#writingishardnetwork

“Let him go, now.” Castiel ordered; his rough voice thundering through the rafters as he countered Crowley’s triumphant smirk with a dangerous glare.

Even though Dean had personally been on the receiving end of Castiel’s superhero rescues, he’d never actually witnessed this level of sheer force before.

Power roiled off Castiel in awe-inspiring waves as his wings flared out to their full span behind him. A giant, dark mass that rippled with the same intense energy that surrounded the rest of his body.

Dean’s base instincts warned of danger. That he should be afraid of this terrible being that stood before him.

But the logical part of his brain, thankfully, jumped to the forefront and took over, erasing any inkling of doubt.

This was Cas.

Cas, who grumpily stared at the coffee pot in the kitchen every morning while sporting the world’s wildest bedhead.

Cas, who just last week had been unable to pick between the gaggle of guinea pigs at the pet store and ended up spending hours cuddling each of them in turn, until a favorite finally emerged for him to happily bring home as his own.

Cas, who, without fail, kept Dean draped in the warmth and safety of his soft wings, every night as they slept.

Cas, who saved and changed Dean’s life in more ways than he could even count.

“That’s just not possible, darling.” Crowley apologetically clucked in a voice that slithered with insincerity.

“I wasn’t giving you an option.” Castiel warned; spine straightening as his wings snapped with agitation and sent wind gusting against the quickly growing, fiery divide.

“Your preening doesn’t scare me, Castiel. Now how about we put all of this nonsense aside and resume our previous business discussions?” Without waiting for an answer, Crowley turned from Castiel and honed his attention, instead, on the bound and seated man beside him.

He yanked Dean’s head back until their eyes met, then continued with his false concerns. “I’m guessing by your shocked expression that your feathered lover failed to mention the arrangement he’d made with me. What a pity.”

“Dean!” Castiel shouted while stepping closer to the flames that stood as a widening barrier between them.

“Not another move, Castiel or I’ll snap your boy-toy’s neck before you can even think to flap your way across to save him.” To prove his point, Crowley hooked fingers under Dean’s chin and sharply wrenched him into an impossible angle that had him crying out in tear-inducing pain.

“Dean has no part in this, Crowley. Set him free and we’ll go forward with the plan to defeat Leviathan.” Castiel asked again even as his shoulders slumped in a sign of accepted failure.

The action had Crowley relaxing his agonizing hold on Dean as he became too involved in puffing up in response to his apparent victory over Castiel.

Dean quickly jumped at the opening and used it as a chance to get through to Castiel. His mind was a whirling, panicked mess of questions. But he needed to know why in the hell Castiel would join up with a shit stain like Crowley. Even if it meant possibly taking out the bigger and more dangerous threat of the Leviathan Organization.

Dean jerked his head fully from Crowley’s lax grasp and tried to latch onto Castiel’s adverted gaze. “Are you really working with this asshole to take down Leviathan, Cas?”

The insult earned Dean a rattling knock against the side of his skull but the momentary disorientation was worth it as Castiel finally met his eye.

“Dean, I had no choice. Leviathan threatened to destroy and devour everything in this city. And that included you. It was a risk I couldn’t take. You’re too important to me.” His own words seemed to reassure Castiel and defeat disappeared as he steadily held Dean’s gaze.

Dean’s heart thumped wildly in his chest at the profound admission.

The two of them could fix this. They would.

“Such a beautiful confession of love, Castiel. The perfect thing to tug right at the old heart strings.” Crowley interrupted with a disgusted groan of disapproval. “But, seeing as how I don’t actually have any...”

Dean once again, felt the clawing skitter of Crowley’s fingers at his scalp. Tearing at the roots of his hair as he was violently snatched back and his chair tipped precariously onto two legs.

Crowley's scrambling attempt to gain a more solid hold was brought to a premature end by the long silver blade that whizzed passed Dean’s face and embedded itself deep into Crowley’s right shoulder.

Crowley lost his grip completely and Dean’s chair slammed down onto the floor as the villain screamed in shocked anguish behind him.

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean saw Crowley stumble toward the fire that had gone from simply encircling them to angrily engulfing everything within reach.

Dean's attention was pulled away from the bright flames when Castiel leaped over the blaze that now completely separated them. His wings beating furiously; kicking up dust and debris as he landed in front of Dean.

“I’m sorry.” He atoned while snapping Dean’s bonds with ease. “I never meant for this to happen.” He soothed his large palms over the torn skin of Dean’s wrists and instantly healed skin damaged by rough, tight ropes.

“I only wanted to keep you safe.” Castiel confessed as he brushed hands over Dean’s face. All of the bruises and aches disappearing under the trail of gentle touches.

Dean flung his arms around Castiel’s shoulders and tucked his head tightly into the crook of his neck. “Cas, let’s get the hell out of here. We’ll talk about all of this once we...”

The rest of Dean’s sentence was drowned out by a loud, inhuman roar that pierced the air and rattled the warehouse walls.

“The fuck?” Dean shouted; hands over his ears as Castiel peered into the space behind where they stood.

