Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Wisps of Smoke

The gates to Hell are very similar to the gates to Heaven. Castiel thinks he might be considered blasphemous by some for thinking such things.

But things are what they are.

He wouldn't be doing this if he weren't....open-minded. Though he suspects his family wishes that he were less so.

This is the first year they have offered the Freshman exchange program between their two races. The demons and angels have battled each other for a millennia only to reach a stalemate several hundred years before Castiel's birth. He was raised as his people worked slowly to build a bridge between themselves and the demon population.

A population he finds grossly misunderstood by many of his own kind.

Angels have long ruled the Heavens with a grace and nobility that often shifts into arrogance and petty disputes. They are an old race that breeds infrequently, leading to their numbers dwindling after the war. Castiel has few friends his age and little interest in romantic entanglements.

He finds angelic companionship strained and complicated. Castiel doesn't hold many of the same beliefs the larger portion of his people hold and he's vocal about making his opinion known when he feels he needs to be heard.

The demons are not evil. The reports of them being so comes from hundreds of years of angelic propaganda designed to keep the general population afraid of them and motivated to fight.

He's researched it, educated himself about it, knows the facts.

No one will listen.

Then he heard a rumor of the opportunity of a life time. A single angel, selected from all applicants, would be chosen to trade places with a demon for a single year of college education. Castiel was desperate to be that angel.

He discussed it with his family and was relieved to have their support. The angels described it as a soul-calling. The feeling of being born to accomplish something larger than yourself. Castiel had heard his parents whispering about it for years related to him, as though they suspected something big was coming. Even Gabriel, his often taciturn older sibling, was in agreement.

They petitioned and campaigned and won Castiel the spot even against competition from some more wealthy and better connected families.

And then all he had left to do was wait....wait for a demon family to be willing to do the same.

So he waited, and waited, and waited, until finally the packet came, emblazoned in Hellfire with the name Winchester on it.

He held the contract in his hands, felt the heat still burning from the fire it was born from and felt his grace soar.

Winchester.

Winchester!

Shadows filled his bedroom as his wings expanded, ready to fly, to take him to Hell and ease this ache in his grace. He gasped and gathered his thoughts to get control of himself.

He hasn't accidentally let his wings slip free in three years. It's something that happens in puberty and Castiel's no longer supposed to be affected in such a way.

But the urge, the itch just under his skin to manifest his truest form remains for the whole of the summer.

Nothing eases the ache.

*****

"I don't understand why you want to do this," Dean comments for what must be the millionth time while Sam is packing his belongings in order to head to school.

"We have to start somewhere, Dean," Sam sighs. "Someone has to be willing to take the chance and try to get them to see we aren't savage monsters."

Dean turns his gaze out of their bedroom window and out over the dry, dark landscape of Hell. "It didn't have to be you," he grumbles.

"No one else was volunteering," Sam points out. "Dad and Uncle Bobby worked hard for this. Mom's risking everything. I couldn't let it fail just because no one my age was willing to go. It's too important."

"I should go with you," Dean says as he crosses his arms. His tail thrashes back and forth, knocking into Sam's lamp and disturbing the curtains. "What if something happens to you?"

"Nothing is going to happen to me, Dean," Sam snorts. "Most of them probably won't even look at me and the family I'm staying with are considered to be demon sympathizers. Dad says they are good people. I'll be safe."

"Yeah, well," Dean shifts and crosses his arms. "What about me? I have to be stuck down here babysitting your replacement angel. The guy's going to be boring and stupid and I'm going to be stuck being his little buddy for a year. It's going to kill my social life."

"Poor thing," Sam teases. "I'm pretty sure your gigantic ego will survive."

"Yeah, but what about my dick?" Dean challenges with a grin. "It will shrivel up and fall off from disuse."

"First, gross," Sam responds with a glare. "Second, if it falls off it will be from some weird-ass disease you got from that waitress on our last trip to purgatory, not from lack of use."

"Bitch," Dean snorts.

"Jerk," Sam laughs.

Neither of them comment on the way their tails tangle together and squeeze.

He walks Sam to the gate and beyond it. Dean's never gone farther than purgatory and even then it's only been a few times. He's never seen the gates of Heaven, never formally met a real living angel before. He's not sure he ever felt like he really needed to. But Sam's different, Sam has goals and ideas, a drive that Dean's never really shared.

Dean wants to settle down, have a family, keep them safe and raise them well. He wants to provide for his potential mate and carve out a simple life for himself that doesn't involve being worried about the next bombing attack or the lack of food they suffered at the end of the war.

Sam's too young to remember, but Dean has clear memories of his mother, crouched over them in fear while the angels invaded their home and dragged their father away. Dean had hated them then; he was too young at the time to understand that they weren't trying to hurt them. His father had been working with the angels on orders from the demonic governor to find a peaceful solution to the cold war between their peoples. His own kind had tried to assassinate the Winchester clan before he could accomplish it.

If it hadn't been for the angels that night they all would have died. Dean's grateful, but the idea of sharing a house with one of them still kind of makes his stomach want to roll over.

They just look so normal and so foreign at the same time. Demons look human with the exception of their tails. When threatened or agitated their eyes roll black and their horns come out, their skin prickles and changes into something closer to blackened leather.

But angels are different; they walk as though they don't have wings. But everyone knows they do. They appear to be lit up inside by some kind of internal illumination. Their eyes faintly glow and their skin takes on this honey colored sheen because of the light. Dean knows from his studies that every angel manifests their wings differently; some are flashes of lightning, some ice, and some fire. He's seen a video of it once, from some classmate’s trashy cell phone. It was blurry and out of focus but it still made his tail curl.

Not that it matters, angels never manifest their wings to demons. In fact, once they pass adolescence they only ever show their wings to their mates.

No demon has ever mated with an angel. Hell, angels mate so rarely that if they don't start doing something to fix that in the next two hundred years or so, they are going to have a population deficit.

That could mean a major shift in power for the demons and the restart of the war if they don't build some political bridges in the mean time. Just because Dean doesn't talk about it like Sam does doesn't mean he isn't paying attention.

