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Dean and Castiel, as per usual, were together out on a hunt. This time, also very commonly, whatever they were after was something they hadn’t seen yet before. While no one really knew what they had gotten themselves into, no one either seemed hesitant at all about facing it head-on.
Shoot first, ask questions later—who cares about a strategy?
It was Dean, naturally, who confidently and bravely barged in first without regards. Castiel as close as possible behind him, attentive, shuffled after Dean.
What wasn't the usual, for the two, was the speed in which things went down. Before literally either of the two were able to comprehend what had happened, Dean had already been stung by something he hadn’t been able to identify—a painful, accidental shriek. As a response to it, a wide frown displayed itself on his displeased face from embarrassment and momentary vulnerability, Castiel assumes.
“Dean? Are you okay?”, Castiel pulls him back outside to relative safety by his shoulder to ensure his further well-being and protect him from the vicious creature. He doesn’t understand as to how anything managed to hurt Dean this fast in the first place. There was a hole in the fabric of his shirt, where something had broken his skin. Castiel should’ve protected him—he’s a literal angel, that’s his job. That’s the reason he tags along, after all. He failed.
Dean stays quiet. He seems to refuse to answer the angel. Castiel learned the hard way that he shouldn't touch Dean to heal him, before Dean gives him the explicit permission to. So, Castiel silently waits.
It’s not the first time Dean seems to sear with bitterness after something failed he hadn’t expected to. He hates getting humbled. Castiel is painfully aware of Dean’s mood—a certain tension in the air. He stands next to him and awkwardly lets go off him, despite how nice it felt to touch Dean and feel his life force.
Castiel turns to scan the surrounding area, to make sure nothing would sneak up on them until Dean had collected himself again and was ready to keep on moving. Everything seemed fine.
The angel wanted a quick glance of Dean, when the man punched him directly into his face without being prompted to. Out of shock rather than pain, Castiel yelps. Unconsciously his hands go to touch himself where Dean had stroke—his nose. It felt wet and the bridge of the nose didn’t feel as it typically did. Castiel believes it was broken.
It was throbbing heftily, a limp ache in the middle of his face. He was too stunned to speak—he didn’t expect it. He must’ve greatly disappointed Dean this time. This isn't typical.
Sure, Dean gets angry a lot and he’s terrible at dealing with negative emotions. But it resulting in a broken nose, was a new high for Dean’s anger management issues.
Castiel slowly moves his head to dare look at Dean again, though he made a point to avoid staring into his eyes—he learns his lessons quickly. He can’t quite shake the feeling that there was something wrong with Dean. Maybe it was just a wish, but the way Dean didn't say a single word, felt out of place. He usually would’ve yelled by now to put words to his actions.
Not mad at Dean, Castiel heals his own blood-dripping nose only to get hit right again in the same spot. Dean’s never been physical with Castiel like this before. This time, Castiel kept it a short grunt from the force.
“Dean!”, Castiel exclaims, his voice full of worry for his friend, instead of his own being. There's really no point in self-pity, since he meekly could heal himself again any second, anyway. “Stop this.”, he demands. He had the secret, underlying and pathetic hope that the sound of him could talk sense into Dean enough to calm him. It was quite egotistical of Castiel to think he is that worthy—he had to attempt still.
When Dean still didn’t respond to him but kept angrily and repeatedly attacking Castiel, it was decided. Dean wasn’t himself right now. He became more aggressive the more time goes on. Each second a new hit, a new snarl or a punch. “Please.”, Castiel intimidated tries to plead anyway, not giving up on Dean. Not that he ever would.
Castiel realised it to be to no avail. Of course it didn't work. Nothing Castiel tries, functions on the first attempt. Instead, Castiel had to go about this another way.
He has to think fast. Castiel wanted to contain Dean to make sure that he wouldn’t go about attacking anyone else if he came to realise in his crazed state that hitting Castiel wouldn’t do much damage for long-lasting time and decide it to not be rewarding enough to keep trying. “Calm down.”, at this point though, he didn’t think it’d help but it possibly couldn’t cause any more damage than what Dean already inflicted unprompted.
