audrarose

Title: Forgotten, 3/?
Fandom/Pairing: spn, dean/castiel
Rating: PG-ish for now
Length: 2100
Summary: Dean's starting to figure it out.

Notes: I'm having WAY too much fun with this. Anyway, here's the deal with this WIP, as well as an index with the previous parts. And at least as far as Sam goes, this still has a nodding acquaintance with canon. Like they went to high-school together or something. Thanks for reading. :D

Part 1
Part 2



Dean is running.

In pursuit or being pursued, that part isn't clear, but when Castiel reaches out he can feel Dean, bent forward and breathing hard, flying flat out through the darkness and almost tripping over hidden roots and fallen tree limbs.

Castiel's too far away to intercept but he makes sure he appears close by when Dean and Sam burst out of the woods, stumbling into the cleared spit of land between huge electrical towers that march off toward the horizon in both directions. Sure enough, there's something else running with them, something that stands on two feet but moves like a cheetah. It turns as it breaks from the trees and crouches to spring as Sam and Dean close the space between them. Dean throws himself at the creature as it raises a muscled arm, pale moonlight glinting on razor sharp claws.

"No," Castiel whispers, stepping forward involuntarily.

Instantly the two closest electrical towers explode, sending angry blue-light arcing skyward with a snarling blast that takes even Castiel by suprise. He braces himself as the ground shakes and the sky fractures and the other three are knocked flat by the pulse.

He finds himself blinking into the hissing stillness that follows, smelling ozone and burned wiring and wondering how that impulse had gotten so completely away from him. He's still surveying the destruction when the demon stirs, so he raises a hand, sending it into hell, almost as an afterthought. Belatedly he glances over at Dean, who slowly raises his head from the ground and stares up at him, looking a cross between dazed and enraged.

"Dude. Was that necessary?"

**

Dean doesn't seem at all surprised to see Castiel when he opens the motel room door an hour or so later. He just crosses his arms belligerantly and leans against the door jamb, his face still streaked with dirt and blood, his hair askew.

"I had that situation completely under control," Dean begins.

"You would have died," Castiel says, seriously. When Dean glares at him in silence, he relents. "Might have died."

"Going all guardian angel on me isn't helping anything," Dean mutters, looking past Castiel into the darkened parking lot. "Half the state's out of power, now, you know."

"I'm aware of that." Castiel hopes his embarrassment doesn't show. He looks past Dean into the motel room. "Is your brother all right?"

Dean's gaze on him is sharp. "Don't you just know or something? Angels watching over me?"

Castiel shakes his head and Dean looks at him appraisingly. Then he turns and heads back into the motel room. "That thing got a swipe in on him. Messed up his side pretty bad. I had to stitch it."

Castiel hesitates until Dean looks back at him in irritation.

"Fine," Dean says grudgingly. "You can come in. Just don't... kiss me again."

"Oh, God, seriously," Sam says from the bed, his arm flung over his face. "Please don't kiss him again."

Dean and Castiel both stare at him.

"Vicodin," Dean says, after a second.

"What's he doing here, anyway?" Sam's voice is thready and strained, like he's having a hard time taking a full breath. "I thought we told you to leave us alone."

"It seems your brother still doesn't want me here," Castiel says to Dean.

"I'm sitting right here," Sam says, breathless and angry, coming up to one elbow. "You want to address me directly, Gabriel?"

He turns to narrow his gaze at Sam. "It's Castiel. As you know very well."

"Okay, time out." Dean moves to Sam's side, his brow creased in concern. "Don't move around too much. You need to sleep it off," he says, his voice low. "I'll get rid of this guy."

The way Dean touches Sam's shoulder sets off an unfamiliar ache in Castiel, along with the memory of Dean's touch right before he'd walked away a few nights ago. This body he inhabits remembers.

Craves.

Dean walks up to him and says, "If you have something to say to me, we need to go somewhere that's not here."

It's all Castiel can do not to reach out to him.

"And you have to stop looking at me like that, too," Dean adds, turning his back and heading out the door. He locks it behind them and they walk through the parking lot as a light mist begins to fall.

"So back there in the woods," Dean begins. "That was what -- a bolt from the blue? Divine justice?"

"Divine justice looks significantly different," Castiel says, watching the wet pavement in front of them as he walks. It also happens to be something he wants to avoid for as long as possible. "What I did was... impulsive."

"You think? Well, I guess you would know what smiting looks like," Dean says. He looks at Castiel appraisingly. "Maybe you shouldn't do stuff like that if it takes it out of you, because between you and me? You look like hell. And hey, that's something I would know."

Castiel glances over, catches Dean's mouth twisting into an insolent grin, in an achingly familiar attitude that hasn't changed in millennia. Castiel can't resist the temptation anymore, reaches out to touch his arm. "I had to leave you. I was... needed. Elsewhere."

Dean looks down to where Castiel's fingers are closed around his bicep, and then back at Castiel's face. "Okay... it's not like you need to check in or anything."

Castiel places his hands on Dean's shoulders, the heat of Dean's body comfortingly warm beneath his palms. "Things are changing rapidly. I won't always be here with you," he says urgently. "I was almost too late this time, so you need to be more careful."

"Hey, I managed almost thirty years without you hovering above me and holding my hand when I crossed the street..." He breaks off at Castiel's expression, steps backward abruptly. "No. No way. Are you serious?"

"There are many things you don't understand," Castiel begins, carefully. "Things this finite form you inhabit can't comprehend --."

