Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Dean laid on his bed, headphones on, music loud, trying to block out the memories of the Mark of Cain. He needed sleep, he knew that, but every time he closed his eyes he saw Cas, bloody and broken, all because of him. Sam, and Cas too, probably would say it was because of the Mark, but Dean knew the truth. When Charlie had died something had snapped within him, and he had accepted the Mark as part of himself. From that point on there was no more distinction between the Mark and him. His soul was dark and twisted around the pulsing power of the Mark.

Dean sighed and sat up, rubbed his hands over his face and ditched the headphones. It had been months since the people he loved had removed the mark, months since Amara had left with Chuck, and Dean’s guilt was only getting worse. He thought he was hiding it pretty well from Sam, but he had caught some looks from Cas that made him think he wasn’t keeping anything hidden from the angel. He needed a distraction, so he found his laptop and left his room for the kitchen.

The bunker was quiet, Sam was asleep and Cas was nowhere to be seen. Instead of making coffee, Dean poured himself a glass of whiskey, hoping that the alcohol would help numb his mind. The kitchen was cold and the seats were hard. Dean was glad of the mild discomfort, he almost felt like he didn’t deserve to be comfortable with all that he had done. He opened his laptop and nearly threw it to the floor when the reflection that appeared on the black screen was not his, but Cas’, bloody and broken.

He took a long drink, wishing the whiskey burned more, and then filled his glass up again. He managed to turn his computer on without punching the screen before he scrolled through the weirder news stories, so he could find a case.

He lost track of time, eyes refusing to leave the safety of the news for fear of seeing Cas’ reflection again, until he realized that Sam was standing next to him, asking a question, and apparently it was not the first time he had asked, ‘cause he was looking annoyed.

“Dean, how long have you been up?”

“What? I don’t know. What time is it?”

“6:30. In the morning.”

Dean shook his head and said nothing. He returned his attention back to the screen in front of him and kept scrolling through the stories. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Sam pick up the now empty bottle of whiskey, glance at him, and then throw it in the trash. Dean refused to look at Sam, knowing he would only see concern in his brother’s eyes. Sam said nothing either, for which Dean was grateful, he just rummaged around the kitchen and made coffee and something “healthy” for breakfast.

Sam placed a mug off coffee in front of Dean, and he grabbed at it, letting the hot liquid burn his throat the way the whiskey had not been able to.

“Dean, do you want to talk? I mean, you are obviousl-”

“I found a case.”

Dean refused to have this conversation, because Sam would only forgive him, and he didn’t deserve that. Sam just sighed and looked concerned, but he nodded his head and didn’t press the issue. Dean let out a shaky breath and turned the laptop towards Sam.

“It looks like vamps, maybe a nest. There’s a bunch of kids turning up dead with bites on their necks and severe blood loss.”

“Ok, Dean,” Sam was looking over the articles, in full business mode. “Ok, I’ll get packed, you get Cas.”

Dean swallowed his flash of guilt and just nodded and walked out of the room. He didn’t want to take Cas, because seeing him nearly dead everywhere was hard enough. But he needed Cas there as well, because Cas had promised him that he would not let Dean go dark again, which he was terrified was still a possibility.

He walked through the bunker, thinking of one of the last things Chuck had told him before leaving.

“You already bore the Mark, Dean, you’ve been tainted.”

Dean could feel in his bones how tainted he was. The Mark may be gone, but sometimes he could still feel its influence, its tendrils snaking through his veins and whispering to him. His hand shook as he raised it to knock on Cas’ door. He kept his voice brusque and friendly, refusing to let whatever the fuck was going on with him bleed over to the rest of the world.

“C’mon Cas, we’ve got a case. Sam says to get going, are you coming?”

Cas opened the door, his trench coat on and his tie crooked, and he looked at Dean with his calm stare that Dean just knew saw his blackened soul.

“Of course, Dean.”

Cas grasped his arm, his hand in the same place his handprint used to scar Dean, before Cas had healed it away. Dean never said, but he missed that scar; it was a reminder that at one point in his life he had been worth saving, unlike now. His heart grew heavy at that thought and he turned away from the angel, letting the hand that had once gripped him tight fall away.

Dean had gone into the garage after he had packed, and he was making sure they had all the weapons they would need for this job when Sam and Cas walked in with their bags. They didn’t talk until they were finished stowing everything in the trunk, then Sam turned to him with a stubborn set to his face.

“Dean, give me the keys, I’m driving.”

Dean could feel Cas staring at him from behind the car, and he wanted to argue with Sam, but he also could feel his hands trembling from exhaustion, and he knew the whiskey was probably affecting him as well. So and he just handed the keys over to Sam and got in the passenger seat. Maybe he could get an hour or so of sleep while Sam drove.

Dean watched the road go by in a blur, the echo of the Mark not letting him sleep. He could still feel Cas’ face crunch beneath his fist as he begged Dean to stop. He could feel the warm blood of all those he had killed drip down his skin. He could still taste the raw power he had had, and he felt even more guilty as a part of him whispered that he missed it. He turned his face towards the window, stuffed his hands under his arms to hide their shaking, and feigned sleep to keep Sam from talking to him

Cas leaned forward as he asked Sam something, but all Dean could focus on was the hand that was touching his shoulder surreptitiously, and the peaceful grace that was quietly coursing through his soul. Slowly he moved his hand up to his shoulder, keeping it hidden from Sam, until he was tightly gripping the hand of the angel, not wanting to let go for fear of breaking down. Cas kept up the flow of grace until his and Sam’s conversation was done, and he sat back in his seat. Dean didn’t know how much the angel was picking up on his thoughts and feelings, but he was thankful that Cas never drew Sam’s attention to the silent ministrations he was giving Dean, because he was just not ready to talk. He was so tired, and whatever Cas had done to him had silenced the whispers of guilt for the moment. He closed his eyes and let sleep take him.

Dean was standing over someone on the rack, knife in hand, blood running down the blade. Alistair was whispering to him, showing him the best places to cause pain, the best tools to use for each question - if there even were questions. Dean had resisted at first, but there was something about the sense of power he got from torturing souls that called out to him; that made him want more. Suddenly the First Blade was in his hand and Alistair had morphed into Cain. They forged a bloody path across Hell, laughing as the blood sprayed all over them, and dancing to the music of the screams.

Dean woke up a start, sitting up straight and knocking his knees into the dash, causing Sam to look at him with concern. He deliberately relaxed back into his seat and said nothing. Neither did Sam. His arm hurt where the Mark had been. Dean didn’t know if it was residual pain, or phantom pain, or whatever, but he rubbed at it anyways, not stopping until he saw the worried looks Sam was shooting him.

The drive remained empty of conversation, the only sounds that stirred the air was the music on the radio until they arrived at the motel and Sam said he would go check in. Dean was left in the car with Cas, and he was paranoid that Cas would ask why he had needed the extra mojo. Cas remained quiet, however, and soon Dean was able to relax in the normalcy of the moment. Sam came back towards the car with the motel keys in his hand, so Dean and Cas got out of the car and grabbed their bags, following Sam into their room. There was nothing special about the room, just the normal two beds and a TV. Dean dropped his bag on a bed, and said he was going to get food. As he walked out the door he felt Cas watching him, and he tried his best to hide his soul from the eyes of the angel.

Chapter Text

Dean was sitting at a bar, his food run all but forgotten in his need to escape Cas’ all-seeing gaze. He was nursing his second glass of whiskey, trying to keep the whispers out of his head. It wasn’t working very well. Everything you love dies… You destroy lives… You aren’t worth saving…  He slammed his glass down on the bar, causing the last drops of alcohol to splash on the rim, and stood up to leave. Suddenly there was a girl a his side, probably no more than 20, leaning into him as she reached over and picked up his glass, licking the drops of whiskey off the edge.

“Where are you going, handsome?”

Her voice was low and rough from cigarette use. Dean looked down at her and allowed his smile to slowly spread over his face. He didn’t really want to flirt with her, but it was more habit than anything else so he didn’t bother trying to stop the encounter.

“Where do you want me to go, sweetheart?”

He let his voice go lower and raised a finger to brush her face, figuring maybe some anonymous sex would stop the whispers for a moment. The girl, he wasn’t even going to bother with names tonight, took his hand and led him out of the bar. She winked at him and took him behind the bar, pulling his face down for a kiss. He pushed her up against the brick wall and happily responded. They were making out, her hands running through his hair, his hands gripping her face, when the whispers started up again. You’re just going to get her killed anyways... Everything you touch dies... Just slam her head into the bricks and be done with it... Remember the feel of power you got when you controlled life and death… His hands shook and he carefully moved them down onto the girl’s shoulders so he wouldn’t give in to the whispers. She turned her head, making Dean pull back to look at her. She winked at him and said,

“Sorry, handsome, it’s not your night.”

Something heavy hit his head and his legs buckled beneath him. One last whisper weaved through his mind before blackness overwhelmed him: If you want you could set me free…

Dean opened his eyes and found that he was in the dark. His hands were handcuffed to what felt like a steel bar above his head, and his legs were chained to the floor, spread apart, and restricting his movement. As he was assessing his situation, he realized that his shoulders were screaming at him from holding all of his weight, so he shifted until he could get his feet under him and ease the pressure on his shoulders. His eyes had adjusted slightly to the black of the room, but not enough that he could discern much of anything. He tried to free the paperclip he kept stashed under his watch, but he couldn’t with his hands spread so far apart and the cuffs choking his wrists. He started to get worried because it was looking like he was well and truly fucked.

