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It's an angel blade that does it.
Cas has been cut off from Heaven, which remains in Raphael's command, and is unable to utilize the full extent of his grace: wings, healing major wounds, things of that ilk.
So, on the flight he's saved grace for for weeks, Cas aims for the Impala (and misses by several meters- they almost run right into him).
“Dean!” Sam shouts as the Impala's head lights illuminate Castiel in some strange backwards halo.
“Fuck,” Dean hisses as he squeals the car to a stop, coming so close to hitting the unmoving angel that the trench coat flutters violently. Cas just stands there, looking down at the Impala's hood as if it were a particularly uninteresting variety of grass.
Dean grits his teeth at first to keep from shouting at the angel as he gets out, leaving the door wide open, but his irritation quickly turns to concern as Cas begins to sway, his eyes rolling back. Dean manages to grab him just in time, and the angel slumps into him, weak little fluttery breaths the only indication that he isn't just an empty vessel.
“Whoah there, Cas,” Dean says, trying not to lose his balance. Cas isn't just leaning on him, he is literally the only thing stopping Cas from falling to the floor. Dean shoots a look at Sam, like: come help me, dumb ass!
Between the two of them, Sam and Dean manage to drag Cas to the backseat of the Impala and stuff him inside.
“You want to patch him up or whatever?” Sam asks, but he doesn't really allow much room for debate, getting into the driver's seat before Dean has a chance to protest and starting to drive away. Dean is startled but doesn't berate him this because he has a seriously worrying lap full of unconscious angel to deal with.
When Cas's breathing becomes more steady, and his eyes flutter a little bit, even sneezing once, Dean decides that it would be okay to pull over for the night despite Sam's protests that he himself isn't tired, that he can drive a little longer.....
Now, Sam is lounging on the couch, poking around on his laptop while Cas lies fully dressed on one of the beds, not even under the covers because neither Winchester brother felt like undressing him or tucking him in. Dean is snoring in the other bed, and neither wake up at any point to notice that Sam doesn't sleep at all.
The next morning, Sam leaves at around six to go and grab some breakfast, although he knows Dean may well be the only one eating.
“Get up, dude,” Sam says, tossing a wrapped Sara Lee muffin at his brother. It hits him square on the face, and Dean yelps, grabbing the gun beneath his pillow and training it directly on Sam. The younger Winchester raises his eyebrows and hands in protest, and Dean scowls at him when he realizes that he is in no immediate danger.
“You assaulted me,” he grumbles, still glaring, but he takes the proffered muffin nonetheless and begins to munch on it.
“Yeah, whatever,” Sam says. “I found a hunt not too far from here, so you and cuddle bear don't have to move too far.”
“Did you really just call Cas 'cuddle bear'?”
“.....”
Sam tells Dean that he is going to go start investigating the suspects, and Dean realizes that he doesn't even know what they're hunting. He's drying himself off from a shower, dressed in only a towel slung across his waist, when Cas begins to toss and turn, whining pitifully. Dean stops short, deodorant frozen mid-stroke, and takes in the sight of the angel thrashing around, unsure of what to do.
“Uh, Cas, wake up,” he tries to no avail. It quickly becomes clear that talking isn't going to rouse him, so Dean shakes him awake.
Cas startles violently and reaches for Dean's throat, clamping down with angelic strength, making the hunter wheeze and sputter, turning red.
“Cas,” he grates out as stars begin to swim in his eyes, growing wider and obstructing his vision. And then he's on the floor, lungs greedily soaking in oxygen, sides heaving as the lightheadedness clears slowly.
“Dean?” Cas asks.
“Hi,” Dean coughs weakly. Cas looks concerned.
“What happened? Were you attacked?”
“No, I'm fine,” Dean says as he struggles to sit back on the bed.
“I w-”
“Give it a rest, I'm fine,” Dean says, adamant. He doesn't feel like dealing with Cas's guilty face. “You were sleeping, man.”
“I was,” Cas says blankly. Dean doesn't know if he was already aware of it and is agreeing or if he's surprised.
“What happened?”
“I flew,” Cas responds, meeting Dean's gaze with such intensity the hunter has a strong desire to look at his feet.
“You still, like, got your grace siphoned off?”