While Dean keeps physically lashing out at him, Castiel kept his fists to himself. He wanted to injure Dean as little as possible. Yet, each time he tried wrapping his arms around Dean, he furiously growled at Castiel with deep disdain and kept freeing himself, slipping away.
The angel wasn’t able to find a single peaceful moment to catch Dean unguarded, where he could lay his two fingers against his forehead and knock him out without force. This would've been the best thing. Now that it's off the table, Castiel has to get creative, he's afraid of.
“What’s gotten into you?”, Castiel tries to avoid as many direct punches as he’s able to. Judging by the red knuckles of Dean’s fists, he evidently hurts himself more long term than the angel. Castiel smoothly manages to duck and dodge well enough. The deathly glare Dean gave him in return when he managed to avoid most of the attacks, shook Castiel to his core.
Dean genuinely seems filled to the brim with dark desire to induce pain and see Castiel squirm beneath him. The expression stunned Castiel temporarily into stiffness throughout his entire body.
A punch to the gut—literally and metaphorically—forced Castiel to snap back into reality. He didn't have the privileged time to soak in the hatred Dean had for him.
“Talk to me.”, Castiel demands after he spit out a chunk of dark red blood to the ground. He wipes saliva mixed with crimson away with his sleeve, “I know this isn't you, Dean.” Castiel gruffly argues as if it would change anything in this situation.
The only respond he received from Dean, was more, if not even worse violence.
Castiel’s vessel feels numb in all the wrong ways.
Finally, Castiel caught a flaw in Dean’s savage, raving line of combat and managed to use it as an advantage for himself. His arms tightly hugging Dean from behind to avoid getting bit, he temporarily had him how he needed Dean to teleport him somewhere, where he couldn’t hurt anything—probably the bunker to Sam, who was waiting for them there.
Dean grumbles like a feral animal in captivity depleted of its freedom. Castiel feels his arms getting scratched open by Dean’s nails—but it didn’t matter much, since blood was already oozing out of every visible and unprotected part of his body.
But before Castiel would teleport him anywhere, he needed a moment to himself to breathe in and out to achieve a somewhat calm pulse once more. Dean kept clawing and biting—Castiel solemnly was able to think about how close the two of them were. Disregarding the accompanied pain, Castiel wanted to relish this moment. When ever would come the time again, where he would be this close to Dean? When in his entire life would he be allowed to touch Dean without entirely changing and potentially destroying what they had at the moment? It was such a fragile thing—both this moments and their relationship as it currently exists.
Castiel fights the urge to lay his chin on Dean’s shoulder, not wanting to shamelessly abuse the situation.
Within a blink, the bundle of the two stood covered in Castiel’s blood still in the middle of the main hall inside the bunker, behind Sam.
He had been on his laptop, “Cas, Dean? Thought you’d take longer– What happened?” Sam jolts at the sight of them. Upon Dean’s eyes focussing on Sam, it was as if his murderous energy refuelled again, like it doubled this time. Fiercely, he tried with twice the previous strength to harshly grate himself free.
Sam leans away from the threat that Dean was posing, “What happened?”, he asks, an expected anxiety for his brother apparent in his voice.
“He got stung by something and immediately started attacking me.”, Castiel pantingly explains. He hadn’t noticed that he was out of breath until he heard himself talk again. His head feels light but he couldn't allow himself to breathe just yet.
Sam’s eyebrows were furrowed, he carefully eyes his brother with a pained expression, “I don't think we, and especially not you and Dean can wait this one out.”, he mumbles more to himself as if trying to figure out the answer as to what to do instead. He chews on his lips, “I found some cage earlier in the bunker while dusting.”, he concludes his trail of thought.
Castiel, still squeezing Dean to his body and feeling his nails ruin his skin, shakes his head, “We can't just stick him in a cage! He’s not an animal.”, he argues, despite looking like he’s been mauled by one.
Sam smacks his lips, “Well, I don't like the thought much either of my brother in a cage but right now–, he’s certainly acting like a feral thing. It's the safest thing to do, for all three of us.”, he starts walking, turns his head around to confirm whether Castiel with Dean was following or not.
