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rainbow-of-the-lord · 4 years

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Where I Belong

A Destiel plot bunny that would not leave me completely inspired by this gifset, and completely inspired by my recent need for reverse!verse fiction, so we’ll see how it goes!

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Something was off, Dean knew almost immediately. It wasn’t because of the lack of chatter of angel radio, since that had been dimming for a while; it wasn’t anything but a violent feeling of something searing cutting through his chest, like a hot knife. His first thought was what in the name of his Father was happening?

His second thought, upon hearing the voice that was both so faint and yet powerful enough to fill his head, answered his question.

Cas.

“Most people would say “hello” first, I’m pretty sure.” Dean looked down at his chest, the demon killing blade firmly wedged where his vessel’s heart would be. The hunter’s eyes widened but he seemed to quickly recover, backing up just enough to truly look Dean over.

The hunter was ballsy, Dean would give him that.

“What are you?”

“I did just kind of save your ass, buddy, a ‘thank you’ would be really nice right about now.” Dean gestured around the small barn that was now filled with seven or so smited demons, eyes burned out and everything.

“I assure you that you did not ‘save my ass’, I was perfectly fine where I was.”

“Heaven ain’t about ready for you yet, buddy. I should know.”

“Enough. Who- What- Are you?”

Dean sighed and pulled out the knife from his chest, wound healing instantly as the blade clattered to the ground. “Name’s Dean. I’m kind of an angel.”

“Is that a flirtation?” The remark was dry, and Dean smirked slightly.

In lieu of a verbal confirmation, he simply allowed his wings to appear on one of the edges of existence, not enough for humans to touch and see every feather, but just enough to get the message across that oh yes, he was very serious about all this.

“Although for you, buddy, that could’ve been whatever you wanted it to be.” Dean winked, and oh he knew they were both goners at that point.

---------------

Dean flew into the warehouse immediately, no minor feat with the strength of some of the sigils around the area. Luckily, some of them were so poorly drawn or flaking away just enough that he was able to push through the warding.

His vessel was only meant to allow him a place on Earth, it didn’t function as a humans did. He didn’t need to eat or drink -- though those were quite fun -- or even breathe, but he felt his blood start to rush through his body. He felt his heart begin to leap into his throat. He felt an unknown fear boiling up inside himself. It was all raw and real and new and terrifying and so very human that he almost couldn’t stand it.

And then he rounded a corner and saw Castiel’s body. And everything went ice cold.

“Castiel? Hey, Cas-” Dean rushed forward, wings giving him a boost, and he dropped to his knees next to the unconscious human. “Hey, you dumbass hunter, get the fuck up now.”

This was purely so Dean could get out anger, because he knew immediately that Castiel wasn’t getting up. There were what looked like scratches on his face and hands, also on the tan military jacket torn by what could only be described as claws, and his jeans were covered in grime. Without even thinking, Dean gently laid a hand on Castiel’s scarred cheek, forcing all his willpower and Grace to bring this stubborn, infuriatingly reckless and beautiful human back from the brink.

Dean was far too selfish to allow Heaven to take him and lock him away from anyone -- from Dean -- just yet.

With a deep intake of breath, Castiel finally woke up. Dean almost stumbled backwards from the power it took, but Castiel’s wound began to heal slowly. And the first thing Castiel did was turn his head to look at Dean, relief mixed with an unknown emotion on his face.

“Dean… You came.”

“Of course I came, asshole. You think I can get a prayer and ignore it?” You think I can get a prayer from you and ignore it?

“No, I- I just thought your powers were ‘fizzing out’, so to speak.” Castiel tried sitting up, arms supporting him. He was only barely able to sit up, and probably wouldn’t be able to do much more for a while after coming back from death.

“I’m aware, thanks.” Dean couldn’t help but roll his eyes, crouching down next to Castiel. This is good , he thought. Anger and annoyance could brush off everything else. It could hide the worry and fear he felt. “What were you even doing around here?”

“I was-”

“Trying to interfere with my business, as per usual.” Came a snarky, British voice that had both angel and man immediately turn their heads to look over at its course. Out from the shadows behind some crates was Crowley, casual as ever, hands in his long, ridiculous jacket. “Sorry, boys, you know I had to get involved somehow. Just how business is.”

