Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Castiel is standing in Chuck’s kitchen, waiting to die, when Lucifer appears.

Saying he appears is like saying it rains during a hurricane. Even being near him presses Castiel to his knees from the sheer force of his being, the prophet already unconscious and splayed on the floor next to him, the archangel brushed aside with a single thought from Lucifer. Castiel had been prepared to die, but he’d expected a death far cleaner than the one Lucifer would undoubtedly give him.

And then, it all ends. The pressure is gone, leaving Chuck passive but alive as Castiel struggles to his feet.

“I’m sorry,” Lucifer says, and sounds almost embarrassed. “It’s been a while since I was on an earthly plane.”

Even without the force of Lucifer’s presence sending his teeth to grinding, Castiel barely restrains shivering. He’s fully aware that he’s only an angel, and not even that strong of an angel in the grand scheme of things. Lucifer is a being that defied God Himself. It’s practically suicidal, but he glares at him anyway. “You were meant to stay in Hell.”

Lucifer actually smiles at him. “As loyal as ever.” He pauses. “Or are you?”

Castiel’s hands clench into fists. “I serve God. I’ll always serve God. You have no right to question me.”

“It’s ironic that an angel is technically higher in the Hierarchy than me, isn’t it?” Lucifer says lightly, and actually smiles. There’s a tinge of sympathy in his eyes, even. “I know what you’ve done, Castiel. They won’t be happy.”

“I serve God,” Castiel repeats icily.

Lucifer nods. The expected disgust and wrath don’t come. Instead, Lucifer sighs. “You did what was right. You value Earth more than a shallow paradise. I respect that choice.” His eyes widen, but Lucifer doesn’t give him any time to reply. “I’ll be watching over you, Castiel.”

“Don’t,” Castiel says hurriedly, terrified of having Lucifer watching him, judging him, undoubtedly tempting him, but he’s already gone.

He stares at the space where Lucifer had stood, and notices the pure white color of the carpet that had been beneath his feet.

Chuck stirs, and Castiel runs.

---

He knows the story. He lived the story. He was there to fight Lucifer’s hordes when they rebelled against their Father in a fit of jealousy at his love of humanity. He watched friends fall in battle and fall from heaven. He remembers the searing light of the battlefield that could blind even archangels at their fiercest. He knows the feel of killing another angel, knows he hates the feeling, and knows that others didn’t mind it nearly as much as he did.

Castiel lived through the war in heaven, and for the first time, he realizes that he has no idea what made Lucifer actually start the fight.

He admits as much to Dean, regretting it as soon as the words are out of his mouth. He expects disappointment and withdrawal, but instead Dean nods, looking at the scorched grass beneath their shared bench. “Did he smile in heaven, too?”

“Almost constantly,” Castiel says as calmly as he can manage.

Dean takes a breath. “And this guy’s going to bring the apocalypse.”

“He’s Lucifer,” Castiel states. “He is the apocalypse.”

“Never thought the apocalypse would be so polite,” Dean says, and glances over at Castiel. “He apologized for scaring us when he rose, seemed to read our minds or something, and then he ran off. He doesn’t seem like the devil.”

“Do I seem like an angel?”

Dean smiles. “Cas, someone would have to be blind and deaf to think you were human.”

The question presses on him, though, and he turns to look Dean in the eye. “But do I seem like an angel?”

He shrugs and doesn’t answer, instead turning back to watch the world. The sun keeps setting even when Castiel isn’t there to watch it.

---

“It was about equality, Castiel,” Lucifer says, and the demons around him burn while the man strolls towards him from the front door. His hands are in his pockets, and where he steps the wood floor becomes shiny and pristine instead of the rotting boards of before. “I only wanted him to love us just as much as humanity.”

“You tried to become God,” Castiel says, standing his ground despite every part of him screaming that he should run.

“No, I tried to take over operations,” he corrects, and sends Castiel a short, sincere smile. “I want everyone to have the same benefits. I want angels to be just as free as humans. Really, do you think that’d be a bad thing?”

He doesn’t, but he can’t bring himself to say it, can barely believe he’s even considering agreeing with Lucifer. “The gift of choice is a gift.”

Lucifer raises an eyebrow, amused. “And you didn’t just choose what to say? Didn’t choose to help Dean Winchester instead of obeying heaven’s misguided will? We have that same gift, Castiel. I merely want angels to be able to use it without fear of falling from grace.”

The ceiling above Lucifer is repairing itself while the demons’ possessed bodies turn to ash. It takes the crack of one body’s burnt bones to snap Castiel into action.

He has no rebuttal for Lucifer, no way to convince himself that he’s the devil for a reason, and so he runs, ignoring the slightly hurt look that coats Lucifer’s face when he leaves in a frantic swirl of wings and ever-weakening faith.

---

He knows Dean won’t be happy with him, knows Dean may never even forgive him if Castiel doesn’t tread lightly, so his mind searches back through previous conversations to find an answer and settles on a point Dean brings up repeatedly. He gently wraps Sam’s dream into a room, creates a doorway, and knocks politely.

The Sam that answers is a scrawny thirteen year old, naked and blushing in front of an enormous audience. The blush deepens when he catches sight of Castiel standing in front of him. “Oh, crap. Uh. Don’t you usually do this to Dean?”

Castiel hesitates, but pulls his coat off and hands it to Sam, who wraps himself up in it with a speed humans are only capable of reaching in the mind. “I need to ask your opinion, not Dean’s.”

Sam frowns and nods. The classroom disappears, leaving an empty diner and a fully-grown, fully-dressed Sam facing him in a booth. He doesn’t even notice the change, leaning forward on his elbows as the coat reappears on Castiel. “What’s going on?”

“When did you realize that what you were doing with Ruby was wrong?”

Sam looks like he expected any question but that one, but his face is trained to lie and smoothes back into the concerned face Castiel has seen him use with every victim. A part of him wants to demand Sam stop looking at him like that, but the rest of him wants the answer more than he wants his pride.

“Well, I knew it was bad as soon as I started,” Sam confesses. “Knew even before I started. I didn’t know how bad it really was until…well, until it was too late.”

Castiel nods. “If you knew it was bad, why did you start?”

“I wanted revenge, and Ruby could give me that.”

He hesitates again, eyes moving away from Sam and to the ever-changing landscape outside the diner windows, the only constant the silhouette of a black car waiting in a parking lot. “If it was something positive you were being offered by someone you knew was bad, would you have known it was wrong?”

Sam frowns at him. “Are you sure this is a question for me? Dean’s the one who made a deal with a demon.”

“A deal that cost him something,” Castiel counters. “You never saw the price until Lucifer was free.”

Sam shakes his head and takes a sip from a cup of coffee which appears in his hand. “Alright. No, I don’t think I’d have known it was wrong. Not if the person offering was really, really bad.”

“How do I know if he really is bad?” he asks, nearly a whisper.

“Listen, Cas, this sounds like something we should talk about outside of my head,” Sam says, his face concerned enough that Castiel wonders how much trouble he’ll really be in at the end of this.

He stands, and thinks he’s been a fool. “This was a mistake,” he says, because it was. Lucifer tempts. What better way is there to tempt someone than convince them that something wrong is right? “Would you prefer to return to your dream, or a dreamless sleep?”

“I could do without the public humiliation dream, but I’m serious,” Sam says, standing, and they’re in the parking lot next to the Impala, passenger-side door already waiting for Sam. “Ask us in the morning, alright? Let us help.”

“I don’t need help,” Castiel says, and sends Sam into as peaceful a night as any Winchester ever gets.

---

He’s not surprised when Lucifer appears. The rainstorm had parted around him, after all.

“You don’t believe me, do you,” Lucifer says.

Castiel looks him dead in the eye and thinks to himself that Lucifer is the deceiver, is temptation, is the entire reason that hell was created. “My brother Uriel wanted to raise you from hell. He killed other angels in the garrison if they refused, fooled us all into thinking a demon had learned to kill our kind, and even convinced me to ask something I never should have of a man I was in charge of. If that is the sort of creature that agrees with you, I’ll never be one of them.”

There’s no indignation or brimstone or acknowledgement that Lucifer’s lost. Instead, he smiles. “And if God loved angels as much as humans, do you think He would have let Uriel get that far?”

“Humanity has serial rapists and mass murderers,” Castiel states.

Lucifer nods, the smile growing. “You see? We can be the same, but an angel is immediately punished for the same form of passion that humans show. And maybe if that fear wasn’t always there, angels could show a positive form of passion, not some fanatic drive that’s already driven them insane enough to consider the consequences.”

His eyes widen, his own words echoing back to him, that it was disobedience that killed Uriel. Not justice, not defense, not revenge. The failure to obey killed him.

Lucifer reaches out to place a hand on Castiel’s cheek. “What would you do if you could love without the fear of God’s wrath in your heart as well?”

Green eyes flash into his mind, black metal and the scent of determination, and Castiel shoves Lucifer’s hand away.

“At least say goodbye before you leave this time?” he asks politely.

“Goodbye,” Castiel rasps out, and takes off.