With the most displeased scowl Sam ever witnessed on Castiel’s face, the angel dragged his own and Dean’s furious body after Sam.
“I still need to set it up. Can you hang in for just a bit longer?”
Castiel doesn’t complain. At least he was near to Dean, he tries to tell himself in order to remain in control. It was hard, it hurt, but over the course of the short time, Castiel slowly grew accustomed to it. Only soft and occasional grunts and huffs of pain escaped his lips as he watches Sam set everything up until the additional pain stopped all of a sudden.
He had been so much in thought trying to avoid feeling the discomfort he was going through, that the lack pulled him out of his trance immediately like a cold shower. Carefully he looks down to Dean in his arms, not wanting to startle him—he feels his own arms pressed against Dean’s chest lower and raise itself as he breathes in hard.
His eyes widen at the sight for sore eyes. It seemed as if for the moment Dean had luckily tired himself out. It was probably the lack of interaction, entertainment and the fact that he still couldn’t free himself. Frustration and overuse of his energy, which amounted in him needing a nap.
There’s the smallest hint of a soft smile on Castiel’s lips—he tells himself it’s just happiness for Dean and his own self, but in truth, it was more. It felt intimate despite the wrongful and horrible circumstances. Castiel’s heart skips a beat before making up for the single missed out pound by doubling in speed.
Dean, passed out from exhaustion, shouldn’t make Castiel feel the way he was currently feeling. He forces his eyes to check up on Sam’s progress with the cage instead, not wanting to dwell and feel more of this.
And as soon as it was done and Sam gave him the go, Castiel was relieved of the burden. Castiel feels mean for being temporarily happy about the liberation—sure, he himself doesn’t have to endure any more pain, but whatever curse or spell hit Dean, was clearly making him still suffer and force him to act out, even as he lays there still out of it while asleep.
Depending on how much of the actual Dean was consciously trapped in this fury-ridden, feral body of his, he must be hurting as well. Castiel knows that Dean would never hurt anyone like this—would hate himself.
As soon as the loud noise of the door to the cage getting locked by a key sounded, Dean jolted awake. Immediately when Dean realises he isn’t getting held back anymore, he tries pouncing on Sam instead. He hit the bars of the cell and it makes a loud noise that filled the entire room and sounded horribly awful.
Slightly concussed and confused at the barrier he couldn’t penetrate, he rubs his head and sways from one side of the cage to the other. He growls, he eyes Sam with weariness, wondering what else he might have in store for him.
Sam’s eyebrows were knitted with worry. He can’t bear look at his older brother in this state. He gazes over to Castiel, he wanted to talk to him about what he felt but halted at the sight of the angel.
Devastated, Castiel stares at Dean, who was growling and trying to reach through the bars to reach the both of them and injure especially Castiel a little more—like a shark who sniffed blood.
Only now Sam is able to properly examine the damage Castiel took, “Shit, he got you good.”, he breathes out and brushes his hair behind his ears to slightly switch the topic, forcing Castiel to look away, because clearly this wasn’t helpful.
Castiel didn’t react—his eyes were trained on Dean, still, as if in contemplation.
Sam tucks him by the elbow and drags him outside to break line of sight. Castiel’s and Sam’s presence seemed to infuriate him only. Maybe if they left him alone, he’d calm down a bit and they would have a better chance to determine what stung Dean.
Castiel allowed to get dragged off, but up until the door closed, he was only looking at Dean. He licks his lips and then winces, the pain resurfacing. He rubs over his own bloodied arms and soft light slowly closes up his wounds.
“How are you feeling?”, Sam wants to check in. They can’t afford Castiel going crazy now as well. It’d be a whole mess—well, a worse mess than it already was.
Castiel shrugs it off, “We need to find a way to get rid of this thing as fast as possible.”, he decides then.
Sam could agree in theory but was worried about Castiel’s state anyhow, “Let’s get to the reading then.”, he walks off to the archives, leaving behind Castiel, in case he needed some time alone.
