I enjoy playing with humans. You know that. But I play with fools and bigots. I teach lessons. And today I want to teach you one, because you’re a fool too. You’re looking love in the face and you’re ignoring it because you don’t think you’re worthy of it.”

If anything, Castiel found himself even more confused. This was the most uncomfortable conversation he’d ever had in his life. “Since when do you care about my worthiness?” he asked, frowning. “You barely even know me!”

“The world’s ending, bub.” Gabriel smiled bitterly. “I don’t want to see anybody die a virgin when there’s some prime beef ass sitting there just waiting for them to take a bite.”

“You are crude and disgusting.”

“And you’re a prude. You’ve already turned your back on Heaven. What else do you have to lose?” Gabriel scratched his chin. “I want you to do the dirty with Dean. You have some fun for once and I’ll lift the spell.”

Castiel’s mouth fell open in shock. “Do the dirty?” he repeated, knowing exactly what it meant but hoping he’d mistaken the phrase for something else entirely.

“He’ll be into it, don’t worry. It’s not icky. I’m not into rape or anything that extreme.” Gabriel smirked. “Well, not unless the recipient really deserved it.”

“You want me to have sex with Dean Winchester?” Castiel clarified, feeling sweat break out on his skin. This was insane. This was absolutely, categorically insane.

“It’s no big deal for him,” Gabriel shrugged. “He has sex all the time. He’s got no hang-ups about men. And he likes you more than you know. I just... gave him a nudge.”

“A nudge,” Castiel breathed. His legs felt wobbly.

“What’s a little nudge between friends?”

“I can’t... I won’t...”

“You’re going to have to, Castiel. This spell’s just gonna get worse and worse. You’ll see what I mean.”

Castiel met Gabriel’s eyes. He felt tired, all of a sudden. Small and insignificant. Perhaps this was how mortals felt when the angels interfered with their lives.

Powerless.

“You are a hateful creature,” he told the archangel.

“You’ll be thanking me once you’ve had a few orgasms,” Gabriel grinned, and was gone.

~ ~ ~

It was more difficult than he’d anticipated to summon up the courage to face Dean again, but he couldn’t stay away from the Winchesters forever. Castiel waited an entire day, during which time he tried everything he could think of to get Cupid to undo his spell, but to no avail. Cupids were stubborn when it came to love. Once dished out, they saw it as a grievous slight on their existence to have it rejected. Even when Castiel pointed out that Dean’s love could not be reciprocated by him and would therefore cause Dean pain, Cupid remained unmoved.

“It is better to have loved and lost than never loved at all,” quoted the cherub smugly.

“I order you to remove the spell.”

“Gabriel outranks you. It’s staying.”

“I will hurt you,” warned Castiel.

“Love hurts,” said Cupid. “All part of the job.”

“Please,” begged Castiel.

Cupid smiled. “Why not let a little love into your heart? It won’t kill you.”

“I could kill you, though. Remove the spell.”

Cupid disappeared, a look of horror on his face.

Castiel sighed and steeled himself. This was going to be one of the most awkward experiences of his life, and there was nothing he could do to stave it off any longer. He flew to the Winchesters.

~ ~ ~

Sam was sitting with his head in his hands at the table when Castiel materialized in the brothers’ motel room. He looked around for Dean and deduced that he was in the bathroom, judging by the closed door, the sound of the shower running and the singing wafting through the air. He listened, unnerved to hear Dean singing the phrase ‘love is in the air, do-be do-be do-be doo’ over and over as though he didn’t know the rest of the lyrics, and he closed his eyes for a few moments, gathering himself together.

“Cas!” Sam said, jumping to his feet. “Where have you been, man?”

“I was discussing the situation with Gabriel.”

“And?” Sam’s eyes were wide and he looked tired. He was worried about his brother, Castiel could tell, although most of his demeanour screamed exasperation rather than genuine fear.

“Gabriel will not undo the spell,” Castiel said.