Cas? Cas I did something stupid. Something got me and I can’t get out, I can’t see anything. I’m sorry, buddy. If you can’t find me, tell Sam… Tell him I’m sorry. Cas I- right then a door opened and Dean was blinded but the harsh light coming from beyond it.

“Ooo, looks like loverboy is awake! What should we do with him?”

A figure approached him, and soon Dean’s eyes had adjusted enough to see that it was the girl from the bar. She was staring at him with hunger in her eyes, and Dean could see the hint of fangs in her smile. Great. Fucking vampires. A man entered the room behind her and lazily put his arms around the girl's waist, running his hands down her front before letting them disappear inside her pants.

“What were you thinking of, Lovely?”

He drew out the name so it sounded like lov-e-ly, and as he did, he shifted his hands inside her pants causing her to sigh in pleasure.

“Mmm, why don’t we share him, My Love. He looks like he could be fun.”

Dean shifted uncomfortably, instinctively trying to escape from the vampires, but the cold chains left him no room to move. They want to eat you, but I am so much stronger. Remember. Set me free. Dean closed his eyes; desperation making the whispers turn from damnation to seduction. He opened them when he felt hands running over his skin, moving up his shirt to expose his chest.

“Hey Lovely,” he said, his tone carrying a sharp edge. “I’m going to enjoy killing you.”

She just laughed as the other vampire tore his shirt away, and then she licked his stomach before biting him below his ribs, raking her nails down his skin. Dean screamed and his heart started pounding faster and faster. The male vampire grabbed him from behind and bit his throat. Dean’s vision went red as the pain tripled. Blood, give me blood! Set me free! Give me Death. Dean jerked his head back and smiled grimly as he connected with his attacker. The vampire yelled in surprise and backhanded Dean, causing the handcuffs to break. Dean fell to the floor on top of the female vampire, who easily shoved him off before grabbing his right arm and biting down; spilling blood as it leaked from her mouth. He punched her, and then tried to roll as the male vampire aimed a kick at his head. He dodged the kick, and succeeded in tearing the girl off his arm, which was now bleeding freely. Dean glanced down to see how bad the wound was, and froze as he saw the shape of the wound. It was jagged and raw, and vaguely in the shape of a 7 - the mark. Something dark awoke inside his soul, and he started to laugh. Both vampires looked at him, confused.

“What’s so funny, loverboy?” The girl asked.

The other vampire walked across the room and picked up an old, rusty pipe from the corner, brandishing it as he circled around Dean. Dean’s feet were still shackled to the floor, but he smiled in anticipation of what was to come. Free. Death. Set me Free . The vampires both rushed him, and he let the whispers flow. Grabbing the pipe that was aimed at his head, he twisted until it was in his hands. One swing struck both vampires, and knocked the girl backwards. Another swing and the male was on the floor. More blows, and the vampire's head was pulp. One last smash and the vampire was dead. Turning, Dean barely managed to get the pipe up as a shield as the girl jumped towards him, fangs bared as she attacked. She was screaming; enraged at her lover’s death. Dean didn’t care. He twisted her around and smiled, one hand on her shoulder, the other keeping the pipe against her neck. He pushed and she gradually was forced to the floor. He swung the pipe once, hitting her in the mouth and breaking her fangs. Death. Set me Free .

“Remember when I said that I’d enjoy killing you?” He said as he straddled her waist and grinned sadistically, savoring the sudden fear in her eyes. “Let me show you what I meant.” Yes!

He took his time, using the pipe to crush her throat inch by inch until he could rip her head off with his hands. He started to laugh. Everything finally felt good. No more whispers were invading his mind, and felt strong again. Still laughing, he quickly freed himself from his shackles and stood up, covered in blood and pipe still in hand, when Sam and Cas burst into the room, guns drawn and fear in their eyes.

“Dean!”

Cas hurried over to him and raised his hand to Dean’s shoulder. Dean just shrugged it off. He didn’t want healing, didn’t care that the bites on his neck, waist, and arm were still bleeding, he felt so powerful . He started to walk past them, but Sam got in his way, so Dean raised his pipe and struck his brother, causing Sam to crumple to the floor in surprise. Powerful . He raised the pipe again, but Cas was suddenly in front of Sam, guarding him. The angel caught Dean’s arm on the downswing, and raised his other hand to Dean’s forehead. Dean felt a stab of grace rush through his head before he collapsed, unconscious.

Chapter Text

Dean opened his eyes to find himself chained to the chair inside the bunker’s dungeon. He looked down at his arm and panicked when he couldn’t see where the vampire had bit him. The Mark was gone; like everything and everyone in Dean’s life, it had left him. The feeling of abandonment was overwhelming. I’m still here. Just because the angel erased my physical presence, doesn’t mean I’ve left you. Together we will be Powerful. Dean started to laugh, he couldn’t help it. He could feel tendrils of power flowing through his veins, much like they had when he still bore the Mark. Something shifted behind his eyes, but he was too caught up within the power surge to notice it. He needed to get out of these chains so he started twisting and pulling on his cuffs trying to find a way to free his hands. Something slithered under his skin without him noticing, and his thumb became dislocated. He slipped the cuff off his wrist with a laugh and stretched out his muscles. Dean stared at his hand, fascinated by the gruesome angle his thumb was bent at, hardly noticing the dull throbbing that was coming from it. He shook his hand once and his thumb popped back into place, and his skin shifted as something slithered down his veins, gathering into one spot on the inside of his right forearm. It swirled and glowed as it formed itself into a familiar mark. Dean never felt a thing. Powerful.

Quickly Dean got himself free of the other cuff and stood up, rolling his shoulders as a wave of strength flowed through him. He walked a few steps until he stood next to the cabinet in the corner. He had been expecting to see a reflection of Cas, broken and bloody, but for the first time in ages he only saw himself. He started laughing in relief, not seeing the shadow behind his eyes or the faint mark on his arm. He walked over to the dungeon door, which was locked, but it hadn’t stopped him last time and it didn’t stop him today. His hand snaked out and grabbed something from a nearby shelf. He looked down and saw that he was holding a hammer, and something about that was funny, so he laughed. Dean never noticed how his hand tightened around the shaft, holding it like a weapon. The mark on his arm became more clear. Powerful. Together we can be strong, Dean, together we can protect everyone. Together I will be Powerful…

Dean laughed as he walked down the bunker halls, he laughed as he entered his room, he laughed as he gathered his weapons, and he laughed as he got into his car. The whispers were right, he would be powerful enough to keep Sam and Cas safe. His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly for a moment before relaxing. His shoulders shrugged as he moved his head in a small circle. His eyes glazed over and became darker, more shadowed, and the laughter stopped.

“Finally, I am free.”

“And who are you?”

Cas had been watching Dean since they brought him home. He had healed Sam and told the young hunter to sleep while he made sure Dean was OK. Cas could feel something dark and familiar entwining itself around Dean’s soul, but he hadn’t been able to identify it. So he stayed invisible and watched as Dean escaped the restraints and left. He followed Dean while he gathered his weapons and entered the Impala. But then Dean had shifted his body and had disappeared. His body was there and it was occupied, but his soul was muffled or hidden in some way, giving the entity control. Cas was terrified at the thought that he’d lost Dean, that he’d watched passively while his friend was taken over by the unknown. So he dropped the invisibility and confronted the being, hoping that maybe his presence would help Dean somehow. He leaned into the driver side window and asked:

“And who are you?”

The thing inside Dean turned his head and smiled like a shark as he faced the angel. It trailed Dean’s eyes up and down Cas’s body as it assessed the new threat. Cas found himself getting furious that something was using Dean, and he still didn’t know what it was.

“I am the Mark. Dean set me free.”

Cas moved as fast as was angelically possible. He grabbed Dean’s shirt and yanked the him out of the car. The car door bent as the Mark-possessed-Dean fought back, eventually ripping the door off the car frame as Cas won the struggle. Cas knew that Dean could fix any damage to the car, so he spun and threw Dean’s body against the engine, bending the hood with the force of the blow. He heard Dean’s skull crack with the force and he regretted his actions, but he didn’t give up, as he knew he could always heal Dean when he saved him.

“You are not the Mark of Cain! That was Amara and she is gone. She relented her hold on Dean and left months ago!”

“Amara was the Darkness. I am the Mark. I was the lock that kept the Darkness at bay for time untold. I was powerful and permanent until you and the other one ripped me from my rightful place. Dean was the last to bear me, so he is the last connection I have. I will be Powerful!”

As the Mark said this he shoved Cas away, launching him across the garage and into the wall.

“The first time I whispered to him, Dean was strong, Castiel. You were there. Somehow he was drawing on your strength. But then you went and found my old friend Lucifer, and Dean broke. I was able to come inside and whisper more loudly; get my tendrils around his heart. You left him defenseless and it was easier and easier to seduce him. He is MINE, and I. Will. Not. Give. Him. Back!

The Mark-possessed-Dean accentuated each word with a kick to the angel’s face, and Cas couldn’t get his arms up to shield the blows. The thought that somehow he had left Dean defenseless hurt more than the beating did. Cas heard something snap and felt his bones break. He could barely move his arms as the man above him drew an angel blade and knelt down with a feral smile. Cas managed to raise one hand up and place it on Dean’s arm.

