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Castiel stood in front of them, the puddle of Raphael somewhere off to the side, as well as in a few other places. Crowley was long gone and Dean was faced with something that had his friend’s face but he wasn’t sure was his friend. Castiel picked the angel blade up from the floor, setting it on a metal table at his side.
“I won.” He stated, his voice too damned placid to be anything but creepy.
“Yeah, you sure did, Cas.” Dean didn’t know what to do, he wasn’t sure where Sam was and if he was realistic then he wasn’t sure where Cas was either. Bobby was stock-still with wide eyes next to him. Seemed Dean wasn’t the only one that had no clue and a lot of panic. “Might not be the best time to ask, Cas, but where’s Sam?” He only hoped Castiel hadn’t torn down the wall… or worse.
“Sam is asleep in the Impala, but he is unharmed.” Dean breathed a sigh of relief, maybe some of Cas was still intact. He wouldn’t actually bet on that hope, though. “I saved you again, Dean.”
“Yes, thank you for that.” He tried to sound sincere without the sheer terror ringing through if possible.
“The souls, they’ve done something remarkable.” Castiel flexed his fingers, as if trying them out for the first time. “It’s an incredible feeling.”
“What is, Cas?” Dean wasn’t sure what would come out of Cas’ mouth next, only hoping that it wouldn’t be something along the lines of what he’d said to Raphael just minutes ago. If he could make it out of the room without having to be mopped up he’d be grateful.
“The feeling of being a God.” Bobby and Dean traded gaping looks, unsure of what they could do. Who knew, maybe Cas wasn’t quite as crazy as he appeared? Yeah, that wasn’t a healthy thought. “I am your new God, a better God. You will kneel and profess your love unto me, your Lord, or I will destroy you.”
Dean’s breath caught in his chest, the room feeling more constricting by the second. Bobby slowly made to kneel and Dean met Cas’ eyes. “Cas, please. Can we, uh, can we talk in private? Just you and me, five minutes somewhere else?” He knew the look Bobby was giving him, probably somewhere between panic and just what the hell are you thinking.
“Why, Dean?” Castiel’s head tilted, a painfully familiar gesture coming from a foreign entity.
“Please, Cas? I don’t… I don’t want much. Just a quick conversation, all right? You and me, that’s it.” He wasn’t sure what he’d do, but if he could find a way to break Cas out of whatever soul high he was on maybe he could smack some sense into him.
Castiel gave him an appraising look before the room around them shifted and they were in a hotel room that Dean knew was just like any other he and Sam would share. “You have your five minutes, Dean.”
Dean stepped forward, still nursing his arm and his caution. He got about as near to Cas’ personal space as he felt wasn’t suicidal and felt Cas picking him apart with his eyes. In an instant the pain was taken from his body, everything healed. “You healed me?” Castiel nodded, no real expression on his face. “Thank you.” Dean was trying to avoid painfully awkward, but it was difficult when your friend/lover was a nuke and you had to somehow defuse him. “So uh, the souls, what’re they like?”
Castiel’s face shifted minimally as he considered it. “Pure power.”
Dean tried to keep the grimace off of his face as much as possible. That was never something good. “Cas, look, I–I’m sorry that I didn’t trust you, all right? I just…”
Castiel’s head tilted again, his eyes narrowing. “You were hurt, you felt betrayed.” The room seemed to darken visibly. “How do you think I felt, Dean? I asked you to trust me, you refused.”
“Cas, man, it was Crowley! You…” He tried to keep his calm, a shouting match with a new God that was pissed at you probably wasn’t a good idea. “You, I could trust, but only if it was just you. I tried not to believe it, man. I really did because I didn’t think you could do something like that. You and me were family once. I know there’s bad water under the bridge, a fucking flood of it, but I would have died for you. I almost did a couple of times. You died for me, more than once. I trusted you with my fucking soul, man. But Crowley’s a demon. I couldn’t–“ Dean cut himself off, shaking his head and scrubbing his face.
“What about now? Will you trust me now? Will you have faith now, Dean?” He looked into Castiel’s eyes, trying to find anything of his friend left in them. He wasn’t sure what he was looking at.
