Work Text:
You were the better part
Of every bit of beating heart that I had
Whatever I had
I finally sat alone
Pitch black flesh and bone
Couldn't believe that you were gone
Flora Cash - You're Somebody Else
Castiel frowns as Michael’s eyes lift up, over Dean’s shoulder and bury into his own. “We’d have a chance,” the archangel says. The words are meant for Dean, they are an answer to Dean’s question but Castiel is the one he is trying to convince.
“Dean. You can’t.” The angel grits out. He is ready to fight, even knowing that he has already lost.
“Lucifer has Sam.” Finally, the man turns to face him. Castiel regrets it at the moment he sees the devastation all over Dean’s features. As if hearing it in his voice wasn’t enough. “He has Jack.” A voice that is, actually, on the verge of breaking. “Cas, I don’t have a choice.”
“If we do this, “ Dean turns his attention back to Michael, “It’s a one time deal. I’m in charge. You are the engine, but I’m behind the wheel. You understand?”
The archangel tilts his head, watching them both. “How do I know that, once we win, you won’t turn your allegiance and try to kill me?”
“You don't.” Castiel snarls at him.
“Cas.” Dean’s fingers curl against his upper arm through two layers of clothes. It is supposed to be calming, though it’s nothing but. “A word?”
Castiel stays still, watching him in defiance. “No.”
“Come on, buddy. “ Dean nearly pleads and it’s all that it takes for his resolve to crumble down. “I’m running out of time…”
He allows Dean to take the lead, half-dragging him down the hall, just behind the corner and out of archangel’s sight.
The man doesn’t let go of him, even though they are already way too close to each other. The air is charged between them, humming with all the things none would say aloud.
“I don’t want him to…” Dean’s words are cut out, mid-sentence, stuck in his throat. But Castiel understands.
What he doesn't have the heart to say is that, soon enough, Michael would know every thought that crosses Dean's mind.
The blade flashes just for a moment, long enough to cut through the skin. The angel uses his own blood to draw a little, round sigil on the wall behind them and then nods. “You can speak now.“
“Cas.” It’s all Dean Winchester says.
“No. You can’t possibly think… “ Castiel’s fingers curl into fists, smearing the blood over his palm. “Dean, I don’t trust him.”
The man huffs a low, bitter laugh. “Of course you don’t. He’s a sick, lying bastard. But he’s also the only chance we’ve got left.”
Castiel shakes his head. “You can’t do this. He will break whatever deal you think you’ve got.”
“He will.” Dean bows his head for a moment, looking at his shoes. “That’s why I need you, Cas.”
Castiel’s eyes snap up. “I won’t kill you if this is what you’re asking.”
Dean’s hand raises to touch his face. It's a feather-light, timid brush of fingers. “No. I don’t have a death wish. Not anymore.” His lips curl up in a small, hopeful smile. “This could be our last fight. What you’d say? I save Sam, save Jack and when this flying dickbag breaks the deal… When he does it, you hunt down his ass. You make me kick him out. And when we gank him, when we win…. Well, then I say we’d leave the damn world to save itself.”
Castiel’s anger melts into sadness at Dean’s fingertips. “You might never come back.”
Dean’s hand travels down his stubbled cheek to stop under his chin. “I have more than enough reasons to do so.” He leans forward to capture Cas’ lips in a tender, barely there kiss.
It makes perfect sense to happen now. The angel kinda expects it, though he finds himself gasping against Dean’s mouth nonetheless.
Castiel feels on the verge of the missing, one simple movement away from losing everything he fought for. So he allows himself to get lost in Dean’s warmth for one endless, painful moment.
Dean takes a step back with a sigh and gives him a small nod. “We good?”
Castiel wants to say no. He wants to argue, to fight if he has to. He wants to tell Dean that this is stupid, madness even. A suicide mission. That they can find another way.
“Yes.” He says instead.
Dean turns without another word and in a few heavy, forced steps he is lost around the corner.
The back of Castiel’s head hits the wall as he leans against it, seeking support. His eyes are shut tightly when the archangel’s light fills the room.
He hopes, honest to God, that it’s worth it.