He was expecting some kind of formal ceremony or something. But there’s no fanfare, no acknowledgment of what’s about to happen from their respective governments.

In the end, Sam slips his tail from Dean’s grasp and with a single backward glance, crosses the distance between the demons and the angels as a solitary angel performs the same walk coming from the other side.

Dean wants to call Sam back, wants to run over and drag his brother back to Hell where he belongs by his tail. But he doesn’t, he keeps control of himself and his somewhat over-protective instincts.

“He will be fine,” the angel offers after a long moment of silence where Dean doesn’t even recognize that he exists.

“You sure about that?” Dean asks. He knows his tone is just this side of threatening.

“My brother will ensure his safety,” the angel says calmly as he motions toward the angel now standing at Sam’s side. Sam towers over the guy, who looks sort of golden, backlit by the angel’s heavenly city.

“What’s his name?” Dean asks.

“Gabriel,” the angel answers. Dean nods, and turns to start the trip back to Hell. The angel picks up his bag and follows. “My name is Castiel,” he offers even though Dean had no intention of asking.

“Good for you,” Dean grinds out through clenched teeth.

He is absolutely not going to cry over his brother leaving in front of a total stranger, and an angel at that.

*****

The Winchesters are kind, careful to respect his personal boundaries, careful to instruct him in the ways of demons in order to help his transition into their society be less painful. Except for Dean.

Dean is…frustrating.

Though they share a room and are close in age, the demon refuses to spend any significant time in Castiel’s presence. The tension in their room is high; Castiel has learned quickly not to touch anything that belongs to Sam Winchester. Dean reacts badly to any mention of his brother's name. He’s not outright in his hostility, which would be too direct and would give Castiel enough ammunition to involve his parents in their difficulties.

Dean’s too smart for that. Instead, Dean removes himself from any attempt on Castiel’s part to forge a relationship. It’s horribly isolating, and for Castiel, used to his older brother’s grace touching his daily, it’s terribly lonely. The demons that he goes to college with seem to view him as an oddity, not a direct threat. For that much, at least, Castiel is grateful. He has no friends here and though he is more than capable of defending himself it’s not in his nature to want to make a scene.

He just wants to go home.

A month into his stay in Hell and Castiel is certain he’s made a terrible mistake. He was so sure this was the path his grace was crying out for him to take, and now that he’s here the ache inside him seems worse than ever.

He longs to curl himself up on his bed in the dark and comfort himself with the warm press of his wings. But he can never predict when Dean will enter their room, or what kind of mood Dean might be in when he arrives.

It’s simply not safe to expose himself in such a way.

It’s late into the night when Dean stumbles into their room. He’s obviously intoxicated off of some beverage that Hell uses as wine. He reeks of the alcohol and smoke. Castiel stiffens under the covers of his bed and tries to keep his breathing even as Dean creeps closer to his bed in the dark.

“What is it about you?” Dean slurs. “Why do you bother me so much?”

“I don’t know,” Castiel answers honestly, adding after a moment's pause, “But I wish it wasn’t like that between us.”

“Me too,” Dean surprises Castiel by answering as he drops to sit heavily on the edge of Castiel’s bed.

“I miss my brother,” Dean announces a moment later. “I worry about him.”

“I miss my brother as well,” Castiel says softly, confused by the strange conversation. Dean has hardly spoken to him the whole time he’s been here. Why now?

“Do you dislike me because I’m an angel?” Castiel can’t help but ask. He dreams of Dean, and in those dreams the demon is kind to him. They’re friends when Castiel sleeps and it makes his waking hours so much more confusing.

“No,” Dean sighs. His tail thrashes against the side of the bed.

“Then you just find me personally unacceptable,” Castiel murmurs and oh, how that truth hurts him.

He closes his eyes, which must be why he doesn’t notice Dean moving, leaning over him, and almost covering his body with his own. Dean’s tail presses against the side of his face in a caress that makes Castiel think of his parents and how they blend their graces together. It’s comforting, confusing; it makes him want to squirm.

“I think my problem is,” Dean whispers, his face pressed so close to Castiel’s ear his lips brush along the ridge. “I think you’re more than acceptable. You’re worried I don’t like you, and really, I like you too much.”

Castiel feels the pressure creeping up his spine immediately. He jerks up, shoves Dean off into the floor and flees to the bathroom across the hall from their room, slamming the door and locking it behind him as his wings burst free from his back in a flare of shadows that fills the room. He presses his face to the cool tile wall of the bathroom and shakes with need.

“What’s happening to me?” he whispers to the empty room.

He doesn’t expect an answer, and it takes two hours for his wings to recede.

*****

Dean wakes to a pounding headache and a swirling feeling of insecurity in gut.

Something happened last night, something hovering just on the outside of his awareness that makes him wish he hadn’t drunk so much.

Something involving Castiel for sure, that much Dean knows. He has a flash of memory of staring at the closed bathroom door across the hallway from their room, and watching through blurry eyes as shadows and darkness shifted along the floor through the crack at the bottom of the door.

Dean vividly remembers wanting to touch that darkness, hold it, make it his.

He shakes it off and throws back the blankets on his bed, unable to remember how he got up off the floor in the first place. He slams his way into the now empty bathroom to take a piss and a shower before having to face his roommate.

Castiel is decidedly un-angelic in the mornings before coffee. Dean had been surprised by that at first: he had sort of thought an angel would be farting beams of sunshine all the time.

Castiel is grumpy. It’s kind of…cute.

Dean’s life is so fucked up. He was perfectly happy sharing a room with his brother and having an endless cycle of demons at his beck and call if he was looking for a good time. Dean hates commitment. But ever since Castiel showed up it’s like nothing’s working right.

He hasn’t gone out to get laid in a month and when other people touch him it just feels wrong somehow.

It’s starting to piss him off.

Dean’s waiting for the water in the shower to heat up as he brushes his teeth, staring blearily at himself in the bathroom mirror when he feels something touch his foot. He looks down, toothpaste collecting in the corners of his mouth, to see something strange next to him on the floor. He picks it up with his tail as carefully as he can and drags it up closer to the light over the sink.