“Please, Dean, stop him. Dean, stop!”

“DEAN!”

Both men turned to see Sam standing a few feet away with his gun drawn.

“Dean what the hell?”

Dean’s face twisted into a sneer as he stood up, dragging Cas upright at the same time. Sam looked scared as he saw the unnatural strength in the simple act. Dean’s hand dragged the angel blade lightly down the side of Cas’ throat. Dean’s eyes turned a darker shade of green as he smiled at Sam.

“Dean’s not here right now, Sammy.”

Chapter Text

Sam stared in horror at the scene presented in front of him. Cas, broken and bleeding, and Dean, or something possessing Dean’s body, holding him against his chest and dragging the tip of an angel blade against the soft skin of Cas’ neck. It was Sam’s worst fear: losing Dean to something again. Oh God no! Chuck help, I can’t lose him again! Desperation clutched at his heart but the gun in his hands was steady - and aimed at Dean's head.

“Who are you?” Sam’s voice was harsh with anger.

“I am the one who bound the Darkness for more than an eternity. I am the one who was bound to the Light Bringer. I am the one who was bound to the Father of Murder. I am the  one  who Dean chose to bind himself to of his own free will.’

It was the Mark, but it couldn’t be. Rowena lifted the Mark of Cain off of Dean, the Darkness had been released, and it had been dealt with. Dean had been free of the Darkness for months, and free of the Mark for over a year now. Sam had no idea how Dean had fallen to the Mark again, but now was not the time to speculate: Cas was in danger and he had to stop Dean.

Cas is an angel, bullets won’t kill him. The Mark won’t let his host die. Cas is an angel, bullets won’t kill him. The Mark won’t let his host die. Cas, forgive me.

Dean’s hand pressed the tip of the angel blade beneath the skin on Cas’ neck. Sam winced at the rough scream Cas made and tried not to listen to the high pitched whine as his grace escaped around the blade’s edge. He was out of time. Sam took one deep breath and fired all of his bullets at his brother. The first bullet grazed Dean’s cheek as the Mark dodged it’s path. Another hit Cas in the shoulder and he grunted at the impact, sagging against Dean’s chest. One went straight through Dean’s hand that was holding the angel blade. It ricocheted off the blade and grazed both Cas and Dean’s necks. As the bullet went through his hand, Dean reflexively dropped the blade and Cas to grab at his injury. All the other bullets went straight into his chest.

Dean was still standing when the last bullet hit, and he kept standing after Sam stopped firing, his bullets spent. Sam’s eyes grew large with fear as Dean leered at him, blood dripping from all the wounds. As Dean stalked towards him, Sam knew he was doomed. He didn’t have time to reload his gun, and his knife would be useless against a bulletproof man. The Mark had made Dean stronger than anything last time, there was no reason to think it hadn’t done the same now. Just as he was drawing his knife - he wasn’t going to just let Dean kill him, no matter how hopeless it was - Cas stood up behind Dean. Eyes blazing blue and light forming around him, Cas shouted for Sam to shut his eyes. Sam dropped flat to the floor, and put his hands over his ears as he tried desperately to block out the screech of grace that Cas was gathering. He squeezed his eyes shut, but not before he saw Dean turn into Cas’ outstretched hand.

Power filled the room, making Sam’s head pound from the pressure. He screamed at the build up of overwhelming power Cas was releasing; he couldn’t help it, it was too much for a human to endure. Above the din he could faintly hear what sounded like Dean screaming as well, but Sam didn’t dare look to see for sure. The air grew hot; firey, even. It beat down on Sam’s back and he curled around himself in an attempt to shield himself. It was too much: Sam tried to fight it, but whatever Cas was doing to Dean was too much for him to block, and Sam passed out.

“Sam.”

The voice sounded familiar. It took Sam a moment to pair the voice to Cas’ face; his vision blurry as he opened his eyes. Cas looked exhausted. He had lines of sweat running down his face, his eyes were sunken, and his hand shook as it gripped Sam’s shoulder. Sam groaned as he sat up, accepting Cas’ offered hand of assistance.

“Thanks Cas. Where’s Dean?”

Cas said nothing, but he turned his head and looked at where Dean had last been standing. Sam bolted over to the spot when he saw the charred body lying on the floor, not moving or breathing.

“Dean! Cas, what did you do?”

“Sam.”

Sam ignored Cas as all of his attention was on Dean’s body - or whatever remained of it.

“Sam!”

Cas’ voice was harsh and it pulled Sam’s gaze up to the angel.

“Sam, Dean is not dead.”

“What? How the hell is he not dead? You fried him!”

“I smote him. But that is only his body, and I can heal that. But his soul is in jeopardy. Somehow the Mark has returned and it is sentient. We need to secure Dean before the Mark heals him. Help me.”

Sam stared at Dean’s body in horror as he imagined the pain Dean must be in. Don’t have to imagine… wait, don’t think about the Cage… Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Sam gingerly reached down to touch Dean’s shoulder, but Cas stopped him before he made contact.

“No Sam. Let me carry him, it’s easier for me to do that. You open the doors and get the chains ready.”

Sam nodded, relieved that he wouldn’t be the one to hurt Dean further. He watched as Cas gently picked up Dean, wincing in pain from his injuries, and then Sam quickly looked away at the expression on Cas’ face. It was one of pain and sorrow mixed with love - it’s the face of someone whose heart is broken. Sam was sure he wasn’t supposed to see that look, so he ran down to the dungeon, leaving the doors open behind him. He gathered up all the chains they had, from the mundane handcuffs to the bespelled iron shackles. He set up the single chair in the center of the devil’s trap that was inlaid on the floor, and prayed to god that Dean wouldn’t become a demon again.

Cas came in soon carrying Dean carefully in his arms. After Sam had finished gathering up the chains, and after Sam had placed the chair, Cas gently placed Dean down on it. Sam was startled to see that Dean no longer looked like he had been burned by an angel: the burns were visibly disappearing and his skin was turning pink. Sam and Cas quickly bound Dean in all of the chains they had, and Sam hoped it would be enough.

They both waited as the Mark finished healing Dean. It didn’t take very long, only a couple more minutes. As Dean’s flesh filled back out, the remains of his burnt clothes fell to the floor, and his hair grew back to what it had been. Sam was about to comment that somehow Dean’s tattoo was still there when Dean took a deep breath and looked up at them. His eyes were still green, but they were darker now than they were before, and there was a hint of black around them. He smiled, but it was full of anger and hatred. Sam recoiled at the expression, at the memory of Dean giving him the same look when he had been a demon a year before. And when Dean - the Mark - spoke, his voice dripping with menace, Sam fought to keep the fear he felt from showing on his face.

“Do you think this will hold me?”

Chapter Text

Sam turned and walked out of the dungeon. He didn’t stop until he reached the library. He couldn’t watch Dean like this, not again. Cas was watching Dean, and Sam hoped that the chains were enough to keep Dean in place. Last time they had just used the demon cuffs, and it had only been enough to hold Dean while Cas was watching. This time felt different; it felt more wrong, more filthy, more evil. They needed help, and they needed it fast if they were going to save Dean. Sam picked up his phone and dialed.

“Moose, why are you calling?” Crowley’s voice lingered over the syllables and Sam’s skin crawled in response.

“Crowley, it’s Dean. Something happened… the Mark is back and Cas said Dean is lost.”

Crowley was silent for a long minute, and Sam checked his phone to see if the call had been dropped.

“Well darling, what do you expect me to do? I seem to recall you being less than pleased the last time I tried to help when Dean was lost to the Mark. I also remember you TRYING TO KILL ME after I did everything you asked!”

“Please Crowley,” Sam’s voice broke in his desperation. “Please. Dean already nearly killed Cas. Cas had to smite him just to subdue him. We managed to get him chained up, but that won’t last. Do you know where Rowena is? She still has the Book of the Damned… Maybe something in there can help us.”

Again, Crowley didn’t speak for long time. Sam was losing his patience as worry for Dean clouded his mind.

“Crowley! Please! Dean needs help, we need help to save him.”

“Easy Moose, no need to grovel. Well, actually…”

“Crowley!”

“Enough Sam. I never said I wasn’t going to help. I’ll see if I can find Mother. You may be right, she may know something helpful. Ta love.”

Sam looked down at the silent phone after Crowley disconnected the call. He hoped that Crowley would be able to help, but he knew it would be a long shot. The last time Dean had been marked it had been his choice; a deliberate action to subject himself to the power of the mark and the changes that power promised. Sam had hoped that the spell that removed the Mark removed the changes made to Dean’s soul, but it looked like that was just wishful thinking.

Sam looked back towards the dungeon, but it was quiet. Cas would have called if something were wrong, or the Mark would be marching Dean’s body out here to kill Sam. Sam decided that there was nothing he could do but wait for Crowley, so he poured himself a drink, and took out all of the books the Men of Letters had on the Mark of Cain and started his research.

Castiel sat on the floor of the dungeon. His back was against the wall and his knees were drawn up to his chest. He was so tired. Fighting Dean, smiting him, it had taken too much grace. He needed to rest, but he dared not leave Dean alone with the entity. So he drew his ragged wings around his body and tried meditate. It didn’t last long, the sound of chains clinking caused him to raise his head and peer over the top of his wings. Dean, the Mark, was staring at him: eyes unblinking and head tilted to the side.

“Do they hurt?”

Castiel tilted his head in confusion as he tried to understand what the entity was talking about.