“You did this to him?” Dean glared, anger taking over for an entirely different reason now. The thought of that demon even laying a hand on Castiel-

“Of course not, you daft feather-brain.” Crowley rolled his eyes. “But I did send some men. And if a human happens to get in the middle of a hellhound, well…”

“I should’ve figured it was you.” Castiel spat, but Dean barely heard anything after that, standing up slowly to fully face the crossroads demon. The air seemed to get heavier for a second, lights dimming, but for the first time in a long time he allowed his wings to unfurl fully, tawny and freckled and right on the human plain for everyone to see. It was a clear show of dominance, even possession, and he surely hoped Crowley would notice that.

“Come anywhere near him again, and I will hunt you down and end you. Slowly.” Dean stalked closer, staring down at the demon. Crowley’s eyes turned red and flicked up and down the angel’s form, a barely noticeable sneer forming on his lips. They both knew he wasn’t going to be able to do anything against a full powered angel, but a half-powered one… Dean just hoped the display and threat were enough. Evidently they were, because Crowley’s eyes went back to normal and he curtly nodded, the almost ever present “I know what you don’t” smirk returning to his face.

“Consider it noted. I’ll have my secretary jot it down. Here’s to hoping I don’t run into you again.” He purposefully looked over the span of Dean’s wings towards the almost in shock hunter, addressing him fully. “Feel better, darling. No hard feelings.” With that, he was gone. It was tensely silent for a minute as Dean’s wings folded back, but Castiel seemed to know exactly what to say.

“What the fuck was that?” He stood up, power seeming to return to him, and hesitantly but surely walked over to Dean. “Dean?”

“Are you feeling better?” He turned to take in the worry in those blue eyes, mixed with a generous amount of annoyance that was visible in the way Castiel pressed his lips together into a thin line.

“Am I feeling better? What about you? And why do I feel like I was just- Just- the witness of some fucked up display of ownership?”

“It’s nothing, alright? I feel fine.” And he did, mostly. “But you gotta be more careful. You got in front of a hellhound?”

“It was a woman, she- She had made a crossroads deal ten years ago, and the demon was coming to collect. But she was a mother, Dean, soon to be a grandmother. She wanted to see her grandchildren be born.”

“And you took the sob story and decided to go running around with a machete?”

“I wasn’t running around, I had- I had tracked it own, thought I chased it away. I was going to finish it off, but the glasses got broken once the demons showed up. I don’t even know if the woman’s soul was taken, yet. Perhaps-”

“Cas, she’s gone. We both know that.” And this is where the hunter was wonderful, but infuriatingly stubborn and reckless. “And you could’ve been gone, too! You can’t go saving people and hunting things if you’re dead.”

“I knew what I was getting into, Dean. I don’t need to be reminded by you.” Cas fixed him with a look, crossing his arms. “You, of all beings, should be the last person talking to me about self-preservation. What were you thinking? That display, healing me? You’re draining yourself, you know that. So now you’re the one being a hypocrite.”

“I’m a hypocrite? Oh, that’s great. Next time I’ll just let you bleed out, then. See you on the other side, pack everything up for you and ship it to your sister? How would Anna feel about that?”

“Don’t you dare bring her into this-”

“Don’t fucking touch me-”

“-And it shouldn’t matter to you what happens to me. Remember, Mr “Kind of an angel”? I don’t need you to look after me and coddle me.”

“You think that’s what this is? Coddling?”

“You don’t have anything better to do, so you just follow me around-”

“I said to stop touching me!” Dean shouted out as once again Castiel’s finger jabbed into his chest, and for the first time their tirades were both broken. The hunter took a step back, jaw clenched as he obviously bit back what else he wanted to say. But he looked down at the ground, arms crossing again. Dean breathed for a second before speaking again, voice low but under control. “You don’t want me looking after you, fine. I won’t. I’ll never answer another prayer from you again. I’ll see you around, Cas.” He managed to get out before turning on heel and striding out the door, away from the oppressiveness of the sigils so he could fly away. Another, more foolish -- more human -- part of him wanted Castiel to hurry after him, shout for him to stop and for him to apologize, for things to go back to how they used to be. But he knew that wouldn’t happen, and he tried not to get too disappointed.

