#bamf!cas

Nothing Fucks With My Baby

From the first time Castiel had seen Dean in Hell, he’d known he would give up anything to keep him safe.

And so, now, as he abandoned his brothers and sisters on the battlefield that he was supposed to be on and hurtled towards Earth because of a prayer from Sam that Dean had been taken, he tuned out the judgement coming across angel radio about where his priorities lay. 

They lay with Dean, always. They should know that by now.

He landed in front of Sam. “Where is he?”

Sam jumped at his sudden appearance. “I don’t know. We were tracking a vamp nest, talking to a few leads. Next thing I knew, I was behind that dumpster and Dean was gone. That was a few hours ago. They’re probably not fa—”

From the first time Castiel had held Dean in his arms, he’d known that there was nothing else more precious in this world.

And so, now, as Castiel flew away from Sam, scanning the area for Dean, there were no words to describe both the sense of urgency and overwhelming relief that Castiel felt as he spotted the faint glow of Dean’s soul on the outskirts of town. 

That glow led him to a run-down warehouse. On this plane, Castiel could see that along with what he assumed was the vampire nest they’d been hunting, this supposedly abandoned warehouse was also surrounded by demons.

Castiel tilted his head. “This is a strange alliance,” he thought out loud as he landed.

The nearest demon turned, wide-eyed. He opened his mouth to speak, but was not afforded the opportunity.

Castiel pressed his hand to the demon’s forehead and released his grace into it. It didn’t matter why they were working with vampires, why they’d taken Dean.

The fact that they’d taken him was enough.

Castiel removed his hand from the demon’s forehead and watched the husk fall to the ground, burned from the inside out. He stepped over it and towards the warehouse as three more demons ran at him. 

He stabbed the first one as it came near, hurled his blade through the air and into the chest of the one furthest back, then grabbed the face of the other, shoving it to the ground as he reduced its insides to ash.

From the first time Castiel had pressed his lips to Dean’s, he’d known he was owned, not as he had been in the past, not as a prisoner or slave, but as a willing sacrifice at the altar of this man he’d chosen.

And so, now, as he blasted open the door of the warehouse to step inside, he nearly hit his knees in reverence at the sight of Dean, machete in hand, covered in blood, the ground around him littered with the dismembered corpses of those unlucky enough to have already faced him, and surrounded by a dozen more about to take their turn.

Dean’s gaze lifted to him. “Heya, Cas.”

Castiel paced towards him. “Close your eyes, Dean,” he growled.

Dean did, a small smirk gracing his features.

Castiel let his grace fly free, seeking out and burning every vampire and demon in the area.

He pulled Dean into his arms as he reached him, pressing their mouths together in a bruising kiss.

Dean pulled away and chuckled. “Gotta admit, I kinda like it when you get all smitey.”

Castiel hummed against his lips. “I like it when you’re safe.”

Dean pulled him back in for another kiss, then took his hand and began leading them out of the building. “Thought you were gonna be away for a while with the angels?”