“Dean, I need you to trust me.” Castiel announced and before Dean could respond he was shoved, hard, then Castiel’s heavy wings were shielding, protecting him from the view of what stepped out of the surrounding flames.

Vaguely still Crowley shaped, the creature’s charred skin undulated as if living things were crawling just beneath the surface. Eyes glowed red and firelight flashed off of sharp white fangs and claws. 

“This most assuredly counts as a breach of contract.” Crowley growled as he yanked the silver blade from his shoulder and tossed it to the floor.

Dean tried to get a better look at the ongoing situation but Castiel’s wings shivered and held tight against him, making it hard to see much of anything except black feathers and the tan back of Castiel’s trench coat.

“Look what you’ve done to my favorite suit, Castiel.” Crowley shouted in anger. “Just for that I’m going to slowly tear your human limb from limb while you helplessly watch.”

“As long as I breathe, you won’t touch a single hair on his head.” Castiel threatened as Crowley began to laugh.

“Alright, we’ll do it your way, then.”

Castiel reached behind himself, fingers painfully clamping onto Dean’s wrist, before he was being tossed out of the way, just as Crowley’s body made contact with Castiel. The impact sending both of them tumbling to the very edge of the fiery circle.

As the pair grappled before his eyes Dean could only watch in horror until something shiny caught his attention. Looking to his left he saw that Castiel’s blade was just within his reach. He moved across the floor toward the weapon; relief coursing through him when his fingers wrapped around the unnaturally cool metal.

“Cas!” Dean shouted; sliding the blade to Castiel, where the other man deftly caught the handle and brought it down to pierce Crowley’s flesh.

As another howl ripped through the air, Castiel staggered to his feet; moving in Dean’s direction as the warehouse around them shuddered as fire crawled up the walls and reached the ceiling.

“C’mon, Cas.” Dean held out as hand and just felt fingers brush his before Crowley tackled Castiel from behind.

“NO!” Dean’s lunge toward the fighting figures was halted by an burning beam that fell from the ceiling with a crash.

“Dean, get back!” Castiel shouted above the now audible roar of the fire.

“No, dammit! I’m not leaving here without you!” Dean responded; rushing to the other side of the room to try and reach Castiel.

“Please! Go!” Castiel implored as the fire exploded and completely obscured him from Dean’s view.

“CAS!” Dean screamed as the flames and heat burned his throat and tears streamed from his eyes. He stumbled back; arms covering his face in a weak attempt to protect himself against the fire that continued to render the interior of the building unrecognizable.

#####

6 months later

“Dean, are you sure you want to do this?” Sam warily asked; watching his brother put the finishing touches on the project that’d recently consumed every waking moment of his life.

Was he sure?

Not in the least, but Dean didn’t really have any other choice.

This was what he was meant to do.

He’d known from the moment the idea came to him in a dream filled with black feathers and bright blue eyes, just shy of the first month after...after...well, after.

“Stop looking at me like that, Sammy.” Dean grumbled as he soldered the final components to the harness’s control panel.

He hated when his little brother looked at him like he was a friggin’ 1-legged puppy.

“Are you absolutely positive this is safe?” Sam continued as Dean strapped the harness over his shoulders and locked it across his sternum..

“If you’re just gonna nag me to death, get off my roof.” Dean answered and with a single press of the button at the center of his chest, huge metal wings unfolded from the pack on his back.

The shiny material a familiar color of blue that Dean would only ever get to see now whenever the man-made appendages stretched to either side of his body.

When Dean had first revealed his intentions to Sam, the younger Winchester had immediately contacted Dr. Barnes. Relaying the troubling information to the psychologist because he was worried the plan was an elaborate suicidal ideation, instead of what it really was.

Dean’s newfound purpose in life.

Dean glanced over the side of the building then scanned the deepening hues of the sun as it set against the horizon.

Castiel had loved this city and Dean had loved Castiel.

And even though he was now gone, the city still needed protection.

Blinking, he finds Dean pressing too close as he tries to gently pry open the injured hand that he’s unconsciously balled up into a fist.

Fingers and Dean’s wide palm move over his own where the bloody rag is clenched tight.

“The hotel I’m staying at is closer. We'll get this taken care of, grab some grub then I'll take you out to your place, alright?” Dean offers with a strained smile.

Right. The fictional room on the farthest end of town. Made up to explain why he needed to return to the Gas-n-Sip instead, between the high school and his date, babysitting, with Nora.

“It's on the other side of town, Dean. It’s easier to get things done this way.”

He'd left Dean in the parking lot and faced the confused look from the noon shift worker, Malcolm, when he entered the store. The puzzlement had remained as he’d muttered a fabricated explanation of forgotten paperwork to the college student.

“When humans want something really, really bad, we lie.”

Castiel really, really wants to go home. Even though that option’s been cutoff for him at every turn.

He’ll just have to make due with a sleeping bag in the Gas-n-Sip storage room. It may be nothing but it's human and it's his.

*****

“Dude, seriously, Greatest American Hero?”