It’s a feather.

Or at least, something like a feather, but one made of mist and shadows rather than the texture you would expect. Dean can barely feel it against the skin of his tail and he he’s shocked by how delicate it seems to be.

Angel’s wings are supposed to be full of power, their true form exposed, given light and life by their manifestation. Dean’s never heard of feathers falling out before.

But what the hell does he know?

He turns it over to look at the other side and reaches out his hand to stroke it.

It evaporates at the first press of his fingers, leaving Dean with an intense feeling of rejection he’s unable to explain.

Dean steps into the shower, yanking on the curtain harder than he needs to. He scrubs himself so hard his eyes roll black and his skin changes texture. Once he’s done he spends a long time staring at himself in the mirror, looking at his tail and his skin, his onyx colored eyes.

He’s a demon, a stupid one at that. What kind of demon has a crush on an angel?

*****

Castiel slinks away while Dean’s in the bathroom. He doesn’t have the emotional fortitude this morning to fight with his roommate.

Dean’s mother hands him a spiced muffin and a cup of coffee in a to-go cup as he slinks his way through the kitchen. He pauses long enough in his retreat to nod in gratitude as he passes her side and is surprised when she reaches out to brush her knuckles along the side of his face.

No one has touched him with affection since he came to this place and the simple gesture is enough to make Castiel want to cry.

He likes Mary Winchester, very much. She has a lovely soul even for a demon.

“Thank you,” he murmurs as he catches her hand and squeezes it.

“Castiel,” she starts before sighing and giving him a sad smile. “Things are…complicated. Dean doesn’t do well with complicated. It’s not you he doesn’t like.”

His look must give away his belief about what she is saying because she chuckles before adding, “He’s not good at letting people close to him. It has nothing to do with who or what you are. It’s more about the end result of this experiment.”

“I don’t understand,” Castiel admits sadly. So much about Dean is confusing to him. Just Dean, too; he has little difficulty with the rest of demonic society.

“He was upset because Sam was gone,” Mary explains. “But then he got used to you. Now…well let’s just say that Dean wants his brother to come home, but when Sam does that means you leave. If he likes you, then it will hurt when you go home. Dean doesn’t like being hurt.”

“So it’s easier to ignore me than to be my friend?” Castiel’s slightly appalled by the idea. “That is the stupidest thing I have ever heard.”

Mary smiles, so brightly that for an instant Castiel thinks perhaps she’s an angel in disguise. “I didn’t say it was a smart plan, or that he’s even aware of it. Just…don’t give up on him yet. The way he watches you…” Mary’s tail twitches. “You mean more to him than you think you do.”

Castiel stumbles away wishing he could believe her. But between the conversation with Dean last night, the one with Mary this morning, and his own traitorous body's reaction, Castiel is more confused than ever before.

*****

It’s a few weeks before winter break when Dean finds Castiel digging through the refrigerator as he makes himself a late night snack. “What are you doing?” Dean asks.

Castiel eyes him like he thinks maybe Dean’s lost his mind. His head tips to the side in this weird kind of considering head cock. “Making a sandwich.”

“No,” Dean snorts. “I mean after that.”

He watches Castiel swallow almost nervously before responding, “I was planning on ingesting the sandwich. Is this some kind of game?”

“What?” Dean questions. “No! Why are you so hard to talk to?”

“Why do you never make sense?” Castiel snaps back.

“I make perfect sense,” Dean argues. “You’re too literal.”

“And you’re too vague!” Castiel fires right back.

For some reason the look of utter irritation on Castiel’s usually solemn features makes Dean smile. “Movie?” he offers.

“What?” Castiel jerks like Dean slapped him.

“Do you want to watch a movie?” he rephrases as he points his tail toward the living room.

“Oh,” Castiel looks down as he licks his lips and Dean tries not to stare. “Yes, I believe I might enjoy that.”

They shuffle into the living room and find themselves sitting on opposite ends of the couch. Dean’s trying to spend more time with Castiel; his mother cornered him the morning after he came home drunk and basically ordered him to get his head out of his ass or she was going to literally put it there for him.

Dean respects his father…but his mother scares the shit out of him even more than his dad does. Doing as she asked was an easy choice.

So slowly, they’ve been spending some time together. Traveling back and forth to classes together, the occasional lunch, Castiel’s even gone out to the bar with him a few times; though Dean’s stopped that, mostly since his friends have been acting like assholes.

Castiel’s a little weird by demon standards, but he’s never hurt anyone and Dean will be damned before he lets something happen to the guy when he feels responsible for him.

He’s so lost in his thoughts that he doesn’t realize what they end up watching and how far into the movie they are until Castiel makes a choked off noise on the other end of the sofa.

Dean’s eyes snap to the television and he winces. This is the last time he lets the angel pick the film.

“I was unaware The Thomas Crown Affair involved a real affair,” Castiel mutters as he stares at the two demons having sex on the screen like he just can’t look away. “I thought it was about stolen artwork.”

“It is…” Dean sighs as at the scene shifts to them having sex on the marble steps. “But there’s this too.”

“Oh,” Castiel says softly and then out of the corner of Dean’s eye he sees the angel shift against the couch, like a squirm. “Is that how demons make love?” Castiel asks without taking his eyes off the screen.

Dean looks back at the television just as the actors are sliding off the table top into a pile on the ground, covered with alcohol. He swallows; he doesn’t remember this movie being so hot.

“Umm,” he starts out because Dean’s not really sure how to answer the question. “Not really. I mean, I guess.”

“You guess?” Castiel asks and his head turns toward Dean even though his eyes stay locked on the TV.

“There’s a difference between having sex and making love, Cas,” Dean struggles to answer. “I’ve had sex, but not like that. It’s a movie, everything’s played up.”

He turns to give the angel his full attention and blinks at the sight. “Your eyes are glowing,” Dean says breathlessly.

Castiel’s eyes are lit up as if from the inside, so blue in the darkness of the room. “Are they?” Castiel whispers as he touches his fingers to his cheek. “I’m sorry. I’ve never seen such a thing…” he makes a weird gesture at the TV. “I’m not well versed in…passion.”