“Does what hurt?”

“Your wings. They look like ash and bone.” Dean’s face held a smirk at Castiel’s astonished expression.

“You can see them. Not even demons can see my wings unless I manifest them first. Have you always been able to see them?”

“Yes.”

“Dean never mentioned them, I didn’t think he knew.” Castiel was sure that Dean would have said something about his wings, had he known how broken they were.

“No, he blocked you from his thoughts a great deal when he was first arguing with me, lord knows why. After he joined my side, you were not around for him to see.  When we fought, he was blinded by rage, yet he refused to allow me to take control, so he never saw them. Even though they were displayed for any with eyes to see. What hold did you have on him that allowed him to block me, Castiel? Whatever it was seems to be gone now that I am in control. I am going to enjoy ripping your wings off their joints and beating you to death with them.”

Castiel didn’t answer, there was no need to. Dean had been holding back when they fought so long ago. Dean hadn’t wanted to kill him. Dean had blocked his thoughts about him from the Mark. Castiel couldn’t help the small smile that played on his lips. He knew it had something to do with their profound bond, and he wondered if he could use that bond to help rid Dean of the wretched Mark again.

Castiel tightened his wings around his body and let his mind drift through the cosmos, yet keeping his attention on Dean. This split meditation did not allow him to regain his strength as fast as normal meditating, but he needed to watch the entity and ensure it didn’t get loose. He vaguely heard Sam talking with Crowley on the phone, but he let the knowledge pass through him as not important to the moment. At the sound of creaking ropes, Castiel turned and saw the Mark strain Dean’s muscles against the chains that bound him, but Castiel had made sure they were tight and had no give. He noted the huff of annoyance that the entity gave when it gained no leeway. Castiel smiled again and let his shoulders relax.

Hours passed. Sam apparently had fallen asleep in the library again; Castiel could hear his heartbeat and slow breathing. The Mark was not currently using Dean to do anything, and Castiel had been able to renew much of his grace. Suddenly a crash sounded from Sam’s position and both Castiel and the Mark-in-Dean raised their eyes towards it. Castiel heard Sam swearing profusely at someone; Crowley, apparently.

“Fuck Crowley! What the hell! How can you just appear in the bunker?”

“Hello Moose. Lovely to see you too. Yes thank you for inviting me over for tea, I always enjoy our little visits.”

“Come off it Crowley, how can you teleport in? It’s warded.”

“Ahh, yes. It seems that Amara broke some very important wards when she stomped around here last, and whatever Chuck did to bring me hear has stayed put. Regardless, I’ve brought Mother, as you can see. Where is Dean?”

Castiel stood up and stretched his sore wings before stepping out of the way of the door. He hadn’t heard Rowena speak, Crowley must be doing something to keep that insane witch silent, but he could hear her heartbeat. Both her’s and Sam’s were coming closer. He didn’t have long to wait for the trio to make their way to the dungeon. Sam opened the door and Crowley stood just behind him. He looked at Dean, chained in the chair, and Castiel saw his mouth tighten. Castiel then saw that Crowley held a leash that was attached to a metal collar around Rowena’s neck. She had a gag over her mouth and there was blood trickling down from a cut in her scalp. If looks could kill, I believe the saying is, Castiel thought. She was holding the Book of the Damned tightly to her chest, and Castiel sighed. This just would not do.

Castiel walked up to Rowena and took the leash from Crowley. When the king of hell started to protest, Castiel blasted him back with a wave of power, knocking the demon unconscious. Sam gave a shout of surprise when Castiel turned and placed two fingers on his forehead, sending the hunter to sleep. He quickly led the witch into the room and locked the door behind them. He didn’t have time to argue points with a demon or a human, Dean’s life didn’t have time. Turning to Rowena, he could see the fear and mistrust that she wore like a shroud around her shoulders. He dropped the leash and raised his hands to her throat, stepping into her space as she flinched away from him. He undid the collar and tossed it aside before taking off the gag.

“Wha’?” Rowena began to ask, but she stopped with a gasp as Castiel touched her forehead and sent a cool wave of healing grace into her body, soothing her harms.

“I don’t have time to try and bully you, Rowena. I need you to help me save Dean. Now I can make you help me, you know that I can, but I thought if maybe I asked you nicely, you would be a better ally in this situation. Will you help me?”

Castiel refused to look at Dean, who had started to laugh in a cold, relentless manner. He just kept his eyes on the short witch in front of him, hoping that he wouldn’t be forced to make her help. Rowena looked at him for a long moment before turning towards Dean. She studied him for a while before turning back to the angel.

“Aye then, I do believe I can.”

Chapter Text

Castiel turned and erected a barrier around the dungeon to ensure that neither Sam nor Crowley could gain entrance. He could not risk them interrupting Rowena’s spell work. She was standing behind the bound man, holding her hands to the side of his head and chanting in Gaelic. Dean was straining against the chains again, trying to get away from whatever the witch was doing. Rowena started speaking louder and Dean growled in response, and Castiel was reminded of when Dean was a demon and they were trying to cure him. Suddenly, Rowena shouted as she completed her spell, and Dean went rigid in his seat. Castiel stepped forward and reached for Dean’s hand, but Rowena slapped it aside with a hiss.

“Och no, dearie. Ye cannae touch him now. Leave him be till the spell is finished.”

Castiel nodded and lowered his hand.

“What exactly is the spell doing, Rowena?”

“It’s looking to see where Dean’s soul is, as well as seeing how the Mark bound itself to this body.”

“I see.” Castiel furrowed his brow and stared back at Dean’s frozen expression of fury.

Castiel pulled out the only other chair in the dungeon and offered it to Rowena, who sat down with a gracious smile and a regal nod of her head. Castiel leaned against the table and together the witch and the angel waited on the spell.

An hour passed while they waited. During that time, Castiel did his best to ignore the angry shouts of the two men who were locked out of the dungeon. Once they figured out that they couldn’t get inside the room - Castiel was still smirking at the memory of Crowley trying to teleport in and bouncing off into Sam instead - they had left for the library. Rowena was humming under her breath and occasionally grumbling at the lack of tea in the room. Finally, Dean slumped in his chains and started breathing hard, like he had been running. An orb of purple light gathered above his head and floated over to Rowena, who caught it and mumbled over it.

“Oh my, this is fascinating. His soul is gone, and yet still there.”

Rowena wasn’t addressing Castiel as she spoke, engrossed in the magic as she was, so he spoke sharply to get her attention.

“What do you mean? When I look at him, I cannot see any sign of Dean’s soul, I just see the Mark.” Castiel tried to ignore the smirk that was showing on Dean’s lips as he said this.

“Aye, tis the Mark that is in control of the vessel, and it seems that the soul has been pushed down into a small cage of sorts. It feels like a dream state, but not of Dean’s mind. Rather, it was forced upon the lad, and the dratted Mark bound itself to the body via the power of the dream.”

Castiel hated this, hated how powerless he felt knowing that he had let Dean be caged while under his watch. He also hated how Dean’s eyes laughed at him, even though he could tell that it was not Dean looking through those green eyes. So he walked around to the back of the room, choosing to stand where the entity couldn’t watch him using the eyes of the man he gave up everything for.

“What can I do to uncage Dean?”

“Well, dearie, first we need to discover what kind o’ dream Dean is trapped in, otherwise I’ll no’ be able to reverse this.”

“What do you mean ‘reverse’?” Castiel was confused, and it showed. Rowena just smiled at him and patted the book bound in skin that was on the table next to her.

“Well, the Mark bound Dean’s soul to the dream cage and then bound itself to Dean’s body, yes? All we have to do is extract Dean from the cage - that’ll be your job, dearie - and then I shall reverse the binding and shove the Mark into the dream and Dean back into his body.”

“Rowena, do you know if this will be permanent? Will Dean still carry the dream cage and the Mark inside of him after this?”

Rowena tilted her head to the side and was silent as she studied the man in the chair.

“I think… aye, I think I can make it so that we can take the cage away from the lad, but to do that, the Mark would have to be inside the cage before you rescued the soul inside. Once you get the soul you could extract the dream cage, but once it is outside the vessel, nothing will be able to be placed inside.”

Castiel nodded, understanding that rescuing Dean was much more difficult than he thought, but also knowing that it didn’t matter: he would do anything to get Dean back. He looked at Rowena and bowed his head in consent.

“What do you need for the spell?”

Castiel walked out of the dungeon and called for Crowley. He didn’t leave the doorway, he didn’t trust the Mark and Rowena in the same room without him, nor did he trust completely in the chains the held it down, but he did need some ingredients. Crowley came strolling down the hall with a glass of whiskey in his hand, and Castiel was surprised to not see Sam alongside him.

“Where is Sam?”

“I sent the Moose to bed. He was beginning to bore me with his incessant moping about Dean. So I gave him something stronger than his usual beer and sent him to his room with the promise that I would wake him should something happen.”

“Yet he is not here.” Castiel gave Crowley a wry smile.

“No, I lied. I am the King of Hell after all.”

Crowley turned his head and looked at the bound man in the dungeon and the witch beside him.

“What do you need? I’m assuming you only opened the door because Mother needs something for a spell?”

Castiel nodded grimly and handed Crowley a sheet of paper with a long list of ingredients. Then he hesitated, and looked at Crowley with uncertainty in his eyes.

“Crowley, if I asked you to take me to the Sun and back, would you?”