Sam frowned. “Why not? And what the hell is he doing, anyway? What is all this, Cas? Dean’s been driving me nuts about you. I’ve never seen him act like this. You’re all he can think about and it’s like the rest of the world doesn’t exist. I don’t know whether to hit him or barf on him in disgust.”

Castiel looked around him and found a chair. He lowered himself into it, his hands in his lap. “It’s all my fault,” he said, his voice filled with regret. “Gabriel wishes me to... have fun. He thinks that I will be able to do so if Dean is besotted with me.”

Sam’s eyebrows moved halfway up his forehead. “The Trickster... Gabriel... he’s cursed Dean so that you can enjoy yourself?”

“It’s not a curse. Not precisely,” Castiel corrected swiftly. “To all intents and purpose, Dean really is in love with me.” He lowered his eyes. “I am very uncomfortable with this. I do not condone Gabriel’s actions.”

There was a pause before Sam said carefully, “Uh, Cas, when Gabriel says ‘fun’... he’s not really talking about you two riding the ferris wheel together, is he?”

Castiel blinked up at him, a little puzzled. “Ferris wheel?”

Sam shook his head and sat down. He leaned towards Castiel and lowered his voice. “I know how that bastard works, okay? I’ve lived through his games more times than I’d like to think. If he’s mind-whammied Dean into falling in love with you, clearly he wants something from you in return, and it’s something big.” His face softened. “Cas, what does he want you to do?”

Castiel looked down at his hands, unable to answer; saying it out loud made it seem all the more real. But Sam hissed out a breath anyway and sat back, clearly understanding everything. He was amazingly perceptive when he wanted to be, although obviously having him understand the situation didn’t make it any easier to deal with.

“What are you going to do?” Sam asked gently, after a heavy pause.

“I don’t know,” Castiel replied, miserable. “Gabriel told me that the spell will break, but only when Dean and I... we have to... You know.”

Sam stared at the bathroom door. The shower noise had stopped and Dean had now segued into singing something about ‘feeling it in his fingers’ and ‘feeling it in his toes’. Castiel wasn’t sure what he was feeling, but he knew it wasn’t good.

“This is Gabriel’s idea of fun,” Sam said flatly.

“For what it’s worth, he assured me that Dean does like me,” Castiel said, but his voice was weak and not at all convincing. “Cupid’s spell has merely reinforced feelings that were already there.”

“Dean wasn’t in love with you before this, Cas,” Sam corrected him. “He liked you, but that doesn’t mean he wanted to rip your clothes off and bang your brains out.” Castiel’s expression must have betrayed his shock, because Sam looked a little guilty before adding, “What I mean is – Dean’s not like that. He’s not that kind of guy. If he liked you, you’d have known about it. Has he ever given you any indication that he feels that way?”

Castiel thought about it. “He does spend a lot of time staring at me.”

“Uh-huh,” Sam nodded, looking unconvinced.

“And he took me to a den of iniquity once. He was concerned about my sexual inexperience. Perhaps that was a sign that he wanted to educate me in some way.”

Sam looked stunned. “Dean took you to a brothel?”

“Yes.”

“What happened?”

Castiel shifted in his seat. “I kissed a lady named Chastity and then she screamed and Dean and I ran away.”

Sam took a moment to digest this information before looking at him thoughtfully. “Dude, I hope you don’t mind me asking this, but... are you a virgin?”

Castiel took a deep breath, wishing everybody wasn’t so obsessed with his sex life. Or lack of it. “I am.”

“Son of a bitch.” Sam rubbed his chin. “So Gabriel really does want to get you laid. And I thought having Dean as an older brother was a pain in the ass.”

Castiel opened his mouth to reply but the bathroom door suddenly swung open and a voice cried, “Cas!” He turned and saw Dean standing amidst a cloud of steam, a pink towel slung low around his hips and his eyes widened in joy. He rose to his feet, wondering what to say – ‘You’re just imagining all this’ didn’t seem to be adequate – but Dean removed all necessity for words when he bounded across the room and bundled Castiel into a hug so tight that Castiel choked.