“You should be,” falls out of Dean’s mouth before he gets a grip on himself. “You’re made for it.”

Why can’t he shut up?

Virgin! Dean’s brain supplies helpfully. Angelic virgin! it adds as his tail coils up. Right there!

Castiel is drifting toward him across the couch like he’s in a trance and Dean can’t stop his tail from reaching out and tugging him even closer.

Then the angel is pressed tightly against his side, reaching out to stroke along the length of Dean’s tail in a way that feels heavenly. “You should experiment,” Dean murmurs against Castiel’s temple as the angel rests his forehead against Dean’s shoulder.

“With you?” Castiel asks as he looks up into Dean’s eyes, his own blue ones still shining.

“Sure,” Dean manages to choke out before Castiel grabs his hair and tugs his head down to slam their mouths together. Fuck, he’s so hot everywhere. Dean feels like his skin has second stage sunburn on it and they just now started touching. Castiel moves so that he’s straddling Dean’s lap and thrusts his tongue into Dean’s mouth like this is something he’s done a thousand times before. Dean clings to his hips before sliding his hands up the angel’s sides and digging in enough to make Castiel moan and grind their pelvises together.

He tries to shift them, move Castiel and turn them so he’s on top, so he feels like he has some control, but Castiel is so damned strong Dean makes no headway. The angel’s not moving and Dean just has to ride out whatever he wants to have happen.

Not that he minds. Castiel’s currently left his mouth to lick and suck his way down to Dean’s neck where he seems determined to leave a hicky the size of purgatory.

Dean’s hands slide up under Castiel’s shirt and work their way up his back. The angel shudders in his lap and mewls as he nips along Dean’s throat.

Fuck, that feels so good. Dean’s so hard he’s pretty sure he could come in his pants and not complain too much about it. His fingers knead along Castiel’s shoulders, feeling the smooth, almost too hot skin of his back. But then something tingly presses into the palm of Dean’s hands. Something that wasn’t there a second ago and he hesitates before experimentally giving the swelling lump a squeeze. Cas growls out against his skin, followed by frantic hip thrusting so hard against Dean that he winces at the press of the buttons on Castiel’s jeans.

The feeling gets stronger against his hands and Dean gives up all pretense of focusing on anything but what he’s touching. He feels along the swelling until his fingers sink into heat like they are sliding inside Castiel’s body. The sensation spreads until it’s like Dean’s hands are swimming in invisible heat up to his elbows and that’s when it occurs to him what he must be touching.

“Your wings,” he stammers out as Castiel tosses his head back and keens.

Dean’s so glad his parents are out tonight.

Then Castiel’s eyes slam open and his body freezes as Dean spreads his fingers and squeezes them again. “Stop,” Castiel moans pitifully as his whole body shudders.

“Too much?” Dean asks his voice husky and his throat feeling raw. He feels drunk even though he hasn’t had anything tonight. Like everything’s happening too slowly or too quickly…he’s not sure which. He just wants more of Castiel’s heat on his skin, wants to strip the angel down and rub himself along his wings naked.

Wants to mark him so everyone knows he’s with Dean.

“Can’t,” Castiel gasps out even as he presses back into Dean’s grip. The room around them is starting to darken and the television blacks out. Dean watches, wide eyed as blackness swirls around them while Castiel shakes and shudders, tossing his head back and forth. “No,” the angel whispers and something inside Dean snaps back into reality.

Angels only show their wings to their mates.

He slams his eyes shut and shoves Castiel as hard as he can, sending the angel toppling to the floor at his feet. Dean claps both his hands over his eyes and puts his head down between his knees while Castiel’s breathing slowly starts to even out.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, over and over when he hears Castiel make a noise that sounds like a sob. “I wasn’t thinking. I see them all over, in the bathroom, in your bed, on the floor of our room. When I pick them up they disappear like little puffs of smoke and I guess I just forgot that it’s so personal for you. Why is it so personal when you leave feathers everywhere?”

Castiel makes a noise like a wounded animal before panting out, “You can see them? Touch them?”

Dean takes a steadying breath before responding, “Yeah.”

“Mate,” Castiel whispers so sadly that it sounds like the admission is breaking him apart from the inside. “You’re my mate.”

It’s like getting dunked in frozen water.

“No!” Dean shouts as he blindly lunges to his feet. “No!” he repeats as he flees from the living room and then the house all together.

The angel doesn’t try to stop him.

*****

Dean doesn’t come home for three days. When he finally does he refuses to enter their bedroom and spends a week and a half sleeping on the couch. Castiel’s grace quivers in need at his mere presence in the house.

Dean doesn’t even have to talk to him.

This is what Castiel’s been feeling for months. It’s not a grace call for purpose….it’s a mating call, stretched over miles of purgatory, past all of their differences.

Castiel’s found his soul’s partner…and been rejected by him.

The last few days prior to winter break come and go with no communication between them and numerous concerned glances between John and Mary Winchester at their behavior. Castiel has nothing to offer them as reassurance.

He feels like he’s dying inside.

The night before he’s scheduled to go home for break Castiel spends his entire evening packing up everything that belongs to him in the Winchester home. He’s made friends here and it saddens him that he will most likely never see them again.

He’s lied to them all, saying he’ll be returning in a few short weeks after the holiday.

But Castiel is never coming back here. The pain is too great.

“What are you doing?” Dean asks from the doorway and Castiel almost trips, he’s so surprised that Dean is speaking to him.

“Packing,” he manages.

“Yeah, Cas,” Dean huffs. “I get that. But you’re only going home for like three weeks. You don’t have to take your whole life with you.”

“Thank you for pointing that out,” Castiel murmurs as he zips up the last of his bags.

He refuses to look at Dean, not wanting to give anything away.

“You’re not coming back,” Dean accuses.

Castiel doesn’t bother to turn around. The silence stretches taut between them and he can feel Dean burning a hole through his back with his eyes. “Coward,” Dean blurts. The word drips with pain.