“It is diminished. I stayed unmoving for days to be able to join you. It took a lot of energy.”
“You passed out,” Dean says, unamused.
“I will no longer be able to fly,” Cas says matter-of-factly.
“Shit, man, I'm sorry,” Dean says.
“I do not know if I will be able to help you much.” Cas actually looks dejected at this, and he breaks the gaze.
“Hey, man, it's okay,” Dean says, but he has no idea what they are going to do.
Cas's stomach growls loudly. He looks down at it, bewildered, and then up at Dean.
“Dean, what is going on?”
“Guess you and I are going to a diner,” Dean said. His muffin was nice but hardly filling, and Sam didn't get anything else. Dean wondered when his brother had had a chance to eat.
“I will accompany you,” Cas says somberly.
They don't make it very far. Dean and Cas get into the Impala (how the hell is Sammy interviewing people without it!?) but before they get to a diner, there is a loud thumping on the roof, the metal bending inwards. Dean swears brashly and they both get out to look.
It's a little girl, eight or nine, in a school uniform, standing on the roof of the car like she landed there. Cas's eyes go wide.
“Castiel,” the girl says, looking down at him.
“Mariah,” Castiel says, and by his tone Dean knows she isn't a friend.
“Oy, leave 'im alone,” Dean says, on principle, not because he can actually do anything about it. The angel (at least, he's assuming it's an angel, from the name and weird roof perching thing) ignores him and pounces on Castiel, wrapping her wiry limbs around his neck. There's a flash of silver and Castiel starts shouting in pain. Then, a flutter, and the little girl is falling to the floor, the vessel blinking her eyes open, terrified when she catches sight of the blood on her dress.
Blood. Oh, shit.
“You need to run,” Dean tells the girl, and she sprints away without second thought.
“Dean,” Cas says, gurgling through the angel blade in his throat.
“Hey, Cas, you're okay,” Dean says, starting to panic. “I mean, you're not getting' white light and stuff, so you're not dead, which means you're still alive, right?” Dean babbles, coming to kneel by Cas's prostrate form. Cas gazes up at him, wild eyed and terrified.
“My vessel,” he whispers, a terrible hissing noise. “I can't leave.”
“Just heal yourself, damn it,” Dean says, a little taken aback by how fucking fast this is happening, how no matter how annoying he may find Cas sometimes he really, really doesn't want him gone.
“M' vess'ssl's dying,” Cas mutters. “Blasde 'on't leh me heeel.”
“You can't leave?” Dean asks, throat tightening in desperation.
“Nee a consen-”
“Can you take me?” Dean says, his voice high pitched with emotion. He doesn't know why he offered, he vowed to never be a vessel.....
“You....”
“Tell me how.”
With a sudden burst of strength, Cas reaches his arm up and grasps Dean's hair, wrenching his head downwards. For a second, the hunter thinks that Cas is about to kiss him like in Snow White or something, but Cas just forces his head several inches from Dean's mouth and exhales, a small cloud of silver- something between water and air and molten metal- leaking out before his vessel shudders and dies. Dean breathes in deep, mouth and nose, just pretending that he is a teenager again and he's shotgunning with some hot chick.
The change doesn't occur immediately and Dean almost thinks it hasn't worked, that Cas is really gone-
Oh.
It feels like something is seeping into his lungs, entering his bloodstream and setting all of his blood alight, and he trembles with the force of it. His heart feels like he's just poured hot soup on it and then his brain- his brain feels like someone has put a form-fitting pouch over it and is squeezing.
Dean?
Oh, that feels weird. Dean's blood thaws out and starts to feel a little cold, and it's like his entire consciousness is thrumming with Cas's thoughts.
Hi, he thinks, and he finds communicating is easier than he thought it would be.
It seems your body is compatible.
Yeah, I suppose.
You feel different than my old vessel.
Uh. Speaking of vessels.....
Then his body- Cas- them- their body is directing itself and Dean feels like he's floating. He can feel the sensations of his skin but can't direct it. Castiel hefts Jimmy in the air and unceremoniously dumps him in the backseat.
Yo, watch it.
I cannot hurt him further. He is already dead.
No, I meant the blood on my backseat.
We need to get out of here before that child reports that she stabbed someone.