---

As soon as the word leaves his mouth, an unseen gate opens just enough for a white horse to sniff restlessly at the waiting earth.

---

It takes Castiel forty-one minutes to reach Dean after his first shout. Forty of them were spent standing in the Sahara staring at ancient engravings of extinct animals and while trying to think of anything other than Lucifer’s words, and one was spent taking his time about getting there. He already knows Dean’s tolerance level when it comes to waiting for Castiel’s arrival, and knows if he had spent an hour he’d be okay for the most part, but at forty minutes Dean will only think Castiel was busy.

He looks exactly how Castiel thinks of him, and the thought that he actually hasn’t been over-exaggerating Dean Winchester in his mind is disturbing enough that he considers leaving.

The blood on Dean’s shirt changes his mind.

“What happened?” he asks as soon as his feet touch the ground, and even after all this time Dean jumps a little.

“I didn’t see you this morning,” Sam says, and steps out from the Impala with a concerned frown.

“We figured this would bring you around,” Dean says with a shrug, and points. “Even found you a couple nice benches for while we talk.”

It’s considerate, and it makes Castiel bristle. “I don’t have anything to say.”

“My religious brother asked me to help him con an angel into a counseling session,” Dean says, and sets himself down on one of the benches. “I’m thinking you really do.”

He turns and glares at Sam. “I came to you in confidence.”

“And I didn’t have the confidence that I could help you without Dean,” Sam says unrepentantly.

“And you can always fly off, but we’ll just pester you when you really do have to talk to us about something serious,” Dean adds.

“Not that whatever this is isn’t serious.”

Castiel stands silently in front of them, staring down at the ground. “This…issue is one I have to deal with alone.”

“No you don’t,” Sam says, and anything else he was planning to say is cut off by the hand Dean holds up for barely a moment.

He takes a breath. “Cas, you do know you raised me from hell and disobeyed all of heaven for me, right?”

Castiel hesitates, but nods.

“Then sit down and let me try to pay you back,” Dean says. Castiel frowns, but moves forward, sitting in the middle of the unoccupied bench while Sam situates himself next to his brother. “So. What’s up?”

He folds his hands in his lap, staring at them for a moment. “Lucifer has been tempting me,” he says, and can see Sam nearly lurch off the bench before Dean clamps a hand on his brother’s shoulder.

“What’d you expect? It’s the devil. He’s obviously gonna try tempting angels too,” Dean says far too easily.

Castiel takes a deep breath he doesn’t really need. “He’s tempting me in person, Dean. And Lucifer is…”

“We met him,” Sam says, the words sharp. “Someone being nice isn’t the same as being good.”

“But he’s not nice,” Castiel says, aware he’s beginning to sound a bit unhinged. “He’s brutally honest and uncaring about any sort of life, so long as those lives are equal, and everything he says seems to make sense. I was acquainted with him before he was cast out, and he’s the same, only now that we’re actually speaking-”

“Whoa, you mean face-to-face speaking?” Dean interrupts with wide eyes, and Castiel nods.

“I challenge his philosophy with every argument I can think of when he appears, and yet they all seem to strengthen his position,” Castiel says hurriedly, not noticing the looks the brothers give him and each other. “He just seems…right.”

“Do you really believe that?” Sam asks.

Castiel shifts, but finds no comfort. “I know he’s wrong. I know he’s a walking sin, know that Lucifer is the reason that hell was created because God Himself threw him out of heaven, and yet a part of me believes every word he says.”

“Then let’s concentrate on keeping that part of you really really small,” Dean says, and gives Castiel a smile that doesn’t do anything to help him believe that Lucifer is wrong.

---

Lucifer takes down a demon that drops to its knees in front of him, and doesn’t even seem to notice the event. Instead, he’s already smiling at Castiel and walking over, the seal keeping him in place snapping apart as soon as Lucifer’s foot hits it. “I haven’t seen you in a month. Did you start warding against me?”

Castiel nods, head spinning from the blood loss, and Lucifer’s smile widens proudly. “You’re so much more powerful than you think you are, Castiel. I’m glad to help you figure that out a little, even if it was to keep me away.”

He tries to speak, but all Castiel can manage is a cough. It makes Lucifer’s smile drop off into a worried expression, naked and honest enough that it makes Castiel almost feel bad that it took nearly being tortured to death for Lucifer to be able to find him.

“I’m assuming you don’t trust me enough to let me take care of you,” Lucifer says, the words enough of a question that Castiel glares at him. “Alright. I’ll take you to your boys.”

He wants to say they’re neither his nor boys, but they’re suddenly on the floor of a motel room, Lucifer cradling him as the Winchesters snap awake. Lips press against his forehead, and Castiel lets out a sigh as much of the pain vanishes.

“He’s been tortured,” Lucifer tells them. “I took care of the demons and all the cursed…elements they managed to get into him.”

“That was the kiss, right?” Dean asks, voice icy, and Castiel can almost hear Lucifer’s grin.

A pillow appears beneath his head, a mattress under the pillow, and his clothing is clean as soon as Lucifer runs a hand down Castiel’s side.

“Stop,” Castiel manages to say, and Lucifer’s hand removes itself with the whisper of an apology when he realizes he’s overstepped his bounds.

“You might thank me later,” Lucifer says for Castiel’s ears only, and stands to point at the Winchesters. From the gasp Castiel hears, he guesses Lucifer’s letting them feel a little of the power that had sent Castiel to his knees and Chuck nearly to his death. “Take care of him.”

Lucifer leaves, and they spring into action, wrapping tourniquets around wounds and getting a needle and thread ready to close the gash on his side.

“So when you said he’s tempting you personally-” Dean begins, only for Sam to shove him in the shoulder and plant something shiny in his hand. “Right. Well, don’t worry, Cas, we’re gonna get you back in the air in no time flat. And, uh, tell Jimmy we’re sorry.”

Castiel’s breath hitches, eyes almost painfully wide as he realizes that Jimmy Novak is gone, with no idea what happened to his soul, and that he’s technically possessing a dead body. He screams, and as something presses against his mouth he thinks he can see Lucifer in the ceiling, smiling sadly as Castiel writhes into unconsciousness on the floor.

---

“You know, I was thinking,” Dean says to him, eyes intent on the coffee in his hand. Sam is sitting quietly at the little table, packing things up and heading out the door. “Maybe you shouldn’t put the wards back on.”

Castiel stares at him, mouth open wide enough that it almost hurts. “He murdered my vessel.”

“We don’t know that,” Dean says shortly. “You were pretty messed up when he brought you here and we don’t know what all of the demonic damage was since he healed you after landing-”

“A demon can’t rip a soul out of a body,” Castiel says, and shakes his head until Dean catches him by the chin with a warning look. Castiel glares and slaps his hand away. “A demon can suppress a soul to fit itself in, can kill and then bring the body back to life, and can bind a soul to a body, but can’t remove the soul without a legitimate deal…”

Dean doesn’t even waver. He looks pale and determined, but far from receptive to anything other than his own mindset. “Cas, he watches out for you. If he hadn’t shown up, you’d probably be in pieces.”

“He’s Lucifer, Dean,” Castiel says, and does his best to not waver. Lucifer is the devil, and Castiel isn’t about to invite him into his everyday life now that he had a way to avoid him.

Dean takes a deep breath. “Lucifer or not, he can protect you. The world’s going to hell, Cas, and sure, you walked in there and dragged me out with you, you can blow out the glass of an office building just saying hello, but when you’re in a vessel, you’re vulnerable. And you’re in a league a hell of a lot bigger than I can help you out in.”

Castiel looks at him, and realizes the look on Dean’s face isn’t pity.

“Do I seem like an angel?” he asks, everything crashing down around him, everything asked in that one question.

“I can’t imagine you being anything else,” Dean answers, lips quirking into something almost a smirk. His hand curls carefully around the back of Castiel’s neck, avoiding the places he was whipped and slammed against walls, and Dean presses his forehead to Castiel’s. “You’re not a very good angel, but you seem like an angel, yeah.”

Castiel can tell Dean’s lying, but for some reason it doesn’t hurt as much as he’d expected it to. It doesn’t hurt nearly as much as the lies he’s heard from Dean before, and doesn’t even hurt as much as the silence some of his questions earn.

“Thank you,” Castiel says quietly, his own hand moving towards Dean in spite of the pain, “for lying.”

Dean smiles at him sheepishly, but Castiel has had enough smiles. He leans forward just enough to press his lips to Dean’s, soft and short and unrepentant, and when he pulls back Dean is staring at him.

“I’d kiss you more thoroughly, but I’m injured,” Castiel explains, and the smile he gets for his confession is happier than any he can remember seeing on Dean’s face before.

“We’ll take care of that in a couple days, then,” Dean says, and kisses Castiel just as short and soft and simple as the previous one had been, his restraint visible in the clenching of his jaw and the furrow of his brow as he pulls away. “We can be patient.”

Castiel nods, and with one final peck on the lips Dean moves himself to the table and leaves Castiel to shut his eyes and will himself to heal.