So, he flew away instead.

---------------

"I never even asked, even though I’ve been thinking about it for a while. Where did you even get your vessel from? Are you possessing some poor model?” Castiel asked in between bites of his bacon cheeseburger, sitting across from Dean in a brightly colored, but uncomfortable diner booth. Dean was currently in the process of shoveling fries into his mouth, enjoying the tangy taste of something for once. He snorted a laugh.

“Close. A wannabe Hollywood actor, Jensen something. He wasn’t making it, got diagnosed with something bad, and I pretty much answered his prayers to heal him.”

“How generous.” There was an unmistakable dryness in Castiel’s tone before he continued. “And he’s okay with that?”

“From what I can tell? Yeah. He might’ve made his way up to Heaven by now, though.”

“See, I always thought if angels existed, they’d be dressed in-”

“White robes? Sandals? Flowing blonde hair to match?”

“More or less.”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

“Not saying I’m disappointed at all.” Castiel stated, and Dean actually had to take a second to process that as Castiel popped the rest of the burger into his mouth. Everything about this was so ridiculously casual; a hunter and an angel, a practical myth, sitting in a diner and making small talk over a shared meal. But it felt right, in a way. The past few weeks getting to know the human had been quite a bit of fun; his name was Castiel Novak, he was from Illinois, he had an older sister Anna who was also a hunter, and he apparently had a grotesque love of burgers and other greasy food. He was great.

“Well that’s good. Let’s hope that keeps up for some other aspects of life.”

“Such as?” Castiel raised an eyebrow, inviting and imploring him to continue, but they were interrupted as Dean opened his mouth.

“Anything else I can get you?” The overly bubbly waitress approached the table, taking the empty plates. “Or just the check?”

“The check will be fine.” Castiel nodded his assent, and Dean sat back in his chair with a barely there, put upon sigh.

“Not even dessert?”

“Last I remembered, I was the one paying.” Castiel remarked, the playful attitude from before still slightly there but mostly disappeared now, and Dean was left in befuddlement at this hurricane of a human and his emotions.

What in the name of his Father was happening?

---------------

Any human would likely have blacked out at the amount Dean was drinking, but the angel was barely lightheaded as he downed another bottle of beer. He had no liver requirements to stop him, no money to worry about losing -- he could just snap his fingers and the bartender would forget his tab --, and he could stay there all day. He wasn’t quite sure anyone in Heaven was looking for him, at this point.

“Figured I’d find you here if you were feeling sorry for yourself.” A familiar voice sounded off behind him, and he came up to the barstool next to Dean. At least this presence wasn’t a heavenly one. But he didn’t want to deal with any demons right now, not really.

“And what gives you the impression that I’m feeling sorry for myself?” Dean turned his head to look over at Sam, who signaled for his own beer to be slid down the bar.

“Because you’re here, moping. And Castiel is laying in his car, moping.”

“What- You went looking for Cas?”

“Yeah, and?”

“Were you one of the fucking ones who-”

“Easy, easy, dude.” Sam held up his hands in mock surrender before Dean’s Grace could start flailing around. “Even I know Cas is off limits. I wouldn’t do that.” And Dean knew that, somewhere in him. Sam was… well, saying he was like a brother was a bit weird. But Sam was one of those ‘nice’ demons in that he didn’t constantly indulge in hedonism and murder. He just happened to be a soul who made a deal to save his girlfriend’s life and lost his humanity. They had fought together and worked together, they were close. But now Dean was just bitter and angry about demons in general at this point. Even brotherly ones. “But it’s kinda big news. Some demons caught wind of you and Crowley and your little… exchange.”

“Of course they did. You probably have the worst tabloids.”

“We get the best writers for them. But seriously; what happened?”

Dean let out a put upon sigh, staring at his peeling bottle label. “He thinks I’m too protective, that I should lay off of things and protecting him. I was literally created to protect fucking humans.”