Dean's muscles move him to the car. It's very very strange, like he's got rubber bands attatched to him and eighty thousand epileptic puppeteers are all trying to direct him in eighty thousand directions at once.
I cannot drive. I need you to take over.
How do I do that?
Move a muscle. Concentrate. Remember yourself in charge, how it felt-
Dean jerks his arm to the left.
Not bad for a test drive, eh?
Drive, Dean.
It takes him a few moments but finally his muscles respond to him. It's more like flying a remote controlled helicopter than being in charge of his own limbs, but hey, it works. They get back to the motel and collect Dean's and Sam's things.
We need to find a new place to stay. I require more driving.
Where are we going to meet up with Sam?
He is at Apartment 4F, 1558 Ellesmere Terrace, 6 South Oak Boulevard. We will pick him up.
And so Dean drives, going to the place with the annoyingly long address.
You are going to burn out if you are in control much longer. I will 'drive'.
Dean feels something soft and warm pulling him away from himself and then he's a passenger in his own body.
What are we going to tell Sam?
I am aware that you do not wish him to know.
How do you know that?
I am in your brain. I need it for basic motor skills.
You mean you can read all of my memories and stuff like that?
If I choose to.
Dean feels frustrated, but he is quickly filled with tranquility again. He thinks of all of the sexcapades he doesn't particularly want a pure and holy angel of the Lord to see,
I was not planning on reading them, but you are bringing them to the forefront of your mind, making them difficult to ignore.
So, we're not telling Sammy? (God I need to change the subject)
I heard that, you know. You are communicating with me using your thoughts. I can hear them all.
(Shit, fuck, he can hear me.)
Yes, I can.
They knock on the door, and soon there is a distraught man there with Sam looking bored in the background. He sees Dean and stands up, muttering excuses to the guy before shoving past him, going to the car, getting in the front seat. Cas slides their body into the driver's seat, relinquishing partial control to Dean.
This will work more efficiently if I learn to use your body to drive.
Just exactly when are you planning to let me be in charge?!?!?
Dean, I don't know, I'm 'flying' 'blind' as you would put it. Your brother does not seem to be bothered by the corpse in the backseat.
Dean slams the brakes and looks at Sam, watching calmly.
Can you, like, bio scan him or whatever? Make sure he's okay?
I can reach out and skim his recent memories.
Then, Dean sees a slide show of images and garbled sounds, whirling and warping and garbling as he takes it in, astonished.
Holy shit.
Your brother is fine.
What was that weird thing?
What 'weird thing'?
You sort of, like, I don't know, I felt you panic.
Nothing. I was just. Nothing. Please continue to drive.
Dude, seriou-
The case is in relation to my prosecutors. The little girl my brother possessed scared her parents quite severely.
So no hunt?
No.
That night, Dean and Cas take themself to a mausoleum, depositing Jimmy in an unoccupied casket tucked into a wall.
I may need him again.
How long are we in this for?
I do not know.
Dean feels a wave of immense guilt and fear rush over him, and he startles with the knowledge that it is not his.
It's okay. I'm just glad you're alive.
Dean, I am taking advantage of you no, Cas, you're not, so don't worry about it I gave you no choice I gave my consent, you gave me a choice some choice what take me or I die dude, honestly, it's not a big you said you would never let anyone ride you I trust you Cas, not like the other ones.
Their thoughts are tangling together as they walk back to the Impala, jamming against the end of the one previously and bleeding into the one behind.
I am in your body, Dean, and I cannot spare the grace required to what are you saying I don't know that I will be able to maintain my cleanliness. Wait, what are you I mean a shower may be a necessity. If you wanted to get me naked you could have just-
Enough. I can feel your discomfort and it troubles me.
Uh, I just (oh my god I can't shower with Cas)
I can hear you, remember?
Can you, like, sleep or something while I shower?
I rebuilt your body. You have no parts I have not already seen, touched oh my god, Cas, you can't be serious I have seen your genitalia.
Cas. Ugh. Stop.
But to answer your question, yes, I can......vacate.....forfeit control to you while you cleanse your body.
Thanks. I really do appreciate it.
Dean feels a weird tingling at the back of his mind and then his blood feels normal again as he returns to the motel. He's in charge and it feels a little like waking from a long yet light nap.