“I hate it when you go away,” Dean declared, rubbing a hand up and down his back. Castiel stared over Dean’s shoulder at Sam who, despite everything, was hiding a grin behind his hand. Castiel could only assume he found the panic in his eyes amusing.

Castiel was not amused.

“Dean, please let me go,” he ordered, and Dean dropped him and stood back. He was smiling wider than Castiel had ever seen him smile, and for some reason it hurt to see him look that way, although Castiel didn’t have time to dwell on why.

“Dude, where did you fly off to? I wanted to spend the evening with you.”

“I was... otherwise occupied,” Castiel said stiffly.

“It’s okay, no biggie,” Dean said brightly. His eyes widened and he clapped his hands. “Wait! I wrote you a poem!” He practically skipped over to his bed and picked up the leather-bound journal that Castiel knew had belonged to John Winchester. Rifling through the pages, he found what he was looking for and held the journal up before him to read out the words, clearing his throat melodramatically first. “Okay, this is only a little thing, but I hope you like it.”

“I shall endeavour to try,” Castiel said in a weak voice.

Dean grinned and read aloud:

“Roses are red
Violets are blue
Angels are dicks
Apart from you.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Castiel saw Sam slam his head down on the table. Dean remained standing in place, his expression full of hope and joy, and Castiel knew he had to speak and so he simply said, “That was lovely, Dean.”

Dean shrugged. “Ah, it was nothing. I suck at poetry and I know it. I’m better at other things.” His eyes flashed so suggestively that even Castiel knew exactly what he meant, but that didn’t stop Dean from adding bluntly, “You know, like sex ‘n’ stuff.”

“Oh dear God,” Sam moaned, still face-down on the table. “Cas, if you don’t fix him I’m going to have to shoot him like a dog.”

Castiel decided that he had only one option here: to be forceful. “Dean, sit down,” he ordered. To his relief, Dean did exactly as he was told. He seated himself on the end of the nearest bed and stared at him with an unguarded expression as Castiel knelt at his feet. Then he stifled a laugh.

“Seriously, Cas, don’t you want to wait until Sam’s left the room?” Dean whispered playfully, opening his legs so that Castiel could slot himself between them if he so wanted.

Castiel closed his eyes, concentrated on remaining calm and opened them again. “I do not wish to have sex with you at this moment,” he declared.

Dean smiled. “Okay. So which moment would you like to have sex in?”

“Dean, I don’t want to have sex with you at all.”

“Oh.” Dean looked disappointed, but before Castiel could continue he said cheerfully, “Well, that kinda sucks, but I can live with that. I don’t just love you for your body, Cas. I love you for your mind as well. We can just, y’know, hang out. I like being around you. You make me feel good.”

Castiel felt a stab of sadness at the carefree way Dean said the words. Overwhelmed, he looked away, meeting Sam’s eyes from across the room. Sam looked just as sad as he felt. Dean was under a spell, being manipulated by an archangel in some ridiculous, humiliating scheme, and yet he was actually happy for once. The irony was painful.

“I’m... glad I make you feel good,” Castiel told him, his voice a little unsteady.

Dean’s hand traced a line down the side of his cheek and Castiel looked up in surprise, unused to the sensation of skin on skin. “Are you okay?” Dean asked, his forehead creasing into a worried frown. “You seem kind of sad. Is it me? Did I upset you? I love you, Cas. Don’t ever think I don’t, because I do. I love you so much I can’t live without you. I’d go to Hell for you in a heartbeat. You’re all the world to me and I want you to know that. I wouldn’t ever hurt you and I love you. I really, really love you.”

With a hiss, Castiel pulled away from him. He rose to his feet and moved to the other side of the room, startled at how powerful his emotions were; how Dean’s blind adoration was so welcome and so chilling all at once. He hated it and yet he liked it, too – he liked it when Dean looked into his eyes like that, when there was such concern, when Dean told him he’d do anything for him...

Gabriel had known this would happen. Gabriel had known that this would hurt, damn him.