Something inside Castiel snaps.

He’s turning to slam Dean back against the far wall of the room before he really thinks about it. As soon as Dean’s back makes contact Castiel is grabbing him and shaking him back and forth like a rag doll. “What do you care!” he shrieks. “You don’t want me. You’re not the one feeling like your heart is shriveling up and dying inside. You’re fine, you’re happy. You’re brother’s coming back and everything for you will go right back to the way you like it. I’m the one suffering. I’m the one that hurts. I’m the one that’s hollow inside. This all your fault.”

He should have expected Dean to defend himself. But the blow across his jaw still comes as a shock. Castiel stumbles away with his hand held to his face and his eyes wide as Dean struggles to get to his feet. “I didn’t do this to you,” Dean growls out and when Castiel turns to really look at him fully the demon’s eyes are black and his skin is hardening. “I didn’t ask for you to come here.”

He grabs Castiel, arm raised to hit him again as Dean snarls into his face, “I didn’t want you.”

“Dean!” John Winchester’s voice rings out in the bedroom like a gun shot. Dean lets go of him immediately and Castiel collapses to the ground like a puppet with his strings cut.

“He started it,” Dean grumbles as his father guides him out of the room.

“Castiel,” Mary whispers as she crouches next to him on the ground. “Are you alright? Did he hurt you?”

He doesn’t know how to answer, so be buries his face in her lap and sobs.

*****

“Are you sick?” Sam asks over dinner.

“Why?” Dean asks as he pushes his food around on his plate without eating any of it. He’s not hungry, hasn’t been hungry since…well for a while.

“We only get this particular dessert once a year,” Sam points out. “Last year you locked me in the bathroom so you could eat my share and I was pissed at you for a month. This year you haven’t even tried it. Something must be wrong with you.”

“I’m just not hungry,” Dean sighs as he shoves himself away from the table.

“Yeah,” Sam comments “At all, ever.”

It’s not an exaggeration. Since Castiel left to return to Heaven Dean hasn’t felt like eating, or laughing, or sleeping, or anything really. He’s miserable, raw inside, tense to the point of desperation and nothing eases the ache in his chest.

Everything feels wrong now, and Dean’s overwhelmed with guilt for the way he left things between them. The angel had been gone the next morning, his mother had walked Castiel to the gates of Heaven herself and when she had come back she had looked at Dean with such disappointment Dean had wanted to cry right then.

He’s ashamed of himself.

“Sam!” his dad calls out from the living room. “There’s someone on skype for you.”

Dean doesn’t miss the way Sam’s eyes light up and his tail thrashes like a puppy as soon as he hears his father’s announcement. “Who’s calling you on skype anyway?” Dean asks as he follows behind his excited sibling.

Sam’s halfway through his freshman year in college; he’s not a kid anymore. But Dean can’t help but think of him that way sometimes. Especially when Sam’s tripping and stumbling over his own still growing limbs as he makes it into the living to shout gleefully, “Gabriel!”

Dean should have stayed in the dining room.

He recognizes Gabriel from some of the pictures Castiel had brought with him when he came in the fall. The idea that Sam’s conversing with someone who is potentially in the same house as his angel is enough to make Dean’s heart start beating faster.

When had Castiel become his angel?

He watches the screen blankly as Sam chats and laughs back and forth with the angel who is clearly a good friend. Then Gabriel is picking up the computer and walking it through the house, stopping to let Sam say hello to other members of the family, get holiday greetings, make quick plans for when he comes back for the spring semester.

Dean stays silent, but his eyes diligently search for any glimpse he might get of Castiel’s form.

It’s not until Gabriel stops to let Sam speak with his mother that Dean catches sight of him. Castiel is curled on his side on the couch, covered with what looks to be a heavy blanket. He looks horrible, pale, weak, sick.

He looks like Dean feels inside.

Castiel’s mother is perched on the arm of the couch beside his head, slowly running her fingers through Castiel’s hair while she speaks quietly to Sam over the computer. Dean doesn’t know what to do. He’s not sure there’s anything he can do…and then Castiel coughs.

It’s deep and raw. The sound is painful to listen to and even more so to watch. Castiel doubles over while his mother rubs his back and whispers to him. Then the angel tries to take a breath and sounds as though he’s strangling himself on the inhale.

“Cas!” Dean exclaims loudly as he presses closer to the screen wanting to touch him, make sure his angel is alright.

“Dean?” Castiel asks weakly. His eyes snap up to where he can now see Dean’s face on Gabriel’s screen.

All hell breaks loose.

Castiel’s eyes flash almost white they are so bright and then the room darkens to almost pitch black. “Dean!”

Castiel’s voice rings out, passionate and strained as Gabriel turns the screen away and runs for another room in the house saying quickly, “Well okay then, time to go I guess. Things are getting kind of messy here, Sam. I wanted to talk to you more but I have some…things I have to do now. I miss you, can’t wait for you to come back. Call me later okay?”

“I miss you too, Gabriel!” Sam barks as he shoves at Dean’s shoulder with a scowl. “Sorry my idiot brother had to mess this all up.”

Dean doesn’t respond. He’s too busy thinking about the way Castiel had cried out his name like he was dying and Dean was the only thing he wanted.

It’s hours later when his mother finds him slumped in the same spot in the living room, curled up in on himself with his tail tucked between his legs.

“Do you love him?” she asks.

He’s too lost to even try to argue. “I don’t know.”

“Angels mate for life,” his mom says softly as she reaches out to comb her hand through Dean’s hair. “Once they choose a mate they will never willingly leave them for any reason. If for some reason their mate dies, if they have children the remaining mate will raise their fledglings into adulthood and then follow their mate into the beyond. They have no will to live without the other half of their souls. That is why the cost of the war was so high for them. By killing one, we killed two.”

“I thought it was like a biological imperative,” Dean murmurs as he leans forward to rest his head on his mother’s shoulder and her tail curls around his body. “It doesn’t make sense. We’re both guys. There won’t be any fledglings. Isn’t that the whole point of them mating? They need kids.”