“That’s it?”

“I… I might have said some things. Said I was… I didn’t want him dying yet, that he was gonna get himself killed. And he said I was a hypocrite ‘cause I have my own issues and I wasn’t slowing down. And if he dies, what do I do then? Just keep going?” Dean shook his head.

Sam was quiet for a moment and sipped his drink, considering the situation. “You still haven’t told him you’re basically falling for him. In every sense of the word.”

“Trust me, Cas isn’t exactly the easiest to get through to. We’ve been friends for five years. And he still just- Just won’t let me in. And it’s not fair.”

“Then force yourself in.” Sam swiveled on his barstool to stare Dean down, obviously having enough.

“I don’t think that’s exactly-”

“Not in that way, idiot. Get to the root and just tell him everything. Hell, maybe he’s waiting for that. Whatever it is, you better tell him soon. Especially since I don’t want to hear any of this any more. I’ve had enough for an afterlife.”

Once again, deep down, Dean knew Sam was right, even for a demon. But he didn’t mind being a contrarian just a bit longer. “And if he tells me to fuck off?”

“Then fuck off, I guess. We’re always looking for new recruits.” Sam lightly tapped him on the shoulder. Dean gave him a glare.

“That’s not even funny.”

“To me, it is.” Sam shrugged and took another sip of his beer.

---------------

Castiel had been quiet for most of the day. Not that he was exactly talkative to begin with, but this was like turning the volume to “off” on him and leaving him be. He hardly complained as Dean messed with the radio, went through the motions of researching the hunt they were both currently on, cleaned his weapons with close precision even a robot would have a hard time replicating. Dean finally had enough as he sat next to Castiel on the small twin bed he had rented for the night in another no-name motel.

“Talk to me, Cas. What’s wrong?” His voice was gentle, but the other man still flinched just barely. Dean frowned at that reaction.

“Nothing. Just… focusing.”

“You’re not just focusing, okay? I know when you’re focusing, because your tongue sticks out just a bit.” Dean ignored the protest about to spring from Castiel’s lips and continued, “And you start tapping your leg. And your soul… your soul is just in agony. Cas, please.” The angel’s hand gently brushed the top of Castiel’s, the one holding the gun, and he felt the tension in each muscle.

It was quiet for so long that he was sure that Castiel wouldn’t answer. But then, just as Dean was going to pull away, he spoke quietly. “It’s the anniversary of my family’s death.”

Now that… Dean hadn’t been expecting. “You told me about Anna, you never told me about-”

“There was a reason I never did, Dean. It…” He swallowed and continued, voice trying so hard not to break. “My father Chuck was a pulp horror writer. Little cult following, never really that successful. It was me, Anna, Michael, and… Luke. Michael was the oldest, Luke right after him, and I was the youngest. Anna was a year older than me. Our mother died when I was young. I was… We were all home, just because we happened to be in one place all at the same time. I was finishing college at the time. Anna and I were close, always have been, so we went for each other’s sake. It was just supposed to be a weekend for the five of us. But… But I woke up to shouting, a commotion in the hallway. And there was Luke, still in his pajamas, our father’s blood on his shirt. Michael tried to intervene and Anna went to call the cops, but Luke took down Michael after a struggle and almost got me. Then a hunter, Ezekiel, came in. He exorcised the demon from Luke, but whatever had happened in between the possession and the exorcism… Luke died from his wounds. And then it was just Anna and I.” Rare tears began to fall from Castiel’s eyes as Dean watched, horrified by the sight and the story.

“Anna never talks to me about this. Days like this, we don’t reunite or talk, I don’t know how she mourns, or if she even does, but…” Castiel took in a shuddering breath. “For me, the best thing is to just ignore it. Work the case. Forget all about it.”

“I’m so sorry, Cas, I don’t even have the words for it.” Dean’s hand went to hold Castiel’s, and there was a pause before a calloused, rough palm met his and their fingers intertwined.

“It’s not your fault. God, I just- Just wish I could go back and have done something. Worked quicker, stopped him, been awake, anything so that something like that never happens again.”