He ground his jaw, he wasn’t exactly stocked on options and escape routes. He’d have to wing it, just like always. “I…” The words died on his tongue the more he stared. He cleared his throat and tried again. “I could try.” He wasn’t sure if it was a lie or not, he didn’t really care so long as it kept Cas from killing him and everyone else with him.
Castiel smiled, as if that wasn’t freaky, and his eyes moved to glance at Dean’s shoulder. To the mark that was still there. “Yes, you could, couldn’t you?”
Dean didn’t have time to question what Cas was thinking before he felt like he was catching fire from the inside out. He fell to his knees and screamed, if the hellhounds had been one of the worst things to happen to him then they had better start taking lessons from his former friend. He wondered idly if Castiel was just going to kill him, send him to the Pit for his lack of trust.
He was on the floor on his stomach, nails scraping into the floor while he felt like he was turned inside out. There was the soft sound of feet padding along the floor around him. “I must punish Raphael’s followers, the ones who won’t follow their new God. I will likely be forced to slaughter many of my new charges.” Fingers grazed along his back, brushing his spine and leaving a trail of ice in their wake. “I will have to begin rebuilding the army of Heaven. What a better way to start than with you, Dean?” Dean’s mind stopped, he was being turned into an angel. No, no, nonono and what about Sam and Bobby slammed around in his skull as his back tore open. His soul was being mangled and twisted, too agonizingly slow and Dean felt like he’d prefer just being thrown into the Pit. “Your soul was always the brightest. Even the corruption of Hell couldn’t reach you. You’re perfect.”
Dean screamed hoarsely again as everything around him whited out, all glass in the room bursting and flying every which way. Car alarms were blaring and distantly the screams of people dying from exposure to the flash of newly created grace were quieting down as they drew their final breaths.
Castiel peered down at the form of his very first creation. When he decided to make Dean his he’d decided he’d do it properly. Dean would be an archangel, absolute, powerful, fearsome and loyal. Six great, silver wings extended from his back. The feathers were sculpted perfectly, every last one a testament to the purity of Dean’s spirit. The silver of them was flawless and glimmering with iridescent green bands and flecks thrown about randomly, much like the freckles on his skin.
As the minutes ticked by and his spirit began to settle a halo manifested on top of his head, a ring of fire that caused holy light to dance against the glory of his wings.
He heard the body below him stirring, wings twitching in protest. His lips quirked slightly at the sight before he moved away, allowing Dean plenty of room to stand and move. When the new archangel did stand his skin was cut by the glass on the floor, blood barely having a chance to well the surface before the wounds closed.
Dean rolled his head, his neck cracking before he groaned and stretched his limbs, new wings included. He looked at himself, seemingly in awe as his eyes fell to his wings. Castiel stepped forward and ran a hand down the arch of the topmost left. It pushed back into his touch, yearning for it. When he looked into the green eyes just beyond the feathers his chest swelled with warmth. Dean smiled at him, soft and reverent. “My Lord.” It was a soft whisper, hiding nothing in the way it slipped out filled with love and respect.
Castiel stepped in close, immediately being enveloped in a circle of feathers like a lover’s embrace. He smiled and cupped Dean’s jaw, feeling the slight buzz of power beneath his skin. The vessel of the first archangel of the old God was now the first archangel of the new God. It was fitting, he thought. “My Beloved, my most loyal.” Castiel didn’t hide his own reverence at his creation, treasuring the way Dean’s feathers ruffled slightly at the affection. He used his hand to guide Dean’s face down, their lips brushing briefly before Castiel pulled away. There would be time for that later, all of it. He wondered what the mark on his shoulder would look like and feel like now, with Dean’s new status. First they needed to clear Heaven of anyone who would not submit and serve, and then they could begin to remake it all.
“Kneel.” Dean dropped to his knees without hesitation, wings still circling Castiel possessively. “We have much to do. Follow me.” Dean nodded, a wide smile gracing his lips in a way Castiel had never seen before.
That smile alone would have made everything worth it.