---

“Told you you’d want to thank me later,” Lucifer says with a satisfied smile, appearing next to him as he takes slow steps around the parking lot, the Winchesters asleep inside the hotel room.

“Did you murder Jimmy Novak?” Castiel says instead of thanking him, and Lucifer stops short.

“Your vessel’s soul is gone?” he asks, and Castiel can’t see a single trace of mockery in his face as Lucifer looks over his body clinically. “May I touch you?”

“Yes,” Castiel says.

---

The gate jerked open a step more, and the white horse reared in its cage, screaming its triumph and anticipation.

---

Lucifer’s hands run clinically down Castiel’s body, stopping only a moment after he asks him to. Lucifer looks irritated to have been torn away from his puzzle, but smiles after a moment. “You’re a very considerate not-quite-boyfriend, aren’t you.”

Castiel shakes his head, but returns to the motel room, Lucifer following him silently as Castiel gingerly sets himself down next to Dean. “Dean, wake up for a moment,” he says, and Dean’s eyes open obediently. When he catches sight of Lucifer standing at the foot of the bed, he jerks into a sitting position. Castiel clears his throat. “Dean, he didn’t take Jimmy and thinks he can figure out what happened, but he needs to examine me.”

“Not quite intimately, since it’s for diagnostics, but he’ll have his shirt and pants off,” Lucifer adds, somehow managing to keep his tone respectful. He hesitates. “Would you like to observe? I’ll stop if you say to, but everything will mostly be observing soul points and wounds.”

“Devil of all trades,” Dean mutters, but nods before pointing to Sam. “Want to mindwhammy him? No offense, but I think Sammy waking up to see Lucifer with his hands all over a naked angel might be a bad thing.”

Castiel nods, placing two fingers gently on Sam’s forehead and wishing him a serene night.

“You’re taking this surprisingly well, Dean,” Lucifer says, sounding impressed.

“I just want him happy,” Dean mutters, and his fingers slid gently onto Castiel’s shirt, unbuttoning it slow enough to ensure nothing was tangled up with the bandages underneath but just efficient enough to make it something not quite sensual. Dean looks over Castiel’s shoulder as the shirt drops to the floor, straight at Lucifer. “He screamed when he found out Jimmy was gone.”

Castiel has no idea what he sounds like when he screams, but the way Lucifer’s usually bright face darkens must mean something. “Watch him,” Castiel says quietly, and Dean nods without taking his eyes off Lucifer.

“It’d be easiest with you standing, but I don’t know how long this will take,” Lucifer says. “It might be better if you were lying down, since you’re not looking your best-”

“I’ll stand,” Castiel states, and Dean helps him out of his shoes and pants, socks and boxers and gauze all that covers him. He lingers for a moment, and then steps away, making room for Lucifer’s hand to trace over his skin.

Castiel has never been a healer, only a soldier, but he recognizes the way Lucifer touches him as purely clinical, understands the way his hands press against bare skin is nothing but another method of examination. He can see Dean shifting uncomfortably as he sits on the edge of his bed, but the man’s eyes never leave Lucifer.

“I’ve heard you’re meant to defeat me,” Lucifer says conversationally to Dean, his hands sliding over Castiel’s knee. “It’d be a good example of God’s irony if it was a human to take me down.”

“Lucifer, don’t,” Castiel begins, but Dean talks over him.

“I don’t get you. Do you seriously think you didn’t do anything wrong? You tried to kill your own father! And your father’s God!”

Lucifer lets out a sigh. “As I told Castiel, I did no such thing. It was more like an attempted corporate take-over. I didn’t like how heaven was being run, discovered that a lot of the angels agreed, and we tried to change the management. Change, not destroy.”

“Are you finished?” Castiel asks.

“Not yet,” Lucifer says lightly, and runs a finger down his calf, body pressed a bit closer than is entirely necessary, but Castiel ignores it. “I want angels to be able to feel and think and act without the fear of God’s wrath plaguing them constantly. Our Father gave humanity that gift, and it only seems fair that we should be able to indulge our will as freely as humans can.”

Dean frowns at him. “So you think you’re a crusader for equality?”

“Not a crusader, just an advocate,” Lucifer says lightly, and his hand slides off Castiel’s body. He steps back with a frown. “Jimmy Novak’s soul is gone, but I think I can find him.” He looks Castiel straight in the eye. “I need you to help if we’re to bring him back.”

“Why?” Dean asks, and Castiel sends him a sharp look that goes ignored.

“Because he’s in hell, and despite my standing, only an angel can pull a soul out without depositing another soul in return,” Lucifer says, unbothered by Dean’s prickliness.

Dean frowns, looking straight at Castiel for the first time since he asked Dean to watch Lucifer. “Cas, you’re not going to go back into hell when you just got tortured.”

“I’d be watching over both of them,” Lucifer says, and smiles. “I enjoy having a good conversation too much to let Castiel die.”

“I have an obligation to Jimmy Novak,” Castiel says, dressing himself despite how much longer it takes him while his hands shake. “I keep my promises, Dean.”

“You could sit down and rest for a little bit before you go running into hell,” Dean snaps. “If you go down there and die-”

“He won’t,” Lucifer says, and opens the motel room’s door with an expectant look towards Castiel. “You should probably leave your vessel with Dean.”

Dean blinks, but Castiel merely nods. He tells Dean to shut his eyes, and drops into Hell with Lucifer at his side.

---

The gate that kept the white horse back didn’t move, but it twisted, staring at the glistening saddle that had appeared on its back.

---

Hell has never been a pleasant experience, as far as Castiel has heard. The first time he flung himself into the pit he’d been searching for a single soul in a teeming mass of billions, struggling against every creature that inhabited the nightmarish realm. This time, the path to a single soul was marked out and waiting for him, right along with Lucifer.

He stands in front of Castiel, smiling and shining with a hand held out expectantly. “I found him and cleared a path, since Hell doesn’t seem to be where you like to spend most of your time.” Lucifer laughs softly. “Then again, neither do I. But at least it’s still free.”

Castiel frowns, refusing Lucifer’s hand but following the light of him easily. “How is Hell free?”

“Originally, it was only those who had wanted equality that existed here,” Lucifer says, demons running as soon as they come close enough to see them, and being burned out of existence if they didn’t. “Back then, it was almost a haven. We could do what we wanted without fear of God’s petty restrictions. For a millennium or so we were quite happy, actually, but then the isolation and ignorance started to turn them insane.”

Despite himself, Castiel finds himself nodding along as they leisurely plunged deeper into Hell.

“I was cursed to always see what I was supposed to never be able to touch again,” Lucifer continues. “But it gave me a way to understand how the world was getting along without us while the others slowly destroyed themselves, twisting into demons and twisting the other humans that God deemed evil enough to throw to the poor warped creatures.”

“And then you slept,” Castiel says quietly.

Lucifer smiles bright enough to cleanse thousands of demons. “I worked, and then I slept, rising only when the prison was broken and I was summoned back to walk the earth.”

He points, and Castiel spots Jimmy Novak, shivering in a jagged box of barbed wire that he wouldn’t be able to fit in if Hell weren’t based on the soul instead of the body. Without demons impeding him as they had with Dean, it’s easy to pull Jimmy from his prison and hold him close, trying to will some comfort towards the soul as they start to walk back up. Jimmy rattles terrified nonsense into his chest, and Castiel looks up at Lucifer.

“Thank you,” he says.

Lucifer smiles down at him, holding out his hand one more time. “We’ll get him out faster if I fly,” he says, and it’s a fact. Angels are faster than sound, but comparing an angel’s speed to an archangel’s is like comparing a pond to the ocean. Even dragging Castiel behind him, they’d be out of hell within the time it would take him to think of escaping.

Castiel hesitates.

Lucifer’s smile fades into a hurt expression. “Castiel, where else would I take you but out of here?”

It makes sense, and Castiel already knows that Lucifer would prefer to be out of Hell just as much as Castiel would. Lucifer’s eyes stare into him, and a sense of something close to guilt begins to climb inside his throat.

He takes Lucifer’s hand, takes what Lucifer is offering him, and they tear out of Hell.

---

The white horse slams its hooves against the rising gate when it stops just a little beneath halfway, and for the first time, can hear the fire of its crimson counterpart stir.

---

When they return, Castiel spends most of the night doing his best to soothe Jimmy’s soul while the Winchesters sleep and Lucifer stands outside the motel room’s door to courteously ignore the way Dean grudgingly permits him in the room and Sam seems to try and shrink in on himself.

It’s four in the morning when Dean stirs and stares at Castiel’s seat at the table. “You’re back.”

“It turns out Lucifer is an excellent guide through Hell,” he says, and it earns him the quirk of a smile on Dean’s lips.

“How’s Jimmy doing?”

Castiel scowls at the ground. “Hell should never have been created.”

“I’m with you there, believe me,” Dean says, and rolls out of bed to give Castiel an awkward shrug. “Listen. I’m sorry I tried to keep you from going back into Hell-”

“I understand,” Castiel states, and frowns. “You forgot I don’t have to be in a vessel to take action.”