"Do not get all cryptic and biblical and shit with me," Dean interrupts, shrugging off Castiel's touch. "I don't believe it, anyway. You have not been... watching me all this time. No." Dean turns away and starts walking swiftly across the parking lost.

"Your mother knew," Castiel calls after him. "She told you as much."

Dean turns at that, storms back toward him. "Then hey, here's a newsflash. You really suck at the guardian angel thing. You've been watching out for me? God, when I think about all the times I've been stabbed and shot and clawed and electrocuted and --."

"You don't make it easy!" The anger in his own voice surprises him. "There are limitations to how I'm allowed to intervene. Without a corporeal form, I can only provide the opportunity for your safety." He bites the words out, remembering how creative Dean had forced him to become on occasion.

"Oh, but you can pull me out of hell -- that part's okay." Dean waves a hand through the air. "And I guess destroying power grids is okay, too. Thanks. That totally clears everything up."

Castiel takes a breath. Calms himself. "It's not 'okay'," he says quietly, putting his hands in his coat pockets and starting to walk again. "A time will come when I will have to make restitution for my actions." He turns back when Dean doesn't follow.

Dean is staring at him, his expression a little lost. "So why did you do it, then? I don't understand. Why me?"

An age old cry to heaven but for once, Castiel can provide an answer. For a moment, a single instant he looks into Dean's eyes without the veil and allows Dean to see. Dean immediately staggers back a step, his face turned away and Castiel reaches out to grasp his arms and steady him. Dean closes his hands around Castiel's arms like they're the only thing keeping him upright.

"I dream about you," Dean whispers raggedly, on a breath that's almost a sob. "Every night. Only you're different. And so am I." He looks up, finally, eyes fierce and accusing. "You look at me all the time, but you're not really looking at me, are you?"

Castiel isn't used to feeling helpless. He drops his hands to hold Dean closer, but Dean hisses in pain at Castiel's lightest touch against his ribs.

"You're hurt," Castiel says, taken aback. Sudden anger pounds in his temples. The demon had gotten close enough to wound. He's briefly, bitterly glad he sent the thing back into torment.

"It's nothing," Dean says through gritted teeth, so obviously lying that Castiel ignores him.

"Let me," he says, instead, curling his hand protectively around Dean's damaged ribs.

"Let you what...?" Dean begins warily, and catches his breath as Castiel lifts the hem of the ragged t-shirt to look at the wound.

Angry bruises mar the smooth skin, scraped raw in places, and Castiel makes a muffled grunt of sympathy. He's startled to realize how protective he's become of Dean's body, this fragile shell his own borrowed vessel reacts to so strongly. He lets his own energy flow out through his fingertips, his palm, finding the places where the bones have fractured and knitting them together. There are other injuries, too, he realizes, and Castiel touches each one; the bruise on Dean's shoulder, the scrapes across his knuckles, the cut on his bottom lip that still bleeds a little until Castiel presses his fingertips there.

Dean keeps his eyes closed the entire time, his breath held. When Dean's body is perfect again and Castiel reluctantly lets the healing energy recede, it seems to take Dean's strength with it. All at once Castiel's arms are full and his body is warm, suffused with heat where Dean is leaning into him with the soft brush of his hair against the hollow of Castiel's neck. He curls himself around Dean helplessly, puts his lips against Dean's neck and feels Dean groan against his throat.

"I want this," Dean says, as his arms come up around Castiel's body, hands fisting in the back of Castiel's coat. "You. I don't know why, but I want this so much --"

The kiss is hungry this time, needy in a way that practically knocks Castile over. He isn't ready for it, but if Dean wants this then Castiel will give it to him and take it for himself, too. He kisses Dean back just as urgently,and runs his hands down Dean's sides again, exploring the places he healed.

With sharp gasp, Dean pulls back, his breath uneven. "Wait. You healed me," he says, looking down to where Castiel's hands are touching him. He looks up with sudden excitement in his eyes. "You could heal Sam."

"Dean --."

Dean's already pulling him back toward the motel. "He's hurt worse than me; it'll be days before he can move from here, but you could --." Dean stops when Castiel steps back, shaking his head.

"I can't," Castiel says, simply.

"Why not?" Dean demands. "Is this -- is this about Azazel? Because Sam did what you asked, he stopped. No more dark and dangerous fucking road, right? So why won't you help him?"

"It's not that simple." Castiel grasps Dean's arms in frustration. "I think I've shown you that that there is nothing within my power that I wouldn't do for you. Nothing within my power."

"So it's still game on upstairs, huh?" Dean asks bitterly. "It doesn't matter what Sam promises, doesn't matter what he does. I get it now. Thanks." He turns away from Castiel and starts back toward the motel.

"Wait!" Castiel snaps, voice harsh with anger and loss. "You don't understand."

"Oh, I understand," Dean says, and laughs a little hysterically. "I'm like you, aren't I? Or I used to be." Dean's voice hitches on the last words and the expression he turns toward Castiel is bleak. "That's what all this is about. But there's one thing you don't understand. There isn't anything I wouldn't do for him."

Castiel wonders if this is what it would feel like to be punched in the chest. Or to have his heart torn out. "You don't have the luxury of ignoring what's going on," he calls after Dean.

Dean stops, but doesn't turn back. "I'll stop Lilith, divine intervention or not. But right now, I have to get back to him. He's hurt."

Castiel stares at Dean's once-broken back, at the stars that have been clearly visible since he knocked out the electrical power in a blast like a challenge to heaven. Perhaps he's already taken a few steps too many down his own dark and dangerous road.

"Wait," he says. "I'm coming with you."

TBC

to Part 4