Sam was sitting around the Men of Letters table with at least fifty books stacked around him, reading one of the many while Castiel enters the main hall. “Hey.”, Sam softly greets Castiel with empathy.
Castiel weakly looks up and waves. “Do you mind?”, he wonders as he points to the books on the table, wanting to help Sam with the reading.
Putting down his book, Sam shakes his head, “Not at all, please.”, he watches Castiel slowly sit down, as if he was still experiencing pain, “These are all the books I found so far. But I’m sure there are more, in case these don’t work out.”, Sam says with doom in his voice.
“Do you think, we should give Dean something to eat?”, Castiel looks up from his book. It was a pointless lead, anyway. He was slowly losing himself in all the worry. It’s just been some hours now, but still, Castiel felt like he needed to make sure Dean wouldn’t suffer more than necessary.
Sam yawns, “Probably.”, then he scrunches his face.
Castiel nods and stands up, “I’m giving him the burger you bought for me earlier.”, he decides with determination and leaves before Sam could argue with it. He purchased that food, to make Castiel feel better.
Despite knowing that the angel doesn’t eat usually, he thought that he’d at least have something to get his mind off of this. It’s what Dean always did, when worried. It wasn’t too worrying that Castiel gave up his meal, especially for Dean, no matter the state. But adding it onto his fidgeting and unrest, Sam grew more concerned each hour.
If Castiel loses hope—he as an angel—what’s Sam supposed to feel?
Holding the plate in his hand, Castiel brings it straight away to Dean’s cage without detouring. As soon as the door opened to the room, the angel expected Dean to angrily jump up to his feet. He doesn’t.
Castiel looks at the unconscious body of Dean. He was sleeping. Curled into a ball, mouth open and his chest rising and falling heavily. He looked like Dean. At peace and rest after a long day of hunting the monster of the week.
Castiel is glad that Dean could still find sleep, even in this savage state. As silent as he can be, he places the plate in the cage, sticking his hands between the cold iron bars. He pushes it further into the cage, as far as he can.
Then, tired and needing a break from reading, he sits down on a chair in the same room. He watches Dean sleep with a heavy heart. Occasionally, Castiel dozed off, but always his thoughts revolved around Dean.
The plate was clean when Castiel awoke again. The angel and Dean interlocked eyes. After a whole minute, Castiel couldn’t bear the sight of the rugged body of Dean and leaves with an uneasy feeling making knots in his stomach.
That’s how it always went. For a whole week, Dean was fed and watered like a dangerous animal in a zoo, kept at an arm length. Dean didn’t complain about it verbally, still he didn’t talk but he wasn’t very appreciative about it either.
It was always also Castiel who took care of the job. Sam refused most of the time to enter the room where his feral brother was trapped in for his own personal reasons. Instead he started researching of the worth of two people.
Nothing Sam found, held up enough to even be actually worth trying out. There were rare and fleeting trails of hope met with a dead end sooner than later.
Sometimes, he suggested a few things to Castiel and made him try them out, just to do something, honestly—put that in his drink, or try that spell next time you visit. Not a single reaction ever out of Dean confirmed they were treading into the right direction.
Neither of the two worried man felt discouraged. Without talking, they silently agreed on trying everything on Earth—they would never give up on saving Dean.
“Got a last idea.”, Sam stares into Castiel’s eyes with something that the angel can’t comprehend. It’s a mix of shame, hesitancy yet hope. It was a different expression than from the hundred other times when he suggested things. Like he believed this one slightly more than the others in comparison.
Castiel tilts his head to the side, “What?”, he asks impatiently. At this point, he just wants to have back Dean safely. He can’t stand watching him destroy himself to this extent any longer whilst clawing at the cage and the ground from frustration.
Sam wets his lips, “It’s a long shot, but-”, he wanted to disclose but gets interrupted.
“Just tell me, Sam.”, Castiel demands angrier than he wanted it to come out. He’s been on edge for too long now, to hold back.
“In a lot of popular lore, there’s this one thing always being suggested. And I guess, maybe because it actually works. We’ve never tried it before.”, he was about to go on an awkward tangent, until he realises Castiel’s furrowed eyebrows were for once not confusion but disgruntlement. “Right.”, he stops himself, “A true love’s kiss is rumoured to break any kind of curse.”