Dean sighs. “That and I was worried you wouldn’t make it out, with Lucifer dragging you down there and all.”

He smiles slightly, but stops when he feels Jimmy flinch back from an emotion that is remotely close to pleasant. “He flew us out.”

“Why? You can fly.”

Castiel looks at him. “Not like an archangel.”

Dean nods, moving a little closer, and Jimmy screams inside him. His eyes snap open, and Castiel stands as the memories of a week of torture burn into his mind. Castiel has been tortured and beaten and burned, but the memory of Hell and the absolute fear that follows it is jarring, sending his thoughts reeling.

He doesn’t know he’s left until he looks around and sees nothing but ocean around him, feels nothing but the breeze sweeping across his body and the way it soothes Jimmy just enough to stop shaking.

“He should never have made Hell,” Castiel says to himself, the immensity of what God had done to Lucifer and so many other souls beating down on his heart. Free thought should never lead to torture, and yet that was what had sent Lucifer to damnation in the first place.

He thinks of Dean, standing there with a razor in his hand and slowly being lost in the pleasure he’d found in someone else’s pain. He thinks of what Lucifer said about the fallen angels, how they went through the same exact process but had a little less than eternity to deal with what Dean had for forty years.

Castiel lets the waves rock Jimmy to sleep. He looks up as dawn breaks through the horizon, and realizes he thinks that Lucifer is right.

---

Lucifer doesn’t act excited to hear Castiel’s conclusion. He merely nods, looking grateful and mournful at the same time.

“Do you think I should try again?” Lucifer asks, sounding more nostalgic than anything else.

Castiel stares at his hands, feels Jimmy’s now-silent sobs in the back of his mind, and clenches his hands together. “I think you should succeed this time,” he says quietly.

Lucifer kneels in front of him, even taking Castiel’s hands in his own. “Will you help?”

“I’ll fight with you,” Castiel says.

Lucifer smiles. “Then I’d like to give you something.”

---

The cave stands deep in the Carpathians, in a land beyond the forest that had passed from conquering hand to conquering hand, beautiful and relatively abandoned to grow free. With the gate finally raised high enough for escape, the white horse walks out of its ancient invisible prison and observes the landscape with a seething greed for a claim to everything it could see.

“Castiel,” a familiar voice says, and the white horse swings around to see the two figures, one bright and smiling, the other pale, dark, and undeniably the horse’s. He is the first claim, the first possession, and the horse can sense the lurking desire in him that matches the horse’s own thirst for control. “I’d like you to meet Leukos.”

Castiel steps forward without a hint of fear or apprehension. The white horse can see that Castiel has been conquered by the familiar man, and already knows that Castiel will be the one to control their conquests.

“She’s beautiful,” Castiel says, and the white horse is a mare.

“Your name is Leukos?” Castiel asks, and the white mare’s name is Leukos.

“I guess you’re mine,” Castiel says, and Leukos belongs to him, mind, body, and soul.

“Don’t ride out yet,” Lucifer says, and while Leukos wants to tell the man who’s in charge, Castiel stops and listens. “I know you’ll want to ride out and conquer the world, but we aren’t ready. You don’t have all your equipment, and you need your reinforcements. I’m not going to send only two angels against all of heaven, no matter how powerful those two are.”

“But I may ride her,” Castiel states, and the steel in his voice seems to take Lucifer by surprise before he breaks into a grin.

“You’re truly meant for each other,” Lucifer says, pleased, and nods.

When Castiel settles himself in her saddle, Leukos feels complete for the first time.

“Can I suggest something?” Lucifer asks, and Castiel nods. “If you have to conquer, go for Zachariah. If you need a conquest…well. Dean’s waiting.”

Leukos can feel something waver inside Castiel, and she shifts, flicking her tail out and turning to move him further away from the upsetting man. I am yours, and you are mine, Leukos thinks, and Castiel’s hands tighten in her mane.

“You…” He shakes his head, strokes a hand down her neck, and settles himself back in the saddle. “Do I have to control something right now?”

No, Leukos thinks fondly. But it feels really good.

Lucifer laughs, a loud, booming sound different from anything Castiel has heard before. It makes Castiel shiver, but when the man disappears, he relaxes.

Let me run, Leukos whispers to him. Let me run, Rider. Let me survey everything that will be ours.

Castiel indulges her, and everything falls away until there is only the white horse, its rider, and the wind.

Chapter Text

It’s been fifteen days since Dean last saw Castiel, beaten and still recovering and straight out of Hell, and it’s driving him a little crazy. He knows Sam picked up on it seven days ago, and he knows Sam’s been doing his best to calm Dean down with reasonable arguments and a steady flow of things to kill.

“He’s just pulled a soul out of Hell, again, and this time he’s living with those memories in his head,” Sam says as they watch another corpse burn. “You know that’s got to be traumatic. He probably just needs some time to himself.”

“I know, okay?” Dean frowns at Sam. “I’m just…concerned. I’m allowed to be concerned.”

“I’m worried too,” Sam admits. “But he’s not stupid. He’ll watch out for Jimmy, which means he’ll be a lot more careful than he usually is.”

“He’s probably flapping his way around the Andes or something,” Dean agrees grudgingly, and stabs his well-worn shovel into the grave dirt. “And it’s not like he keeps his promises immediately. Cas can take his own time about this if he needs to-”

“Dean,” Sam says quickly, and Dean’s eyes shoot up from his shoveling to see Sam pointing at something streaking through the sky. “Do you think-”

“We’re finding it,” Dean states, grabbing his shovel and heading straight for the trunk, Sam barely a breath behind.

---

He doesn’t know what the other angel thinks when they see each other again. Oddly enough, Castiel doesn’t feel guilty at all when he watches Zachariah rip out his own grace to escape him as soon as they set eyes on one another, the white horse following behind Castiel obediently as he approaches. He doesn’t even feel surprised at the action, watching Zachariah take the coward’s way out.

It’s a strange sort of victory, but a victory nonetheless.

“I expected you to kill him,” Lucifer says from his right side as they watch Zachariah’s grace rocket down to the earth. Leukos snorts her disdain at his ignorance, but Castiel simply puts a hand on her and she quiets. “Of all angels, I thought you hated him most.”

He frowns. “Hate may be a strong word for it. I disliked his actions, but he was only obeying. I was like him not long ago.”

Lucifer smiles at him. “You, Castiel, were never like he was. You’re too intelligent to act as someone’s mindless lackey.”

“Zachariah was creative, in his own way.” Thinking up such an outlandish way to make Dean accept the fact he was born to hunt certainly took an overactive imagination, albeit a very unappreciated one.

And he had feared Castiel enough to fling himself from heaven to avoid even a conversation.

It feels good, doesn’t it? Leukos thinks a bit smugly, and Castiel nods, running a hand through her mane. Ask him if we ride yet.

“When can we expect to ride?” Castiel asks, wanting the answer just as badly as the white horse.

Lucifer laughs. “Not yet. We haven’t even finished recruiting, and there’s no way I’m going to send you out without someone else to watch your back.”

“And I can’t choose who I want to fight alongside?” Castiel asks.

The question earns him a grin. “I’d be more than happy if you picked a brother in arms.” Lucifer pauses. “Speaking of armaments, how are you with a bow?”

---

A pristine, sparkling glacier appears in the middle of Utah and is, understandably, melting quickly. Or at least that’s what the reports say. They’re also reporting miraculous healing powers from the icemelt, so Dean’s pretty sure they’re headed in the right direction.

“Dean, it’s five in the afternoon,” Sam says the third time they nearly run off the road. “It’s another twelve hours there, minimum, and we didn’t get any sleep last night either-”

“Fine,” Dean snaps out, hands still glued to the wheel as he takes the first exit he spots. He ignores the way Sam helpfully points out the first hotel he spots through the, and the way Sam goes in to get them a room, and does everything else that needs to be done except drive. Sam’s good at pretending he’s not taking care of his big brother, and lets Dean take his time getting out of the car, handing Dean his keycard and heading into the motel room without him.

It’s hard to even keep his eyes open, but he manages to get out of the Impala well enough, slamming the door with a bit more force than is necessary and a twinge of guilt. The walk through the parking lot’s harder, considering the fog is doing its best to cling to him in all the wrong places.

Dean knows he’s tired, but he hadn’t thought he was tired to the point of hallucination. The white horse with Castiel on its back tells him that no, he really is tired enough to conjure up phantom ponies and angels. Castiel dismounts, rubs a hand over the horse’s neck, and pauses for a moment before he starts walking towards Dean, the horse obediently following his every step.

“You, I get,” Dean tells the hallucination with a tired frown. “But what’s with the horse?”

“She’s mine,” is all the answer Castiel gives, and the horse actually bumps her head against Castiel’s in what’s obviously some sort of horse sign of affection. It just looks strange to Dean, but then again that’s what hallucinations are supposed to be, right?

“You said you’d be back,” Dean says, and knows he sounds like a whining little teenage girl, but it’s not like anyone else is going to hear and mock him. Mid-afternoon or not, the fog’s keeping all the sane people indoors, and Sam’s probably unconscious already anyway. “I thought that’d mean a day or two, maybe three. Not a couple weeks.”