Castiel is glad for the frivolous question that keeps his mind off the pain of Dean dressing a wrist that’s thankfully only sprained, not broken. Though, he can’t say as much for the two fingers on the same hand. 

“It seemed to be the only thing that would soothe Tanya.” He explains as Dean moves carefully around the cramped space of the rundown motel bathroom.

The anxiety of attempting to pacify a feverish baby was only intensified with the distress of being caught up in the cloying tension that hung over the room as Dean took care of the mess left behind by Ephraim’s attack.

The hunter had come back in as Castiel had made his way through the third round of the song that’d worked so well earlier in the evening.

Castiel had tried hard to ignore the strange, soft expression that had looked out of place on someone who'd just disposed of a dead angel’s murdered vessel.

“I used to watch reruns as a kid.” Dean explains. Bandage constricting tight enough that Castiel involuntarily winces.

“I do, whenever I have trouble sleeping.” Castiel doesn't add that he watches the tiny black and white TV in the break room when the hard storage room floor keeps him up more often than not.

Or that he feels a strange understanding and kinship with Ralph Hinkley. Knowing all too well about finding one’s way without guidance.

‘Listen, buddy. Um... You can't stay.’

“Why don’t you just crash here and I'll drop you off in the morning?” Dean offers, later, after the empty medical supply packaging has been swept into the trash. The remains of their dinner strewn in foam containers on the two double beds and nightstand between.

Castiel wants to decline the assistance so eagerly given now, but the bed is comfortable and he’s full of food that’s not something ready to be tossed in the trash from the Gas-n-Sip. 

So he nods, accepting with the barest minimum of interaction. He'll take what's given as long as Dean understands he doesn't depend on it.

The eldest Winchester may have sent him out but Castiel has done well to keep himself going.

“Night, Cas.” With a click of the lamp they’re pitched into darkness.

“Good night, Dean.”

He expects sleep to come quickly with how exhaustion rolls over his body in waves. But it eludes him. Leaves him staring at the ceiling well into the night.

He’s not the only one.

Dean, for all appearances, though spread face down on the mattress, doesn’t actually asleep.

Castiel may no longer be an angel but he’s watched over Dean Winchester countless times and he can sense the tenseness in the hunter’s otherwise careless sprawl.

He doesn't say anything. Knows there’s not enough time left in the night to answer all the questions he has.

*****

‘You're human now. It's not your problem anymore.’

Human.

It may not be ideal but he’s making his way through it.

For once he’s able to see the positive effects of his actions. Even if it's something as simple as Mrs. Bixley’s smile at the coffee she only stops for on his shift. “Best cup I've ever had, Steve. Keeps me on my toes during bingo.”

Or soothing a baby’s discomfort with a long gone television show’s theme song.

Maybe this is what he’s meant for.

He’s only been at the store for a month but he runs through opening procedures on autopilot.

Dean's final words, ‘You're adapting. I'm proud of you.’ fill the quiet of the empty store.

Castiel had lingered when they pulled up to the Gas-n-Sip, that morning. Hoping for an explanation but was only met with silence and a jumbled mix of emotions.

Emotions that had warred behind green eyes before Dean shoved them down with a wave.

A dismissal without explanation.

Castiel had kept eyes forward as he opened the front door of the store. Stayed focused on his duties as the Impala rumbled out of the parking lot. Leaving only the low sound of the television in it’s wake.

‘It's been weeks since the massive meteor storm...’

His chest aches thinking about his brothers and sisters wandering.

Overwhelmed like Ephraim. Lost and alone like Hael.

More likely than not, with anger directed toward him. And rightfully so.

‘I will devote my life to helping you all.’

Human. So fragile against the might of angels, even wingless, but he has to try.

He may no longer know where his home lies but that doesn't mean he should leave his brothers and sisters without theirs.

“Thanks again for babysitting Tawnya, Steve.” Nora’s a bustle of energy as she comes in for her shift. “Her fever broke this morning.”

“I'm glad.” He truly is. His eyes follow Nora around as she sets to restocking the aisles.

“I need to speak with you, though.” The grave tone immediately snaps Nora’s attention away from the Cornuts and Slim Jims.

“Steve, what's wrong?” She asks; hands nervously tucking hair behind her ears.

“I am forever grateful for the opportunity you've given me.” Castiel’s heart thumps wildly as he continues. “Even when it would have been easier not to.”

He'd been drawn in to the store by the help wanted sign. With no identification and a name hastily snatched off the giant Captain America Big O Slush display when Nora had asked for it.

But she’d taken his explanation of being exploited by someone he’d trusted, at face value. She’d given him a job and more importantly extended friendship to him.

Not to Castiel, Angel of the Lord. But to regular human Steve. With the ironic superhero name that took pride in every little task done right.

“I have to leave.” He ends; staring at the floor in front of him instead of Nora.

“What?” Confusion rings loudly. “Are you alright? Is this a permanent thing?”

“I'm fine.” He offers; finally meeting her gaze. “But I don't know how long it will be.”

“Oh.” Her face falls and Castiel hates that he’s the cause. “Is it a family thing?”