Castiel feels a heart beat inside him, that he hadn’t thought was still functioning. It beat inside his throat, instead of his chest. He swallows, “What are you getting at?” His voice sounded gruffer than normal, but other than that, he lacked any sort of response.
Sam sighs, “I’m saying, maybe it’s worth a shot.”, he suggests as vaguely as he possibly could keep it. He looks at Castiel and of course, the angel looked as lost as always. “I mean, you should give it a shot.”, he clarifies.
“…You think I could be Dean’s true love?”, Castiel numbly asks to make sure he really understood what he just heard. He chuckles in disbelief, “I don’t think so.”, he refuses fast.
Sam runs a hand through his hair, “I know that you two always bicker and get separated by the universe more than just occasionally. But…you come back to each other. You do.”, he explains and then looks away, negating his gaze to the ground, “And to be honest, I’ve never seen my brother as happy as when he’s with you.”, he adds.
Castiel and Sam are momentarily silent.
There were so many thoughts swirling inside his head, clouding his judgement. He wasn’t sure if he should dare to indulge in the delusion of him potentially being Dean’s true love. Castiel doesn’t want to impose—as an angel, he needs to stay humble. At the same time, a tingling feeling in his stomach area confirmed he was in fact considering the possibility.
“This is our last resort?”, Castiel asks weakly. He doesn’t even bother to deny the implications of everything that Sam said. That he just assumes that Castiel is in love with Dean, that they are fated and destined to be, that Dean could love Castiel ever back.
Sam shrugs, his usually poised body with straightened back was slightly slumped—both from sleep deprivation and helplessness, “I think so, yeah.” He admits.
Castiel slowly raises a hand to touch his own lips. He feels them. Castiel wasn't sure what sensation he had expected other than dry. “I’ve never kissed anyone before.”, he confesses with a nervous tone of voice.
Sam didn't look surprised. Instead, it felt like he even expected the statement and gave it thought. Without hesitancy, Sam assures Castiel with a soft voice, “He’s so feral, I’m not sure if he even will remember anything. If he does, I’m sure he’s going to be more grateful than anything else. Can't be easy for him.” Sam consoles Castiel, though ending on that note turned the angel’s saliva bitter from worry and guilt.
“I’ll do it.”, Castiel determines eagerly. He nods twice with keenness that made him look almost silly. “But…”, Castiel doesn't finish the sentence. The words get stuck in his throat from embarrassment.
Sam raises his hands as if in defence, “I wasn't planning on watching. I know you can handle yourself. And Dean, for that matter.”, he frowns at the end from the images unwillingly crossing his mind.
Approving and appreciating, Castiel takes a few steps backwards without turning around. He considers saying thank you, but feared it would only make the situation weirder. He picks up pace and strides to the cage without turning around.
With each step, his heart felt heavier and his stomach upset. Castiel doesn't quite feel all there—as if not real.
He doesn't want to wallow in this emotion any longer than he had to. The anticipation of whether it would work, or if he’d assault Dean without purpose, unnerved him too much. What if it wouldn't work? What if Castiel would like it? What if Dean would still be stuck in this angry state? What if Dean was lost?
“Dean?”, Castiel pushes open the door with a tense hand that curled tight around the door handle.
Immediately, the man snarls at him. He jumps up from where he had laid to rest from his last attempt at attacking the cage and break free. He doesn't walk up to the bare, as if he knew or maybe could feel Castiel’s malicious intent.
Castiel and Dean look at each other. Dean growls and Castiel sighs.
He uses a key to unlock the cage. Within a few seconds, he entered and locked up neatly after him.
Dean didn't expect any of this to happen. He looks perplexed until a smirk widens on his face—he thinks he’s being challenged. A cage match.
The angel slowly takes a few steps towards Dean to not try to give off more the kind of that that he wants to actually fight him. Each step heavier than the next, more meaningful, more intently. Tension built up, filled the room—it wasn’t exactly uncomfortable but neither was it something Castiel would like to stay in longer than he needed to expose himself to.