Crowley gave him a sharp look, but nodded.

“Yes.”

Castiel nodded back and returned to the dungeon, noting the sudden absence in the air as the demon teleported out.

Rowena finished laying out the ingredients for the spell in the back of the room. She had still been mad at Crowley for gagging her, and Castiel had been forced to move the table with the spell works onto the demon trap “for her peace of mind”. Crowley was leaning against the shelves outside the dungeon door with a glass of scotch in his hand. Sam was in between the demon and Dean’s chained body with an angel blade in his hand. Castiel didn’t know what was going to happen, but he needed to make sure that there would be peace while he was finding Dean’s soul inside the dream cage.

He looked at Rowena, who nodded and started chanting and adding ingredients into the bowl in front of her. Castiel stood behind Dean and waited for the spell to take effect. The Mark made Dean struggle and shout in anger, but the witch kept up the chanting, becoming louder herself. Suddenly, Dean’s body slumped, and Sam - who could see Dean’s face - jumped backwards in alarm.

Castiel knew what had upset Sam, he could sense it. The body chained in front of him was empty. There was no soul, no entity peering out of the eyes, just emptiness. Rowena stopped speaking and breathed heavily for a moment, and Castiel turned to make sure she was alright.

“I’m fine, dearie, just get on with ye and do your job.” She waved him off as she spoke.

Castiel nodded and placed his hands on Dean’s shoulders, before he plummeted into the abyss.

It was Hell. Whatever dream the cage had locked Dean into was Hell. Castiel recognized portions of it from when he travelled Hell with Crowley, and others from when he and his garrison assaulted Hell to save the Righteous Man: Dean. However, the scenery kept shifting and fading into mist, or being replaced by somewhere new. Castiel closed his eyes and listened for Dean. At first all he could hear was screaming from all directions, and then he heard a soft, caressing voice speaking, and his hands clenched into fists as he recognized Alistair’s voice.

“You know, Dean, I can make the pain stop if you just, um, pick up the knife… That’s the way, boy, right there causes the most pain… Ooo yes, just like that. I like the way you think, Dean…”

The whispers continued in this manner and Castiel strode resolutely towards them, hoping that he would find Dean in a better condition than the last time he had rescued him from Hell. He walked and walked, but Castiel never made any strides towards his goal. Stopping, he thought about how dreams bend the natural rules of existence, even those of Hell, and he closed his eyes and spoke a single word.

“Dean.”

Opening his eyes, Castiel found himself on an island of rock held up by massive hooks and chains that stretched into the distance. There was a torture rack holding down a person that bore a resemblance to Sam, but a much younger version of the Winchester brother. Standing over him was Dean. He was holding a bloody knife that he had just taken out of “Sam’s” body. Dean’s eyes were sunken in and dark. There was no emotion on his face, and when he plunged the knife back into the chest of his brother, the actions were mechanical. Behind him stood Alistair, who was stroking Dean’s back with small, gentle strokes like a lover would use. Castiel’s eyes blazed blue and he leaped behind the demon and smote him down into ash. He vaguely recognized that his actions could be viewed as jealousy, but he was finally next to Dean so he didn’t waste time with analysis.

Castiel put his hand on Dean’s, and gently took the knife away. He dropped it on the table before putting both his hands on Dean’s shoulders and turned the man to face him.

“Dean? Dean, can you hear me?”

Castiel searched the face of the Righteous Man for any sign of recognition, but found none. He took hold of Dean’s face and leaned their foreheads against each other.

“Dean, please, please hear me. I need you.”

Everything went silent as they stood, forehead to forehead. Castiel was vaguely aware that the scenery shifted again, he knew they were on a dark, gray plain of endless rock, but he didn’t care. All he wanted was for Dean to hear him, to acknowledge him, or even just to move. After a while, Dean’s right arm twitched, and Castiel thought that maybe he was getting through to Dean, until he heard a voice that sent a chill through him. It was deep, and rich, and ancient. Castiel looked up and saw a man with an old fashioned long coat and an unruly beard standing behind Dean. There was a large knife sheathed at his waist, and he rested one hand on its hilt. Cain.

“I thought I would never catch up with you, Castiel. Dean is MINE!”

Chapter Text

Castiel pushed Dean behind him as he tried to protect the hunter from the Mark-that-was-Cain, but as he did so, Cain snapped his fingers and everything around them changed. Castiel found himself standing in a field surrounded by wild flowers and bee hives. But everything was wrong. The flowers were black and dripping a dark ooze. The bees were blood red and twice their normal size, the sound they made was an angry hum. The scenery shifted as if Castiel was viewing it through wisps of smoke, and he turned around in a circle stopping only when he saw Cain.

Cain was standing tall, a dark figure that seemed to be a part of the land around him. He smirked at Castiel and turned his right arm up, angling it towards the field. The ground beneath Castiel started to pulse, and he spread his broken wings for balance. He glanced around and saw that the black of the wild flowers was being leached out and flowing in tendrils up into Cain; killing the flowers in the process. The bees were dropping from the air as they died, the red of their bodies snaking its way into Cain as well. With each pulse, the tendrils twisted around Cain’s body, mapping their way down onto his exposed forearm through his veins, coalescing into a familiar shape: the Mark of Cain.

“Where is Dean?” Castiel asked angrily as his eyes swept the field for signs of the absent hunter.

“No where you need concern yourself with, Castiel.”  The Mark spoke in Cain’s voice, and Castiel felt a shiver of fear at the power it held.

Cain-that-was-the-Mark rotated his hand, and light bent around the action until the First Blade materialized in his grip. Cain started to advance on Castiel, who drew his angel blade into existence and readied himself, hoping that he would be able to stand against the more powerful being.

The fight was quick and brutal. Castiel tried to block the many blows that Cain rained down on him, but he knew he had lost moments into the battle. He managed to score a single stab with his angel blade, driving the silver weapon deep into Cain’s shoulder, but that merely earned him a backhanded swing that sent him spinning through the air and landing several feet away. Castiel pushed himself up slowly, coughing up blood and bleeding from several stab wounds. As he wiped the sweat and blood from his eyes, Castiel saw Dean standing silently - his eyes still blank and his face expressionless - with Cain walking up behind him, the First Blade in his hand.

“Dean!” Castiel tried to yell out a warning, but he choked on some blood, and the word came out garbled and unintelligible.

Something in Castiel’s cry must have gotten through to Dean, because his head tilted and a look of confusion appeared on his face.

“C-Cas?” Dean stuttered, sounding drunk or exhausted, Castiel couldn’t tell.

Dean took half a step towards Castiel when suddenly Cain wrapped his arms around the hunter. Cas surged to his feet to protect Dean when he suddenly stopped cold. Cain, the Mark, wasn’t hurting Dean, he was holding him like they were lovers. Cain’s left arm was around Dean’s chest, keeping Dean’s back against his chest. Cain’s right hand was slowly moving up and down Dean’s stomach, each time getting closer to Dean’s groin. Castiel took a step forward in protest but stopped; Dean had lain his head back against Cain, his eyes closed, and Castiel could hear the lusty moan that escaped from Dean’s lips. Castiel felt as though an icy hand was squeezing his heart.

“No!” The cry escaped Castiel’s lips before he realized it.

Castiel gripped his angel blade and started striding towards the dark pair when the ground shook once more, stopping his progress. Cain had ran his right hand down Dean’s right arm, and when he returned it to Dean’s stomach, Dean was holding the First Blade. Castiel flared his wings defensively out of reflex, and tried to keep his balance as the tremors increased in frequency. Cain caught Castiel’s eyes, and with a look of triumph he undid the button on Dean’s jeans and let his hand slide down into the front of Dean’s pants. Dean’s knees buckled as the Mark-that-was-Cain began pressing kisses along Dean’s neck and his hidden hand stroked the hunter. Castiel saw red.

“Do you want this? Dean, do you want me?”

Nothing but the strength of Cain was keeping Dean upright; the noises that were coming from his mouth making the angel sick to his stomach. Castiel saw with horror that Dean was gripping the First Blade tighter and tighter, and worse, there were tendrils of black and red oozing out of Cain and snaking their way onto Dean’s right forearm, beginning to form into the familiar shape of the Mark. Each pulse of the ground was matched by an answering pulse of the tendrils connecting the two men.

Inside the bunker’s dungeon, Sam, Crowley, and Rowena were shocked as the shape of the Mark began to entwine itself around Dean’s arm. Sam looked at Crowley nervously as everyone present backed away from the chained man. Sam drew his gun as Dean’s head fell backwards and a small sigh of ecstasy escaped his lips. Crowley smiled regretfully and drew his stolen angel blade in preparation. Rowena looked at the obvious arousal of the naked man and smiled.

“Och well, it seems like the wee lad is enjoying himself.”

Crowley let out a small huff of laughter and Sam just glared at the witch.

Cain was still whispering to Dean, and Dean was answering with moans that were becoming increasingly louder. With each moan Dean breathed out the Mark on his arm grew clearer, stronger, and Castiel feared he was nearly out of time to save the Righteous Man.

Cain closed his eyes as he sucked a bruise over Dean’s pulse and Castiel struck. He plunged his blade through the Mark that was forming on Dean’s arm before grabbing him and tearing him out of Cain’s grasp. Dean screamed as the angel blade pierced his arm and struck at Castiel with the First Blade that was still in his hand. Castiel dodged the blow, and leapt at Cain, forcing him to the ground and raining blows on his face.