“Cas?” Dean’s voice was filled with worry.

“He’s okay, Dean,” Sam soothed him, as though he was talking to a child. “I think he just needs a moment.”

“What did I do?” Dean asked, sounding panicked. “Cas? Oh my God, Cas... what did I do? How can I make it up to you? Tell me!”

“I’m okay,” Castiel said swiftly. He gave Sam a pointed glance. “I need to speak to Sam alone for a few minutes.”

Dean stood and drew in a trembling, uncertain breath. “You’re okay? You’re really okay? I didn’t hurt you somehow?”

Castiel glanced at him. He was wringing his hands, face a picture of worry and fear. This wasn’t Dean any more. This was someone else, someone broken and corrupted, someone under a spell.

“I am fine,” Castiel stressed, forcing a warm smile onto his face.

Dean relaxed, but his eyes were still fearful. “Great,” he said. “Um, that’s good.”

“We’re just stepping outside, okay?” Sam said. “You be cool, right?”

As the door closed behind them, they heard Dean call out, “Miss you already!”

~ ~ ~

They stood in the parking lot and stared at the ground. Castiel’s hands were shaking, so he jammed them in his pockets. They’d never done that before. It disturbed him.

“He’s getting worse every hour,” Sam said. “From the moment it started in the diner yesterday, it’s just been getting stronger and stronger. If it goes on like this... I don’t know what’s going to happen, but you heard him in there. He said he’d go to Hell for you, man. What if he decides to prove it to you? What if he does something stupid?”

Castiel nodded, still staring at the asphalt.

“Are you sure you can’t snap him out of it any other way except by doing what Gabriel wants?”

“No.” Castiel clenched his fists in his pockets. “Gabriel is stronger than me. He can manipulate the world in ways I can’t. He has taken Cupid’s spell and twisted it into something bad, I can feel it. In the end I will have to concede to his wishes simply to save Dean’s life.”

“That sick piece of shit.” Sam sounded devastated. Castiel glanced across at him, noting how pale he was. Dean’s display of misplaced devotion had clearly unsettled the both of them.

They stood in silence for a while before Sam said in a carefully controlled voice, “It’s just sex. We’re probably reading too much into it. I know it’s your first time but Dean’s done it so often you can just let him take the lead. It won’t be too terrible, honest, and then he’ll be okay again. It’s not the end of the world, Cas.” He cleared his throat. “Really.”

Castiel peered at him. “What will Dean say when he returns to his senses?”

Sam shook his head. “I’ve got no idea.”

“Gabriel claimed that this could not be classified as rape because Dean harbors feelings for me. I don’t think he really understands the concept of ‘rape’.”

Sam rubbed his eyes, saying nothing.

Castiel sighed. “I don’t want to hurt Dean, and I fear that I’ll have to hurt him no matter what my choice is.”

“It’s just sex,” Sam said quietly, and looked away. “I guess you’re going to have to keep telling yourself that.”

Castiel stared at him for a few minutes, conflicted, and then did something he very rarely did.

He ran away.

~ ~ ~

His phone kept ringing. Castiel ignored it at first, but as the hours passed the calls became more and more frequent. The name on the screen was Dean, of course, and he always left a message. Castiel only listened to the first one, managing to crack a smile despite himself when he heard Dean singing a song that appeared to be named ‘I Just Called To Say I Love You.’ After that, he tried to ignore it. But he didn’t turn the phone off.

He was being a coward, he knew, but he was truly at an impasse. He didn’t know what to do. He cared about Dean a great deal: Gabriel hadn’t been wrong about that, but having to take that feeling and replace it with lust felt wrong. Castiel wasn’t an expert on love, let alone sex, but even he knew that Gabriel was trying to teach him a lesson about enjoyment and fun by hurting someone in the process. It was Gabriel 101. This was how he operated. And there was nothing ‘fun’ about the thought of having sex with Dean Winchester when Dean Winchester was out of his head, insane and addled and absolutely not himself.