Castiel quickly lays his arms around Dean’s panting, furious and overwhelmed body, before he could fight it to ensure he wouldn’t be able to hit him during the process and ruin the attempt. He puts all his force into the embrace, to make sure he wouldn't wiggle out and claw pit Castiel’s eyes.
He couldn't afford a break, to stare into Dean’s eyes to try to catch a glimpse of the actual Dean and talk some courage into himself. Instead, he squeezes his eyes shut, stops breathing while forcefully putting his lips to Dean’s, who immediately jolts at the feeling.
At first Dean tried biting Castiel, he tried, as Castiel had anticipated, hitting him too. Castiel held him even tighter, though it wasn’t absolutely needed. He pours himself into the kiss, it feels like. When Dean gives up on using his arms, he tries shifting balance on his feet to kick, but something made him so wobbly in his stance, that he couldn’t possibly uplift his feet without losing equilibrium. Seconds passed fast, Castiel forced himself to feel indifferent about the kiss, but in the end wasn’t able to keep up that wall—something crumbled in the back of his mind.
Dean’s movement slows down, he still keeps on trying anything to slip away. Mostly, it was him trying to bite into Castiel’s lips. He wasn't able to get ahold of them though. Castiel abused the moment when Dean opened his mouth wider to bite once more by inserting and literally shoving his tongue in Dean’s mouth. It muffled him right up and surprised him so deeply that the feral version of Dean simply seemed to give up after a whole minute passed.
Like chloroformed, Dean slumps into himself then, leaning in Castiel’s direction. Castiel removes his lips from his with conflicted feelings. Dean, passed out laid his head on Castiel’s shoulder, because nothing held it upright any longer.
Castiel shakily touches his own lips with two of his fingers in disbelief he had been able to do something . If it actually worked, would only reveal itself once Dean would wake up. But until then, this was progress.
With weak knees yet the graceful strength of an angel, he carefully lays Dean on the ground. He couldn't risk bringing Dean outside just yet.
When Dean lazily rolls around, he shivered. Of course he did without a blanket. Tiredly and exhausted thinking it must’ve slipped off of him in the middle of the night, he goes to touch the ground beneath him in search for the familiar feeling of it.
He was greeted with the sensation of rough stone instead.
Instinctively panicked, Dean jolts wide awake and looks around.
His eyes meet those of Castiel. They were slightly bloodshot, but he’d recognise that blue in any state. “Cas! What’s going on?”, he breathes hard, massaging his own tense and aching back.
Castiel grins wide and sighs, “You’re back.” His face looked relieved despite a few bruises on his skin. Castiel sat leaned against the bars of a cage they were both locked in inside.
As Dean stares at the iron grid, memories flash in front of his inner eye. His head aches as he remembers everything.
Dizzily, after all came back to him, he looks at his two hands, that had done most od the general damage. They were rougher than usual, dried blood was beneath his nails and the nails themselves were in terrible shape. His hands start quaking. Looking up to Castiel, he furrows his eyebrows.
“Cas.”, Dean whispers, his heart in his throat. Then as his eyes slip down to Castiel’s lips as they were saying something to him, he frowns from overwhelming information mixed with pathetic feelings.
“Dean?”, Castiel asks and once he actually got the man’s attention, he repeats his question, “Do you remember anything?” He asks.
He gives him the easy way out, Dean realises. He licks his lips, “It's blurry.”, he mumbles.
Castiel stands up. He heals his own body and then nods at the door of the cage, “Let's go back to your brother first. Get you out of this thing.”, he suggests nicely, standing next to Dean.
His body aches as he attempts to stand up. Once he manages to, Dean breathlessly and awkwardly chuckles. He feels Castiel’s gaze burn into him.
He takes a first step towards freedom when his knees give out and he slips forward. Unconsciously he reaches for Castiel to help him.
As the hand of Dean falls onto Castiel’s shoulder and grabs him tight by the fabric, the angel stretches out his arms to catch Dean. He didn't flinch, despite how it looked like Dean had been about to hit Castiel again.
Castiel still trusts Dean.