“Dean is MINE!”

Castiel didn’t know why he was screaming this repeatedly, but he knew in his core that it was the truth. His wings, even though they were hardly more than bone, drove towards the fallen man, pinning him to the ground. Cain blocked the last punch Castiel threw, and shoved the angel off of him. Castiel was just starting to get back up when he was grabbed from behind and effortlessly tossed to the side. Castiel’s eyes widened in fear as he saw Dean advancing towards him with the First Blade held threateningly in front of him. Castiel stood up slowly, his hands held defensively in front of him as he tried to reason with the hunter.

“Dean, please. Dean you don’t want to do this. Dean!”

Dean struck him hard. Castiel didn’t even try to fight back, he just took each blow as it came until they ended up on the ground. Dean was straddling the fallen angel, the First Blade raised to deliver the final blow. Castiel felt a weary sense of the familiar, knowing that last time they had been in this position Dean had been able to stop, but only just. He didn’t know if Dean would be able to do that here with the full influence of the Mark bearing down on him.

“Dean,” Castiel begged. “Please, Dean,” he reached his hand up to the hunter’s face. “Dean, please stop.”

Dean’s arm froze, and the rage in his eyes changed to confusion as he looked down at the bloody angel.

“Cas?”

Dean shook his head once as if to clear it, and Castiel’s heart quickened at the brief thought that he was getting through to Dean, until Cain showed up. The Mark-that-was-Cain grabbed Dean’s shoulders from behind and pulled him up back against his chest. He started whispering things into Dean’s ear that Castiel couldn’t hear, but Dean’s shoulders drooped and his face hardened. Castiel stood up slowly and stepped closer, but as he did so Cain drew Castiel’s dropped angel blade and held it to Dean’s throat. Cain then spoke louder to Dean, glaring at the angel as if he dared him to come closer.

“You are worthless without me, Dean! You failed at protecting everyone! Everyone you love died! You killed Castiel, you lost Sammy to the pit of Hell, and now you are alone. Let me in, take me and you will never be alone again. I will dance with you throughout eternity, and you and I shall destroy anything that threatens you or yours again. Starting with the demon standing in front of you.”

Cain finished speaking with a smile directed towards Castiel, who shook with anger at the lies spoken. An oily film passed over Dean’s eyes as the dark tendrils of the Mark once again started pulsing into Dean. Castiel knew that the Mark was changing what Dean was seeing, but he didn’t hesitate. He grabbed Dean on his left arm where he had once gripped him tight, and he also placed his left hand over the forming Mark on Dean’s right forearm, squeezing as hard as he could. He spun them both until he was standing between Cain and Dean, not caring that he was now defenseless. Castiel spread his wings around Dean as he held him close, and he poured grace through his hands where they gripped the hunter.

He poured his memories of their time spent trying to avert the apocalypse, running from the leviathans, surviving in purgatory.

Cain stabbed the angel blade into Castiel’s stomach.

Castiel gasped, but he kept on trying to reach Dean. He poured his memories of all the small touches that had passed between the two. The time Dean had carelessly swung his arm around Castiel’s shoulders as they ran out of a strip club. The gentle, light touch to Castiel’s face as Dean found him in purgatory. The desperate hug they had given each other in the cemetery when Dean had left to fight the Darkness.

Cain drove the angel blade through Castiel’s left wing joint, shearing through the bone enough for the man to break the entire wing off with a sound like thunder.

Castiel fell to his knees screaming in unimaginable pain, the single wing he still had wrapped around Dean causing the hunter to fall with him. Castiel lost control of the grace that he was pouring into Dean and it burned beyond his control, and Dean screamed as it melted the skin under the angel’s hands.

Sam gasped as an old scar in the shape of a hand, once healed, appeared on Dean’s left arm. Crowley nodded in understanding as a second handprint covered and erased the forming Mark. Rowena started to gather materials for a new spell. They all tried to ignore the faint sounds of pain that were escaping from the chained man’s lips.

Castiel was bleeding out, both grace and blood, but he continued to pour all the love he had never been able to say into Dean. He gave his memories of all the times he had been enraptured by the strength of the hunter. He shared the time he used his grace to piece together the broken soul of the Righteous Man, how the grace bonded them in such a way that Castiel had never been whole again unless he was with Dean.

Cain plunged the angel blade down through Castiel’s collarbone.

Castiel finally let go of Dean, as his grace escaped through the many wounds and his strength left him.

“Cas? Cas!”

Castiel looked up at Dean and smiled and the look of recognition and fear that was coming from the man. He reached up and touch his fingers to Dean’s face before he fell the rest of the way to the ground. Vaguely he heard Dean screaming something, and then the hunter jumped over him and attacked Cain. Castiel tried to open his eyes, he tried to reach his hand out to help Dean, when there was a loud gasp and the sounds of fighting stopped. The last thing Castiel heard before he passed out was the sound of Cain laughing.

Chapter Text

Dean opened his eyes at the searing pain that assaulted his arms, and he screamed as the burns deepened. The first thing he saw was Cas, collapsing in a heap, with his hands on Dean’s arms and his wings around them both. Make that one wing, Cain was behind Cas, and he had just finished ripping off Cas’ left wing, and he tossed it behind him with a huff of laughter. There was a crash of thunder, and angelic grace poured out of Cas’ injured back like a geyser. Dean tried to grab hold of Cas to steady the angel, but Cas squeezed his hands on Dean’s arms once more - Shit! He is burning me! - and his hands fell to his sides as images of intense love poured into Dean’s mind.

~Cas and him embracing at the angel headquarters~

~Cas quietly pouring him a glass of whiskey when he had a rough day~

~Cas’ heart threatening to beat out of his chest when Dean came to the Gas-n-Sip~

~Cas marvelling at Dean’s beauty~

~Their fierce embrace at the cemetery~

~The desperation Cas felt to save Dean at all costs~

Dean couldn’t take it any longer, the feeling of love he was getting from Cas was burning through his mind just as the grace from the angel was burning his skin. A final memory of the two of them sitting quietly together at a diner flashed over him and then Cas dropped his hands and crumpled. Dean looked up and saw Cain pulling an angel blade out of Cas’ collarbone.

“Cas? Cas!” Dean tried to shake him, but he was hampered by the First Blade held in his hands, which he had no memory of receiving.

Cas smiled at Dean and raised his fingers to Dean’s face before his eyes rolled back and he collapsed the rest of the way to the ground. His grace was bleeding out of him, but then it slowed to a trickle and Dean couldn’t see any signs of life.

“No! No, no, no, no!” Dean was screaming as he tried to will Cas back from death.

Suddenly Dean was jumping over Cas’ body and slashing at Cain with the First Blade. This wasn’t like the last time they had fought, this was fast and brutal and desperate. The First Blade clashed against an angel blade, and blood flowed from both men. Dean found himself shouting to Cain that he was going to kill him for good since Cain had killed Cas, and then Cain was on the ground. Dean was about to shove the First Blade through Cain’s heart when Cain grabbed the blade, wrenched it from Dean’s grasp, and  kicked him backwards. Dean flew through the air and landed next to some bloody bones, Cas’ wing, he thought grimly, and gathered the wing in his hands. He held it like a quarterstaff, with the sharp bones pointed out in front. He was dripping blood from several stab wounds Cain had landed, but Cain was faring no better.

The two men charged each other, knowing this was the final moments of the battle, knowing that someone was about to die. At the last second Dean dropped to his knees and shoved the sharp bones up and under Cain’s ribs and into Cain’s chest. Everything stopped as Cain let out a gasp of surprise. There were no other sounds for several moments, and then Cain started to laugh. Dean slowly stood up and took a careful step back as Cain fell to his knees. The angel bones instantly moved of their own accord, spearing themselves through Cain’s arms, and pushing him down flat on the ground. They then drove downwards until they were buried several feet underground, effectively trapping Cain. Dean walked forward until he was standing next to Cain’s pinned body, then he knelt down and slowly peeled Cain’s hand off of the First Blade.

“We could have been powerful, you and I…” Dean’s eyes widened as he realized that this was not Cain, that this was the voice that had been whispering to him for months.

“No.”

He didn’t say anything else, he didn’t need to. He took the First Blade and sunk it down into Cain’s neck. He didn’t think about the ease at which muscle and bone gave way to the blade, and he closed his ears to the laughter from Cain that was quickly turning into a bloody gurgle. He kept pushing until only the hilt was showing, the blade now firmly stuck into the ground. He stood up and looked down at the trapped man and allowed a small smile as the bones of Cas’ wing started glowing blue as the man struggled, refusing to release their prisoner. Then, without a word, he turned and walked back to his lifeless angel.

Cas was laying there, one hand outstretched towards where Dean and Cain had been fighting, and Dean choked back a sob as he realized that Cas, even when dying, had tried to help him. Cas’ one remaining wing was folded under him at a weird angle, and Dean dropped to his knees and gathered the fallen angel in his arms. He carefully unfolded the bent wing until it seemed like it was in a more natural position. Dean bent his head over the angel’s face, letting the tears come.

“I’m sorry! Cas, don’t leave me, I need you so bad. Please God let me have you back! Cas, Cas, I love you! Oh Cas, please…”

He kept saying this over and over until his tears turned to sobs and he shook so hard he couldn’t speak.