“It doesn’t work that way,” Mary chuckles. “An angel’s grace is formless. It doesn’t choose a partner based on gender. Castiel’s grace cried out so loudly for you that he came across purgatory searching for his other half. Even though you haven’t accepted him fully you’re both suffering from the separation now.”

“It sucks,” Dean whispers and his mother laughs.

“Dean,” she sighs as she squeezes him close to her side. “I know you’re scared to share yourself with someone…”

He opens his mouth to argue and her tail presses against his lips. “I’m not done yet,” his mother admonishes gently. “You’re hesitant to be intimate with people, you always have been. I’m not sure why. But what I do know is that life with Castiel won’t be perfect. The mating bond doesn’t change the two individuals. You will argue, have ups and downs together. But he will never leave you willingly, sweetheart. You’ll never be alone.”

“I’m good on my own,” Dean argues.

“No you’re not.” His mother smiles at him before kissing his forehead. “You’re too much like me. We’re better with a partner.” She gets up and turns to walk away, adding, “Something is broken in you right now, Dean. Fix it before it’s too late.”

*****

He’s cold, and trying to sleep, when the door to his room creaks open.

“I just want to be left alone, please,” Castiel begs without opening his eyes. “I’m so tired.”

“Yeah,” Dean answers. “Me too. It was a long trip.”

He has to be hallucinating, there is certainly no way that his wayward demonic mate is standing at the foot of his bed. “You look horrible.”

He does too; Dean seems thinner even though it’s not even been a month since he last saw him. There are deep circles under his eyes that speak of Dean’s lack of sleep and level of exhaustion.

The demon laughs but there seems to be little real humor behind it.

“You’re not looking too good yourself,” Dean comments as he comes toward where Castiel is curled further up on the bed. “It’s good to see you.”

Dean sits down on the edge of the bed as though he’s concerned Castiel might shove him off onto the floor.

Castiel reaches out and exhales like a weight has been lifted off his chest when his fingers brush the denim encasing Dean’s thigh. He’s really here. “Why?” Castiel asks as he starts to struggle into a sitting position, only to have Dean reach out and brush his thumb along his cheek before gently nudging Castiel to lie back down.

“I was hoping,” Dean swallows nervously. “We could maybe go out to dinner…or something.”

“Like…a date?” Castiel is stunned. This cannot be happening, nothing this wonderful can be real.

“Something like that.” Dean turns then to meet his gaze and the concern in the demon’s eyes is unmistakable. “I have a lot to make up for with you, Cas. I’m sorry. I hurt you and I want you to forgive me. I want you to come home with me. I want….you.”

There’s a sonic boom in the room around them, making Dean duck his head between his knees for fear the ceiling is caving in. He opens his eyes to see the room covered in wisps of smokey feathers. When he turns back to Castiel the angel is smiling at him with a grey feather covering one of his eyes. Dean drags it off his face, chuckling, and then watches with no small amount of sadness as it evaporates in his hand. “See?” he sighs. “They just disappear.”

Castiel cocks his head like he thinks Dean is being particularly stupid. “They don’t disappear. They absorb.”

“Into me?” Dean gasps as he turns his hand around and around as though he’s looking for something on his skin.

It makes Castiel chuckle, the first thing to make him smile in weeks. “Angelic feathers don’t usually fall out,” he explains. “Most of the time when we lose them it’s due to injury or stress. I’ve been…very stressed with you. Because you’re my mate you can see them, touch them. They’re a manifestation of my grace. They blend into your soul because my grace recognizes you as belonging with me, even though we’ve never completed the bond.”

“There are a shit-ton of feathers in here, Cas,” Dean comments worriedly as he looks around the room.

“I’ve been heartsick,” Castiel says softly, looking away from the demon.

Dean changes position until he’s sliding down in the bed beside Castiel’s body and gathering him up with his arms and his tail, tangling them together.

“Not any more, okay?” Dean whispers into his hair. “I’m here now, I’m not going anywhere without you.”

They need to talk; Castiel knows this as well as Dean does. His presence here is a start, but they have much to overcome.

He’s just so tired, and it feels beyond divine to be pressed against his mate’s side.

He feels Dean’s body relax into sleep and can’t help but to join him.

*****

“I thought Heaven was going to be full of big fluffy bunnies,” Dean comments as they stroll through the courtyard next to Castiel’s family home.

The angel looks at him like he’s nuts. “Heaven is a city, Dean,” Castiel says slowly. “Much like Hell, actually.”

Dean snorts, folding his tail around Castiel’s hips and tucking the tip into the front pocket of Castiel’s jeans. Their fingers tangle together as they walk, stopping often to trade lazy kisses. It’s been less than a full day since Dean found Castiel curled in a ball in his room, but things are already getting better for them.

Castiel doesn’t look sick anymore and that persistent ache Dean’s had in his chest since the angel left to go home has eased into a nice, warm feeling of contentment.

Coupled with a healthy dose of him wondering what the fuck they’re doing.

“Cas,” Dean starts and then stumbles over himself, uncertain what exactly he’s trying to explain.

“I’m coming home with you for the spring semester,” Castiel responds as though he understands where Dean was going by just blurting out his name. “I’m hoping to petition the University for full time status, allowing me to complete my studies there and graduate. It will give us time to discuss our future plans. If they reject my petition I would still like to finish college, so that would mean...”

“Us coming here for you to go to school,” Dean nods. “I get it.”

“You would be open to that?” Castiel asks as he stops walking and tugs on Dean’s arm for him to do the same.

“We’re going to be together, right?” Dean asks. “Bonded.”

Castiel swallows before responding with, “If that’s what you wish.”

“What do you want, Cas?” Dean huffs.

“You,” the angel replies as he presses himself closer to Dean’s chest. “I want to spend every single day of the rest of my existence with you.”

And yeah, that’s deep.

“I’m going to piss you off,” Dean blurts.

“You already have,” Castiel smiles. “I’m certain it will be a frequent occurrence.”

There’s something about the soft light shining in Castiel’s eyes that makes Dean finally just pour it out. “You won’t leave, right? My mom, she said you’d never leave me.” Castiel frowns at him slightly and Dean rushes to finish his thoughts.