Sam is already in bed, but he isn't snoring like usual. Dean takes extra care not to look down at himself while he showers and dresses, feeling super weirded out. He climbs into bed and slowly his blood reheats as Cas returns fully.
How do you do this sleep thing? Just close our eyes. Our eyes yeah, you know, they are yours now too.
They are yours, Dean, always yours.
(my dick)
Dean, I have already informed you that I have no qualms regarding your gen quit calling it that it's weird I don't know what else to call it junk. Try junk.
Your 'junk' does not alarm me, nor does it aro-
WHOAH. (what why is he oh my god)
Do you trust me, Dean?
(that was so sudden what even do I say) Yes, Cas, I trust you.
Then will you listen to me when I say that that you don't like my junk that humanity has a taboo regarding sex that is not reasonable, that I don't see it as any different as eating, sleeping, excreting waste oh god quit comparing having sex to excreting waste? Um, YES. THAT'S WEIRD.
All I mean is that I am not concerned with sex. You could pleasure yourself right now and
(holy SHIT WHAT)
and I would not care.
(holy fuck what) dudes don't say that to other dudes exactly. (fucking shit!)
I see no cause for your panic. I am just trying to tell you that you can do whatever you wish with yourself.
You're a guy I have no real gender still a guy always a guy so that means there's a guy inside of you right now?
(what why is he even doing- does he- is he doing that on purpose?)
Am I making a double entendre about anal sex? (oh my god how are we talking about this) uh I guess do you really want an answer to that? (I don't even know) no. Yes? I'm not, you know, gay, so-
Dean. I rebuilt you from scratch. I constructed the part of you that there is no part of me that likes guys! I will not, nor have I ever, nor will I ever- that doesn't mean you haven't wanted it (holy shit this is uncomfortable what is even going on right now) that's none of your beeswax.
Again, Dean.....I don't care if you think about male- stop, just stop- while you pleasure yourself- (fuck fuck fuck) I almost never do that.
I don't think that's true.
Yeah, well, too bad. 'Cause it is. True. It is true. Quite. Very true.
I'm really okay with your preferences, no matter what they are.
Good. Good. I'm glad. Great. Okay..... I mean, not that I needed your approval.... I know you don't.
Great.
So why do you protest so much if you know I know, and you know I don't care or disapprove?
Fuck off. It's my dick.
Not like you would be able to-
.....
(what. what)
I mean, why do you defend the false heterosexuality so vehemently when I know it's false?
I don't know what you mean....
I mean, even though I know that you're not straight, why do you continue to protest?
I'm not even....(I am so confused)
Oh.
What 'oh'?
Nothing.
Bullshit, man.
…..exactly who are you trying to prove (nope. Nope. NOPE.) your heterosexuality to here, Dean?
(Nope. Not doing this.)
Are you ashamed of who you are?
(yes) NO.
Do you think (please just stop) you are a lesser person because of (no no no no) …..is it Sam, then?
No.
Me?
There is a rush of nervousness.
No. God no. Hell, I mean I let you enter me....heh.....
That? Again?
(um) maybe
Why? Do you want that?
(how would that even happen we're in the same body) Hell no! (I bet it would be hot as fu-) No.
You- Dean, I can hear all of your thoughts (shit shit shit) including the.....graphic images that you conjured just then I'm a guy, alright? You say 'sex' and I say 'how high'? (wait that didn't even work) No, it did not. So.....why did you imagine it? Because if you say something about my dick, (Cas touching him while in control of his hands) (fuck) (I'd still feel it, oh god) uuuhhhh.
…....
Do you want- NO.
I am confused..... I can feel you wanting it, but you won't let yourself want it.
…...I so don't want it.
You do!
“Shut up, Cas,” Dean says out loud, cursing when he hears his brother roll over.
Then, his mind is hit with a flurry of molten lust, meandering down his torso-
Cas! Stop!
Just let me.....
I.....
Dean feels his hand brush across his pectoral, thumb flicking over the nipple.
(shit that's so amazing) Cas what are you doing? Why are you- fffffuck (don't stop).
His own hand is tracing his abs, winding downwards, running a forefinger across the V above his hipbones, wandering down,
…..can I.....?