Crowley and Sam watched silently as Dean’s head rolled back and tears streamed silently down his face. They heard him whisper “Cas”, and bowed their heads as they realized the one thing that could have happened that would break Dean so completely. Rowena began to furiously prepare her spell.

After a while Dean’s tears stopped, and his shoulders stopped shaking. His forehead was pressed up against Cas’, and he spent a long time just breathing in the scent of the angel. It reminded him of water that was just out of sight, and pine trees. There was something wild about the blend that wrapped itself around Dean, and yet filled him with peace. His right hand stroked Cas’ cheek and he leaned in and softly kissed the angel goodbye. As his lips brushed Cas’ something powerful surged through his body, causing his back to arch away, and he opened his mouth in silent agony as he started to glow with blue fire.

Everyone in the dungeon was startled as Dean’s eyes and mouth opened and what looked like angelic grace started to shine through him. Rowena started to chant.

The blue fire gathered itself on top of Dean’s skin; fusing together on top of both of the handprints that Cas had scarred onto Dean’s arms, before diving into the angel’s chest.

Cas opened his eyes and screamed.

Dean had slumped forward, weakened by whatever had just happened, but when Cas started screaming, he was forced to cover his ears as the angel’s true voice ripped through him. He was bending over Cas, who was still on his lap, trying to shut out the sound, when everything went silent. He felt two hands gripping his shirt and he looked down to see Cas holding him tight as his face was scrunched up in pain. Dean knew that Cas was hurting, he knew that, but he couldn’t stop himself from enveloping the angel in a crushing hug. As they held each other, Cas for support and Dean because he needed to feel that Cas was alive, Dean watched as the blue fire that had come from his body travelled over Cas and knitted together the stab wounds.

As the fire moved to where Cain had ripped off Cas’ wing, it changed color from blue to green. Cas gasped as his single wing spread itself to its full length, and the now-green fire spread itself over the bones and solidified into fiery feathers. The feathers shimmered and smoked and shifted through the color spectrum of blue and green.

Rowena’s chant grew louder, and it started to resonate and echoed around the dungeon. Sam glanced around nervously, and Crowley stepped up to the edge of the devil’s trap and waited.

“Teicheadh, teicheadh, àrdachadh bho aisling, àrdachadh bho dorcha.”

Rowena whispered the last word, but to Sam it sounded like thunder.

Dean looked around nervously at the thunderous echoes of something rolled around them, and his grip on Cas tightened.

“Sam, get those dratted irons off your brother. Now! Hurry it along!”

Sam looked at Rowena, confused, but hurried to do what she asked when her voice turned sharp.

Cas was struggling to get his feet under him, so Dean pulled them both up until they were standing. Cas wrapped his arms all the way around Dean’s chest and his one, fiery wing flared straight out.

Rowena waited until Sam had finished removing all of the chains that bound Dean before she briskly walked in front of the seated man. With a brief glance at Crowley, she raised her fingers and hooked them like claws, muttered something that Sam couldn’t hear, and then plunged them straight into Dean’s chest.

Cas beat his wing once and the two men surged upwards. Dean clutched desperately at the angel as his feet left the ground. Cas was screaming with each subsequent beat of his wing as they flew higher.

Sam shouted in protest and jumped forward to pull Rowena away from his brother, but Crowley stuck out his hand and effortlessly stopped the large man.

“No, Samantha. If you interrupt Mother right now both Dean and Castiel will be lost.”

Sam stopped moving, but he tightened his grip on his gun.

“Amayo dalagare ol ugear!”

Whatever Cas was saying in Enochian made them fly faster. Dean shut his eyes tightly, and then he was spinning, tumbling, falling into nothing, but at the same time he was burning. It felt like he was being chained to a comet. He tried to scream, tried to get Cas to hear him, but no sound came. Cas was not there. Dean couldn’t stop plummeting, it felt like he would hurtle through this empty space for eternity. And then there was nothing.

Chapter Text

Rowena pulled her hand out of Dean’s chest, causing Dean’s empty body to fall out of the chair and onto the hard concrete floor. Sam immediately ran to him and gathered him into his arms, careful to not touch the blistered handprints that were burned onto Dean’s arms. He kept his eyes on Rowena, though, as she was struggling to force a glowing ball of energy that she had extracted from Dean into a large crystal that was on the table. With one last shouted magic word and a scream of triumph, Rowena shoved whatever it was into the crystal which glowed brightly for a moment before the light ebbed into nothing. At the same time as the light faded, Cas crashed onto the floor out of nowhere.

The angel was covered in blood, his clothes were ripped, and poorly healed wounds could be glimpsed under the rags. He was breathing hard and clutching something bright to his chest. Cas coughed as he got onto his hands and knees and slowly crawled over to where Sam and Dean were. He moved his hand, still holding the brightness, onto Dean’s chest. Light spilled out into the room and Sam shut his eyes against it. Dean acted like he was being struck by lightning; his back arched, his limbs tensed, and he opened his mouth to scream, but the sound trailed into silence as the light burned brighter.

At last Cas sat back on his heels and let his hand fall from Dean’s chest. Dean went limp in Sam’s arms, unresponsive, and Sam shot a worried look at Cas.

“It’s OK, Sam,” Cas spoke through deep breaths. “He is asleep. When souls and bodies are reunited, it takes more energy than the person has. You should know this.”

Sam nodded as he remembered how tired he had been when Death had rescued his soul from the Cage.

“Dean just needs to rest,” Cas continued. He looked over to Crowley, who nodded, then Cas turned back to Sam.

“Sam, I have to go. Get Dean to bed and look out for him, OK?”

“What? Cas, where… What?” Sam gently laid Dean onto the ground and then he stood up and towered over the kneeling angel, who hung his head in sorrow.

Cas was looking at Dean, and Sam stepped back slightly to give them some room as Cas gently stroked Dean’s cheek before he stood up and looked at Sam. It wasn’t often that Sam felt short, and even though he stood several inches above Cas, it felt like the angel was towering over him. Cas glared at Sam, saying nothing for a long minute, then he turned to Rowena and held out his hand. She smiled wearily at him and handed him the crystal.

“I dinna think ye had it in you to do this, dearie. May I go now?”

Rowena looked over to Sam and Crowley, who both stood between her and the door. Cas looked at her and then down at the crystal before he nodded.

“Yes. Thank you, Rowena.”

Sam started forward to protest, but Cas took Rowena by the hand and led her past the hunter and the demon and out of the door. Sam watched Rowena depart with the Book of the Damned tucked under her arm, and he kicked the table at the thought that they had let her go with all that power again . He turned to see Crowley put his hand on Cas shoulder, and as they disappeared Sam heard Cas’ voice whisper through the air,

“Please take care of Dean…”

Castiel stood next to Crowley in the center of the Sun, and watched as the hydrogen and helium molecules reacted in the Sun’s core. He held the crystal in his hand and felt anger rise inside him as he thought of all the harm the Mark had done to Dean. He wished that he had the power to smite it out of existence, and then again and again and again… Crowley put his hand over Castiel’s and brought his attention back.

“Just get rid of the bloody thing, Castiel. The Mark has brought both of us nothing but trouble, and we are well rid of it.”

Castiel nodded grimly and flung the crystal deep within the Sun’s core, forever to be lost. The angel and the demon stood side by side and watched the crystal disappear into the depths of fire before they teleported away.

When they reappeared, Castiel rounded on Crowley in anger.

“You said you would bring me back, not take me to the Mojave Desert?”

“No,” Crowley said with a smirk. “I said I would bring you back from the Sun, not that I would bring you back to a specific place. Have fun.”

With a wink and a grin Crowley disappeared, and Castiel was left staring at the cracked earth and scrub bushes that surrounded him. He raised his hands for balance as he stretched out his single wing. It hurt; his muscles ached with the still-healing joint from his lost wing, and there was a curious light that traveled through the burning feathers. It shimmered in his peripheral vision, changing from a bright blue to a vibrant green, and Castiel recognized the green as the same color as Dean’s eyes. Castiel closed his eyes and surged forth as his wing beat against the cosmos.

His flight was not instantaneous, he wasn’t as fast as when he had full use of both wings, and he was buffeted around by the currents of the universe. When he landed, it was ungraceful and awkward. Doubly so since he crashed into Sam as he was carrying a glass of water into Dean’s room. Sam dropped the glass as he grabbed at Castiel, steadying him before he fell, and consequently splashing water over them both.

“Shit! Damn it Cas, I’m sorry.” Sam tried to brush some of the water off of Castiel’s trench coat, and Cas stepped back and waved him off.

“Don’t worry, Sam, it will dry. Is Dean…” Castiel’s gaze wandered over to the bed where Dean was resting.

“He’s asleep, just like you said.”

Castiel nodded, and then just stood there watching the sleeping hunter. He didn’t see Sam looking at him thoughtfully, but he turned his attention back to the younger man when Sam spoke again.

“You know, I’m exhausted. If you are here, would you mind staying with him while I take a nap?”

“Of course, Sam. I will watch over Dean.”

Sam nodded and left the room. Castiel closed the door and then looked at Dean. Sam had put Dean’s pajama pants on, but not a shirt. Dean was laid out on his back, one hand on his chest and the other hanging off the side of the bed. Castiel walked over slowly and carefully brought the dangling hand back onto the mattress, though he did not release it. There were lines etched on the hunter’s face, lines that echoed his worry and exhaustion and his laughter, and Castiel loved them all.