Castiel pats his horse on the side once, and she turns and walks away. “We were busy.”

“Busy enough to forget about me?”

“There are more important things in the world than you, Dean.” The words are rough, and he tilts his head to the side, stepping closer. It’s strange that Dean can nearly feel a hallucination’s breath on his cheek. “Not many, but they do exist.”

“I know that.”

“But you don’t understand it,” Castiel says, and grabs him by the back of his neck, something strange in his eyes. “I know how important you are, Dean, and I know that you can’t see it. Most likely you never will. But I can help you understand.”

He’s tired, but he’s not stupid. Dean frowns. “You okay?”

Castiel looks like he’s fighting something, staring straight at Dean with eyes that are even more blue than usual. “You’re tired,” he says firmly to himself, takes a shuddering breath that seems to travel from Castiel’s body and straight into Dean’s, and pulls him in for a brutal kiss that feels nothing like their first one. It’s hard and fierce and it’s all he can do to keep up with Castiel. The hand on his neck creeps upwards to the back of his head, the other grabbing the scar on his shoulder hard enough to bruise, and Dean could swear he hears a harsh, muffled mine before Castiel’s eyes snap open and he backs away like Dean had bit him, an expression close to horror on his face.

They stare at each other through the fog.

“Why the hell’d you stop?” Dean asks, and moves towards him. Castiel takes a step back for every step forward Dean takes, and he glares. “I wasn’t objecting. I really, really didn’t have a problem with that, so what the-”

“Leukos,” Castiel calls out, and the white horse from before comes out of the mist at an all-out run, Castiel grabbing her mane and hoisting himself into the saddle without her even slowing.

It looks really cool, almost beautiful, but watching them tear past him makes him want to kill something. Kill something, and force Castiel to just stay for once.

The fog lifts as he gets closer to the motel room, feeling even more drained than before, if that’s humanly possible. When he opens the door, it’s practically fog-free.

“He never stops surprising me,” Lucifer says from where he’s standing, close enough to the door that Dean practically ends up body-checking him. Not that Lucifer seems to mind, smiling at him and supporting Dean through the searing pain of it. Punching Castiel hurt – slamming into Lucifer feels like he fell off a four-story building. “Hello, Dean. Your brother and I were having a quick conversation.”

“Let go,” Dean grits out, and Lucifer complies, smile never faltering. He thinks he should be more worried about turning his back to the devil, but he’s tired enough to just sit down on his bed and start pulling off his shoes. “So what do you want?”

“Nothing from you,” Lucifer says in what’s probably meant to be reassuring, but it ends up sounding superior. “I was merely waiting for Castiel, but he seems to have run off again.”

“What’s with that, anyway?” Dean pointedly doesn’t blush.

Lucifer shrugs. “I blame the horse. It’s a bit stir-crazy.”

“What horse?” Sam asks, and Lucifer vanishes. There isn’t even the flap of wings or a gust of wind, simply a sudden absence.

Dean groans, pulling off his jacket and falling into his already untucked bed. “There’s this white horse following him around. It’s pretty and creepy and stole him.”

He can’t see Sam’s frown, but he knows it’s there, just like he knows you can fit two bodies in the Impala’s trunk. “Uh. How white a horse was it?”

“Very white,” Dean mutters into his pillow, wondering what it says about them if his brother’s asking that sort of question and he’s the brains of the operation, and falls asleep.

---

Castiel has no idea where he is when he stops, aside from that it’s cold and Leukos chose to stop in the middle of what looks like a cave. He dismounts and starts walking, no direction other than away in mind.

He hadn’t had any problem with the urge to take control of things. Most of the time it only took a few suggestions, some words whispered in the right ears, the seed of an idea left to blossom in people’s minds while he tended towards other things. Castiel had spent most of the time with Leukos on Argentina, simply because he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been there and it had seemed like a decent size for practice – big, but not the planet.

Territory, he dealt with easily. Populations, he dealt with firmly but compassionately, leading them instead of ordering them. People, he usually avoided as much as he could. It seemed that the smaller the target, the more focused he got.

Dean is a very, very small target when it comes to comparative size, but he looms in Castiel to the point that he’s almost as good as the charge on heaven that Lucifer keeps promising him. He’s a constant presence in the world, calling Castiel towards him with a single thought sometimes, although he rarely goes. If he went to Dean, he’d want nothing more than to conquer him, claim him, enslave his heart and soul until he belonged to him so completely that even the sharpest blade couldn’t break Dean’s chains.

But Dean shouldn’t be in chains, and that’s why he keeps walking, his horse following him warily but remaining silent.

“Why don’t you just do it?” Lucifer asks softly from a niche in the rocks that had been unoccupied until he showed up. “I can assure you, Dean wasn’t objecting.”

“I’m not going to do this to him,” Castiel snaps, glaring at him. “A conquered Dean could never be Dean.” Dean thrives on freedom, lives on the open road under the open sky, and Castiel doesn’t have the heart to rip his wings from him.

Lucifer nods, frowning but looking understanding enough that Castiel starts to relax. “I’m going to suggest you go talk to Sam,” Lucifer says carefully, moving from his perch and onto the ground. “He might understand what you’re going through, and I…well, I don’t.” He smiles. “I’m going to take care of you, Castiel.”

“I never wanted you looking out for me,” Castiel says, and nearly succeeds in walking past him, but Lucifer’s hand latches onto his arm.

“You need that boy,” Lucifer says, voice low and serious enough that Castiel genuinely takes him seriously. “If you don’t-”

“I understand,” he says.

Lucifer watches him for a moment, and then nods, vanishing again.

Will the others wake up soon? Leukos asks whimsically.

Castiel can’t decide whether he wants to say yes or no, so he ignores the question in favor of mounting up again and checking on the Santa Cruz province in Argentina. It’s crumbling faster than the rest, and he should be there to watch it fall.

---

Dean stares down at the diner’s menu, utterly silent until Sam clears his throat and says, “I was talking with Lucifer last night.”

“Why?” Dean bites out.

Sam rolls his eyes. “Come on, he’s not all bad. He has some pretty good ideas-”

“Okay, so the devil has good ideas that you let him whisper in your ear while I was out getting confused to death while half asleep.”

“He didn’t whisper,” Sam mutters, and shifts. “Besides, at least I know what he wants. Can you say the same about Cas?”

The fact his little brother’s comparing Castiel to Lucifer so easily is jarring, but honest. It sends him scowling at the breakfast menu, fantasizing about cracking things that break as easily as eggs. “Something’s wrong with him,” he says. There’s something wrong with all of them, honestly, but Castiel seems the strangest of them all, which is saying something.

Sam shakes his head. “He’s still dealing with a seriously traumatized vessel-”

“That’s not it.” Dean grabs the diner’s knife and starts spinning it on the table. “He’s…hell, I don’t know what he is, but it’s like Cas is still in there, still in control, but it’s like he’s possessed or something.”

“I don’t know, Dean. He seems fine to me. Maybe a little stressed, but that’s all.”

He considers telling his brother about the tonguefuck-and-run, but there’s such a thing as too much information, especially when it comes to your baby brother.

“Hey, were you serious about the horse thing?”

Dean frowns at him, stopping the knife with a single finger. “You think the horse is possessing him?”

Sam makes an amused noise that sits on the border between a snort and a guffaw. “Not really, but if there’s something up with him, the random appearance of a big white horse following him around like an obedient puppy might be a big clue.” He pauses. “But if Cas didn’t fall, who did?”

“I know who I hope got sucker punched into humanity,” Dean says, and spins the knife again.

“Lucifer said that some angels have already tried to kill Castiel,” Sam says, voice low and cautious. “He’s watching out for him, Dean. I don’t think Lucifer’s…well. I don’t think he’s as bad as we thought.”

“I’m going to stay doubtful when it comes to his good intentions, thanks.”

“Is it just because he spends more time with Cas?”

Dean rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t answer, simply makes the knife spin faster than before.

---

“Good morning, Sam,” Lucifer says cheerfully as Castiel situates himself against a wall to watch. Sam is staring at them with ludicrously wide eyes, and it almost makes Castiel smile. “How are you?”

“I’m okay?”

“Have you thought about our discussion yesterday?” Lucifer asks, settling himself on the edge of Sam’s bed with a smile. “I have. And I’ll admit, you raised a good point about Hell, but…well. It’s difficult to explain Hell to a person who’s never been there, and I never intend to let you see it. So, yes, it’s horrible – as horrible as a place can get – but I wasn’t lying when I said it was free. Why do you think demons do such bad things?”

“Because they can,” Sam says, and nods, a contemplative frown coming over his face.

Lucifer beams at him and looks back at Castiel. “Now, I was wondering if you’d be willing to do me a favor, Sam.” When Sam’s face turns guarded and cautious, he holds up his hands. “I just want you to talk to Castiel for a bit. He’s having some…difficulties, and I think you know more about this sort of thing than I do. Will you help me out?”