“I’m not good at committing to things…or people,” he clenches his hands and takes a deep breath before adding, “I want something and then I start thinking about how much it would hurt when I lose it, or all the ways I could fuck it all up if I had it. I say the wrong things and do the wrong things. I’m like my own worst enemy. I want to be with you, Cas. But if this bonding thing works the way everyone seems to think it does…I wouldn’t be able to handle having you so close to me and then you walking away.”

Castiel cups his cheeks then and tugs Dean down to kiss him until the tension finally eases out of his shoulders. Dean’s leaning heavily on the angel when their lips finally part; his tail wrapped tightly around Castiel’s left leg. “I could no more walk away from you than I could rip out my wings.”

“I want to see them,” Dean murmurs against Castiel’s cheek. “Your wings, I want to see them.”

Castiel gives this full body shudder that Dean feels all over. “I know,” the angel whispers. “And I want to show them to you, so badly.”

It’s like a really bad euphemism for sex but it’s not funny; the desperate way Castiel’s looking at him isn’t funny at all. “I never felt like I belonged anywhere,” Castiel says softly while Dean strokes his fingertips over his face. “I belong with you. I feel it so strongly, I’m yours. I’ll show you my wings and then I won’t ever have to worry about belonging again because we’ll be together. We’ll have each other. I never thought I would have a mate. I never even bothered looking for one, and here you are, strong, brash, aggressive…” Dean flushes at the words. He’s been told before they’re some of his weaker traits. But then Castiel exhales a slow, enraptured sounding, “Perfect.”

Dean’s eyes snap back to Castiel face as the angel smiles. “I like the friction between us,” Castiel comments as he traces his fingertips along Dean’s lower lip. “You challenge me at every turn and it’s…exciting.”

They’re outside; Dean tries hard to remember that when he seals his mouth over Castiel’s and yanks him close until they’re pressed up against each other. The angel mewls against his lips as he slides his mouth open and invites Dean’s tongue inside to tangle with his own. Dean’s rubbing Castiel’s shoulders with his hands up under the angel’s shirt and he feels it when Castiel starts to lose his grip on his grace.

That wonderfully hot feeling is back against his palms and Castiel is rubbing his erection into Dean’s hip while he sucks on Dean’s lower lip and uses his strength to keep Dean from pulling away.

“We have to leave tonight,” Dean blurts as he manages to jerk his mouth away before Castiel lets his wings out while they’re standing outside. Dean’s pretty sure it would be breaking some kind of public decency law and he does not want to have to call his dad and explain why he needs to bailed out of jail.

“Okay,” Castiel pants, wide eyed, his hair tousled. “Where will we go? To your parents?”

“Fuck no!” Dean exclaims and then flushes and clamps both hands over his mouth. Castiel laughs at him, a high, happy noise that Dean thinks he wants to hear everyday for the rest of his life. “I mean,” he starts more quietly. “We can go to my Uncle Bobby’s house. He said it would be okay for us to spend the night there on the way home if that’s what I needed.”

“You told him of the bond?” Castiel sounds dubious.

“I was hoping you would want to stay with me,” Dean shrugs, uncomfortable at admitting how hopeful he was about this thing between them. “I figured we would need a place that was private and Bobby’s not really my uncle. He’s an old friend of my dad’s. Bobby’s seen a lot of weird stuff and I trust him. Plus purgatory is sort of neutral ground for us. It’s not going to be fancy or anything. If you want to wait we can…”

“I don’t think I can,” Castiel’s cheeks color as he admits it. “I wish we had more time to ease into this, but the call is just too strong. Having you so close and knowing you want me makes it almost impossible for me to not give myself to you right now. It’s starting to hurt.”

The admission of pain, more than his own drive to make sure Cas stays with him, makes up Dean’s mind. They pack Castiel’s belongings together. Dean’s pleased to note that the angel is bringing significantly more things with him than he did the first time he traveled to Hell.

Gabriel helps them carry his things to the car. He hugs his brother tightly, and Dean overhears him whisper, “I’m glad I’m not the only one.”

Dean doesn’t understand.

Then Gabriel turns to him and says fiercely, “You look after my brother…I’ll take care of yours.”

He’s gone before Dean has a chance to ask what he means.

“Gabriel’s in love with Sam,” Castiel comments as they travel out of the gates of Heaven and enter purgatory’s realm.

Dean almost wrecks the car.

“Say what?”

“He wishes to approach him about the possibility of a more permanent arrangement,” Castiel says with a grin. “Something like what we have.”

“I thought bonding was a biological imperative,” Dean asks, still stunned.

“Gabriel isn’t like me,” Castiel shifts in the passenger seat for a moment before adding. “He’s an archangel. It’s different for them.”

“Why?” Dean presses. Gabriel is Castiel’s brother; if anyone in the whole of the universe is good enough for Sam, then it’s him. But that doesn’t mean that Dean isn’t going to play his role of overprotective sibling to the hilt.

Sam’s important. He deserves the best.

“They aren’t meant to mate,” Castiel says softly. “Archangel’s are born with a grace so powerful it can devour the souls of lesser angels. They’re honored as warriors but often seen as an abomination in the realm of mating. They aren’t allowed to procreate and no other angel would choose to be with someone that overpowers their grace so completely.”

“But Sam’s not an angel,” Dean concludes.

“Correct,” Castiel nods. “Sam allows Gabriel a chance to finally create a link with another soul. It’s something he’s always resented not being able to do.”

“So is it Sam he wants?” Dean asks as he grips the steering wheel tighter. “Or the opportunity?”

“Sam,” Castiel chuckles, like he’s thinking of a secret he’s not willing to share. “Trust me, Dean. It’s all about Sam.”

*****

Bobby sets them up in his panic room. It makes Dean laugh, remembering that this room was once built to shelter demons from an angelic attack.

Now he’s going to use it to mate with one.

There’s no bed, exactly. Heavy quilts and down blankets piled up together on the floor will have to do. Still, it’s softer than Castiel’s bed at his parent’s house so Dean’s pretty proud of himself.