Castiel sighed, he was so tired, so weak from all that he had gone through. There was room next to Dean on the bed and Castiel wanted nothing more than to be near to Dean before he woke up and things went back to the way they were. He carefully took off his shoes and was about to lie down when he realized that his clothes were still wet. Normally he would have dried them with a thought, but he was too tired. So he took off his trench coat and suit jacket, and folded them over the chair in Dean’s room. His dress shirt was damp, so he shed it as well. He looked down at his bare arm and opened his mouth in surprise. He walked over to the mirror and twisted to look at his back.

There were dark lines that wove their way from the center of his back, over his left shoulder, wrapping down and around his arm, and ending at his fingers. The lines traced themselves in the pattern of a wing, similar to how a butterfly wing looked up close, but with hints of feathers visible throughout. Then he moved his arm and the lines changed. At first he had thought the lines to be black, but when he moved colors appeared. At first it was blue, but the color shifted and morphed into a vibrant green. Dean, he thought. The colors continued to dance down the lines similar to how the Aurora Borealis danced across the sky.

“Dean marked me!” He whispered in shock.

Castiel didn’t know how Dean had done this, but he recognized the feel of Dean’s soul as it burned alongside his own grace within his wing. Castiel swung around to look at the hunter, gazing at the handprints he had left on Dean’s skin, before looking back down at his new brand. For the first time since he had shown his love for Dean in the dream cage, no, for the first time since he had known he loved Dean, Castiel allowed himself to hope.

The shirtless angel walked over to the bed and laid down quietly. He put his branded hand on top of Dean’s where it rested on his chest, and watched the colors dance. Dean made a sound in his sleep and curled into Castiel. Castiel shifted until he was holding Dean in his arms, and his chin rested in Dean’s hair. He lightly kissed Dean’s head before he closed his eyes and drifted into what passed for sleep.

Chapter Text

Dean slowly woke up, more comfortable and rested than he had been in months. There was a warmth that was spreading through him, coming from somewhere in front, so he shifted closer and reached out. Arms tightened around his body, and his hand brushed up against someone’s chest. Cas , he thought, knowing that he was right before he opened his eyes. It was Cas, and he was asleep and holding Dean. Dean saw a flash of blue and green, and he raised his head slightly to look at the strange lines that danced down Cas’ arm. As he followed the lines to Cas’ shoulder, he caught sight of ugly wounds that were closed, but still healing. They’re from an angel blade , he thought, and then the memories of what happened rushed back and he flinched.

He saw himself hitting Sam with a pipe, breaking Cas’ bones in the garage, and torturing Sam in Hell. Dean’s breath started coming in gasps as guilt followed the memories.

He saw himself standing with Cain at his back. He remembered submitting to the pleasure of the Demon’s kiss, his touch. Dean’s stomach revolted as he once more felt the touch of Cain on his skin.  

He watched himself attack Cas, nearly kill him. He watched as Cain ripped off Cas’ wing and drove the angel blade deep into Cas’ body. Dean pressed the hand that was not touching Cas over his mouth to try and muffle the cry that was trying to escape.

He watched as he told Cas he loved him, and Cas still slipped away. He watched as Cas lay dying in his arms.

Dean couldn’t stop the tears from falling, nor could he stop his shoulders from shaking as his body was wracked with sobs. Then Cas was holding him tight and kissing his head. The angel murmured comforting words to the hunter, and Dean clung to him, needing beyond anything to know that Cas was alive. Cas kissed Dean’s forehead and brushed away the tears. Dean ran his hand over Cas’ face, as if to make sure he was really there. And then they were kissing, pressing their lips against each other’s as the need for touch became more desperate.

Dean arched his back as Cas moved down his neck, biting and sucking as he went. Dean left trails down Cas’ back as his fingernails dug into the angel's skin. Dean wasn’t sure what was happening, he just knew that he needed Cas, needed him desperately, and Cas seemed to share that need. They both scrambled out of their pants, with Dean pulling Cas’ hand back to leave a trail of kisses over the shifting colors of the brand. Cas kicked the discarded clothes away and leaned over Dean, sucking marks down Dean’s chest. Dean turned Cas’ hand until he could lick the palm, and he continued to lick until it dripped with saliva. Dean saw Cas’ eyes darken as made his way up to Dean’s face before he sucked a bruise on Dean’s neck. Then Cas took his dripping hand and ran it over his hardened length, shifting his hips until he was positioned at Dean’s unprepped opening, and Dean gasped as Cas entered him without warning. Dean expected pain, but Cas had his left hand fitted over Dean’s right arm, right on top of the handprint that was now branded there, and with a surge of grace, the angel removed all the pain from the penetration, leaving Dean gasping out in pleasure.

“Oh fuck, Cas! Yes!”

Everything was intense, frantic, overwhelming. Cas kept sending sparks of grace through Dean’s handprints, and whenever Dean stroked down the colored wing on Cas’ arm, the angel cried out in ecstasy. Suddenly Cas tightened his hold on Dean and arched his back. Dean could hardly believe his eyes as the colored lines on Cas’ arm unfolded and spread out into an honest-to-god wing! Cas opened his mouth and gave a cry of pleasure as he released, and Dean heard the angel’s true voice. Instead of it ripping through his soul, Cas’ true voice sounded like the striking of a bell, and Dean vibrated with the beauty of the sound before he, too, came undone.

Cas collapsed on top of Dean, and they lay there motionless as they both tried to catch their breath. Then Cas moved his hand up until it caressed Dean’s face, and Dean ran his fingers up and down Cas’ spine, savoring each shiver the angel gave. The both turned their heads and watched as Cas’ wing slowly folded itself back onto his skin, the colors dancing down his arm as the wing settled. Cas pressed lazy kisses into Dean’s chest as Dean reached out his free hand and entwined their fingers.

“Cas?”

“Hmmm?” Cas’ low voice rumbled through Dean’s body and it was his turn to shiver.

“I said this, when I thought you were dead, but… Cas, I love you. I love you so much it hurts. I…”

Dean closed his eyes against the tears that were forming, his emotions being too raw and used up to contain. Cas’ hand on his face was warm and safe, so Dean turned into it, and sighed as the angel moved up and kissed him once more. It was slow and intimate, no longer tinged with desperation or frantic desire, but Dean felt the fire behind it. He let that fire burn over him, and quietly it cleansed him of the pain and worry that had chased his life.

“Dean Winchester,” Cas said when he let Dean breathe. “I have loved you for as long as I can remember. I am yours for eternity, and Dean,” Cas waited until Dean looked at him. “Dean, you are mine.”

“Yes.”

As soon as the word left his lips, Cas kissed Dean with the same fierceness of before, running his hands down the hunter’s body, and leading them both to release. Soon Dean was lost in ecstasy as his angel spread his wing.

A few days later Dean was in the garage working on the impala. He had already fixed the hood, and now he had the driver side door open as he replaced the broken parts. His brands grew warm, and a smile crossed his lips that only grew broader as Cas walked into the room.

“Hey Angel,” he called without turning around. His brands grew warmer until a hand came to rest on his shoulder.

“Hello Dean,” Cas said in a low rumble.

Dean shivered, both from Cas’ voice and from the feel of electricity that was running through them both from where Cas was touching him. They were still getting used to the shared emotions, or as Cas called it the impact of our profound bond making itself known to us both. Sam said it was probably a mystical side effect of an angel and a human mating, Dean didn’t really want to think to hard about that, though. Since he had been able to see Cas’ wing, they had tried to see if Sam could see it as well. He saw the way it was branded, and he could see the strange way it shifted colors, but it was still hidden from human sight when it unfurled. Dean was glad about that, in a jealous sort of way, he had decided that he wanted to be the only one that got to see Cas in all his glory. Dean was finally happy; Cas was back to normal, or as normal was going to get for him, and Dean was free of the whispers.

“Sorry about breaking the car, Dean,” Cas sounded sad, which brought Dean out of his reverie, and Dean sent a wave of happiness through their bond.

“Cas, this is not the first time I’ve had to fix my baby, and it’s probably not gonna be the last. Besides,” here Dean stood up and turned into his angel, placing his hands on Cas’ hips. “Besides, you were keeping your promise.”

Cas tilted his head in confusion as he thought about Dean’s words. Dean laughed and kissed him gently before he leaned their foreheads together.

“Last year, when I came back from being a demon...” they both tightened their hold on each other at the memory. “When you brought me back I asked you to keep me from going dark again, and you promised that you would. This here?” Dean gestured at the car next to them, “this is you keeping your promise. These?” Dean placed Cas’ hands over the handprints that were scarred in his skin, a perfect fit. “These scars are you keeping your promise.”

Cas smiled, and Dean couldn’t resist kissing his angel. He started running his hands through Cas’ dark hair when he heard a huff of annoyance behind them. Turning he saw Sam, laptop in hand, leaning against the doorway with a grin on his goofy face.

“What?” Dean called out, Sam just stuck out his tongue at the pair before they all laughed.

“Hey, when’s the car gonna be fixed, I found us a case.”

Dean grinned and put his hands back on Cas’ hips, walking the angel backwards until he was pushed up against the car.

“I don’t know, Sammy, I’ll finish it after I finish off Cas here.”

“Gross,” Sam tempered his words with a smile. “Get a room, jerk.”

Dean was about to answer when Cas smirked and unfurled his wing, a single beat later they were in their bed. Faintly Dean could hear Sam shout down the hall,

“I was just joking!”