It occurred to Castiel that he’d quite like to try it when Dean was sane again.

And the moment he had the thought, he could have wept.

It seemed that Gabriel was teaching him a lesson after all.

~ ~ ~

It took an entire day, but the phone calls from Dean finally stopped. A few hours later Sam started calling him instead. Castiel let the device in his hand play its tune twice over before he answered; he really wasn’t sure what it was he could say, but it seemed rude to ignore Sam’s calls, even though it had seemed prudent to ignore Dean’s.

“Cas? Where did you go?” Sam sounded harried and his voice was strangely echoey.

“I needed some time to think.”

“Okay, I get that. Have you finished thinking now?”

“Not really.”

“He’s driving me insane. I don’t know how much more of him mooning over you I can take. You need to get back here, Cas.”

“I’m... sorry, Sam. I don’t know how I can help.”

There was a thudding sound in the background. “Sammy! What’s going on?”

“Dean, give me some privacy, okay? I thought you’d gone to get some food?”

“You’re talking to Cas, aren’t you? I can hear you talking to him! Let me in there!”

There were more thumps and the sound of a door being kicked open. Castiel had just figured out that Sam must have locked himself in the bathroom when there was a strangled yelp and Dean’s voice met his ear. “Cas? Cas! Is that you?”

“I am here, Dean,” Castiel said uncomfortably.

“I was worried, man! Why didn’t you pick up when I called you?”

Castiel thought quickly. “I was, er, out of range.”

He heard a soft exhalation of air; Dean was sighing in relief. “Wow, you had me scared for a while there. Where are you? Are you coming back? I miss you.”

“Not just yet.”

“Was it something I said?” Dean’s voice was raw.

“No, Dean. Please, don’t worry. May I speak to Sam again?”

“Cas, I really want you back here.”

“I know. I’m, uh, sorry.”

Sam’s voice piped up in the background. “Give me the phone, Dean.”

“I wrote you another poem,” Dean said triumphantly. “Wanna hear it?”

“Not really,” Castiel said without thinking.

“Oh.” Dean sounded deflated, and Castiel mentally kicked himself. But then Dean’s voice brightened and he continued, “It doesn’t matter, I’ll do something else for you. I’ll make you a mixtape. How does that sound?”

Castiel didn’t have the faintest inkling of what a mixtape could be, but he didn’t let his ignorance show. “That would be very nice, Dean. Thank you.”

“Do you like, I dunno, heavenly choir-sounding music or do you like gospel? Or how about something modern like Coldplay or Snow Patrol? I could get on board with them if you like them.”

Somewhere in the distance, Sam said sharply, “Holy crap, Dean. When all this is over, I am never going to let you live this down.”

“That would be great,” Castiel said with what he hoped sounded like genuine enthusiasm. “Could you please–”

“No, wait, sorry, I’m being selfish,” Dean interrupted. “I’m just assuming you’ll like the shit I want you like. Come on, tell me. Who do you like?”

“Dean, will you please let me have the phone?”

“Shut it, Sammy. This is serious. I’m talking to Cas, okay? So what do you say, dude?”

Castiel paused. “About what?”

Dean chuckled. “Which bands do you like? Jeez, you’re so bewildered sometimes. I love that about you.”

Castiel frantically searched his memories for a music band. The only one that jumped out at him was the band Gabriel had mentioned right at the start of this nightmare. “The Rolling Stone,” he offered, flustered.

“The Rolling Stone?” Dean repeated back to him.

“Yes. Them. Their music is very pleasing.”

“Just ‘Stone’? Not ‘Stones’?”

Castiel could have screamed. “Please, Dean. Let me speak to your brother.”

Dean made a cooing sound. It made Castiel’s hair stand on end. “Not until you tell me you love me.”

Castiel had no idea he even had a tether, but apparently he’d just reached the end of it. “Sam. Now,” he growled.

“I’m going to hang up on you.”

“What?”

“Tell me you love me first.”