He nods, says “I’ll help,” and Castiel has a faint feeling that Leukos is feeling particularly triumphant for some reason.

“See you soon, then,” Lucifer says, patting Sam on his blanket-covered calf, and vanishes.

Sam looks at Castiel, looks around at the motel room, and blinks. “I’m dreaming, aren’t I?”

Castiel nods, sitting on the opposite, untouched bed. “This is a conversation I didn’t want Dean to hear. It might be…upsetting for him.”

Sam nods and shows off his excellent dream control by thinking his clothes on and moving to sit on the bed, facing Castiel. “I can understand that. I’ve got to say, though, I’m not too happy Lucifer was in my head.”

“He wouldn’t harm you,” Castiel says, and he believes it. “He thinks I’m having trouble adapting to Leukos’ influence.”

“Leukos?”

“The white horse,” he says, and looks down at the battered carpet. “Leukos drives me to…claim things.”

Sam frowns, wary. “What kind of things?”

“I’ve taken control of the southern third of Argentina, and I’m restraining myself,” Castiel says heavily. “There are other things I want, things I want much more than I should, and I’m refusing to take them. Taking them would mean they we’re free anymore.”

“It’s kind of weird, but you can just say Dean’s name,” Sam says, cheeks reddening just enough to tell him it’s embarrassing but not unexpected. “And I’m not sure what exactly you want me to say, I mean, if you’re in charge of a third of Argentina while restraining yourself…” He sighs. “Sorry, Cas, but it sounds like either you lose the horse or go play Cortés some more.”

“I can’t lose her,” Castiel says quietly, the thought of not having Leukos painful enough that he winces. He covers it with a feeble smile. “Does this mean I have your blessing, then?”

“Uh,” Sam says, and gives him an equally weak smile. “As long as you don’t start claiming him in front of me.”

Castiel nods and stands, but Sam holds up a hand. “Wait, just. Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” Castiel says, and after a moment he sits back down.

“Do you actually believe what Lucifer’s saying?” Sam asks, and Castiel can hear the doubt in his voice. “I mean, a lot of it makes so much sense, enough that I actually end up agreeing with him-”

“I believe him.” Castiel leans forward, elbows on his knees, and looks Sam straight in the eye, catching him. “Sam, have you ever found your judgment to be completely incorrect? Even Ruby came to genuinely care for you, no matter what her true purpose was in the end. You knew Uriel to be far more dangerous than I expected even before I did.” He pauses. “If you think something is right, there’s probably at least a sliver of truth in it.”

Sam frowns. “You really believe that?”

“You’ve lived your life around lies, Sam,” Castiel says, voice earnest and almost kind. “It makes you surprisingly perceptive when it comes to knowing the truth.”

He swallows. “Then what should I do?”

“What you think you should do,” Castiel says.

“What about Dean?”

He stands, a quirk on his lips. “I’ll take care of Dean,” Castiel says, and actually smiles. “And I think Lucifer may have something for you when you wake.”

Sam nods and Castiel disappears, not knowing how close to Lucifer’s smile his own looks.

---

The fall of the Argentinean government is all over the news, victim to the most peaceful revolution on record, simply taken over by an absolute freedom movement that surfaced in the southern part of the country and spread like wildfire, already heavily influencing Chile and spreading into Paraguay and Uruguay, Bolivia and Brazil starting to get the idea in their heads while the rest of South America wonders what was going on and why it seems so appealing. Africa seems to be listening too, and Australia is acting just as intrigued. It seems like the entire southern hemisphere is being hit by the movement, and the news reports were blaring all over America about it.

Dean doesn’t care much, considering Sam is missing again, and all he has is a note that says he went to pick something up, be back later, and wherever he is he doesn’t answer his phone there. He doesn’t answer his phone, but that isn’t going to keep Dean from calling him every seven minutes.

Of course this is when Castiel shows up again, leading that stupid horse of his without even touching it, and Dean glares at him. “Do you know where Sam is?”

“Yes,” Castiel says, not stopping until he’s standing toe to toe with Dean, and for some reason Dean can’t look him in the eye. He looks at the horse and the bow and quiver now situated on the saddle, looks at the way Castiel’s coat seems to be getting bleached out from all his time outside, examines the mid-afternoon sun against the seven-story buildings.

“You going to tell me where, then?”

“Look at me,” Castiel says, voice hard and demanding, enough of a command that Dean’s face turns to look him straight in the eye. He wraps a hand around Dean’s wrist, the other waving the horse away. It leaves obediently, looking at Dean once in a way that seems almost smug before walking off, utterly silent.

“Where’s Sam?” Dean asks, something clawing inside his throat when he looks back at Castiel, eyes blue and dangerous in a way he’s still not sure he’s comfortable with.

“He’s safe,” Castiel says easily, and leans in close enough to simply breathe against his neck. “Do you think I’m an angel?”

“I know you’re an ang-”Dean begins, but Castiel tugs his wrist hard enough to drag him down into a kiss that’s almost mocking, a smile pressed against Dean’s lips as Castiel’s other hand wraps around his shoulders. Dean clenches a hand in the lapel of Castiel’s jacket, and just when it’s getting good, Castiel pulls away. He nips at Dean’s jaw, a single bite barely hard enough to be felt, and it sends a shiver down Dean’s spine.

“Do you think I’m a good angel?”

“I think you’re an annoying angel who needs to get to the point,” Dean snaps out.

“Not yet,” Castiel says in a tone that makes Dean swallow. Castiel can feel it, he has to be able to feel every single movement he makes when he’s pressed this close and wrapped around him.

“Cas, we’re kind of out in the open here,” he says with as much humor as he can manage, heart pounding when Castiel starts idly kissing his way up Dean’s neck, slow and deep and torturous. “I’m serious. We’re at a public park here, anyone-”

“Shut up,” Castiel says against his jaw, fingers twisting absently in his hair when he finally kisses Dean again, just as slow and hazardous for his health as everything else, Castiel controlling the entire affair with an iron-hard determination of how things are going to go. Dean’s not entirely sure he likes it, but he sure as hell likes Castiel kissing him, so he isn’t complaining. When he pulls his lips away, his head tilts to the side, looking Dean straight in the eye. “I’ll never let anyone hurt you.”

“That’s hard to promise,” Dean says, not quite sure how Castiel’s keeping his voice so even when he’s been sucking the life out of Dean agonizingly slowly.

Castiel’s hand slides onto his cheek, resting against his chin and tilting his head down to look him hard enough in the eye that it almost burns. “Dean, you’re mine as much as I’m yours. I don’t claim things lightly, you least of all.”

“Whoa, what-” Dean blurts out, mind trying to wrap around how one future date turned into claiming and owning, but Castiel is kissing him again, this time hard enough that he can’t help but moan into it, the feel of lips and teeth and tongue intoxicating enough that he barely notices he’s been backed into a tree, only feels the sudden pleasure of a finger running against the inside of his thigh through his jeans, teasing and tempting, and he grabs the hand, drawing it up and pressing Castiel’s hand against his cock.

“Ask me,” Castiel whispers between kisses, still maddeningly in control, moving back to sucking on his neck hard enough that it’ll probably never leave him. It leaves Dean’s mouth free to make embarrassingly high-pitched, aggravated noises. “Ask me to touch you, Dean.”

“Aren’t you already technically doing it?” Dean breathes out, and Castiel rewards him by biting down and moving his hand away. Dean groans, gritting his teeth to keep in all the things he wants to say. “Okay, okay, I’m asking you to touch me.”

“Sincerely,” Castiel murmurs, but his hand is back to be wonderful, pressing against him and making Dean pant into Castiel’s hair.

“Please, Cas,” he says, and means it, practically slamming his head against the tree in aggravation. “I’m not going to beg, I’m not, but I am really, really sincere when I say it’d be awesome if you’d stick your hand down my pants right now.”

Apparently that’s all it takes, because Castiel has Dean’s jeans unbuttoned and his fly down in record time, boxers falling down just as fast, and Dean can barely breathe as he gets what he asked for. Castiel’s hand hits all the right spots in all the wrong ways, just off enough for him to whine. “You don’t do this much, do you,” he says breathily.

“Would you rather I use my mouth?” Castiel asks roughly against his lips, and not-so-good handjob or not, that’s it, the image of his lips wrapped around Dean’s cock while he ran his hands through that already ludicrously messy hair, spread out on a bed, prone and naked, just listening to the suggestion from Castiel’s rough breathy voice, and Dean comes with a muffled, “holy fuck.”

It makes Castiel actually laugh, and Dean’s more than happy to grin at him like the idiot he feels like, pulling Castiel against him and kissing him, in control for the first time as he feels Castiel’s breath hitch when Dean’s thigh rubs against him.

“I waited, but we have to go,” Lucifer says from directly behind Castiel, and Dean stares at the man with no little bit of fear, because this is about as vulnerable as Dean can get when he’s awake and not tied up.