It makes no sense to Dean that he's being asked now.
(god yes) I don't know if that's a good idea.....
We're very aroused.
(WE) You said 'we'.
I don't know, I guess it felt right...... I'm sorry..... (please don't let me die) Whoah, Cas, what- why would I let you die? (I took your body and then I tried to touch you- me-) ….because?
I don't want you to die. (I'm far too fond of you.)
You're.....fond? Of me?
(so much) Of course. You're my friend.
A crushing wave of disappointment hits their body for the briefest of seconds before Cas reigns it in.
Cas? What's wrong?
What....? I.....don't know what you mean....? (not lying, no. please don't think I'm lying)
I felt that thing. Thing? Yeah, where you got all sad when I said I was your friend.
….I didn't get 'sad'. I am. Glad. To be your friend. Yes.
(holy shit he likes me) you......do you like, like me?
Of course, you're my friend.
(angel powerful ME FRIEND) Dean, what just that I'm like, human, and you're my friend. Like, (that's freaking awesome) (It's one thing for a human to call someone a friend) I'm glad to be your friend. (but another for an angel.)
Good. I am pleased we were able to clear that up. Friends. Yes.
Nothing else. (do I even want it to be something else? Do I even want it to NOT be something else?)
I'm sorry I attempted to....touch you. (please forgive me.) (don't be mad.)
It's fine (more than fine)
It is?
Uh.....
So if it's okay (god yes) then why did you stop me?
Blood rushes downward faster than Dean can ever remember.
(can I)
(yes)
Cas slowly nudges Dean's control to the side, taking the reigns gently. (I won't hurt you) Dean pushes back for a little while but then lets Cas take over his limbs, nervous and seriously aroused.
Cas continues to move his hand towards his dick, cautiously, experimentally stroking it. Dean gives a little cry but then feels his mouth clamp shut. Sam. Right.
Show me how?
Dean swallows, joining his control with Cas, and guides both of his hands down, waiting until he feels Cas's approval before taking himself lightly in his hands.
Dean, that feels- remarkable-
Now, you just.....move.
Cas tentatively runs his hands across their length, a wave of approval from Dean met with relief and eagerness from Cas. He takes his time, smugness washing over them both when Dean throws his head back, moaning ever so quietly. Cas speeds up, letting Dean thrust his hips a little. He brushes his thumb over the head, grazing the slit, and one of them, it doesn't matter who, whines slightly.
Their thrusts pick up speed, pre-come getting smeared down the shaft. Suddenly, neither can tell who is moving, who is in charge, because neither can stop, the pleasure blurring the boundaries between angel and vessel, reigning over both of them. A name slips from his lips, but it isn't quite clear whether it is Dean's name or Cas's name.
Need you so badly. Fuck. Feels so good. I can't- please- going to-
He whines as he comes, the orgasm blending them together as one for a moment. Body, grace, soul, mind, so united-
It feels glorious, sharing their release, muscles spasming and convulsing, each of their pleasure bouncing and reflecting off of and reflecting off of the other's, magnifying the experience enormously and he's shaking with it, mindless, in so much fantastic bliss, washing over them in wave after wave after wave.
Finally, Dean's body begins to settle down, spent and exhausted, grinning wildly. Cas wraps his arms around his chest, waves of affection hitting Dean- or maybe that's his own affection.
I....liked that.
Fuck, Cas, that was incredible.
If we find a way to get my body back (can we try again with both of us?)
He feels so nervous that this time, Dean knows it's his own fondness hitting them; shy, affectionate Castiel is quickly becoming one of his favorite things ever.
I mean- if you want- you don't have to, I mean-
(Cas, I love you.)
…...
Dean?
(fuck I didn't mean to think that, he can still hear me think) Uh, I didn't mean-
Because, if you did.....
I'm sorry, I'll try not to.
No, don't do that.....
Dean can feel Cas's crippling shyness.
I love you.
Good. Then let's restore your vessel. I can't wait to show you everything that two bodies can do.
That sounds awesome.
They sleep eventually, feeling giddy and nervous and spent. And as he falls asleep, Dean swears he can feel someone next to him, wrapping his arms around him, but maybe that's just grace.