“Dean, please put Sam–”

“I love you, Cas. Come on, say it back. Or you can hang up.”

“You said you were hanging up!”

“I’m not doing it first.”

“Give me that damn phone,” said Sam, sounding utterly furious, and after a few awkward yelps he appeared to have ripped the cell out of Dean’s hand because the next voice that came down the line was his. “You hear what I have to put up with? Come on, Cas, get your butt back here! Share the load before he drives me totally crazy!”

Castiel sighed. “I’m sorry, Sam. I still have no idea what to do.”

“I don’t care what you do, Cas, just help me with him! He’s turned into a drooling imbecile and it’s all your fault!”

“Hey!” Dean snapped somewhere in the distance. “Don’t blame me being an imbecile on Cas! It’s not his fault!”

“I will let you know when I have made my decision,” Castiel told Sam helplessly, and ended the call.

~ ~ ~

Two hours later, the text messages began.

The first one from Sam read, Please come back, Castiel. He thinks you don’t love him. I can’t calm him down. This is insane.

The second one, sent the next morning, said: He’s been crying all night. Where are you? Are you trying to find Gabriel?

An hour later came: Dean is really losing it. Please, Castiel. Come back.

The final message from Sam read, What the fuck is wrong with you? I thought Dean was your friend! He’s suffering here and I can’t help him!

Castiel was still processing that when another text message arrived. Despite the fact the number wasn’t in his address book, the screen said Gabriel. Castiel’s fingers trembled as they opened it.

Hiding won’t make Dean live any longer, brother.

Castiel read the words and made his choice. Not that it was a choice at all, of course.

~ ~ ~

The motel was in chaos. There were crowds clogging up the parking lot, police cars and fire trucks and ambulances parked all over the place. The night sky was lit by searchlights and, as Castiel arrived and stared about him in shock, a TV news crew pulled up beside him and tumbled out of their vehicle, cameras at the ready.

“He’s up there!” called a bystander, pointing up at the top of the motel. The cameraman standing next to Castiel raised his lens to the roof and Castiel followed the action with his eyes.

There was a figure standing up there. Twenty floors up, looking down, clearly ready to jump. And Castiel was at his side before the thought had even finished processing.

“Dean,” he said.

Dean wobbled a little and took a small step back from the ledge. Up here, the noise from the crowds below had been softened by the distance, but the movement still made a few people scream as they assumed he was going to fall. Castiel was aware of Sam standing a few feet away, panting hard, his expression stricken with worry, but he couldn’t tear his eyes from Dean’s face. He was pale and wild-eyed, red blotches on his cheeks from where the salt of his tears had burned his skin. His eyes were red and glistened in the half-light on the roof, and he was shaking uncontrollably.

“C-Cas?” he murmured, looking at him in disbelief.

“I’m here,” Castiel said, taking a step forward. “Move away from the edge, Dean.”

“Please, man, do as he says,” Sam begged, his voice hoarse.

“Where did you go?” Dean asked, sounding utterly distraught. “Why did you leave me?”

“I was scared. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry, Dean. I shouldn’t have left you.”

“Don’t you love me?”

The question was so honest, and the look on Dean’s face so pleading and desperate, that when Castiel replied, “Yes, I love you,” he actually meant it. He couldn’t have lied to Dean in that state. Not ever.

Dean’s breathing speeded up. He was still standing precariously near the edge of the roof, though, and Sam took a nervous step forward. Dean didn’t seem to notice.

“I can’t live without you, Cas. I thought you’d gone and I wanted to die.”

“I haven’t gone, Dean. I’m here. Now please – get down from there. Let’s go and do something. Let’s... ‘hang out.’”

“You don’t believe me, do you?” Dean said slowly, his voice hitching. “You think I don’t love you, and that’s why you left.”

“That’s not what I thought at all.”

“If I jumped, you’d know, wouldn’t you?” Dean sniffed and a smile spread across his face. “That’s it, isn’t it? You want me to prove how much I love you, and that’s why you’re here now?”