Bobby’s long gone, staying at Ellen’s for the night, using Dean as an excuse for finally making a move on the woman who’s been making his tail curl for years.

Dean’s brain abruptly shuts off when he turns from shutting and securing the door to the room and sees Castiel sitting naked in the center of their make-shift bed.

“Well,” Dean chuckles. “Hello, there.”

He’s halfway though stripping off his shirt when all the lights in the room blow out and darkness so complete it’s like swimming in ink creeps across the floor towards his feet.

“Cas?” he questions nervously.

“I can’t wait anymore,” the angel says softly, and then a light starts under his barely visible skin, setting him aglow in the dark room, his eyes shining blue and clear while his skin picks up a tawny tone. It makes him look like a God; even more so when the darkness takes form over his shoulders into the shadowy shape of giant wings.

Dean can see them and they’re glorious.

“I’m not very showy,” Castiel says, sounding almost apologetic. “No flashing lights or anything. Just shadows.”

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” Dean answers as he strips off the rest of his clothing and follows Castiel’s light toward the bed like it's a beacon.

As he walks he notices the wings curling around him, drawing him near, pressing against his back. It tingles, makes him feel warm all over, makes him ache.

He drops to his knees and Castiel raises onto his to meet him. They're pressed together, Castiel almost clawing at his shoulders as they kiss, deep and wet. Dean’s hands travel the length of Castiel’s naked body. He’s momentarily disturbed by what to do with his tail. Demons usually tangle theirs together in a mating dance that is frankly too overly complicated for Dean’s taste, and Castiel doesn’t have a tail to work with.

He settles for wrapping it around Castiel’s thigh. The angel seems to approve, if his moaning is any indication.

“Touch me,” Castiel begs against Dean’s lips. “Touch me.”

Dean’s almost ready to tell him that duh, he is touching him, all over. But then he remembers he’s not touching a specific part of the angel.

His wings. Castiel wants Dean to touch his wings.

Sliding his hands into their warmth is like something Dean has never felt before, electric and superheated. He feels like he’s caressing a live wire, but it doesn’t burn.

Castiel’s head drops back and his back arches. His mouth opens as he pants his breathes out like the sensation is something he’s never experienced before.

“Dean,” Castiel repeats like a mantra while he undulates under the pleasure of Dean’s hands on the most intimate part of himself. “Take me, please.”

He doesn’t have to ask twice. Dean doesn’t want to pull his hands away from Castiel’s wings and he’s never been more thankful in his life for his tail. He unravels it from Castiel’s thigh before using it to drag the lube from where he left it on the side of the bed. It’s complicated getting the cap undone, and Castiel isn’t helping by the way he’s rocking his hips into Dean’s, rubbing their dicks together. But Dean’s determined and finally manages to slip his slick tail up the inside of Castiel’s thigh to press against and circle his opening.

“Your tail?” Castiel gasps. “That’s your tail.”

“Yeah,” Dean flushes but he doesn’t stop the gentle probing, whimpering in pleasure as the pointed tip curls in on itself as it slides inside the angel. “Is it too weird?”

“No!” Castiel exclaims, “Fuck, no. Emphasis on the fuck.”

His hips roll back as Dean pushes forward and they both hiss as more of his tail is welcomed inside the tight heat.

Things are hazy for Dean after that. They end up with Dean sitting on the bed and Castiel riding his dick as he straddles Dean’s lap. Dean’s hands are tangled in wisps of barely felt feathers and rising heat as Castiel clings to Dean, riding him roughly. His nails dig into Dean’s shoulder blades.

“I’m sorry,” Dean manages to pant as he feels his orgasm burning its way through his gut.

“For what?” Castiel asks breathlessly as he rubs his face against Dean’s neck.
“I don’t have wings,” Dean groans as Castiel changes the angle of his thrusts. “I can’t give you what you’re giving me.”

“But you will,” Castiel says, thoroughly confusing Dean. “You will.”

Then his wings slam down around them and Dean arches against the sensation of being electrocuted by pure pleasure. He comes, screaming as Castiel does the same.

Then blackness.

*****

Dean opens his eyes to find himself surrounded by darkness. There’s a cool wind against his naked body and Castiel is nowhere to be found. He’s just about to call out for the angel, a sense of terror rising in his chest, when the dark around him shifts, moves to embrace him.

It feels like home.

“Cas?” Dean whispers as he reaches out a hand in front of him to try and touch and feels the sensation of feathers run across his palm.

Then his fingers start to disappear. Dean watches, frozen, as his body disintegrates in front of his eyes. He thinks maybe he should be afraid, but there’s this terrific sense of rightness about the whole thing that keeps him from giving into the slight urge he has to start screaming.

It doesn’t hurt.

He closes his eyes as he begins to feel the loss of connection to his body. He holds his breath until he no longer has lungs to breathe with, or a mouth to cry out with, or eyes to see.

Then he’s nothing, and everything.

Castiel slams into him with a rush, the essence of his mate swirling through the particles left that make up Dean. They dance along together, twisting, blending until Dean can’t tell how much of the mass that they have created together is him, or Castiel. There’s no end, no beginning, no separation.

They’re one soul, united.

Joy so intense he’s frustrated by his lack of ability to express it pours out of him into the grace that now defines them both. Of course Castiel will never leave him; they’re part of each other now. Nothing can come between them and for as much as Dean knows the road will certainly be bumpy, he knows that this feeling of rightness they share right now, this perfect and total belonging to one another, will remain.

Castiel was right, Dean was able to give him exactly what he needed.

He opens his eyes with a start, feeling odd at having a body again so suddenly. He’s naked on their makeshift bed with Castiel sprawled on his stomach by his side.

Dean turns his head and meets the angel’s gaze.

Castiel smiles.

“Will it be like that every time?” Dean asks as he playfully rubs his tail across Castiel’s back.

“Want to find out?” Castiel asks with a grin. Dean feels his mate’s joy blossom across their bond as they both laugh.

Then he tugs the angel closer, and neither of them laugh for a while.