“Go away,” Castiel states, and Dean’s too stunned to do anything other than kiss Castiel back and tuck himself back in. The thought that Castiel still might actually like Dean more than Lucifer is almost incomprehensible, but when he spots the uncommon, almost sulky frown that crosses Lucifer’s face, he can’t help but grin and kiss him harder, eyes latching onto Lucifer’s, smirking.

“I’m sorry, Castiel, but we have somewhere to be,” Lucifer says, and while his voice sounds genuinely regretful, he’s staring at Dean with such an angry expression that Dean knows he’s been right all this time.

He shuts his eyes, wrapping his arms tight around Castiel in the hopes that Lucifer won’t just grab him then, and tries to think of some way to bring him back around and away from the devil.

“Then we’ll just bring him,” Lucifer says lightly, and Dean’s eyes snap open to see his…well, devilish smirk, right before everything changes and he falls to an unfamiliar, painfully rocky ground with Castiel staring at him in horror as he looks around at where they are.

He glares at Lucifer with a look Dean hasn’t seen since he threatened to throw Dean back into hell, pointing at Dean and snapping out, “He is not meant to be here.”

Castiel’s white horse trots over and stands next to Dean, undeniably guarding him as a huge black horse walks past, a strangely familiar figure sitting in the silver saddle. Brown hair swirls around her as she dismounts. He can hear Lucifer and Castiel arguing in an eerily polite way in the background while the woman smiles down at him. “Well. Dean Winchester. Fancy seeing you here when we’re about to ride out.”

He tries to sit up, but Castiel’s horse nearly stomps on his chest when he gets more than an inch off the rocks. “You’re dead.”

Bela Talbot smiles at him. “Here’s the thing about the Four Horsemen. They need variety in the riders. For example, we have one immortal rider, your angel boyfriend arguing with the devil over there, one mortal rider, who is just far too classic a surprise for me to spoil, and a dead rider, me.” She pauses. “And of course Death is an unknown sort of thing altogether. I’m not going to try to categorize her.”

He stares at her, the reality of the situation sinking in. He looks at the horse, pure white and carrying a bow, to Bela, horse pitch black and decorated in every sort of precious metal and stone Dean can think of. “If you’re Famine, what’s with all the bling on your pony?”

“Melas doesn’t need bling to be beautiful,” she says, disgustingly doting as she runs a hand over the horse’s back. “And what do you think is one of the biggest reasons for people going hungry? Lack of money. No money to buy food, no money to grow crops and raise animals and go fishing. Even water costs something these days. I’m all the money you’ll never have, and I can weigh what you own against what you need.” She pulls out a set of scales, leaning down towards Dean, only to be stopped by Castiel’s horse again, head down, ears flat, and looking very, very pissed.

“I don’t think the horse likes you,” Dean says smugly.

“Yes, well, no accounting for taste. Conquest takes a different form of finesse than Famine.”

“Right, because starving people to death is so glamorous.”

She shrugs, placing the scales back on what looks like a very specialized compartment, completely encrusted with gold and diamonds, and turns Melas away. “I suppose I’ll see you when I start my mass poverty pandemic. I’ll enjoy watching you starve until Tessa gets to you.”

“Of course it’s Tessa,” Dean mutters, and watches them trot off towards the dark, swirling ocean.

“He shouldn’t see us,” Castiel is saying, practically pleading, and Lucifer has a hand on his shoulder, looking sincere and consoling and every bit like the most dangerous sort of devil. “I’d expect you to be upset that he was here, not so set on him witnessing the ride.”

“Castiel, listen to me,” Lucifer says, calm and careful. “Haven’t I always made things right? We’re going to change the world. We’re going to make everyone equal, make everyone free-”

“Because they’ll all be dead!” Dean shouts out, and Castiel’s head snaps towards him. “Lucifer’s the devil. He’s evil! How the hell can you not tell, Cas?! You’re an angel for Christ’s sake-”

“Dean, stop,” Sam says, his voice everything that Lucifer’s is but so honest it breaks his heart even more, and the world stops.

He’s on a horse even bigger than Bela’s, a rich almost reddish color with oddly kind eyes and a simple brown saddle. Sam climbs down from the horse and crouches down next to Dean. This time Leukos doesn’t object. In fact, she moves closer towards Sam’s horse to give them a little privacy. All Dean can do is stare at him and wonder how everything got so fucked up, so Sam takes charge of the conversation.

“It’s not like that, Dean,” he says softly. “We’re not killing everyone. That’s what’s supposed to happen, but we can attack anyone we want, and heaven’s been terrorizing everyone long enough-”

“I thought you believed in God, Sammy,” Dean whispers.

“Heaven isn’t God,” Sam says just as quietly. “And…I know you may think that this was the wrong decision for me to make, but War isn’t like you think it is, okay? It’s a solution. War is closure to whatever problems people have, even if it’s not always pretty and not what they want, but that’s why Castiel goes first. That’s why Conquest goes ahead of me. He takes control, and I keep it all in order, that’s all-”

“You’ve been hypnotized by a giant horse, Sam,” Dean says, voice shaky but loud enough that he’s not ashamed of it.

Sam’s face screws up into a frown so disbelieving that it’d be funny if he wasn’t one fourth of the unwitting apocalypse intent on destroying heaven. “Dude. We’re talking Purros. He’s kind of…well, he’s not that bright.”

Dean looks over at Purros. He’s watching the clouds and swishing his tail idly, not a care in the world. When he notices Dean watching, he immediately steps his way into a firm, proud pose fit for an enormous horse like him, glancing over at Dean a moment later to check if he’s still watching and tensing up again when he realizes that yes, he is.

“I rest my case,” Sam says wryly, grinning at Dean. “He’s trying very hard to impress you, since he knows you’re my brother and Leukos likes you.”

“I’m not going to think about that part,” Dean states, definitely avoiding the thought process of what Sam and Castiel’s horses could end up giving birth to. Leukos hesitantly walks back towards them, but steps up to guard him anyway. “You have to know this is wrong, Sam. This is the apocalypse you’re bringing about.”

Sam gives him a sad smile and stands up, Purros immediately breaking his stance and practically hopping his way over. “You’ll see, Dean, I promise.”

Dean is close to praying that he never sees what they think is so right.

There’s some sort of conclusion to Lucifer and Castiel’s argument, and it sends Leukos running to her rider’s side as he walks off, leaving Dean alone, staring the devil straight in the face.

“You’re actually quite privileged to be here,” Lucifer says, same smile on his lips, same easy tone to his voice. “Although, I have to admit, it’s actually rather convenient. I’m sure you noticed they’re all people you know.”

“Yeah, I got that,” Dean grits out, Lucifer leaning over him with a grin.

“It’s because they had to choose,” he says. “In order of innocence, even. I had to find a creature both immortal, innocent, and not only one I could convince to join me but also one I turned away from what they loved most.” Lucifer grins at him, vicious and cruel and everything monstrous the devil’s supposed to be. “You’re practically a gift to me, giving me a target so precise. I didn’t even have to wait to find a Conquest. He was sitting there, waiting for me in that blown apart kitchen.”

“I’m going to find a way to kill you,” Dean says, and means every syllable of it.

Lucifer leans down close enough that he can feel the devil’s breath on his face, eerily scentless. “Tell me, Dean. If God couldn’t kill me, why can you?”

He kisses Dean on the forehead, and every single memory of Hell burns through his brain, and he can’t scream. Lucifer smiles down at him as he writhes on the ground until he can’t even move, simply laying on the ground as he watches Lucifer disappear from his sight, heading straight towards the two most important people in his life.

---

We’ll protect him, Leukos reassures him, all earnest warmth and anticipation for the ride ahead as he mounts up.

“But we won’t be here to watch over him,” Castiel says quietly, glancing at Dean’s unconscious body. Lucifer was right to call knocking him out an act of mercy – he’d been in shock, speaking nonsense about things that he didn’t understand.

He trusted Lucifer to watch over you. I’m sure he’ll watch over Dean in turn. He’d never hurt you.

“I promised him that I’d never let anyone hurt him.” He frowns. “If that includes emotionally-”

“I spoke with him, Castiel,” Lucifer says from Castiel’s right side, and smiles softly. “He’s going to give me a chance to explain everything when he wakes up. When you return, he’ll have come around.”

Castiel frowns. “You don’t understand how stubborn he is. He may never see reason.”

Lucifer shrugs. “Well, he’ll at least understand what we’re doing when you come back. Maybe you and Sam will be able to push him the last final steps.”

Castiel nods, glancing over at Sam and Purros, Sam talking quietly into Purros’ ear, probably to keep him calm.

“Now, the last formality,” Lucifer says, and a simple golden crown appears in his hand. “This is meant to go on the head of your ideal. Why you’re doing all of this, really.” He pauses. “That crown is the only thing that will make you acknowledge someone’s superiority to you during your ride, and that means they’re going to be the only person who can stop you.” Lucifer shrugs. “This crown starts everything. As soon as it’s on a head, you’ll be caught up in the ride.”

Castiel nods, grasping the crown carefully.