“Dean, he loves you, okay? You need to listen to him.”

Dean shot his brother an acidic look. “Sam’s jealous because he thinks I love you more than I love him.” He smiled grimly. “Sam’s never loved anybody the way I love you. He doesn’t understand love.”

Castiel tried to ignore the hurt look on Sam’s face as he stepped forward, reaching out a hand. “Dean, please,” he said calmly. “Take my hand. Be with me.” It occurred to him that perhaps some term of endearment was called for, and so he hastily added the first thing that came into his head: “My, um, love.”

It sounded foolish, but it made Dean tilt his head and stare at him fondly. “You understand love, don’t you, Cas?” he asked.

“I do now,” Castiel affirmed, realizing that it was true.

“Love is wanting to do anything for somebody else. Even dying. You died for me once, Cas, so I want to die for you. Then you’ll know how I really feel about you.”

“Dean, this is not–”

But Dean simply closed his eyes and stepped off the ledge.

“No!” yelled Sam, and the crowd below them shrieked, but Castiel had Dean wrapped in his wings and whisked away from harm so quickly that the cameras didn’t even register his presence.

The next day, the local media were in uproar about how some David Blaine-a-like had hijacked the roof of the Mountain Breeze Motel and performed a vanishing act routine without a safety net or wires or ropes. Most people assumed it was done with mirrors; a few said the whole thing was a projection from a secret camera somewhere along the street. Only one person knew the truth, and he went back downstairs and stretched out on his bed and hid his face in his hands while he waited for his adrenaline to die down.

Then he sent Castiel a text message that read: Just make sure you still respect him in the morning, okay?

~ ~ ~

Castiel winged it in more ways than one, deciding that taking Dean back to the motel room downstairs would be a bad idea and choosing another place at random while in mid-flight. They appeared in a cabin deep in the Canadian wilderness and before Dean had even opened his eyes Castiel made sure the logs in the fireplace were roaring with fire and the building was at a comfortable temperature. He shook snow off his wings and folded them away, taking a step back from his companion and drawing in a deep breath.

He couldn’t run away any more. He had to do what Gabriel wanted. Dean’s mind was being destroyed and only Castiel could stop it. This was wrong and yet, strangely, right all at once. Somehow having Dean need him so much had opened Castiel’s eyes to the fact that he needed to be needed.

“I knew you’d save me,” Dean said quietly, blinking at their new surroundings before turning to Castiel and smiling so gloriously that Castiel had to clutch at the back of the leather chair beside him to steady himself. It was like Dean had trained some kind of weapon on him, and he was totally at its mercy. “I knew you wouldn’t let me fall. I would have jumped even if you hadn’t been there, though. I want you to know how I feel.”

“I know very well how you feel, Dean,” Castiel said carefully. “It’s been hard to ignore.”

Dean’s eyes darted around the cabin until it fell on the bed in one corner. “I know you said you weren’t interested in sex, but are you sure you don’t want to reconsider? I don’t mind, really, I don’t, because even playing Scrabble with you all night would make me happy, but...”

“I have reconsidered,” Castiel told him, amazed that his voice was so steady.

Dean looked as though he was going to faint with relief. “Thank fuck for that. I thought I was gonna die a born-again virgin. You shouldn’t scare a guy like that, Cas.”

“Says the man who just threw himself off a building.”

“If I died, you’d bring me back,” Dean said mildly, taking a step forward.

“I can no longer do such things. Heaven’s powers are no longer my own.”

“You could still do it,” Dean declared, reaching out and starting to undo Castiel’s bedraggled tie. “I have faith in you.” He looked up and met Castiel’s gaze. “Do you have faith in me?”

“Yes,” said Castiel, wondering where all the air in the room had gone, and before he knew it he was kissing Dean with as much fire as there was in the grate a few feet away; clenching his fingers in Dean’s hair and pulling him nearer, closer, feeling for a rare moment in his existence. Dean moaned and smiled against his lips, hands slipping around his waist to hug him closer in return, and somehow they both ended up backing up until they reached the bed. Dean’s knees buckled as they hit the mattress and he fell onto his back, pulling Castiel down with him, the coat around Castiel’s body flaring out until it covered them both.