“I know it’s tough. I do. But… There was nothing you could do. You don’t have to blame yourself for that.”

“I could’ve been better . Now I’m a hunter, a good one.”

“You were fine then, and you’re fine now. Don’t beat yourself up. Okay? Don’t- Don’t think there was anything you could change about a demon.”

Things went quiet again, and small sniffs seemed to fill the room in place of words. Then Dean felt Castiel lean onto him, head resting on the angel’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t-”

“You should.” He didn’t know if Cas was going to comment on the situation, or the fact he was crying, or some other unknown thing in the universe that he felt he should take the blame for. But it hardly mattered, because Dean’s answer was the same regardless.

For the first time in nearly a year of knowing each other, the walls went down. And it was worth it, in a way. It really was.

---------------

It was almost a week after the encounter with Sam in the bar when things changed. Dean knew the best way to get away from pesky obnoxious demons and annoying, heartfelt feelings was complete isolation. He was sitting on a park bench late in the night when he heard it.

Dean.

It was Castiel. Not anywhere nearby, but he heard him as clear as if he had been sitting next to him. That was when he realized the human was praying. But it wasn’t like before, full of barely disguised terror and hurt. This was just… pain. Real pain, from deep inside his soul, so strong it almost made Dean’s Grace ache.

Dean, please. I don’t know if you can hear me, if you want to hear me. Maybe… Maybe I deserve the silent treatment. What happened at the warehouse, I’m so sorry. I never should’ve-

Things paused. Both of them took a breath. And Castiel continued.

I was scared. Scared for you, more than myself. Scared that you were… That Crowley could’ve hurt you. Could have torn your wings out, could have sent his lackeys to do the same. I was scared you were going to lose all your Grace trying to save me, that one of these days you would push yourself too far and I would never again have to listen to you complain about my music choice, or watch you smack your lips when you eat really good food, or have you beg for me to buy you some pie or a new flannel, or- Or watch you smiling in the sunlight in the passenger seat of my car. I don’t care if you’re an angel, I don’t care if you’re a human, I just need you with me, need you safe. And I can’t lose you Dean, I just can’t. I can’t lose another person I-

Dean never heard the rest because he automatically flew for the motel room Castiel was in as quickly as his wings would carry him. He found the hunter kneeling at the foot of his bed, hands clasped together hard enough for his knuckles to turn white. Tears were beginning to spring in his eyes, and Dean could feel them mirrored as Castiel quickly stood and turned to face Dean. His mouth opened to say something else but Dean made it across the room and pulled Castiel into a tight hug that was quickly returned as they held onto each other.

“Dean, I’m sorry, there’s something I have to tell you-”

“You don’t have to, I heard every word.” Dean pulled away to give him a teary, barely wavering smile. “I’m sorry, too. I can’t lose you either, Cas, I- When I lose my Grace, I don’t know if I’ll ever see you in Heaven again. And I don’t want you to leave.”

“You’re an idiot. We’re always going to find each other.” Castiel’s voice became a whisper as he seemed to gather the courage to say something, staring into Dean’s eyes. “And you never let me say it. I love you.”

“Cas-”

“I have for years. I was always terrified, because you were an angel, of all things. I didn’t know if you were even capable of returning it. And- And when you healed me, I felt… I felt warm. I felt from you what I feel from you. And I realized… Realized I had to tell you. You deserved to know why I’m horrible at this and wanting to keep you safe. But if I was wrong, if it isn’t recipro-”

Dean responded by leaning in and kissing Castiel, nothing more than a peck but enough to shut him up. Dean could feel his heart thumping again, though, as he spoke. “I love you, too, Cas. So fucking much.”

And then Castiel launched at him and they collided, noses bumping in a kiss that likely could’ve gone a lot better, but it was real and messy and full of years of emotions and previously denied wants all in one.

Dean knew he was going to fall, any day now. He could feel his Grace beginning to ebb away like a tide from a shoreline. But he had his hunter in his arms, now. His wonderful, infuriatingly perfect hunter.

And that was worth falling for.

#destiel fanfiction #My writing #Destiel #destiel fanfic

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