As soon as Lucifer’s hand drops from it, as soon as the crown is wholly in Castiel’s possession, everything seems to change. The world is nothing but signs of what to control, how to conquer it, what the worth in the conquest is, the ease of War’s job when he finishes his own job, and now, he concentrates on what can control him.

Lucifer looms in front of him, every shred of him labeling him nearly unconquerable, impossibly strong and independent, someone who thinks he’d already conquered Conquest himself. He’s smiling, hand held out expectantly, but Conquest doesn’t want to be conquered.

The man on the ground is strange, both conquered and already in control of Conquest, someone that there’s a strange layer of trust around. Conquest shifts, staring at the crown and the raw power inside it.

The man has absolutely no power around him, save for a single pendant around his neck that glows faintly with a sense of love and War.

Lucifer shouts something, but Conquest simply heads towards the man, the Rider dismounting to stare at him, read everything he can about him, see how little he understands about how someone so powerless could already have so much power over him – over all the riders – and smiles. Lucifer screams something, and Conquest gently sets the crown on the man’s head.

The man’s eyes snap open, body jerking for a moment as he breathes in short shallow pants, and he stares at Conquest as the Rider kneels before him.

“My lord,” Conquest states, and the man’s mouth drops open. “What would you ask of us?”

Someone is roaring in the background. Conquest ignores the sound, intent on the man, but the man shows enough of a reaction that Conquest turns to face the noise. Lucifer stands before the Rider, shouting words of coercion and attempts at a different series of events than those which have already occurred.

“If you continue to bother him,” Conquest states, “I will permit War to subdue you.”

War moves to stand dangerously close to Lucifer, sword sheathed but the Rider’s hand still on the hilt of it. Lucifer’s face darkens, but he silences himself. Conquest turns back to their lord, and waits.

“Send Lucifer back to Hell, return here, and then the ride’s over,” the man says, and the Rider mounts the Horse, his glance at the others enough to let them circle Lucifer. “No apocalypse, okay? You hear me? No. Apocalypse.”

“I will always hear you,” Conquest states, looking the man in the eye as he grabs onto Lucifer’s arm.

Famine and War create a doorway to Hell, Death in the lead as they plunge into the pit, meaning to throw Lucifer in as deeply as they can. It takes a long time to reach the depths of Hell, but time means nothing to Conquest, only the change between conquered and unconquered. Lucifer shifts in his grip, attempting to escape, but War rides beside Conquest, sword unsheathed and always in the creature’s line of sight. He pleads, he threatens, he appeals, but the man who holds Conquest’s crown is the absolute authority.

When they reach the bottom of Hell, it’s cold enough that Famine is shaking. It only makes it easier for Conquest to lower Lucifer onto the ice, War breaking into it enough that they freeze Lucifer’s feet to the ground.

“The seals are still broken,” Lucifer says as Conquest and War mount again. “I’ll be back out of Hell before you know it.”

“He has a point,” Death says, and glances around their group. “Perhaps one should stay and guard.”

Conquest shakes his head. “We were told to return.”

War hesitates for a moment, but the Rider dismounts. “The Horse of War will stay.”

“As will the Horse of Death,” Death states, and Conquest nods.

“Only two,” Conquest says before Famine succumbs to the urge to follow War – an urge Death can never avoid.

“You don’t really think horses are going to keep me here, do you?” Lucifer asks, smiling.

“No,” Conquest states. “I expect them to slow you down, and warn us when you begin to rise.”

The Four Horses are immortal. Conquest can see that Lucifer knows this in the fall of his face, in the glare he sends towards Conquest in particular.

“I will get out,” Lucifer repeats.

“And we will send you back when you do,” Conquest says, and offers War a hand. War climbs up and rests behind him, as Death sits behind Famine.

“I’ll look forward to seeing you again then, Castiel,” Lucifer says, and smiles.

Conquest ignores him, moving back out of Hell, the others right behind him.

---

It takes six hours for them to come back. Dean doesn’t even dare to try and calculate how long that is in Hell, just fine with starting to breathe again when he sees Tessa and Bela emerge from a shrieking hole that appears just when they do, both on the black horse so encrusted with jewels he’s amazed it’s standing. He nearly stops breathing when he realizes that Castiel and Sam haven’t come out with them, but they emerge only a minute later, both on top of Leukos and still with that hazed, even more inhuman than usual look on their faces.

Castiel turns Leukos back towards him, Sam dismounting with an ease Dean’s brother could never hope to have. Castiel rides forward until he’s right in front of Dean again, eyes on nothing but him. “Have you any other orders for us, my lord?”

“None. None at all,” Dean says hurriedly. “No apocalypse. Just…stop this whole ride thing and go back to normal. Please.”

“As you command,” Castiel states, and dismounts.

Nothing seems to change at first. The Four Horsemen are simply standing there, staring at him in his stupid crown, and then Tessa vanishes. Bela stares at the world around her, whispers out “Melas?” and vanishes in a burst of light that Dean doesn’t even want to think about, her horse shrieking and suddenly tearing off over the very ocean. Sam jerks out of the trance and immediately looks sick enough that Dean’s there just in time to pat him on the back and tell him everything’s okay while he vomits. He’s still taking care of Sam when Castiel snaps out of it, but he can hear the thump of Castiel slumping to the ground, kneeling in the rocks and staring out at the sunset.

“You alright, Cas?” Dean shouts, ignoring the way Sam is clinging to his arm just like Sam’s probably ignoring the way Dean’s clinging right back.

“I’ve been better, but yes,” Castiel says quietly, and Leukos nudges him with her head. He scratches her idly, but never looks away from the horizon. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s what Lucifer does, Cas,” Dean says, and watches Castiel nod. Sam starts to relax, knowing the words apply to him just as much as to Castiel, and he starts to feel like he might be able to breathe again.

He feels like an idiot, wandering around with a crown on his head, but the moment his fingers touch it Castiel jerks around to stare at him with wide eyes. “Not yet,” Castiel says, and stands up, striding towards Dean with a conviction he hasn’t seen since…well, since Castiel was in that Conquest mindset. He stares at the crown for a moment, and suddenly it’s shrinking in his hand. “What could you keep on your person at all times?”

“Ring, bracelet, pendant, or an earring, but my ears aren’t pierced,” Dean says immediately.

Castiel nods. “Which would you prefer?”

Dean hesitates, and clears his throat. “Probably a ring. I don’t know if how it’s shaped has anything to do with the whole keeping-you-from-taking-over-the-world, so…”

It only takes a moment, and then the crown is shrunken down into a ring that Castiel keeps pressed against Dean’s forehead. “Put it on, please.”

Dean hesitates, but shrugs and plucks it from Castiel’s fingertips, sliding it on.

“Does this mean you’re married?” Sam asks from Dean’s arm, and Dean rolls his eyes, shoving his brother lightly in the side.

“It just means I’m keeping Cas from going Attila The Hun.”

“So you’re protecting him,” Sam says. “Because you love and cherish each other.”

“I’ll be in South America,” Castiel states, a subtle blush popping onto his cheeks, Leukos trotting towards him as soon as he speaks.

“I’m preventing the apocalypse, Sam,” Dean says, and swallows, pointing at the ring on his middle finger, not his left. “See this? This is my saving the world ring. Not my wedding ring. I’m saving the world every second.”

“Not entirely,” Castiel says. Unlike Sam, he gets on and off Leukos just as smoothly while himself. “You’re restraining my…conquering impulses.”

“Do I need a Sam ring to stop him from starting World War 3?” Dean asks.

“Not with Purros standing guard in Hell,” Sam says, and starts to look sick again. “He’s. He’s kind of keeping War occupied, so I can just run around being me.”

“He’s constantly linked to a being in Hell,” Castiel says quietly, patting Leukos on the neck. “He’s lucky to have a brother who will understand the things that may be transferred through the bond.”

“Hey,” Dean says, and Castiel turns to look at him. “You took care of him in Hell. You saved the world, Cas. That’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I was misled,” he says, and frowns. “But I really do have to go to South America. I spread Lucifer’s lies all over the world.”

“They were good lies, though,” Dean says. “And if War isn’t around to follow up Conquest, it should all just fizzle out, shouldn’t it?”

“He’s really good at his job, Dean,” Sam says, both respect and sadness in the words. “I’m not sure it’ll ever fizzle out unless he goes back.”

“Alright then,” Dean says as easily as he can manage, and gives Castiel a smile. “Good luck changing South America back to how it was.”

“Maybe keep some things in, though.”

“Just the good things. If you want to.”

“Of course,” Castiel says, amused, and gives Dean an almost shy smile. “I’ll be back as soon as I can be.”

“God. Just kiss already, I won’t be traumatized,” Sam says, and Dean doesn’t need much more prompting than that, pulling Castiel down for a quick, firm kiss.

“Be safe, okay? You don’t have the devil to watch out for you anymore, so-”

“I’ll be careful, Dean,” Castiel says with a smile, and vanishes.

When Dean turns around, Sam’s giving him an amused, knowing, stupid little brother look. “Go ahead. You know you want to.”

“Shut up,” Dean mutters, and moves the crown ring one finger over. It fits his ring finger better anyway.