They kissed until Dean’s arousal became too much for him to bear, and then Castiel removed their clothes with brisk efficiency, nervous about what lay ahead but trapped in Gabriel’s net and unable to do anything about it. And it wasn’t as though he wasn’t aroused himself, as he saw with his own eyes as he pulled down his vessel’s slacks, gasping as his hand brushed the flesh he found there.

“Hey, good-lookin’,” Dean observed in a comical voice; then his lips closed over Castiel’s penis with such eagerness that Castiel actually forgot to breathe for longer than was probably healthy for the mortal body he was wearing. After a while Dean pulled away and lay back on the blankets, inviting Castiel to follow him with his eyes, and they kissed and caressed each other’s naked flesh for a long time, taking it slow, being careful, playing out their roles.

“I don’t think I’m really myself,” Dean whispered at one point, licking Castiel’s earlobe. “This doesn’t feel like me.” Castiel’s eyes widened and he went to move away, but Dean held him in place. “I like it,” he continued, huffing air into the ear beneath his lips. “I’d never do this, but I was wrong. This is me, Cas. This is me.”

Castiel moved his head so that he could stare Dean in the eyes, searching for the truth; then he placed a shaking hand over his heart. He could still feel the sigil, but it was fading. Dean was no longer under a spell. This was really him, or near enough for it not to matter by now.

“I’m your first, aren’t I?” Dean asked, running a palm down the side of Castiel’s face.

“You are,” Castiel murmured, leaning into his touch because he needed it.

“After me, every other man on the planet won’t match up,” Dean promised with a quirk of the lips. “I can’t speak for the women, though.”

“I don’t think you should speak at all,” Castiel informed him, and after that there was silence.

~ ~ ~

“So was I right or was I right?” asked Gabriel smugly, standing by the bed and staring down at the two figures curled together on the mattress.

Castiel extricated himself from Dean’s clutches and paced across the room, beckoning Gabriel to follow him. With a sly grin, the archangel obliged, coming to stand by the fireplace and smirking for all he was worth.

“You drove him to suicide,” Castiel hissed, furious. “You tormented him and warped his mind and drove him mad! How am I supposed to thank you for something like that?”

Gabriel shrugged. “A Ferrari would be nice.”

“You have no right to treat mortals this way! You’re sick! You’re the worst of all the host!”

“Says the angel who just spent an entire night riding a human like a cowboy,” Gabriel grinned. He gestured up and down Castiel’s naked, soiled body and whistled. “Man, you sure made up for lost time, didn’t you?”

Despite his fury, Castiel felt himself blushing. “That’s not the point,” he blurted.

“No, Castiel, that was exactly the point. Look at yourself. You’ve just dipped your pen in the mortal inkwell in more ways than one. You know what it’s like to see someone you care about suffer and you know what it’s like to feel adored. There are two basic human emotions right there that you didn’t have a few days ago – fear and love. That’s my gift to you.” He grabbed Castiel by the arm and yanked him over to the bed. “And look at that. Look at him.”

Castiel looked down at Dean. He was half-wrapped in blankets, his body relaxed in a way Castiel barely recognized after so many years of seeing it coiled and tight, and the expression on his slumbering face was peaceful.

It wasn’t until that moment that Castiel realized that he’d never seen Dean look that way before.

“You can’t always get what you want,” sang Gabriel tunelessly, raising his voice a little. “But if you try sometime, you get what you need.”

Castiel shook his head, frustrated by his companion’s flippancy. “You have a very strange way of proving a point.”

Gabriel patted Castiel’s sweaty back with one hand, gazing down at Dean’s face. “See how peaceful he is? You did that. Doesn’t that make you happy for once in your epically-long life?”

Castiel thought about it for a while. “Yes,” he said eventually. “But I would still very much like to kick your ass.”

~ ~ ~